41 days of Ayyappa Sabrimala fasting has finished. The Sabrimala temple is closed for 3 days while the authorities work out how to get rid of thousands of tons of rubbish, and then the temple opens again until late January. I think poor Lord Ayyappa also needs a rest!!
So here in Aranmula the end of season was celebrated with 2 days of non stop loud loud loud music being broadcast from the temple all around the village. All night. No sleep. Silence at last after 2 days, but in late January when it is the temple festival, the same thing will happen for 10 days non-stop. I won't be here (this is the one and only reason I can say "Thank God I won't be here"). Last time I left just before this happened, but some of my friends who are reading this blog (Nancy, Jaxan) were here 3 years ago for that 10 day hell and only just survived to tell the tale.
Another end of season celebration was much more beautiful. Not far from the temple some Aranmula citizens set up a beautiful puja. After 6pm there were literally thousands of small oil lamps lining a laneway - lamps in the middle of the pathway and on either side of the path. Also there were many jars of incense so that a walk down the laneway was a magical journey through beautiful lights and mist / aroma of incense. I can't describe how beautiful it looked, and even a photo would not do it justice. Down the lane, towards the river, this trail of light went, to a place near the riverside which is used for special events as a small temple. Here the local people gathered for puja. At the climax of the puja, the door to the holy of holies is opened and the faithful can see the idol inside. At the moment that this happened, there was a gigantic round of explosions from fireworks, and at the same time, hundreds of piles of parafin pellets were lit to create small fires dotted amongst all of the oil lamps. It was breathtaking and such an amazing visual and aural announcement that the god is here amongst the believers. Maybe people get blaze about this when they've grown up with it, in the same way that Catholics can get bored by their rituals. But I found it exciting and moving to watch it and see the effect on the believers. I love the opportunty to witness and be welcomed into rituals like this. It reminds me how important communal ritual is.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Aranmula Christmas
It's mid afternoon on Christmas day and here in Aranmula there are some concessions to Christmas, but thankfully nothing like what it would be in Australia.
Some students have gone away for Christmas - the Belgian family have gone to Varkala for a beach Christmas (3 years ago Varkala was one of the beaches hit by the Boxing Day tsunami) A couple of students have gone to the ashram of Amma - she is a Keralan spiritual guru who is all the rage for westerners. She hugs everyone as her spiritual gift to her followers and people line up for hours to receive a hug from her. Some devotees talk about feeling an electric current flow through their body when she hugged them. Mumbo jumbo bah humbug as far as I'm concerned. Maybe I'm missing out on a god experience, but I get a bit annoyed with westerners (usually hippies) who think that all things Indian are deeply spiritual, and it's usually centred on one person. Amma (which means "mother") has travelled all around the world, including to Australia, giving hugs.
Anyway, those of us still at VKV had a special dinner last night (vegetarian of course) and all the teachers and VKV staff gathered with us. The eating area was decorated with streamers and balloons, and we had a few songs. Later most of the students gathered to sing together (some carols but mostly non-Christmas songs) and lit candles. We also played some silly games. It was a beautiful night with a stunning full moon.
There are many Christians in Kerala, especially Roman Catholic and Syrian Catholic. A tradition for the Christian youth for the week leading up to Christmas is to go "caroling" at all the neighbouring houses - but not caroling in any sense of what we know. It means playing very loud drums and chanting in Malayalam at people's doors until someone opens the door and gives them money. Apparently they raise money for a local sports club by doing this. I remember this from when I was here 3 years ago, but this year the young guys were much more aggressive - banging on our doors and yelling "Open the door!", looking in windows and being quite invasive. This goes on until about 1.30am and they may come to the same house several times in one night. Last night was the final night of this, and there were also firecrackers going off all night, people shouting and loud music playing over speakers all night. I don't think they were all necesarily Christians doing this - I think Hindus too were joining in the festivities.
All the VKV students were all individually asked if we would like our lessons on Christmas day and those of us still here all said yes. So today life goes on as normal, as I had hoped. I called my brother and sister not long after breakfast - my first communication other than email / blog with the outside world. My tabla teacher has invited me and another tabla student to his house this afternoon. This is not a Christmas thing - Ashok is a Hindu, but I think he always invites his longer term students to his house. Ashok lives in Chengannur - 12 kms (and a half hour bus trip) away, so we will catch the bus with him.
But here's my absolute Christmas highlight - a special and unexpected Christmas lunch:
I have been getting to know Aranmula's rickshaw drivers by smiling at them, gesturing and miming, and waving. Today as I was walking back to my room from my tabla lesson, I saw one of the rickshaw drivers walking along the lane towards me. It turns out he lives in the lane that I walk along every day to and from my tabla lessons. He took my hand to shake it, with a huge smile, and then led me to his house and took me inside. It is a very simple concrete house with not much furniture. He sat me down on a plastic chair and introduced me to his wife, sister and mother, and another guy who I think was his brother. They all spoke very very little English so most communication was via miming and a few English words. He got his mother to bring out food. I told him that VKV is vegetarian so he piled my plate with beef and keep adding to it as I ate. He sat and smiled at me saying "Happy Christmas" The family are Catholic (I surmised this from the Sacred Heart of Jesus and Pope pictures on the walls) so Christmas would have some cultural meaning for them I guess. The women of the house stood in the hallway looking in at me eat, and some small kids peeped in at the front door, giggled and said hello. My new friend kept smiling at me, trying to communicate with me in Malayalam. Shaking my hand, he said "friendship" and beamed. After eating I sat for a while until I had to go to my mridangam lesson. This was a special Christmas gift for me, and I am very grateful.
Some students have gone away for Christmas - the Belgian family have gone to Varkala for a beach Christmas (3 years ago Varkala was one of the beaches hit by the Boxing Day tsunami) A couple of students have gone to the ashram of Amma - she is a Keralan spiritual guru who is all the rage for westerners. She hugs everyone as her spiritual gift to her followers and people line up for hours to receive a hug from her. Some devotees talk about feeling an electric current flow through their body when she hugged them. Mumbo jumbo bah humbug as far as I'm concerned. Maybe I'm missing out on a god experience, but I get a bit annoyed with westerners (usually hippies) who think that all things Indian are deeply spiritual, and it's usually centred on one person. Amma (which means "mother") has travelled all around the world, including to Australia, giving hugs.
Anyway, those of us still at VKV had a special dinner last night (vegetarian of course) and all the teachers and VKV staff gathered with us. The eating area was decorated with streamers and balloons, and we had a few songs. Later most of the students gathered to sing together (some carols but mostly non-Christmas songs) and lit candles. We also played some silly games. It was a beautiful night with a stunning full moon.
There are many Christians in Kerala, especially Roman Catholic and Syrian Catholic. A tradition for the Christian youth for the week leading up to Christmas is to go "caroling" at all the neighbouring houses - but not caroling in any sense of what we know. It means playing very loud drums and chanting in Malayalam at people's doors until someone opens the door and gives them money. Apparently they raise money for a local sports club by doing this. I remember this from when I was here 3 years ago, but this year the young guys were much more aggressive - banging on our doors and yelling "Open the door!", looking in windows and being quite invasive. This goes on until about 1.30am and they may come to the same house several times in one night. Last night was the final night of this, and there were also firecrackers going off all night, people shouting and loud music playing over speakers all night. I don't think they were all necesarily Christians doing this - I think Hindus too were joining in the festivities.
All the VKV students were all individually asked if we would like our lessons on Christmas day and those of us still here all said yes. So today life goes on as normal, as I had hoped. I called my brother and sister not long after breakfast - my first communication other than email / blog with the outside world. My tabla teacher has invited me and another tabla student to his house this afternoon. This is not a Christmas thing - Ashok is a Hindu, but I think he always invites his longer term students to his house. Ashok lives in Chengannur - 12 kms (and a half hour bus trip) away, so we will catch the bus with him.
But here's my absolute Christmas highlight - a special and unexpected Christmas lunch:
I have been getting to know Aranmula's rickshaw drivers by smiling at them, gesturing and miming, and waving. Today as I was walking back to my room from my tabla lesson, I saw one of the rickshaw drivers walking along the lane towards me. It turns out he lives in the lane that I walk along every day to and from my tabla lessons. He took my hand to shake it, with a huge smile, and then led me to his house and took me inside. It is a very simple concrete house with not much furniture. He sat me down on a plastic chair and introduced me to his wife, sister and mother, and another guy who I think was his brother. They all spoke very very little English so most communication was via miming and a few English words. He got his mother to bring out food. I told him that VKV is vegetarian so he piled my plate with beef and keep adding to it as I ate. He sat and smiled at me saying "Happy Christmas" The family are Catholic (I surmised this from the Sacred Heart of Jesus and Pope pictures on the walls) so Christmas would have some cultural meaning for them I guess. The women of the house stood in the hallway looking in at me eat, and some small kids peeped in at the front door, giggled and said hello. My new friend kept smiling at me, trying to communicate with me in Malayalam. Shaking my hand, he said "friendship" and beamed. After eating I sat for a while until I had to go to my mridangam lesson. This was a special Christmas gift for me, and I am very grateful.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Another concert
Last Thursday night there was a concert in the temple here at Aranmula, for free of course. It was a performance by Santosh, the singing teacher at VKV, who has become a good friend of mine. He has an amzing voice. It was traditonal Carnatic music, which includes a lot of what we in the West might think of as singing in the cracks - notes between the notes that we use in western music. The singer sings a note (eg , the note of C) and bends it, kind of like my keyboard does when you turn the knob to change the pitch of a note. It also invoves the voice doing a lot of gymnastics which in the west would be seen as very strange and unbeautiful. Carnatic music is an acquired taste for the western ear, but I have learnt to love it. Santosh sings with passion and conviction.
He was accompanied by Subhash, my mridangam teacher. They have a long history of performing together and are long time friends, and it is through Subhash that Santosh got the teaching job at VKV. Also accompanying Santosh was Sharji. He is the wood carving teacher at VKV and also a good friend of mine. Some years ago Sharji decided that he wanted to learn Carnatic music, because as wood carving teacher at VKV he was surrounded by Carnatic music lessons. So he learnt mawsing (Indian Jew's harp) with Subhash as his teacher. There was also a violinist playing at the concert.
Many of the VKV students were in the audience, as well as some of the VKV staff. Not only was it wonderful to hear such beautiful and moving music, it was such a delight to see our teachers / friends on stage. Always in a Carnatic music concert, towards the end of the performance there is a piece which includes a percussion solo. Whatever percussion instruments are being used will each have 2 times of improvised soloing, within the confines of the talam timing pattern, and the singer keeps the talam clapping pattern going throughout it. So Subhash on mridangam and Shaji on mawsing both had 2 long, magical solo pieces. Then the fun starts because the mridangam plays an 8 bar pattern, and the mawsing immediately picks it up for 8 bars, reflecting but not necessarily exactly copying what the mridangam played. This interaction of 8 bars continues: 8 bars maridangam / 8 bars mawsing. Both instrumentalists are improvising at this stage, but there has to be an interaction between the 2. And it's a kind of a challenging game - the mridangam 8 bar pattern is saying to the mawsing "Can you match this?" After some rounds of this 8 bar game, then the mridangam plays 4 bars, followed by 4 bars of mwasing, etc. Then it becomes 2 bars, then 1 bar, then half a bar, and then the mridangam, and mawsing play together, developing a huge dramatic crescendo, until the singer and violin come back in to finish the song on a huge high. It is a very exciting part of a Carnatic concert. I was excited to watch Subhash, my teacher, soloing in full flight, his hands seemingly hardly touching the mridangam, they were moving so fast.
