Mridangam






















Tabla

Kalaripayat

Varkala holiday weekend

Finally - after days of the internet being down here at VKV I can now access a computer and add another posting

This past weekend was the last weekend when all of the intensive yoga students were together - the yoga intensive finishes this week after 8 weeks, and some of them will be leaving on Sat. So this last weekend all of them and most of the rest of the students went away together - to Varkala. This is a "resort" coastal town. On the top of a cliff there are a number of cute places to stay, and a long line of stall after stall selling clothing, trinkets etc (the usual hippie thing in places like this all over the world) and restaurants. Climb down the cliff and there are a couple of beaches for swimming. And yes, Nancy et al, we stayed at the Kerala Bamboo Huts.

What this means is that we had a holiday from India for a weekend. This is not India - it could be a Thai tourist beach place or a Guatemalan tourist beach place or a Byron Bay Australian backpackers beach place. But it was fun and lovely and we had FANTASTIC food - Indian and western, and MEAT!! and Fish. Nothing being sold in any of the stalls was from South India - a lot of it is hippie Tibetan. And we were hit by the India of tourism - all of the sellers of wares constantly in your face, which we do not at all experience in Aranmula. And lots of weterners - it was very strange seeing so many white people after us being the only white people that we see.

But it was fun and a great weekend. We have such a lovely group of people and we all enjoyed just hanging out together. Lots of swimming - or should I say jumping up and down in between crashing waves, and a strong undertow. Got some good body surfing rides and a lot of dumps.

I'm thinking I might go back to Varkala for Christmas or New Year, we'll see. I think it wouldn't take long to get bored there though, the whole place is set up for Westerners to keep spending and spending - we all went through a lot more money than what we expected. It's definitely worth going there for the food, we all agreed, and we want to work our way through the menus of several of the restaurants. There's a lovely view and it's beautiful sitting looking at the water below you while eating and drinking. I'm very glad, though that I am not doing the backpacker trail of going from one of these types of places to the next one.

The Belgian family also went to Varkala, independently, and we saw them there several times. Apparently when 2 year old Victoria saw us (amongst all the other white toursists) she said (in French) "There are my friends!" She's very cute. Her father is a linguist and is here for 5 months to learn Malayalam, and decided to bring the family with him - this is why they are here. I'm told he knows something like 20 dead languages.

I remain professionally and personally interested in language(s) Every day we play with so many English dialects and accents: Australian English, New Zealander English, Southern US English, Candadian English, Scottish English, Irish English, English English. And these, of course are particular regional representations of each of those countries - Evelyn (from Scotland) has I think quite a strong Scottish accent and vocab yet she says that there are people from further north of Scotland whom she can't understand. Then we have French speakers speaking English and a Hebrew speaker speaking English. And of course Malayalam speakers speaking Indian English

The yoga group were shown an interesting part of yoga practice last Friday, and some of them tried it. This is the part where you use a long thin piece of rubber hose and stuff it up your nose until it comes down the back of your throat. Keeping one end still dangling out of the nostril, you pull the other end out of your mouth and then pull both ends backwards and forwards so that it cleans all your sinus passages. They showed the rest of us photos of Swami (the yoga teacher) and some of the students with one end of the hose hanging out one nostril and the other end hanging out of the mouth. One student filmed Swami doing it complete with gagging and throwing up. My sinus passages could definitely do with some cleaning but there's no way I'll be doing that.

Thanks to people who have sent emails. I very much enjoy hearing your news. I have to admit last night in my room I felt some pangs of loneliness and/or missing important people in my life.

Yes Nancy, Annie is still here after 7 years of living in Aranmula, still learning painting and she has had several exhibitions overseas (For the rest of you I will tell you her story some time, it's quite amazing). Cecilia will be coming again for Christmas ( I will say hello from you) Yes Jaxan, I adopted "Tony Tabla" for this blog from the name you gave me when we were here nearly 3 years ago. There's still a very poor Tamil family next to your old house (same family I guess) and the little kids always run out to say hello when we go to yoga class in the mornings. Ben and Carin, if you're reading this, there is a photo of Carin in the office, I think from when you made your arangetram. The new singing teacher is a wonderful man and a great teacher with a very good understanding of how to teach westerners - I think you would love him. And his singing is spellbinding. Currently there is a young woman from the US here who will be making her singing arangetram next week.

This morning I saw Atma and I will go to his house this evening, but when I told Shaji in a loud voice that I had seen Atma he indicated that I should be quiet and secretive about it - such is the politics of the place, as we knew from last time.

