Vayu Piano, Guitar, Vocal Classes
G-21/b, near baba balak nath mandir, Chaura Raghunathpur, Chora Sadatpur, Sector 22, Noida, Uttar Pradesh 201301, India
http://guitarclassnoida.in/
Vayu Piano, Guitar, Vocal Classes sits unobtrusively on the first floor of a leafy, sun-faded red-brick building in the old Alwarpet market lane of Chennai. Above a quiet ayurvedic clinic and beside a spice shop that always smells of star anise, a narrow wooden staircase scented faintly of turpentine and old teak leads to a single wooden door with a brass flute motif handle. Push it open and the sounds of the street fade behind a ribbon of warm chords drifting from inside.
The studio is one long, high-ceilinged room roughly the size of a badminton court, but the proportions feel intimate because every inch has been softened by sound. South-facing louvred windows spill angular stripes of light across a blond maple floor hand-buffed to a muted satin, so students instinctively remove their shoes before treading on it. At the front, three crisp Kawai upright pianos stand side by side like polite siblings, their lids lifted to encourage open-eared listening. A fourth, older Petrof concert grand—purchased from a retiring Russian pianist—claims the corner, lid fully propped, its strings glinting every time the ceiling fan turns. Between the pianos are low, wheeled stools so duet partners can adjust the distance as if moving chess pieces.
Guitars and ukuleles line the opposite wall on cedar pegs: parlour-size acoustics, a single 1966 Jazz Bass with Bakelite knobs, nylon-string classicals with nails of ivory glow. On any given evening a twelve-year-old will be learning “Yellow” on a half-size Yamaha while her father rehearses jazz voicings seven hooks away, the treble side of the room crackling with capos and soft Fender amps. Mid-floor, a Persian rug demarcates the vocal corner. There, three vintage Shure mics dangle from telescopic stands surrounded by four overturned egg crates upholstered in indigo fabric—hand-dyed by a textile-artist parent—to absorb stray consonants. A small, wall-mounted mirror at eye level helps singers watch jaw alignment without the intimidation of a full studio reflection.
What separates Vayu from the usual coaching centre is its library: a waist-high teak cabinet running the full back wall, drawers labeled “Carnatic Lead Sheets,” “Assamese Folk,” “Bossa in D,” and “Film Re-harm.” Students can photocopy a page or swap a score for one of their own arrangements, provided they hand-write a liner-note explanation and clip it inside. In the periphery, proprietor-composer Arjun Krishna sits cross-legged on a zafu, a scarlet kanjivaram stole draped over his kurta, quietly sound-checking mics or replacing a cracked guitar pickguard while humming phrases into a handheld dictaphone.
Term-end recitals are staged by candlelight after the street shutters come down, chairs arranged in expanding semicircles so every parent hears the resonance without PA. The final chord allowed to ring until the ceiling fan swallows the decay.
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- Published: July 27, 2025