At my mridangam lesson on Friday I told Subhash how much I enjoyed the concert, and told him it reminded me how lucky I am to be his student. As I was saying this, I was embarrassed to find myself quite emotional, with tears in my eyes (which I hope he didn't see). He looked at me with a big grin, and then said "If you every day practicing hard, you can make concert on stage" Santosh told me some time ago that Subhash has great plans for me, and I know he believes that I can make my arangetram. So I am determined to come back next year, with mridangam my main subject (2 hours lessons a day) and hopefully I'll be good enough to perform.
He was accompanied by Subhash, my mridangam teacher. They have a long history of performing together and are long time friends, and it is through Subhash that Santosh got the teaching job at VKV. Also accompanying Santosh was Sharji. He is the wood carving teacher at VKV and also a good friend of mine. Some years ago Sharji decided that he wanted to learn Carnatic music, because as wood carving teacher at VKV he was surrounded by Carnatic music lessons. So he learnt mawsing (Indian Jew's harp) with Subhash as his teacher. There was also a violinist playing at the concert.
Many of the VKV students were in the audience, as well as some of the VKV staff. Not only was it wonderful to hear such beautiful and moving music, it was such a delight to see our teachers / friends on stage. Always in a Carnatic music concert, towards the end of the performance there is a piece which includes a percussion solo. Whatever percussion instruments are being used will each have 2 times of improvised soloing, within the confines of the talam timing pattern, and the singer keeps the talam clapping pattern going throughout it. So Subhash on mridangam and Shaji on mawsing both had 2 long, magical solo pieces. Then the fun starts because the mridangam plays an 8 bar pattern, and the mawsing immediately picks it up for 8 bars, reflecting but not necessarily exactly copying what the mridangam played. This interaction of 8 bars continues: 8 bars maridangam / 8 bars mawsing. Both instrumentalists are improvising at this stage, but there has to be an interaction between the 2. And it's a kind of a challenging game - the mridangam 8 bar pattern is saying to the mawsing "Can you match this?" After some rounds of this 8 bar game, then the mridangam plays 4 bars, followed by 4 bars of mwasing, etc. Then it becomes 2 bars, then 1 bar, then half a bar, and then the mridangam, and mawsing play together, developing a huge dramatic crescendo, until the singer and violin come back in to finish the song on a huge high. It is a very exciting part of a Carnatic concert. I was excited to watch Subhash, my teacher, soloing in full flight, his hands seemingly hardly touching the mridangam, they were moving so fast.
At my mridangam lesson on Friday I told Subhash how much I enjoyed the concert, and told him it reminded me how lucky I am to be his student. As I was saying this, I was embarrassed to find myself quite emotional, with tears in my eyes (which I hope he didn't see). He looked at me with a big grin, and then said "If you every day practicing hard, you can make concert on stage" Santosh told me some time ago that Subhash has great plans for me, and I know he believes that I can make my arangetram. So I am determined to come back next year, with mridangam my main subject (2 hours lessons a day) and hopefully I'll be good enough to perform.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Rhythm of simple living
The rhythm of my life is the rhythm of my daily routine. I walk to and from my tabla classes along a dirt path, past the back and front yards of Aranmula villagers, and past gardens of banana trees and coconut trees. Some houses would not look too out of place in Australia (maybe Darwin) reflecting money in the family, perhaps because a relative or family member is working somewhere in the Persian Gulf and sending money home. Other houses are very very simple, the kind we might expect in an Indian village. I walk past free range chickens and cows. Of course there are kids who call out "What is your name?" even if I've already told them. One boy yesterday was wearing a Harry Potter t-shirt. I smile at men and women who are walking past, and almost always get a smile in return. A woman in a bright sari stands at the fence of her neighbour, chatting. In one front yard a man in a dhoti is washing himself, sluicing water over himself as he washes off the soap. A motorbike drives past me on the dusty little lane. I look up at the huge leaves that surround me - so much beautiful greenery. And at night the sky can be magnificent. Later I walk on the main road that disects Aranmula - here the traffic can be heavy and dangerous, and crazy drivers of buses, cars, trucks and rickshaws try to pass each other on the wrong side of the road as they charge through the village. I choose to walk close to the autorickshaw stand because I've been making friends with the drivers - a smile, a mimed joke. I enjoy the fruits of this as rickshaw drivers now wave at me as they drive past. I walk past the barber shop and the barber waves at me. I walk past the tailor shop and he also waves. I've made a miming connection with a group of Tamil guys who must be very poor and work with very heavy labour as a demolition crew. I wave and smile at them. One small shop is the "coffee shop" - where VKV students and Aranmula locals alike buy a glass of hot sweet coffee and sit on the porch watching the traffic go by. I know there's only a surface level to all of this, and at a deeper level I am and always will be a foreigner, but I enjoy feelings of belonging here.
And then I delight in being surrounded by artists who are amazing in their creative fields. My teachers - Subhash and Ashok are both masters. My friend Santosh, the singing teacher, is a master. I've recently been getting to know the painting teacher, Anil, who is also a master.
So I have the great fortune as a rich westerner to be here and have lessons in percussion. I heard a hippie-style philosophy conversation amongst some of the students the other day, claiming that we must have good karma from a previous life to be able to afford be here, and so we should not waste the opportunity. I intensely dislike this kind of quasi Eastern thinking, but I do appreciate that I am very lucky and I am very grateful that I have the opportunity, and no I don't want to waste it. If I could finance myself, I could imagine doing this for 12 months, just staying here, continuing to learn music (or maybe I'm getting caught up in the romanticism of the moment) Selfish? Probably. But it is true that I'm happy. Of course I have waves of sadness and anxiety etc, but I am happy more consistantly than I have been for a long time. I'm not sure how this will translate when I return to Australia in 3 weeks' time. We'll see.
And then I delight in being surrounded by artists who are amazing in their creative fields. My teachers - Subhash and Ashok are both masters. My friend Santosh, the singing teacher, is a master. I've recently been getting to know the painting teacher, Anil, who is also a master.
So I have the great fortune as a rich westerner to be here and have lessons in percussion. I heard a hippie-style philosophy conversation amongst some of the students the other day, claiming that we must have good karma from a previous life to be able to afford be here, and so we should not waste the opportunity. I intensely dislike this kind of quasi Eastern thinking, but I do appreciate that I am very lucky and I am very grateful that I have the opportunity, and no I don't want to waste it. If I could finance myself, I could imagine doing this for 12 months, just staying here, continuing to learn music (or maybe I'm getting caught up in the romanticism of the moment) Selfish? Probably. But it is true that I'm happy. Of course I have waves of sadness and anxiety etc, but I am happy more consistantly than I have been for a long time. I'm not sure how this will translate when I return to Australia in 3 weeks' time. We'll see.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Bah Humbug et al
The monsoon is only a memory- it's "winter" now - dry, dusty and at times hot.
Very happy to be surrounded by Hindu festivals rather than western Christmas commercial hoo har.
The pilgrims to Sabrimala are increasing every day, and many visit the temple here at Aranmula on their way. Last weekend one of the staff members went. He arrived at the Pampa river at the bottom of the climb at 4am, and by midday he was still waiting in the queue 1km away from the temple. He finally got into the Ayyappa temple at 5.30pm. Apparently one pilgrim died of a heart attack at Sabrimala within the last week. Matthew, who took us on the pilgrimage, left lasrt night to go a second time, this time walking through the forest for 3 days to get there. I asked Girish if he would go with Matthew for a second time, and he shook his head and said "tiger, tiger!"
Some of us went to another Temple Festival concert to see Carnatic singing, accompanied by mridangam, violin and gaudam. The more I'm immersed in Carnatic music the more I love it (and slowly, the more I'm beginning to understand it)
My name was in the newspaper again (a Malayalam language newspaper) and the photo of some of the other students - because it was unusual to have westerners in the crowd of the temple festival music concert. We're newsworthy everywhere we go!
A group of us went on Thursday to a concert at Varkala (that touristy beach place I went to in my first month here) The concert was of Prem Joshua, a German sitar player and flautist, and his band (made up of Japanese bass player, German keyboard player and tabla player from Calcutta.) Some of the students here have his recordings and raved about him and there has been prolific promotion of his concert in all places where westerners would hang out (the concert was clearly aimed at westerners rather than Indians) So a group of us did the 1.5 hour train journey to Varkala to go to the concert. It was expensive, more like the money we pay in western countries for a concert, and was held in the grounds of an upmarket resort. It turned out to be a bit of a dud - world elevator music as someone described it. Nice but not wonderful. They were very talented musicians, no doubt about it, but it seemed formulaic, and Mr Prem Joshua could have been seen as a tad pretentious. The free classical Indian concerts in a temple have been much more exciting and moving. Anyway, it was a bit of a holiday and we got to eat fish again. An entertaining aspect of the concert for me was seeing European hippies in their late 50s / early 60s dominating the audience, decked out in their Indian outfits and doing their hippie dippie dance moves. Is this what the future holds for me???
I'm 2 thirds through my time here and I'm sure the last month will whizz by. Some of the longer term students here are about to leave - Christmas in Goa has been a tradition for travelers in India for decades. So some of my friends who have been here since before I arrived will be leaving in the next few days. "Todo Cambia" (everything changes - a Mercedes Sosa song which my band performed)
As for me and Christmas, I'm hoping for Bah Humbug and just another day in Aranmula.