Much love to you all

Random thoughts and observations

So much rain, wish I could send it to Australia.

Two days without rain and the air is heavy with humidity. Walking any distance brings a bath of sweat. Sitting down practing tabla brings sweat. The power is off so there can be no fan. Then the rain copmesand immediately there is a relief of coolness.

Little gekko in the bathroom, caught out as I enter. Clings to the wall "I'm not here, you can't see me"

Power off. Power on. Power off. Power on. Power on but so weak that the light bulbs give off a sickly yellow colour.

Surrounded by languages and language games: Malayalam, English, French, Sanscrit. Some Spanish. And then there is mixtures - Franglish.

The Belgian family. A couple in their late 30's, 2 boys (10 and 9) and a girl (2). Victoria steals the show every night at dinner, so cute! None of the family speak much English, so once again my High School French is stretched. Lovely kids. Imagine having the experience of living for some months in an Indian village at that age. The boys have woodcarving classes and wear lungi. They are totally unphased by cultural difference. What a rich education.

Dreams shared. Surrounded by dedicated yoga students with a deep passion to incorporate it in their lives, to teach it or use it in various contexts at home. In talking to a Scottish guy about his passion and direction with yoga I thought about how wonderful it is to know what gives you delight and passion and really dedicate yourself to that.

"Do you hug friends in Australia? In Paris we kiss on the cheek but no-one hugs"

Discussions at the meal table, trying to explain "Literacy as social practice" - and giving the example to Yossi from Israel that when the Torah is read at synagogue (as an example of a literacy context), not only do you need to know how to decode words, you need to know how to chant/sing them, and you need to wear certain garments as you do it.

Learning how incredibly complex Carnatic music is. Yesterday I learnt that there are 7 "talas", which are kind of like time signatures in Western music, yet also much more complicated than Western time signatures. Each talam has a Sanscrit name which I need to memorise and memorise the pattern of that talam. Then each talam can be subdivided in different ways, each with it's own Sansrit name which I need to memorise: in multiples of 3 (Thisram) or 4 (Chaturasram) or 5 (Khandam) or 7 (Misram) or 9 (Sangeernam) The Sanscrit words do not necessarily mean the numbers - my teacher told me that "Sangeernam" means "very difficult" In other words there are 35 different combinations. Each combination has a clapping pattern which needs to be learnt and memorised. And the British colonialists thought they were bringing "Civilisation" to India!!

Morning and the alarm goes off. I don't feel like getting out of bed, but I get up and go to yoga. After sweating and stretching I feel alive and ready for the day.

The body can remember without the brain/intellect! There is a strange process of learning a complicated rhythm where the brain has to begin it, but eventually the hands take over and the brain can't go as fast as the hands.

Kalaripayat at the end of the "working day" Hard work, requiring balance, strength, stamina, flexibility. But quite beautiful. Dance. The teacher travels every day (Mon - Fri) from Trivandrum to Aranmula - 5 hours traveling every day. I hope his salary makes it worthwhile.

Had my head shaved in the village barber shop. The barber used an open blade.

I own an umbrella for the first time in my life. Just have to remember to pick it up when I'm leaving somewhere. I already thought I lost it once. But an umbrella is a must because the downpours happen so quickly.

I washed some clothes and 3 days later they are not dry yet.

Working out what the relationship with one's teacher can be is delicate. Respect respect respect, but sometimes jokes and a little teasing (but did he understand what I said, let alone the intended humour?) The singing teacher, who is not my teacher, looks to chat (whereas my tabla and mridangam teachers do not chat outside of lesson time) One of his students call him "guruji" (teacher sir) which is the kind of respect one shold give your teacher, but since he is not my teacher we seem to be developing a friendship. Perhaps... I can tell that he respects my interest and passion for music. My tabla teacher struggles to find some English words but mostly he is quite good with English (sometimes using cute old fashioned words and sayings which are common in Indian English) But my mridangam teacher has a limited amount of English - certainly enough to teach mridangam, but I don't think he can chat in English. Sometimes there is a long pause and I think he is going to say something but he doesn't - maybe he is trying to think of the words and then gives up.

One hour of practice on tabla. One hour of practice on mridangam. I get to the class and I can't do what I did in my practice - it looks like I haven't practiced at all. I get frustrated and tense, my hands tense up, my shoulders and back tense up, so of course my playing gets worse.

Roller coaster ride of emotions, harsh judgements of myself. Breathe, consciously relax the body, and begin again. Meanwhile my guruji sits and watches and says nothing.

