Clad in traditional Hindu dress, a boy removes his shoes, approaches the shrine at the side of the stage and pays homage to a deity sitting garlanded under its canopy. Walking centre stage, making a bow with hands joined in salutation, he then takes his place in a little group seated cross-legged facing the audience, in the front of which are his family and teachers. The other musicians have been tuning their instruments: to his right the percussionist with the double-ended drum laid horizontally before him; to his left a violinist, instrument wedged between chest and foot so as to allow the left hand freedom of movement; behind him a woman gently strumming with one hand the four open strings of the long-necked drone lute. Now the young singer intones the first words of a prayer-song to the elephant-headed Lord Ganesa, the text composed by a sixteenth-century South Indian saint-poet. Against the background drone of upper and lower tonic and perfect fifth, the vocal line of the hymn is inflected and ornamented with little slides and oscillations: an affirmation of religious faith and poetic beauty. People in the audience call out their appreciation during the performance, and with hand-gestures mark the metre of the works the boy sings in his improvisation.