I love mridangam maybe more than tabla, which is a surprise. Not sure how I will use it in the future. Yesterday in my room I was trying to play a funky western groove on it. Maybe possible. But I am really enjoying learning the classical Indian rhythms. I'm now learning a talam (rhythm) which is counted as 1 2 3 4 / 1 / 1 2 3 If that means nothing to you, just accept that it's complex. Subhashji arrives at my lesson, I say "Namaste" to him and he touches his chest in acceptance of my greeting. He sits in front of me, looks at me without saying anything for a minute or so, and then asks how I am. Often he is chewing on beetel nut, and will get up several times during the lesson to disappear around the corner to spit out the red phlegm that beetel nut produces. He is a gentle and humble man. After asking how I am, there will be another minute or 2 of silence, and then he will point to a page of my notebook, indicating what I should play to him from yesterday's lesson. I play it, and sometimes he might say "good" or even "very good". Another silent pause. Then he uses his hand as if he is turning the page of a book, and says "Next one" When he gives me the next part of the rhythm he rarely plays it on mridangam, but instead tells it to me using the names of the different strokes - Looking at me in my eyes: "Next One. Tat Thom Kit Tha Thaka That Tha Chat Tha Kittha Thaga" I then play what he has told me. We go through a series of these until I think I can't possibly hold it all in my head, and then he gets me to play it all over and over. I struggle for a few cycles, but then surprise myself at my memory's ability. When he's sure I've got it, then and only then will he write it in my notebook, while I keep playing. After 2 months of learning, I'm getting to know patterns of how the rhythms tend to be structured and so it helps me pick it up quicker. If he does play anything on mridangam during the lesson himself, he always first touches the body of the mridangam reverently and then touches his chest - a gesture of respect and reverence to the instrument (and maybe by association, to the masters of mridangam past and present?? - that's my romantic interpretation) I really like this reverence for the instrument. We continue like this for the hour until Lucy arrives for her lesson, and I get up (struggle out of cross legged position) , holding my palms together in front of my chest and say "Namaste" to him again and he touches his chest, and we say "see you tomorrow" Or before I get up, he might say "Practice this many times"
Very happy to be surrounded by Hindu festivals rather than western Christmas commercial hoo har.
The pilgrims to Sabrimala are increasing every day, and many visit the temple here at Aranmula on their way. Last weekend one of the staff members went. He arrived at the Pampa river at the bottom of the climb at 4am, and by midday he was still waiting in the queue 1km away from the temple. He finally got into the Ayyappa temple at 5.30pm. Apparently one pilgrim died of a heart attack at Sabrimala within the last week. Matthew, who took us on the pilgrimage, left lasrt night to go a second time, this time walking through the forest for 3 days to get there. I asked Girish if he would go with Matthew for a second time, and he shook his head and said "tiger, tiger!"
Some of us went to another Temple Festival concert to see Carnatic singing, accompanied by mridangam, violin and gaudam. The more I'm immersed in Carnatic music the more I love it (and slowly, the more I'm beginning to understand it)
My name was in the newspaper again (a Malayalam language newspaper) and the photo of some of the other students - because it was unusual to have westerners in the crowd of the temple festival music concert. We're newsworthy everywhere we go!
A group of us went on Thursday to a concert at Varkala (that touristy beach place I went to in my first month here) The concert was of Prem Joshua, a German sitar player and flautist, and his band (made up of Japanese bass player, German keyboard player and tabla player from Calcutta.) Some of the students here have his recordings and raved about him and there has been prolific promotion of his concert in all places where westerners would hang out (the concert was clearly aimed at westerners rather than Indians) So a group of us did the 1.5 hour train journey to Varkala to go to the concert. It was expensive, more like the money we pay in western countries for a concert, and was held in the grounds of an upmarket resort. It turned out to be a bit of a dud - world elevator music as someone described it. Nice but not wonderful. They were very talented musicians, no doubt about it, but it seemed formulaic, and Mr Prem Joshua could have been seen as a tad pretentious. The free classical Indian concerts in a temple have been much more exciting and moving. Anyway, it was a bit of a holiday and we got to eat fish again. An entertaining aspect of the concert for me was seeing European hippies in their late 50s / early 60s dominating the audience, decked out in their Indian outfits and doing their hippie dippie dance moves. Is this what the future holds for me???
I'm 2 thirds through my time here and I'm sure the last month will whizz by. Some of the longer term students here are about to leave - Christmas in Goa has been a tradition for travelers in India for decades. So some of my friends who have been here since before I arrived will be leaving in the next few days. "Todo Cambia" (everything changes - a Mercedes Sosa song which my band performed)
As for me and Christmas, I'm hoping for Bah Humbug and just another day in Aranmula.
I love mridangam maybe more than tabla, which is a surprise. Not sure how I will use it in the future. Yesterday in my room I was trying to play a funky western groove on it. Maybe possible. But I am really enjoying learning the classical Indian rhythms. I'm now learning a talam (rhythm) which is counted as 1 2 3 4 / 1 / 1 2 3 If that means nothing to you, just accept that it's complex. Subhashji arrives at my lesson, I say "Namaste" to him and he touches his chest in acceptance of my greeting. He sits in front of me, looks at me without saying anything for a minute or so, and then asks how I am. Often he is chewing on beetel nut, and will get up several times during the lesson to disappear around the corner to spit out the red phlegm that beetel nut produces. He is a gentle and humble man. After asking how I am, there will be another minute or 2 of silence, and then he will point to a page of my notebook, indicating what I should play to him from yesterday's lesson. I play it, and sometimes he might say "good" or even "very good". Another silent pause. Then he uses his hand as if he is turning the page of a book, and says "Next one" When he gives me the next part of the rhythm he rarely plays it on mridangam, but instead tells it to me using the names of the different strokes - Looking at me in my eyes: "Next One. Tat Thom Kit Tha Thaka That Tha Chat Tha Kittha Thaga" I then play what he has told me. We go through a series of these until I think I can't possibly hold it all in my head, and then he gets me to play it all over and over. I struggle for a few cycles, but then surprise myself at my memory's ability. When he's sure I've got it, then and only then will he write it in my notebook, while I keep playing. After 2 months of learning, I'm getting to know patterns of how the rhythms tend to be structured and so it helps me pick it up quicker. If he does play anything on mridangam during the lesson himself, he always first touches the body of the mridangam reverently and then touches his chest - a gesture of respect and reverence to the instrument (and maybe by association, to the masters of mridangam past and present?? - that's my romantic interpretation) I really like this reverence for the instrument. We continue like this for the hour until Lucy arrives for her lesson, and I get up (struggle out of cross legged position) , holding my palms together in front of my chest and say "Namaste" to him again and he touches his chest, and we say "see you tomorrow" Or before I get up, he might say "Practice this many times"
Friday, December 7, 2007
Music heaven
Yet another spiritually / physically / emotionally / intellectually amazing experience last night.
My mridangam teacher (guru) told me some weeks ago that his guru would be performing in a concert and invited me to come. Currently there is a 2 week festival at a temple about 1 hour's drive away from Aranmula, and Subhash's guru's performance is a part of this festival. Last night 14 of us went to this concert, and it was such an amazing experience. It was a FREE concert, but the musicians were world class. We were told to go early so that we could get seats because this man is very famous and there would be many people there. So we got great seats at the front and took turns guarding them while we found fruit to eat for the evening meal (memories of WOMAD, reserving space on the fence at the front.)
My guru's guru is named Guru Kaaraikkudi R Mani, and it turns out he is one of India's greatest mridangam players, known world wide. He has schools set up around the world, including one in Melbourne. He has a website (the photo of him below is from his website), and on it I found that he has recently recorded with Paul Simon. He performs all around the world, and is held in great esteem here, obviously.
When his entourage arrived at the venue, my guru was with him, and they went backstage. Later Subhash, my guru, came to get me and took me backstage to meet the great man (I was watched enviously by hundreds of Indian fans as I was taken backstage.) He was a very humble man. His English is very good and he chatted to me for about 10 minutes. He asked where I am from and then told me that he performed at the Adelaide Festival of Arts 6 years ago with the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra, and he told me that he has had a long association with Paul Grabowski. He will be in Melbourne in February and then again in October, so maybe I can meet him there - when I left him he said "Next time in Melbourne"
The concert was stunning. There were 7 musicians on stage (I will include their names in case Uma is reading this, because he might know these musicians). In the centre was the mridangam master himself, and he was in control of everything. To his left were the other 3 percussionists: Sri V Suresh playing khadam (which is a clay pot, hit with fingertips and palms) Another musican (I don't know his name) on ganjira, a small tambourine (it was absolutely amazing and unbelievable the sounds he could make from this very simple instrument). Sri VV Madhusoodhanan played tabla, as well as several other percussion instruments and an electric drum kit. To Kaaraikkudi Mani's right were the melodic instrumentalists: Sri BV Lalasai on flute, Sri UP Raju on mandolin and Sri BV Raghavendra Rao on electric violin.
They played for 3 hours and I was in heaven. I can't express how amazing they were. The only problem was that the sound engineer needs to go to a basic sound engineering course. For almost half of the concert there were terrible screeches from feedback loops, until members of the audience started yelling out advice to the sound engineer, and a crowd of about 10 people formed an irate circle around the mixing desk. The whole performance was halted and a new sound check was done from scratch, which made significant improvements. But anyway, even under those conditions, the brilliance of the musicians was obvious (As I reread my last sentence to myself I chuckled because I've clearly been in India too long, and I'm starting to use flowery language like Indian English)
We were at the front, but in front of us was a roped off area for dignitaries and the press. There were lots of cameras, and guess where the cameras were often aimed - at the white people sitting in the audience. The khadam player was the one who spoke in between pieces, and at the end of the concert he thanked the audience and said that "there are even many foreigners in the audience" (ie those of us from VKV, Aranmula) We'll see if we make the papers again.
Tonight some of us are going back to the same place again, because there is a singing concert (also free). The vocalists are "The Karnatika Brothers" from Chennai (Madras) and they will be accompanied by violin, mridangam, khadam and moursing (Jew's harp)
Guru Kaaraikkudi R Mani, my guru's guru. There were many jokes from my co-students about "guru squared", or "MG2" (Mridangam Guru squared)
My mridangam teacher (guru) told me some weeks ago that his guru would be performing in a concert and invited me to come. Currently there is a 2 week festival at a temple about 1 hour's drive away from Aranmula, and Subhash's guru's performance is a part of this festival. Last night 14 of us went to this concert, and it was such an amazing experience. It was a FREE concert, but the musicians were world class. We were told to go early so that we could get seats because this man is very famous and there would be many people there. So we got great seats at the front and took turns guarding them while we found fruit to eat for the evening meal (memories of WOMAD, reserving space on the fence at the front.)
My guru's guru is named Guru Kaaraikkudi R Mani, and it turns out he is one of India's greatest mridangam players, known world wide. He has schools set up around the world, including one in Melbourne. He has a website (the photo of him below is from his website), and on it I found that he has recently recorded with Paul Simon. He performs all around the world, and is held in great esteem here, obviously.
When his entourage arrived at the venue, my guru was with him, and they went backstage. Later Subhash, my guru, came to get me and took me backstage to meet the great man (I was watched enviously by hundreds of Indian fans as I was taken backstage.) He was a very humble man. His English is very good and he chatted to me for about 10 minutes. He asked where I am from and then told me that he performed at the Adelaide Festival of Arts 6 years ago with the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra, and he told me that he has had a long association with Paul Grabowski. He will be in Melbourne in February and then again in October, so maybe I can meet him there - when I left him he said "Next time in Melbourne"
The concert was stunning. There were 7 musicians on stage (I will include their names in case Uma is reading this, because he might know these musicians). In the centre was the mridangam master himself, and he was in control of everything. To his left were the other 3 percussionists: Sri V Suresh playing khadam (which is a clay pot, hit with fingertips and palms) Another musican (I don't know his name) on ganjira, a small tambourine (it was absolutely amazing and unbelievable the sounds he could make from this very simple instrument). Sri VV Madhusoodhanan played tabla, as well as several other percussion instruments and an electric drum kit. To Kaaraikkudi Mani's right were the melodic instrumentalists: Sri BV Lalasai on flute, Sri UP Raju on mandolin and Sri BV Raghavendra Rao on electric violin.