Yesterday I learnt a rhythm on the tabla that sounded quite funky. I got to a level of playing it quite fast and I could imagine having this as the basis for a dance track with Western instruments - keyboard, bass guitar etc. This is what I'm looking for, this is what I want to use it for. I was quite pleased with myself.

Totally caught up in being here, being here now in this moment, dedicating myself to this life here. Then after a week I wake during the night from a dream and feel the familiar deep pain and loss, and memories and anxiety. This is ok, this is necessary, this is part of the journey. Do not avoid it and also do not fuse with it. And then out onto the main street of an Indian village, where the local people live out their every day, many of them never having been very far away from this village. Into the street where there are new posters up on the walls - I can't read them becasue they are in Malayalam but I recognise CPI(M) - Communist Party of India (Marxist) Out onto the streets where the little kids in their blue and white uniforms are walking to the village school and call out "Hello what is your name one pen". Out onto the street where the old men sit around near the bus stand, chewing their beetel nut and spitting the red phlegm onto the road. Out onto the street where there are huge elephant dungs already run over by buses (there are 3 temple elephants in the village) Out onto the street where so much life happens in all of it's daily routine, which for westerners seems so exotic, yet is so normal.

Vijaya Dashani

It's been a challenge getting to a computer with all the students competing for time, and the yoga students have to write an essay and are using computers to research. And the power often goes off. So anyway here I am
The weekend was a busy and amazing one. As I said last time, it was the festival to honour Saraswati - the Vijaya Dashani festival. It is a time when Indians ask for blessings from Sarswati for their studies, and for celebrating the arts - therefore double importance for this community, dedicated to learning arts.
On Friday afternoon we all had to wrap up our exercise books (both my tabla book and my mridangam book) and place them on an altar which had been prepared in the schoolroom. The staff made a canopy of colourful fabris over the altar and on the altar were placed symbols of all the classes - instruments, costumes etc as well as our books. It looked very colourful and beautiful, and central was a picture of Saraswati. At 6pm there was puja (Hindu ceremony) conducted by a priest. He sat in front of the altar, and conducted ancient rituals which included lighting oil lamps and holding them in front of the altar, lighting incense,and a lot of "mudras" - hand gestures which all have meanings. He poured water and threw sprinlkes of water on the altar, as well as throwing flower petals. He blessed a banana leaf piled with dried rice, sugar palm and other things which I don't know, and we were all given a handful of this to eat. We used a paste he made to put a line on our foreheads, and a flower was given to us to put behind an ear. the altar, with the books on it, was left like this until Sun morning, with a oil lamp burning in front of it for all of that time.
On Saturday I went with 2 other students into Chengannur, a town 12 kms away, to a concert of Carnatic music - mridangam, violin, tabla, gautam (clay pot) and singing. One of the students from the US is a talented singer (classically trained) and she is learning Carnatic singing. She performed 3 songs there - her first time of performing South Indian classical singing with musicians in public. She did very well but was very critical of herself. The concert was organised by VKV's singing teacher and mridangam teacher, and they both performed - spellbinding!
Sunday was a huge day. This is the day when Saraswati comes good with the blessings. At 8am puja started, and the priest did very similar things to Friday night. The place was packed not only with students but also many people from the village, local dignitaries and apparnetly 9 different media teams (TV and newspaper) There were articles about the event in yesterday's newspapers (English and Malayalam) and on TV and all of the VKV students were mentioned by name in the English language paper.
After the main part of the puja we all had to give Dakshina to the priest. This is an offering of a betel nut leaf containing an aracanut and 1 ruppee coin. (When we first begin classes at VKV all students have to give Dakshina to their teachers of each subject - a sign of respect) after making Dakshina, the priest took the student's pointing finger and traced letters in a tray of uncooked rice - the sign of "Om", as well as some Malayalam letters. This is usually what young children do when they are beginning their education - a blessing for their schooling and initiation into literacy. So we each did this. Then the piest gave us our books back and placed a painted line on our forehead, so now we were full of knowledge.
After this we all had to give Dakshina again to our teachers. All students do this, as a sign of re-commtiing to the relationship with their teacher. So we were sent off in different places to meet our teachers. I went to teh tabla room and offered Dakshina to my tabla teacher. At the same time there were little kids from the village who are about to start learning tabla (or whatever art form) who offered Dakshina to the teacher and then had a symbolic first lesson. I was ushered into the mridangam class and offered Dakshina to my teacher along with some of his longer term local students from the village and some little kids (I was the only foreigner) Offering Dakshina to the teacher includes bending down in front of him and touching his feet - a sign of submission and total respect (and I did this) Some of the longer term local students prostrated themselves on the ground in front of the teacher with elaborate salutations. After this all of the little kids who were about to start learning were introduced to the first lesson (which I learnt last Monday) Not only did the new little kids do this - I had to do it as well - the white guy 20 - 30 years older than everyone else!
It was a big media and high society event, and the whole place had been decorated using folded banana leaves in intricate little patterns hung as streamers, decorated gateways with coconuts and bananas etc.
In the afternoon there were performances of Carnatic music (classical South Indian) with singing, traditional dance, a performance of 7 mridangam players which was spectacular, and Kathakali dance/theatre. Many of VKV's teachers performed. The program went from 2pm to about 8pm and was wonderful. It was like being at WOMAD. But we were all exhausted by the end.
This is truly where I need and want to be at the moment. It's only been a week but feels like a month. My teachers are pushing me a bit I think, so I have to spend a lot of time practising to make the next day's lesson worthwhile. My tabla teacher said to me "Don't waste your time. You are only here for 3 months and you need to get as much as you can. Practice as much as you can." And my mridangam teacher said something similar. It's full full days and my head is full of rhythms. And I love it.
Today a couple from England who were doing the Aryuvedic course left - lovely people. Already, after only a week, there are sad goodbyes. And a new guy, from Israel arrived yesterday, who will be learning Hindi and tabla. At the end of next week the intensive Yoga Teachers' course finishes. Some of them will be leaving and others staying to learn new things. So nothing is permanent, as the Buddha taught. Everything is always changing and there is no point in trying to cling to anything because it will change. Important lessons for me. But I'm loving the connections that occur as they are offerred to me. It seems only good people come to VKV.
OK, I've got a tabla class soon. I must away. (the spellcheck always turns "tabla" into "table" Most annoying
Love to all loved ones

