A Violin, a Teacher, and an Orchestra: Memories of Music in Calcutta

 A Violin, a Teacher, and an Orchestra: Memories of Music in Calcutta

by blogger lim ju boo, alias  lim ru wu  (林 如 武)

I penned my thoughts on Tuesday, May 13, 2026  on my joy of playing a violin here:

https://scientificlogic.blogspot.com/search?q=the+joy+of+playing+a+violin

When I look back on my student days in the early 1960s in Kolkata, I realize that some of the most precious memories of that period were not confined to my academic studies. Alongside the long hours devoted to medicine and science, there existed another world that nourished the spirit, a world filled with music.

During those years I had the privilege of learning the violin under the guidance of the distinguished violinist Stanley Gomes. At that time he served as the concertmaster - the leader and 1^st violinist of the Calcutta Symphony Orchestra, which performed under the baton of conductor Bernard "Bunny" Jacob.

Under Stanley Gomes’ kind and patient instruction I studied the violin until I reached Grade 6 of the examinations conducted by the Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music.

My lessons took place once a week at his home. Each lesson lasted about an hour. I would travel there from my student hostel carrying my violin, usually after spending many evenings practising scales and études in my room.

Despite his reputation as a very famous violinist and the leader of the city’s orchestra, Stanley Gomes was an extraordinarily humble, jovial, and friendly man. There was not the slightest hint of pride in him. He spoke warmly, laughed easily, and taught with the patience of someone who truly loved music and enjoyed sharing it with younger students.

He even introduced me briefly to the piano. For a short period he showed me how to play it, but the violin had already captured my heart and remained the instrument on which I focused my efforts.

Those weekly lessons were not limited to technical instruction. Very often he would speak about orchestras—their structure, their discipline, and the remarkable cooperation required for so many musicians to perform together as one.

For readers who may wish to visualize how musicians are arranged on stage, a typical orchestral seating plan can be seen here:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orchestra#Seating_arrangement

The arrangement of musicians in a symphony orchestra is the result of centuries of musical evolution. The string section—violins, violas, cellos, and double basses, sits closest to the audience and forms the foundation of the orchestra’s sound. Traditionally the first violins sit to the conductor’s left while the second violins sit on the opposite side. Violas occupy the centre area, with cellos and double basses usually placed to the right.

Behind the strings sit the woodwind instruments—flutes, oboes, clarinets, and bassoons, whose voices add colour and expressive nuance. Further back are the brass instruments - horns, trumpets, trombones, and tubas; capable of producing majestic power when required. At the rear of the orchestra are the percussionists, whose instruments provide rhythmic energy and dramatic emphasis.

At the centre front stands the conductor, guiding the orchestra with gestures of the baton. Yet among the musicians themselves the most important leader is the concertmaster— the principal first violinist.

In the Calcutta Symphony Orchestra, that leader was Stanley Gomes.

The concertmaster plays a crucial role in shaping the sound of the string section. One of the most fascinating aspects of orchestral performance is the synchronized movement of the violinists’ bows. To the audience it appears almost magical that dozens of bows move up and down together in perfect harmony.

This unity is not accidental. The bowing directions—up-bow and down-bow—are usually marked in the music (printed sheet music) but they are often modified during rehearsals. The concertmaster determines the bowings that will best shape the sound and phrasing of the section.

A down-bow generally produces a stronger tone because the bow begins near the frog where the player’s hand applies more weight. An up-bow often creates a lighter sound. By carefully choosing bow directions, the leader ensures that the entire violin section speaks with a single expressive voice.

During performance the violinists watch the concertmaster’s bow through peripheral vision. If the leader changes direction, the section follows immediately. The goal is not strict obedience to the printed page but unity of sound and movement.

There are exceptions, of course. In passages marked divisi, the violinists split into separate musical lines and their bowings may differ. Sometimes the first and second violins even bow in opposite directions because their musical phrases require different articulation. In rare situations a conductor may ask for “free bowing,” allowing players to change bow direction independently in order to produce an especially smooth, continuous tone.

Yet most of the time the bows rise and fall together with graceful precision. Watching the violinists can feel almost like observing a corps de ballet, their movements forming a silent choreography that mirrors the music.

During my student years I often had the pleasure of attending concerts by the Calcutta Symphony Orchestra at the historic Empire Theatre. Those evenings remain among the most vivid memories of my youth.

Sometimes the orchestra performed symphonies, and at other times the concerts featured visiting foreign soloists—perhaps a violinist performing a concerto, a brilliant pianist appearing as guest soloist, or occasionally a soprano whose voice soared above the orchestra.

For a young violin student these performances were deeply inspiring. I watched the musicians carefully, observing the unity of their playing and the effortless leadership of Stanley Gomes at the front of the violin section.

Years later I had the pleasure of corresponding with his son, Ian Gomes. I had known Ian when he was still a young boy in Calcutta. He later became a very accomplished pianist and eventually worked in London as a pianist at the famous The Ritz London.

Like many musicians, he had first been taught by his father. Writing to him after so many years brought back a flood of memories of those earlier days—of his father’s warm personality and the music that had filled those years of my youth.

But perhaps my most vivid memory remains one particular evening at the Empire Theatre.

The orchestra had gathered on stage, and the audience waited in quiet anticipation. Stanley Gomes stood at the front of the violin section, and the conductor raised his baton. The concerto began softly, almost like a whisper.

Then the solo violin entered.

Its sound rose gently above the orchestra—clear, singing, and luminous. The violin seemed to speak in a human voice, at times tender and reflective, at times soaring with passion. Beneath it the orchestra breathed like a living organism, supporting and answering the soloist’s phrases.

The bows of the violinists moved together like a field of wheat swaying in the wind.

For a young student like me sitting quietly in the audience, that moment felt almost magical. It was as if the entire orchestra had become a single instrument—many musicians united by discipline, listening, and shared purpose.

Even now, many years later, whenever I think of orchestral music, my mind returns to that stage in Calcutta, to the sound of that violin concerto, and to the gentle guidance of Stanley Gomes.

For alongside science and medicine, music too has the power to shape a life—and to leave behind memories that resonate long after the final note has faded.