They played for 3 hours and I was in heaven. I can't express how amazing they were. The only problem was that the sound engineer needs to go to a basic sound engineering course. For almost half of the concert there were terrible screeches from feedback loops, until members of the audience started yelling out advice to the sound engineer, and a crowd of about 10 people formed an irate circle around the mixing desk. The whole performance was halted and a new sound check was done from scratch, which made significant improvements. But anyway, even under those conditions, the brilliance of the musicians was obvious (As I reread my last sentence to myself I chuckled because I've clearly been in India too long, and I'm starting to use flowery language like Indian English)
We were at the front, but in front of us was a roped off area for dignitaries and the press. There were lots of cameras, and guess where the cameras were often aimed - at the white people sitting in the audience. The khadam player was the one who spoke in between pieces, and at the end of the concert he thanked the audience and said that "there are even many foreigners in the audience" (ie those of us from VKV, Aranmula) We'll see if we make the papers again.
Tonight some of us are going back to the same place again, because there is a singing concert (also free). The vocalists are "The Karnatika Brothers" from Chennai (Madras) and they will be accompanied by violin, mridangam, khadam and moursing (Jew's harp)
Guru Kaaraikkudi R Mani, my guru's guru. There were many jokes from my co-students about "guru squared", or "MG2" (Mridangam Guru squared)
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Sabarimala pilgrimage photos
Here's a few photos of the event, taken by Dan
Friday night roughly 9.30pm at Aranmula. A priest from the temple has come to officiate over the preparations for us to leave as pilgrims. The priest (in the middle of the photo, dressed in white dhoti and bare chest) helps us do various rituals including filling the coconut with ghee and putting all of the offerings in the cloth bundle to carry on our heads.
Maybe 2am-ish. The incline has lessened but it's not necessarily kind to the bare feet. That's me on the left in the orange shirt, with my red cloth bundle slung over my shoulder.
Some time after 2.30am - we've reached the "queue" and this is how we will stay for the next 6 hours, inching our way forward
The sun has long ago risen and we are still in the queue to get into the temple. The line has moved into the "warehouse" and the line snakes around this building 3 times before it reaches the steps to go up into the temple compound. It's a good one to have, though.
Friday night roughly 9.30pm at Aranmula. A priest from the temple has come to officiate over the preparations for us to leave as pilgrims. The priest (in the middle of the photo, dressed in white dhoti and bare chest) helps us do various rituals including filling the coconut with ghee and putting all of the offerings in the cloth bundle to carry on our heads.
Friday night about 1am - we've reached the Pampa River at the bottom of the climb to Sabarimala. Our group of pilgrims prepare to wash in the river before the climb.
... and so we start the climb
Maybe 2am-ish. The incline has lessened but it's not necessarily kind to the bare feet. That's me on the left in the orange shirt, with my red cloth bundle slung over my shoulder.
Some time after 2.30am - we've reached the "queue" and this is how we will stay for the next 6 hours, inching our way forward
The sun has long ago risen and we are still in the queue to get into the temple. The line has moved into the "warehouse" and the line snakes around this building 3 times before it reaches the steps to go up into the temple compound. It's a good one to have, though.
We have entered the temple compound and now are in line to go up the 18 golden steps. Notice the policemen on either side of the steps, dragging people up the steps. Dan was very naughty taking this photo because you're not supposed to take photos inside the temple compound
We have completed all of the rituals and are now waiting, exhausted, berfore the decent back down the hill. Matthew, sitting next to me, is a staff member from VKV and the one who organised our group. He is a Christian and also one of the most enthusiastic of the Ayyappa devotees in our group - an interesting mix, I thought.
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"Mangalam" is a Malayalam language newspaper. In Sunday's edition of Mangalam there was a small article and photo of us, the 4 white people who went to Sabarimala. Apparently the headline of the article says something like "Foreign Ayyappa devotees go to Sabarimala" The article mentions the 4 of us by name and what county we come from and that we are studying music at Vijnana Kala Vedi at Aranmula. It says that the foreigners were led by Tony from Australia (that's what Matthew told the journalist)
Monday, December 3, 2007
A few photos and a book recommendation
Wednesday night outside of Aranmula temple - we buy the pilgrims' malas (chains to wear around our neck, with a picture of Lord Ayyappa) from this street seller
Wednesday night inside the Aranmula temple - the festival of Krishna. Priests drum and perform puja ceremonies.
Wednesday night: the line of people inside the Aranmula temple complex, waiting to go inside the sancum sanctorum.
Wednesday night in the Aranmula temple complex - the temple elephants
There are more photos I want to add - of Friday night preparing to go to Sabarimala, and Friday night / Saturday at Sabarimala. But unfortunately the uploading of images is taking forever today so I'll try again tomorrow.
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A book I'm reading at the moment: "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert. I highly recommend it. She is an American woman who went through a terribly difficult divorce and then an on again off again addictive relationship (sounds familiar) and then decided to spend a year of her life attending to 3 areas of her life that needed healing: Allowing pleasure and savouring it (she spent 4 months in Italy, particularly savouring food, thus the "Eat" part of the title) Discovering and developing spirituality (She spent 4 months in an ashram in South India, thus the "Pray" part of the title) and finding a balance between pleasure and spirituality (She spent 4 months in Bali, and discovers how to love again, thus the "Love" part of the title) I'm finding much of what she writes very relevant, very moving and very familiar.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Sabarimala photos I found on the net
The 18 golden steps up to the next level of the temple complex (taken when there are no pilgrims there, obviously) Notice the blue "cattle fences" in the foreground - this is where the "queue" lines up
Pilgrims in the "queue" waiting to get into the temple complex, in the area that I described as a giant warehouse, where the line snakes around several times.
The golden temple with the Ayyappa idol inside.
Pilgrims in the queue waiting to file (ie be pushed through) the temple past the Ayyappa idol. Notice the pilgrims holding the cloth bundles on their heads.
Police trying to hold back the crush of pilgrims. This photo came from an online newspaper from some years ago.
Pilgrims carrying their cloth bundles on their heads as they walk on their way to Sabarimala. They are wearing their black lungis and the chains around their necks. We didn't have the flowers, and we wore shirts.
I hope to get photos that Francois took, but these might give you an idea of what it was like
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Sabarimala, swamis and Ayyappa
So much to tell, how to tell it? One of those life-time-remembering stories: a pilgrimage to Sabarimala. Here's some background information I got off the net:
Sabarimala Sri Dharmasastha Temple is the most famous temple in Kerala. It is believed that "Parasurama Maharshi" who retrieved Kerala from the sea by throwing his axe, installed the idol of Ayyappa at Sabarimala to worship Lord Ayyappa. The pilgrimage begins in the month of November and ends in January. The temple attracts pilgrims not only from the southern states of India, but also from other parts of the country and abroad. The shrine gets thronged with devotees during this time.
Certain customs are to be observed if one has to undertake a pilgrimage to Sabarimala. A pilgrim should observe austerities for 41 days. During this period, the pilgrim should abstain himself from non- vegetarian habits and cardinal pleasures. Pilgrims set out in groups under a leader, and each carry a cloth bundle called Irumudi kettu containing traditional offerings. Unlike certain Hindu temples, Sabarimala temple has no restrictions of caste or creed. The temple is open to males of all age groups and to women who have either passed their fertility age and those before reaching the stage of puberty.The easiest route is via Chalakkayam, by which one can reach the banks of the river Pamba by vehicle. Pamba is the main halting point on the way to Sabarimala. From here one has to trek 4 to 5 kms to reach the temple.
Built on a plateau about 40 feet high, the Ayyappan temple commands a lofty view of the mountains and valleys all around. The ancient temple has been rebuilt after a fire in 1950. Within the confines of the sanctum sanctorium with a copper-plated roof and four golden finials at the top, sits a beautiful idol of Ayyappa in panchaloha, an alloy of five metals, about one and a half feet tall.
SO - the VKV pilgrims: myself, Yossi (from Israel), Dan (from UK) , Francois (from Belgium) and VKV staff members Matthew, Rajish, Girish, Hari, Khanan and his 4 and half year old son (please remember as you read all of what we did that there was a 4 and half year old doing all of this - in fact many many children)
It started on Wednesday night with a trip to the main temple here in Aranmula, where we bought the chains to wear around our necks for the pilgrimage, and had them blessed by a priest. From then on we were "swamis" for the duration. It also happened to be the end of a festival of Lord Krishna, and since the temple is a Krishna temple, there was a huge event with 3 elephants and drumming and fire (but this is all too much to go into and off the topic of the pilgrimage. Suffice to say it was a thrilling ritual in itself)
On Friday night there were ceremonies with a priest here at VKV. Those of us going on the pilgrimage had to be dressed in a black lungi and black or orange shirt for the duration of the pilgrimage. We had to do a range of ritual things, most importantly preparing the cloth bundle mentioned in the info above. Each of us was given a cloth tube in which we had to put various things including 2 small coconuts. One of the coconuts was emptied of its milk and we had to fill it with ghee and reseal it. Both were put in the cloth tube, along with packets of different coloured powders and sweets , a small banana and other things, all of which were to be used as offerings at Sabarimala. The cloth tube is sealed and tied up into a bundle so that one coconut is dangling at one end and the other coconut at the other end. This bundle is to be carried during the pilgrimage on the head (so that one end is dangling on the forehead and the other at the back of the head) or slung over one shoulder. During these rituals there was lots of singing and drumming and clapping hands, and then after this we sang and danced - getting close to trance states.
At maybe 11pm it was time to leave, and those of us who were the swamis were sent off, bare footed, into the 4 wheel drive which would take us to the Pampa river (see the info above) We stopped at the Krishna temple in Aranmula to light a fire on the steps of the temple and leave an offering (Dan joked that we were setting fire to the temple and then running away) and similar at the small Ganesh temple in Aranmula. Then it was maybe 2 hours of driving, during which time there was lots of chanting and singing to Lord Ayyappa. Both chanting and singing is in the form of call and response:
Chant: one voice calls "Swami-ay-ee" (the "ee" part in falsetto voice) everyone responds: "Saranam Ayyappa"
Also there was a CD in the car of devotional songs to Ayyappa. Lots of excitement and energy. We drive through forested area which is a wildlife reserve and has tigers and elephants - some devoted pilgrims walk all the way here through the forest and take maybe 40 days to get here. All the way there is bus after bus after bus after bus of pilgrims, pilgrims on the side of the road at chai stalls.
At about 1am we arrived at the base of the hill at the River Pampa. There are thousands of pilgrims here. Alwaysin Hinduism devotees must wash beforegoing into a temple, and here the pilgrims must wash in the river. It is freezing cold water (we are up high in the hills now) but Girish and Rajish submerge themsleves in the water. The rest of us from our group paddle knee deep and splash some water on our faces.
