SWETA MUSIC CLASSES

SWETA MUSIC CLASSES
G9JR+J3C, Kendriya Vihar II, Sector 82, Noida, Uttar Pradesh 201304, India

SWETA MUSIC CLASSES, a modest yet prolific center of musical pedagogy, sits on the first floor of the mustard-yellow Harsukh Complex just off Vishrantwadi’s main arterial road in North Pune. A tiny brass bell tinkles when the iron grill gate swings open; the adjoining paan–stall aroma drifts in and is quickly neutralized by the faint sandalwood that always clings to the studio’s air-conditioned lobby. Inside, a mosaic of fading Kishori Amonkar concert posters, parent-achievement charts, and Ganpati swastikas blankets the reception wall. The reception desk itself is no larger than a school single-seater and is perennially manned by Aruna-didi, Sweta-ma’am’s sister, who keeps time like a tabla theka—every prospective student is logged in the same dog-eared green register she has used since 2009.

Three rooms radiate from the narrow corridor. The smallest, Room A, is lined with egg-carton acoustic foam and houses two well-worn Casio CTKs and an 8-knob ukulele rack newly made for toddlers. Morning light leaks through the only window, catching the old Harmonium that Sweta’s grandfather imported from Palitana in 1975; its ivory keys now the color of well-steeped chai but still faithfully tempered. Room B, nicknamed the “Sur chamber,” is carpet wall-to-wall; a tanpura app drones perpetually from a reclaimed Xiaomi speaker. Here, Khansaheb-style sarangi lessons and semi-classical vocal sessions using laminated Parrikar handouts unfold. Finally, Room C is the performance nursery: Indian flag bunting forms a low ceiling canopy, and yet another Kinvara 5×5 mirror gives shy 9-year-olds their first heroic pose as they rehearse arpeggios for annual day programs.

Sweta Deshpande, the founder-ear-trainer-engine-in-chief, is a petite soprano whose single paisley bindi is as constant as her meter-perfect riyaaz whistle. A gold medalist from Pune University, she still returns every Wednesday to guest-lecture on Shruti boxes. Her hallmark is triad nuance: she teaches light classical with the lung power of Kirana, but interlaces enough Disney licks to keep Gen-Z riveted. Fees are thrice a term and insistently transparent: ₹2,800 for keyboard; ₹3,400 for Carnatic vocal (with Tamil notes emailed). No one is refused—scholarship kids from nearby Yerwada slums learn alongside tech-park parents; the rule is, if you can carry a two-minute alaap in tune, you stay.

Beyond the doors, concerts spill into the common room every Ganeshotsav and Christmas; the linoleum floor becomes a modest stage where proud aunties push phone flashlights into service as spotlights. A WhatsApp group named “Suron Ki Gullak” overflows with 8-second recordings and drum-kit memes. By 9 p.m. the last taalam is locked, Aruna switches off the tube-light, and the smell of Nandini milk-bun wafts up from the street canteen below, confirming that for six hundred students, Sweta Music Classes is less a room of wood and wires and more a snug raag-shaped home.

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