A secret rehearsal

Before you read. Elders often love classical music because it feels rooted in our culture; young people often love fusion, which mixes styles. That difference is the whole play.

Act I: a secret rehearsal. The play opens on an Indo-Western fusion piece reaching its crescendo (its loudest point), in Iqbal's room, with posters of the flute players Hariprasad Chaurasia and Shashank Subramanyam on the wall. The band:

• Iqbal: flute;
• Avinash: tabla;
• Peter: keyboard;
• Shruti: violin.

Good news, worried face. Iqbal reads out a newspaper's praise of Shruti's performance with her father, the master violinist Nabin Sharma: 'Melody runs in the veins of Miss Shruti Sharma'. The boys tease her and ask for a party. But Shruti looks troubled and lost in thought.

Her secret. She has not told her father about the fusion concert, or even about the practices. He believes only Hindustani classical music, with its ragas and aalaaps, is worthy, and would see Western tunes on the violin as a desecration: disrespect to something sacred.

Her worry. Shruti cares about his opinion ('I don't want Papa to feel I don't care about his views, because I do'), but she wants to try fusion too, and does not know how to tell him.

Courage. Her friends encourage her: Iqbal says any honest way is the right way; Avinash says delay only makes it worse, and her father will come round; Iqbal jokes that he gets 'a little bit of scolding for breakfast every day!' Shruti decides to bite the bullet (face it bravely) and promises to bring it up at dinner. Peter: 'That's the spirit!'