It is a bit like WOMAD or a music festival - there are stalls everywhere selling chai or coffee or other food, trinkets, the pilgrim chains, pilgrimage souvenirs etc. It's a very festive mood, with lots of black lungis. Everyone has their cloth bundle on their head or on their shoulder. Dan and Yossi want to go to the toilet, and when they come back Yossi says "The toilet is an experiment - you don't want to know" (I'm not sure if he meant to say experiment or experience, but I think it is most appropriate.)
So now it is time to start the climb (as the info says, 4 - 5 kms) It is a very steep incline, a paved path (but the type with lots of rough stones sticking up) Remember, we are bare footed! The chanting starts again "Swami-ay-ee" "Saranam Ayyappa" and singing, again to near trance as we all struggle as best we can up the steep path. There are groups from all over Kerala, Tamil Nadu and much further away. Quite a few women (of course, they have to be past menstruating age) and lots of children. And many many many men of all ages and shapes and physical conditions. Suddenly we hear a whistle blowing and cries of "Dolly Dolly Dolly" and 4 men carrying a stretcher almost run past, with an old woman being carried up the hillside (these are used for people with physical disabilities and older people, there will be many of them going past us) All the way up on either side are chai stalls. We see a sign saying "Free oxygen" and also "Free medicated drinking water" The path is full of pilgrims - if you pause you are bumped into by the flowing stream of climbers. The path is lit by flurescent lights. Either side is forest but there is no chance to see it because at each step you have to look to carefully place your foot so that you wan't step on something sharp (but of course this happens many times) Chanting and singing is everywhere, each group with a leader doing the calling. Much excitement and ferver, even though we are all tired.
At about 2.30 am we come to a stop - the temple will not open until 4 am and already the "queue" is about 1 km long. We join this "queue" The reason I put the word queue in inverted commas is because it is not really a queue, it is a crush. Pilgrims cannot wait in an orderly line - they have to push up hard against each other, straining to get a few cms closer to the goal of the temple. This means we are hemmed in, and we stay like this for the next 6 hours, inching our way forewards. Of course we all have our cloth bundles on our shoulders or heads. Little kids lean forward and fall asleep standing up. I think it's a good idea myself. I don't understand how it happens, but every nowe and then there is a movement forward about 10 paces and everyone crushes ahead, deperate not to lose their place in the line and at the same time trying to use the opportunity to try to push in front of someone else. There are police lined all along the path - very necessary because there could easily be a riot or a stampede - I've read of pilgrimages in the past where the crowd has stampeded and someone has been crushed to death. I am entertained by the inevitable cheats - the line snakes around a bend and down the hill. Every now and again a few pilgrims decide they will jump the queue and run down the side of the hill to push in further ahead. Suddenly it is a river with burst banks and there are a hundred others following them, all trying to push in ahead, until a policeman comes armed with a stick. During the event we will pass through 3 metal detecters: if a terrorist decided to target Sabarimala it would be a very significant disaster. During the day's events one of our number guessed that there night be 100,000 people there. I have no possible way of guessing, but there were definitely MANY MANY MANY thousands. And during Dec/Jan it will get much busier. I don't expect to be a part of a crowd that size ever again in my life.
As we inch closer we start to see a huge expanse of lights in the valley below us. I ask Khanan what it is (a city?) and he says "It's the temple" Later I find that it has many restaurants, medical centres, sleeping areas etc etc. It is huge. Finally at 4am there is suddenly very loud recorded music amplified - the temple has opened! The pilgrims around us, though tired, have a rush of excitement and start their chanting again. So the crush inches on. At last we go down steps into what looks like a massive massive warehouse, and we can see that the line snakes around this 3 times before it goes up the steps into the actual temple comlex area. So there are more hours of standing waiting. The 4 of us are the only foreigners and therfore source of great interest (lots of staring and comments) and a few brave souls ask what country we are from. During the day we will be photographed many times, stared at, asked about where we are from, Francois will be interviwed for radio, the 4 of us filmed for TV and I am interviewed for TV. Apparently a person from the media phoned VKV to confirm our details.
We saw the sunrise and we are still waiting. At about 8.30am the ploiceman lets our goup through and we go through security check and about to climbe the steps into the main temple compound, when ... Francois is stopped by a policeman and made to empty his back pack. He is starting out as a freelance photojournalist and has very professional photographic equipment. He has been taking photos but he knows that once we get into the temple it is forbidden to take photos. However, this security policeman is full of self importance and sees the chance to pick on a foreigner. He makes Francois unpack all of his equipment and open up cameras and lenses to prove there is no bomb inside. Finally he is told he cannot take it into the temple and he has to go out to a police office to leave his equipment, so all of our group leave the line and are led away from the temple. Fortunately this is only a fairly short diversion and we are then taken on a shortcut back into the temple grounds.
It is all chaos and noise and confusion! There is nothing serene and calm about the worship happening here. In the west we have this idea of Hinduism as meditation and calm, but there is pandemonium here. Over the amplification system is a never ending stream of people yelling/screaming devotional chants. There are explosions (I don't know from what, maybe some kind of cannon) that are set off constantly. People are chanting at different times in different ways and places. There is drumming. There are policemen everywhere trying to keep some kind of order. There are thousands and thousands and thousands of people. Of course we join a line/throng. We are headed toward the 18 golden steps. It is a very symbolic and important set of stairs plated in gold, which takes us up to another level in the complex. Everyone has their cloth bundle on their heads, there is nothing to hold onto to pull yourself up the steps and they are very narrow and very very steep and slippery. There are thousands of people pushing to get up. On either side of the steps is a line of policemen, and their job is to grab each pilgrim and haul/shove them up a step so that the next policeman can grab them and shove them up the next step etc Remarkable! Crazy! What other religion would do this!!!
We have to undo the cloth bundle and take out one of the coconuts - not the one full of ghee. There is a wall where all pigrims throw thier coconut so that it smashes and there are thousands of smashed coconuts lying on the ground. So we smash our coconuts - I have some idea that this is representative of releasing bad things from us but I don't really know, I need to find a book about Sabarimala to find out the meaning of all the ritual things we did.
We join the next long line which goes in a huge snaking circle and after who knows how long we are pushed and shoved by both policeman and also by the pilgrims in the line behind us through the golden Ayyappa temple and we see the famous Ayyappa idol (see the info above) But there is no chance of stopping to look - you get a glimpse as you are shoved past it.
We come out into another building where we unpack the second coconut - the one filled with ghee. We take it to a place where there is a sign saying "Ghee tanks" and we have to smash this coconut by hitting it on a sacred rock, and then empty the ghee into the huge vat. Someone said that the gods bathe in the ghee, but I don't know more than this.
Off we go to another whole series of small temple structures and idols, and again we unpack from our cloth bundles all the packets of coloured powders and sweets etc and there is a whole series of rituals of emptying the powders and sweets at differrent idols. It is quite particular about which coloured powders at which idols and Girish and Rajish show me which ones to use when. Girish uses the powder, once it has been poured onto the idols, to make coloured smudges on my forehead. What does all this mean? I have no idea. Meanwhile the chaos continues. Noise noise noise. The VKV staff take great care of us and are quite protective - to get lost in this crowd would be a disaster. It feels to me like the worshippers have absolutley no sense of community in what they are doing, it is a very private individual thing, so get the hell out of my way so that I can get to the idol and if you take too long I'll push you out the way.
In this area of the temple complex there are a number of men sitting on the ground, singing and playing small double-headed drums with sticks. One sees me and is obviously callingme over to him. We ask Rajish what this is about and he tells us that they sing a kind of prayer for anyone who has something bad inside them that they want to remove. Immediately I head for one of the singer/drummers and Yossi heads for another. (Yossi and I have spent a lot of time comparing notes about the bad things inside of us that we want to remove) For 10 rupees the singer/drummer/prayer asks your name, and then sings and drums a personal prayer for you as you sit on the ground in front of him, and he includes your name in the song. When he is finished he blesses you with a coloured powder smudge on the forehead.
Finally it seems we have done everything neceassary and we go to find some food for breakfast. We are exhausted but also I am a bit high from the intensity of it all. There are food stalls everywhere so we buy some vegetable biryani and sit down to eat. The food is packed in cardboard take away containers and Yossi is very amused to find Hebrew writing on the lid - left over containers from an Israeli Icecream chain. Some Israeli company is making money dumping left over takeaway containers in India.
Much of the rest of the time the 4 of us foreigners were left sitting waiting while the others were doing whatever they were doing. As I said, we were stared at, one man said to me "are you a god person?" which I think meant are you religious, and we were photographed and interviewed.
Very eventually it was time for the climb back down - much much harder than going up. The sun was hot, it was quite slippery in many parts going down. You had to lean your body backwards because of the decline. Thousands of people all going down at the same time, and more of the "Dolly Dolly Dolly" stretchers running past. More sellers on the side of the road selling toys and trinkets. Barefooted, each step is a careful decision, so eyes are cast downward. I was doing some running steps at some points because of the movement of the crowd and the decline. It was quite a challenge. There were also many more pilgr4ims on the dame path, going up, just beginning the whole adventure, and they were full of the fervent chanting, whereas we on the downward journey tended to be in an exhausted silence. Beautiful forested hills as scenery but very little chance to look around and appreciate it.
Down at the bottom at the Pampa river, it was time to wash in the river again, and this time we really appreciated the cooling water on the bottoms of our feet and face. Now it was time to take off the chain around our neck - so at this point we were no longer swamis. A final chai, and then the trip in the 4 wheel drive back to Aranmula, each of us having that uncomfortable nodding off and jolting awake again in the car (and the dangerous risky driving of our driver was enough to keep us awake) A stop on the hillside road at a local eatery for lunch allowed a chance to look at the beautiful scernery, as well as a roadside piss over the hill whilst pilgrim busses drove past and pilgrims walked past. The sight of a man pissing on the side of the road is nothing at all out of the ordinary in India, but I'm not sure if the sight of a white man pissing on the side of the road is something to stare at - I didn't bother to check. As on the way, bus after bus after bus of pilgrims was going in both directions - either returning home or about to begin. Pilgrims walking on the side of the road. Everywhere. This is the norm for the next month and half.
At maybe 4pm we got back to VKV and I went to bed. Sleep is a gorgeous yummy thing.
So, it was a most amazing experience and I feel very lucky to have had the opportunity. It was challenging and hard work, but compared to the real authentic pilgrims who do the 40 day event, it was and "excursion" (as Santosh, the singing teacher here said) The TV interviewer asked me if I would come to Sabarimala again. I gave hime what he wanted and saidI I come back to India again I'm sure I would do it again. But I'm not so sure. Maybe.
Sabarimala Sri Dharmasastha Temple is the most famous temple in Kerala. It is believed that "Parasurama Maharshi" who retrieved Kerala from the sea by throwing his axe, installed the idol of Ayyappa at Sabarimala to worship Lord Ayyappa. The pilgrimage begins in the month of November and ends in January. The temple attracts pilgrims not only from the southern states of India, but also from other parts of the country and abroad. The shrine gets thronged with devotees during this time.
Certain customs are to be observed if one has to undertake a pilgrimage to Sabarimala. A pilgrim should observe austerities for 41 days. During this period, the pilgrim should abstain himself from non- vegetarian habits and cardinal pleasures. Pilgrims set out in groups under a leader, and each carry a cloth bundle called Irumudi kettu containing traditional offerings. Unlike certain Hindu temples, Sabarimala temple has no restrictions of caste or creed. The temple is open to males of all age groups and to women who have either passed their fertility age and those before reaching the stage of puberty.The easiest route is via Chalakkayam, by which one can reach the banks of the river Pamba by vehicle. Pamba is the main halting point on the way to Sabarimala. From here one has to trek 4 to 5 kms to reach the temple.
Built on a plateau about 40 feet high, the Ayyappan temple commands a lofty view of the mountains and valleys all around. The ancient temple has been rebuilt after a fire in 1950. Within the confines of the sanctum sanctorium with a copper-plated roof and four golden finials at the top, sits a beautiful idol of Ayyappa in panchaloha, an alloy of five metals, about one and a half feet tall.
SO - the VKV pilgrims: myself, Yossi (from Israel), Dan (from UK) , Francois (from Belgium) and VKV staff members Matthew, Rajish, Girish, Hari, Khanan and his 4 and half year old son (please remember as you read all of what we did that there was a 4 and half year old doing all of this - in fact many many children)
It started on Wednesday night with a trip to the main temple here in Aranmula, where we bought the chains to wear around our necks for the pilgrimage, and had them blessed by a priest. From then on we were "swamis" for the duration. It also happened to be the end of a festival of Lord Krishna, and since the temple is a Krishna temple, there was a huge event with 3 elephants and drumming and fire (but this is all too much to go into and off the topic of the pilgrimage. Suffice to say it was a thrilling ritual in itself)
On Friday night there were ceremonies with a priest here at VKV. Those of us going on the pilgrimage had to be dressed in a black lungi and black or orange shirt for the duration of the pilgrimage. We had to do a range of ritual things, most importantly preparing the cloth bundle mentioned in the info above. Each of us was given a cloth tube in which we had to put various things including 2 small coconuts. One of the coconuts was emptied of its milk and we had to fill it with ghee and reseal it. Both were put in the cloth tube, along with packets of different coloured powders and sweets , a small banana and other things, all of which were to be used as offerings at Sabarimala. The cloth tube is sealed and tied up into a bundle so that one coconut is dangling at one end and the other coconut at the other end. This bundle is to be carried during the pilgrimage on the head (so that one end is dangling on the forehead and the other at the back of the head) or slung over one shoulder. During these rituals there was lots of singing and drumming and clapping hands, and then after this we sang and danced - getting close to trance states.
At maybe 11pm it was time to leave, and those of us who were the swamis were sent off, bare footed, into the 4 wheel drive which would take us to the Pampa river (see the info above) We stopped at the Krishna temple in Aranmula to light a fire on the steps of the temple and leave an offering (Dan joked that we were setting fire to the temple and then running away) and similar at the small Ganesh temple in Aranmula. Then it was maybe 2 hours of driving, during which time there was lots of chanting and singing to Lord Ayyappa. Both chanting and singing is in the form of call and response:
Chant: one voice calls "Swami-ay-ee" (the "ee" part in falsetto voice) everyone responds: "Saranam Ayyappa"
Also there was a CD in the car of devotional songs to Ayyappa. Lots of excitement and energy. We drive through forested area which is a wildlife reserve and has tigers and elephants - some devoted pilgrims walk all the way here through the forest and take maybe 40 days to get here. All the way there is bus after bus after bus after bus of pilgrims, pilgrims on the side of the road at chai stalls.
At about 1am we arrived at the base of the hill at the River Pampa. There are thousands of pilgrims here. Alwaysin Hinduism devotees must wash beforegoing into a temple, and here the pilgrims must wash in the river. It is freezing cold water (we are up high in the hills now) but Girish and Rajish submerge themsleves in the water. The rest of us from our group paddle knee deep and splash some water on our faces.
It is a bit like WOMAD or a music festival - there are stalls everywhere selling chai or coffee or other food, trinkets, the pilgrim chains, pilgrimage souvenirs etc. It's a very festive mood, with lots of black lungis. Everyone has their cloth bundle on their head or on their shoulder. Dan and Yossi want to go to the toilet, and when they come back Yossi says "The toilet is an experiment - you don't want to know" (I'm not sure if he meant to say experiment or experience, but I think it is most appropriate.)
So now it is time to start the climb (as the info says, 4 - 5 kms) It is a very steep incline, a paved path (but the type with lots of rough stones sticking up) Remember, we are bare footed! The chanting starts again "Swami-ay-ee" "Saranam Ayyappa" and singing, again to near trance as we all struggle as best we can up the steep path. There are groups from all over Kerala, Tamil Nadu and much further away. Quite a few women (of course, they have to be past menstruating age) and lots of children. And many many many men of all ages and shapes and physical conditions. Suddenly we hear a whistle blowing and cries of "Dolly Dolly Dolly" and 4 men carrying a stretcher almost run past, with an old woman being carried up the hillside (these are used for people with physical disabilities and older people, there will be many of them going past us) All the way up on either side are chai stalls. We see a sign saying "Free oxygen" and also "Free medicated drinking water" The path is full of pilgrims - if you pause you are bumped into by the flowing stream of climbers. The path is lit by flurescent lights. Either side is forest but there is no chance to see it because at each step you have to look to carefully place your foot so that you wan't step on something sharp (but of course this happens many times) Chanting and singing is everywhere, each group with a leader doing the calling. Much excitement and ferver, even though we are all tired.
At about 2.30 am we come to a stop - the temple will not open until 4 am and already the "queue" is about 1 km long. We join this "queue" The reason I put the word queue in inverted commas is because it is not really a queue, it is a crush. Pilgrims cannot wait in an orderly line - they have to push up hard against each other, straining to get a few cms closer to the goal of the temple. This means we are hemmed in, and we stay like this for the next 6 hours, inching our way forewards. Of course we all have our cloth bundles on our shoulders or heads. Little kids lean forward and fall asleep standing up. I think it's a good idea myself. I don't understand how it happens, but every nowe and then there is a movement forward about 10 paces and everyone crushes ahead, deperate not to lose their place in the line and at the same time trying to use the opportunity to try to push in front of someone else. There are police lined all along the path - very necessary because there could easily be a riot or a stampede - I've read of pilgrimages in the past where the crowd has stampeded and someone has been crushed to death. I am entertained by the inevitable cheats - the line snakes around a bend and down the hill. Every now and again a few pilgrims decide they will jump the queue and run down the side of the hill to push in further ahead. Suddenly it is a river with burst banks and there are a hundred others following them, all trying to push in ahead, until a policeman comes armed with a stick. During the event we will pass through 3 metal detecters: if a terrorist decided to target Sabarimala it would be a very significant disaster. During the day's events one of our number guessed that there night be 100,000 people there. I have no possible way of guessing, but there were definitely MANY MANY MANY thousands. And during Dec/Jan it will get much busier. I don't expect to be a part of a crowd that size ever again in my life.
As we inch closer we start to see a huge expanse of lights in the valley below us. I ask Khanan what it is (a city?) and he says "It's the temple" Later I find that it has many restaurants, medical centres, sleeping areas etc etc. It is huge. Finally at 4am there is suddenly very loud recorded music amplified - the temple has opened! The pilgrims around us, though tired, have a rush of excitement and start their chanting again. So the crush inches on. At last we go down steps into what looks like a massive massive warehouse, and we can see that the line snakes around this 3 times before it goes up the steps into the actual temple comlex area. So there are more hours of standing waiting. The 4 of us are the only foreigners and therfore source of great interest (lots of staring and comments) and a few brave souls ask what country we are from. During the day we will be photographed many times, stared at, asked about where we are from, Francois will be interviwed for radio, the 4 of us filmed for TV and I am interviewed for TV. Apparently a person from the media phoned VKV to confirm our details.
We saw the sunrise and we are still waiting. At about 8.30am the ploiceman lets our goup through and we go through security check and about to climbe the steps into the main temple compound, when ... Francois is stopped by a policeman and made to empty his back pack. He is starting out as a freelance photojournalist and has very professional photographic equipment. He has been taking photos but he knows that once we get into the temple it is forbidden to take photos. However, this security policeman is full of self importance and sees the chance to pick on a foreigner. He makes Francois unpack all of his equipment and open up cameras and lenses to prove there is no bomb inside. Finally he is told he cannot take it into the temple and he has to go out to a police office to leave his equipment, so all of our group leave the line and are led away from the temple. Fortunately this is only a fairly short diversion and we are then taken on a shortcut back into the temple grounds.
It is all chaos and noise and confusion! There is nothing serene and calm about the worship happening here. In the west we have this idea of Hinduism as meditation and calm, but there is pandemonium here. Over the amplification system is a never ending stream of people yelling/screaming devotional chants. There are explosions (I don't know from what, maybe some kind of cannon) that are set off constantly. People are chanting at different times in different ways and places. There is drumming. There are policemen everywhere trying to keep some kind of order. There are thousands and thousands and thousands of people. Of course we join a line/throng. We are headed toward the 18 golden steps. It is a very symbolic and important set of stairs plated in gold, which takes us up to another level in the complex. Everyone has their cloth bundle on their heads, there is nothing to hold onto to pull yourself up the steps and they are very narrow and very very steep and slippery. There are thousands of people pushing to get up. On either side of the steps is a line of policemen, and their job is to grab each pilgrim and haul/shove them up a step so that the next policeman can grab them and shove them up the next step etc Remarkable! Crazy! What other religion would do this!!!
We have to undo the cloth bundle and take out one of the coconuts - not the one full of ghee. There is a wall where all pigrims throw thier coconut so that it smashes and there are thousands of smashed coconuts lying on the ground. So we smash our coconuts - I have some idea that this is representative of releasing bad things from us but I don't really know, I need to find a book about Sabarimala to find out the meaning of all the ritual things we did.
We join the next long line which goes in a huge snaking circle and after who knows how long we are pushed and shoved by both policeman and also by the pilgrims in the line behind us through the golden Ayyappa temple and we see the famous Ayyappa idol (see the info above) But there is no chance of stopping to look - you get a glimpse as you are shoved past it.
We come out into another building where we unpack the second coconut - the one filled with ghee. We take it to a place where there is a sign saying "Ghee tanks" and we have to smash this coconut by hitting it on a sacred rock, and then empty the ghee into the huge vat. Someone said that the gods bathe in the ghee, but I don't know more than this.
Off we go to another whole series of small temple structures and idols, and again we unpack from our cloth bundles all the packets of coloured powders and sweets etc and there is a whole series of rituals of emptying the powders and sweets at differrent idols. It is quite particular about which coloured powders at which idols and Girish and Rajish show me which ones to use when. Girish uses the powder, once it has been poured onto the idols, to make coloured smudges on my forehead. What does all this mean? I have no idea. Meanwhile the chaos continues. Noise noise noise. The VKV staff take great care of us and are quite protective - to get lost in this crowd would be a disaster. It feels to me like the worshippers have absolutley no sense of community in what they are doing, it is a very private individual thing, so get the hell out of my way so that I can get to the idol and if you take too long I'll push you out the way.
In this area of the temple complex there are a number of men sitting on the ground, singing and playing small double-headed drums with sticks. One sees me and is obviously callingme over to him. We ask Rajish what this is about and he tells us that they sing a kind of prayer for anyone who has something bad inside them that they want to remove. Immediately I head for one of the singer/drummers and Yossi heads for another. (Yossi and I have spent a lot of time comparing notes about the bad things inside of us that we want to remove) For 10 rupees the singer/drummer/prayer asks your name, and then sings and drums a personal prayer for you as you sit on the ground in front of him, and he includes your name in the song. When he is finished he blesses you with a coloured powder smudge on the forehead.
Finally it seems we have done everything neceassary and we go to find some food for breakfast. We are exhausted but also I am a bit high from the intensity of it all. There are food stalls everywhere so we buy some vegetable biryani and sit down to eat. The food is packed in cardboard take away containers and Yossi is very amused to find Hebrew writing on the lid - left over containers from an Israeli Icecream chain. Some Israeli company is making money dumping left over takeaway containers in India.
Much of the rest of the time the 4 of us foreigners were left sitting waiting while the others were doing whatever they were doing. As I said, we were stared at, one man said to me "are you a god person?" which I think meant are you religious, and we were photographed and interviewed.
Very eventually it was time for the climb back down - much much harder than going up. The sun was hot, it was quite slippery in many parts going down. You had to lean your body backwards because of the decline. Thousands of people all going down at the same time, and more of the "Dolly Dolly Dolly" stretchers running past. More sellers on the side of the road selling toys and trinkets. Barefooted, each step is a careful decision, so eyes are cast downward. I was doing some running steps at some points because of the movement of the crowd and the decline. It was quite a challenge. There were also many more pilgr4ims on the dame path, going up, just beginning the whole adventure, and they were full of the fervent chanting, whereas we on the downward journey tended to be in an exhausted silence. Beautiful forested hills as scenery but very little chance to look around and appreciate it.
Down at the bottom at the Pampa river, it was time to wash in the river again, and this time we really appreciated the cooling water on the bottoms of our feet and face. Now it was time to take off the chain around our neck - so at this point we were no longer swamis. A final chai, and then the trip in the 4 wheel drive back to Aranmula, each of us having that uncomfortable nodding off and jolting awake again in the car (and the dangerous risky driving of our driver was enough to keep us awake) A stop on the hillside road at a local eatery for lunch allowed a chance to look at the beautiful scernery, as well as a roadside piss over the hill whilst pilgrim busses drove past and pilgrims walked past. The sight of a man pissing on the side of the road is nothing at all out of the ordinary in India, but I'm not sure if the sight of a white man pissing on the side of the road is something to stare at - I didn't bother to check. As on the way, bus after bus after bus of pilgrims was going in both directions - either returning home or about to begin. Pilgrims walking on the side of the road. Everywhere. This is the norm for the next month and half.
At maybe 4pm we got back to VKV and I went to bed. Sleep is a gorgeous yummy thing.
So, it was a most amazing experience and I feel very lucky to have had the opportunity. It was challenging and hard work, but compared to the real authentic pilgrims who do the 40 day event, it was and "excursion" (as Santosh, the singing teacher here said) The TV interviewer asked me if I would come to Sabarimala again. I gave hime what he wanted and saidI I come back to India again I'm sure I would do it again. But I'm not so sure. Maybe.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Bats, health and pilgrimage
Today marks the half-way mark of my stay: I've been at VKV for 6 weeks and 2 days and I have 6 weeks and 2 days before I leave to fly back to Australia. It feels a long time and not a long time. In many ways this has become my reality and Australia is an exotic other place, yet I also miss loved ones. I could in fact imagine being here a year - there is so much to learn and I love the learning. I originally decided to come back to VKV because last time I was here for 5 weeks and I wanted a longer stay. 3 months seemed like a good amount of time, and it is, but also not long enough. I know for a fact that my mridangam teacher has expectations that I will make my arangetram (debut public performance) before I leave, but 6 more weeks doesn't seem long enough to me to be prepared for an hour and half concert. I love the idea of doing this but don't want to be a fool on stage. I'm already starting to think that I'd like to come back again - maybe make my arangetram next year. We'll see
At the back of the school house there are lots of tall trees and at sunset each night there are lots of huge bats which come flying and hanging around. For the last week there's been the sad sight of one of these bats hanging upside down from the electricty cable, dead, probably electrocuted. It must be stuck via rigor mortis and hangs there, rotting. It's kind of a spooky omen, hanging at the entrance to the school house. The other day during a tabla lesson I commented to my teacher about it, and I said "What do you think this means?" He didn't have the English to understand that I was having a joke about metaphorical or symbolic meanings, so I finally said "Maybe a dead bat is unlucky" Later during the class I was struggling with a tricky rhythm, my fingers were not going where I wanted them to go and I was getting very frustrated (and besides, it was late in the day, the power was off so there was no fan and it was very hot) I was grunting and making desparing sounds, when my teacher said "This rhythm is a dead bat" I didn't understand what he said at first and he kept looking at me with a big smile on his face. When I got what he said we both laughed, it was the funniest thing I've heard him say.
Yesterday I went to a doctor. He said "There is evidence of a chest infection" and prescribed antibiotics. I can't wait for them to kick in because I can't sleep at night and coughing a lot. In Kerala there is the choice of going either to an Aryurvedic doctor or a Western medicine doctor. Kerala is home of Ayurvedic medicine, and an introductory course on Ayurveda is taught at VKV by Doctor Hari. There is an Aryuvedic hospital in the next town (where Dr Hari is based) as well as a Western Medicine hospital. Often students from VKV go to the Ayurvedic hospital for treatments, and there's a bit of the hippie mentality amongst the students of mistrust of western medicine, so everyone kept asking me "Are you going to see Dr Hari?" In many cases I would give it a go but I was pretty sure I would need antibiotics so I chose Western medicine. Besides, I told everyone, I don't want to hear that I'm not allowed to eat spicy foods (In Ayurvedic medicine, everyone has a particular "Dosha" or constitution, and depending on your Dosha you are recommended by Aryurvedic practitioners to eat certain foods and avoid others. A number of students have been told that their dosha means that they can't eat spicy foods. I don't want to be told this, so I'd rather have western medicine)
So I went to Kozhenchery, the nearest town, to Muthoot Hospital with an appointment already made to see Dr Jolly V Matthew. It was an interesting experience to see how the system works in an Indian hospital. After registering at Reception, you are sent to sit on the verandah in front of the doctor's room. There are chairs set up in rows on the verandah outside each door. When I was called in, apart from Dr Jolly Matthew (a male, in case you're wondering) there were 3 nurses standing in the room. All three clearly needed to be there to pull the curtain across when I lay on the bed to be examined. The consultation cost 50 rupees (about Aus$1.40) During the time I was there I was asked by 3 different people where I was staying and when I said "Aranmula" each of them said "Vijnana Kala Vedi" - there has been a long history of years of VKV students going to that hospital. It seemed like a good and clean place.
Howard's demise has made the local Keralan newspapers - which usually have no international news except an article about Pakistan every now and then.
Now is the season of pilgrimage in Kerala, to Sabrimala (about 100kms from Aranmula) This is the temple site for the Hindu god, Ayyapan. The pilgrimage is huge and over the next month or so many thousands of pilgrims will go there. When I was here 3 years ago I saw something of this and discovered that not only were there pilgrims here from all over South India but also Malaysia and further afield. Men and children can go but women of childbearing age are not allowed. The pilgrims walk bare foot dressed in black and orange. Some of the staff here are going on Friday, and one of them invited me to go with them. So now 4 of us male students are going. This Friday night we leave at 8pm via taxi (not very pilgrim like) and travel to a place at the riverside, where we have to wash in the river before climbing the hill for several hours. I'm told that we have to hold above our head a coconut and rice wrapped in a banana leaf as we walk (bare footed) There will be hundreds if not thousands of pilgrims there. Puja at the temple on the hill happens from 4am to something like 8am, and then we will walk back down and return to Aranmula. This afternoon we have to buy beads to wear around our necks and go to the temple here in Aranmula to have them blessed by the priest. We have to wear the beads from then on until our "pilgrimage" is finished, and we cannot shave or cut any hair. That's about as much as I know about it at this stage, but it's sure to be an amazing experience.
At the back of the school house there are lots of tall trees and at sunset each night there are lots of huge bats which come flying and hanging around. For the last week there's been the sad sight of one of these bats hanging upside down from the electricty cable, dead, probably electrocuted. It must be stuck via rigor mortis and hangs there, rotting. It's kind of a spooky omen, hanging at the entrance to the school house. The other day during a tabla lesson I commented to my teacher about it, and I said "What do you think this means?" He didn't have the English to understand that I was having a joke about metaphorical or symbolic meanings, so I finally said "Maybe a dead bat is unlucky" Later during the class I was struggling with a tricky rhythm, my fingers were not going where I wanted them to go and I was getting very frustrated (and besides, it was late in the day, the power was off so there was no fan and it was very hot) I was grunting and making desparing sounds, when my teacher said "This rhythm is a dead bat" I didn't understand what he said at first and he kept looking at me with a big smile on his face. When I got what he said we both laughed, it was the funniest thing I've heard him say.
Yesterday I went to a doctor. He said "There is evidence of a chest infection" and prescribed antibiotics. I can't wait for them to kick in because I can't sleep at night and coughing a lot. In Kerala there is the choice of going either to an Aryurvedic doctor or a Western medicine doctor. Kerala is home of Ayurvedic medicine, and an introductory course on Ayurveda is taught at VKV by Doctor Hari. There is an Aryuvedic hospital in the next town (where Dr Hari is based) as well as a Western Medicine hospital. Often students from VKV go to the Ayurvedic hospital for treatments, and there's a bit of the hippie mentality amongst the students of mistrust of western medicine, so everyone kept asking me "Are you going to see Dr Hari?" In many cases I would give it a go but I was pretty sure I would need antibiotics so I chose Western medicine. Besides, I told everyone, I don't want to hear that I'm not allowed to eat spicy foods (In Ayurvedic medicine, everyone has a particular "Dosha" or constitution, and depending on your Dosha you are recommended by Aryurvedic practitioners to eat certain foods and avoid others. A number of students have been told that their dosha means that they can't eat spicy foods. I don't want to be told this, so I'd rather have western medicine)
So I went to Kozhenchery, the nearest town, to Muthoot Hospital with an appointment already made to see Dr Jolly V Matthew. It was an interesting experience to see how the system works in an Indian hospital. After registering at Reception, you are sent to sit on the verandah in front of the doctor's room. There are chairs set up in rows on the verandah outside each door. When I was called in, apart from Dr Jolly Matthew (a male, in case you're wondering) there were 3 nurses standing in the room. All three clearly needed to be there to pull the curtain across when I lay on the bed to be examined. The consultation cost 50 rupees (about Aus$1.40) During the time I was there I was asked by 3 different people where I was staying and when I said "Aranmula" each of them said "Vijnana Kala Vedi" - there has been a long history of years of VKV students going to that hospital. It seemed like a good and clean place.
Howard's demise has made the local Keralan newspapers - which usually have no international news except an article about Pakistan every now and then.
Now is the season of pilgrimage in Kerala, to Sabrimala (about 100kms from Aranmula) This is the temple site for the Hindu god, Ayyapan. The pilgrimage is huge and over the next month or so many thousands of pilgrims will go there. When I was here 3 years ago I saw something of this and discovered that not only were there pilgrims here from all over South India but also Malaysia and further afield. Men and children can go but women of childbearing age are not allowed. The pilgrims walk bare foot dressed in black and orange. Some of the staff here are going on Friday, and one of them invited me to go with them. So now 4 of us male students are going. This Friday night we leave at 8pm via taxi (not very pilgrim like) and travel to a place at the riverside, where we have to wash in the river before climbing the hill for several hours. I'm told that we have to hold above our head a coconut and rice wrapped in a banana leaf as we walk (bare footed) There will be hundreds if not thousands of pilgrims there. Puja at the temple on the hill happens from 4am to something like 8am, and then we will walk back down and return to Aranmula. This afternoon we have to buy beads to wear around our necks and go to the temple here in Aranmula to have them blessed by the priest. We have to wear the beads from then on until our "pilgrimage" is finished, and we cannot shave or cut any hair. That's about as much as I know about it at this stage, but it's sure to be an amazing experience.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Houseboating through the election
Australians all let us rejoice
For we are Howard free
Last week I told my tabla teacher that the Australian election was coming and told him that John Howard follows George Bush. He said "This is not good" and he asked about the opposition. I told him that there is not a huge difference but at least they will not follow George Bush so much. The first thing my tabla teacher said to me this morning was "The Labour Party won the Australian elections"
While all the excitement was happening in Australia on the weekend I was with 4 others (an Israeli, a British, an American and a Swede) cruising on a houseboat in the backwaters of Kerala. Beautiful scenery, great food and fun company.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Languages
Mridangam language:
NAM DHIM DHIM DHIM
(NAM is played with the right pointing finger hitting on the outer circle of the right side of the drum while the ring finger of the right hand is used as a pivot
DHIM is played by hitting the ring finger of the right hand, slightly curved, on the centre of the black dot on the right hand side of the drum)
THA LAM KA THOM KA DHIM
THA LAM KAM THOM KA DHIM
THI DHIM THI THA KI NAM THOM
THI DHIM THI THA KI NAM THOM
My Mridangam exercise book is full of this, and so is my head. I'm supposed to be memorising it all but my brain can't fit it.
NAM is used a lot and my right hand pointing finger is developing a calus. I asked to see my teacher's right hand pointing finger - he has an enormous raised hard lump of a calus.
Tabla language:
Then there is tabla - a different language again.
DHA KIDANAGA DIRIDIRI KITHANAGA THIRITHIRI GIDANAGA
My tabla exercise book is full of this, and (yet again) I'm supposed to memorise this as well. A 45 year old brain is doing not bad but can't manage it all.
Late at night both tabla and mridangam languages swirl around and around in my head.
I'm now learning the skill and conventions of playing mridangam while a singer sings a classical song. There are certain rhythms in different time measures which are played at different times during the song, and then phrases that are played in between stanzas of the song. It's complex and challenging but fun. My teacher sings a song and claps out the hand pattern while I play and try to get the right bits at the right time. He uses his eyes to give me a hint that a change is about to happen. I feel like I'm starting to understand how the mridangam fits with other instruments and the voice in a performance.
Flute lessons with Lucy: 3 of us continue and play Silent Night over and over again. We've been told that the sound can be heard pretty much all around the village so we're driving everybody mad! Lucy is learning Carnatic singing and so she's now started to teach us a Carnatic song on flute.
Yesterday was Thanksgiving and the North Americans amongst us decorated the dining areas for dinner last night and made a turkey by stuffing a T-shirt with newspaper (of course no real turkey or such like is allowed as VKV is strictly vego)
Maybe I should decorate the dining area for a special dinner to celebrate Howard's demise (i'm the only Australian here and no-one would really get it) Speaking of which, tomorrow is the day. Is everyone having a "Don's Party"? I'll try to read newspapers online but would appreciate anyone's emails letting me in on the goss.
A small group of us are going on a house-boat this weekend on the famous "backwaters" of Kerala, one of the famous tourist things to do in Kerala. Apparently it's very beautiful, so I'm looking forward to it. I didn't have the chance to go last time and I can't say I've been to Kerala twice without going.
Monsoon has ended, and apart from one downpour it hasn't rained for a couple of weeks. We are now entering the "winter" (not anything like Australians know as winter)
The communist party has been having a local conference and there are posters of red hammer and sickle flags around the village. Also a circus is playing in a nearby town and there are posters advertising this.
Yesterday some of us wer having a discussion comparing what sounds animals make in different languages - I hope you all realise that a cow says moo and a dog says woof only in English. We compared this with French, Hebrew and Malayalam.
MOO WOOF NAM DHIM DHIM
NAM DHIM DHIM DHIM
(NAM is played with the right pointing finger hitting on the outer circle of the right side of the drum while the ring finger of the right hand is used as a pivot
DHIM is played by hitting the ring finger of the right hand, slightly curved, on the centre of the black dot on the right hand side of the drum)
THA LAM KA THOM KA DHIM
THA LAM KAM THOM KA DHIM
THI DHIM THI THA KI NAM THOM
THI DHIM THI THA KI NAM THOM
My Mridangam exercise book is full of this, and so is my head. I'm supposed to be memorising it all but my brain can't fit it.
NAM is used a lot and my right hand pointing finger is developing a calus. I asked to see my teacher's right hand pointing finger - he has an enormous raised hard lump of a calus.
Tabla language:
Then there is tabla - a different language again.
DHA KIDANAGA DIRIDIRI KITHANAGA THIRITHIRI GIDANAGA
My tabla exercise book is full of this, and (yet again) I'm supposed to memorise this as well. A 45 year old brain is doing not bad but can't manage it all.
Late at night both tabla and mridangam languages swirl around and around in my head.
I'm now learning the skill and conventions of playing mridangam while a singer sings a classical song. There are certain rhythms in different time measures which are played at different times during the song, and then phrases that are played in between stanzas of the song. It's complex and challenging but fun. My teacher sings a song and claps out the hand pattern while I play and try to get the right bits at the right time. He uses his eyes to give me a hint that a change is about to happen. I feel like I'm starting to understand how the mridangam fits with other instruments and the voice in a performance.
Flute lessons with Lucy: 3 of us continue and play Silent Night over and over again. We've been told that the sound can be heard pretty much all around the village so we're driving everybody mad! Lucy is learning Carnatic singing and so she's now started to teach us a Carnatic song on flute.
Yesterday was Thanksgiving and the North Americans amongst us decorated the dining areas for dinner last night and made a turkey by stuffing a T-shirt with newspaper (of course no real turkey or such like is allowed as VKV is strictly vego)
Maybe I should decorate the dining area for a special dinner to celebrate Howard's demise (i'm the only Australian here and no-one would really get it) Speaking of which, tomorrow is the day. Is everyone having a "Don's Party"? I'll try to read newspapers online but would appreciate anyone's emails letting me in on the goss.
A small group of us are going on a house-boat this weekend on the famous "backwaters" of Kerala, one of the famous tourist things to do in Kerala. Apparently it's very beautiful, so I'm looking forward to it. I didn't have the chance to go last time and I can't say I've been to Kerala twice without going.
Monsoon has ended, and apart from one downpour it hasn't rained for a couple of weeks. We are now entering the "winter" (not anything like Australians know as winter)
The communist party has been having a local conference and there are posters of red hammer and sickle flags around the village. Also a circus is playing in a nearby town and there are posters advertising this.
Yesterday some of us wer having a discussion comparing what sounds animals make in different languages - I hope you all realise that a cow says moo and a dog says woof only in English. We compared this with French, Hebrew and Malayalam.
MOO WOOF NAM DHIM DHIM
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Learning, learning,learning
The learning environment of VKV seems to expand more and more - we now have extra curricular learning happening:
Yesterday a large group of us went to Chengannur, the nearest sizeable town (12 kms away) for a shopping expedition. It was sparked by a new class being offered here: Lucy, from the UK is here to lean singing and mridangam, but the singing is really so that she can apply the music to the flute, because she is a flautist. As well as her western classical flute,she brought with her a couple of bamboo flutes, and this has sparked off a new class of eager flute learners. Lucy has given us a few lessons, and so yesterday we went to Chengannur to a music shop and a number of us bought bamboo flutes. So now we have the screaching sounds of new flute players trying to make correct sounds. I bought a flute as well as a mawsing, which is a south Indian version of a Jew's harp. The woodcarving teacher plays mawsing, so maybe I can get some lessons from him.
Also there are French lessons happening - Leonore from Paris gives an hour French lesson each day to Evie and Laurence from Scotland and me. Then we have Latino dance classes offered by Valerie from France. The last couple of nights I've been teaching African singing and dance. And Leonore, who is in a choir in France which sings gypsy music, taught us a Bulgarian song. So we are not limited to our official VKV classes for all the learning that we are doing.
I've now been here as long as I was here last time - 5 weeks. It doesn't seem very long at all, although long enough for me to miss friends. Much much more to learn and experience, at many different levels.
Yesterday a large group of us went to Chengannur, the nearest sizeable town (12 kms away) for a shopping expedition. It was sparked by a new class being offered here: Lucy, from the UK is here to lean singing and mridangam, but the singing is really so that she can apply the music to the flute, because she is a flautist. As well as her western classical flute,she brought with her a couple of bamboo flutes, and this has sparked off a new class of eager flute learners. Lucy has given us a few lessons, and so yesterday we went to Chengannur to a music shop and a number of us bought bamboo flutes. So now we have the screaching sounds of new flute players trying to make correct sounds. I bought a flute as well as a mawsing, which is a south Indian version of a Jew's harp. The woodcarving teacher plays mawsing, so maybe I can get some lessons from him.
Also there are French lessons happening - Leonore from Paris gives an hour French lesson each day to Evie and Laurence from Scotland and me. Then we have Latino dance classes offered by Valerie from France. The last couple of nights I've been teaching African singing and dance. And Leonore, who is in a choir in France which sings gypsy music, taught us a Bulgarian song. So we are not limited to our official VKV classes for all the learning that we are doing.
I've now been here as long as I was here last time - 5 weeks. It doesn't seem very long at all, although long enough for me to miss friends. Much much more to learn and experience, at many different levels.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
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