My routine

Heading towards the end of my first week at VKV.
So here's my routine as it's shaping up:

7.30 - 8.30: Yoga (On Mon, Wed & Fri mornings)

8.30: Breakfast (or earlier on Tues & Thurs so I can get more practice in)

9 - 11: At least an hour an half practice both tabla and mridangam

11 - 12: First tabla lesson

1 - 2: Lunch

2 - 3: Mridangam lesson

3.30 - 4.30: Second tabla lesson

5.30 - 6.30: Kalaripayat (martial art)

7 - 8: Dinner

By 9: In my room

There's a few spaces in the day to get some chores done, extra practice or rest. My day is pretty full.

Now is the time of the second monsoon. Most days are blue skies, humid and hot in the sun and walking any distance produces sweat. By about 4 pm every day it pours with rain with thunder and lightening for about 2 hours, and then it may rain lighter during the night. Today, however, it is grey and drizzly in the morning, but certainly by no means cold. I'm sitting here sweating as I type on the computer. The downpour happens in the middle of my second tabla lesson for the day, where the rain is so loud that it's hard to hear myself play, and it seems that usually the power goes off, so we are left in darkness, I can't see my notebook to keep playing the exercise that my teacher has written out, and I can only see him in silouhette. So the last part of our lesson tends to be chat.

Ashok, my tabla teacher is a gentle man of 54, and has been performing tabla since age 10. He writes out an exercise and then shows me once, and then sits as I fumble over trying to make my hands go where my brain is trying to tell them. As I play he sits and listens, and when I make a mistake he makes a "MMMM" whining sound as if I've caused him pain but I think this is just his way of pointing out that I've made a mistake. My tabla teacher from last time is not available - he is a member of local parliament in Chengannur and doesn't have time to teach at VKV anymore (he is a Communist Party member, and the CP is in power in Kerala at the moment) Ashok was here last time as well and he remembers me.

My mridangam teacher is apparently a renowned mridangam artist and I gather I am lucky to have him as my teacher. Whereas Ashok chats and asks questions about Australia, he says nothing to me other than explaining the next exercise. I didn't own up to having had lessons in Australia on mrdingam with Uma, so maybe he is impressed with how quickly I'm "picking things up" so far - though I have no idea what he thinks. Teaching in Indian arts traditon gives no positive feedback at all (as I discovered last time)

A theme is being wet. I sweat during yoga in the morning, and change clothes. In the afternoon when it rains I get wet walking along the street. In kalaripayat class (martial art) I sweat profusely and have to change clothes again. I love Kalari, it's like dance, and challenging physically. Even here, there is no positive feedback from the teacher, only yet another thing I did wrong pointed out. But I understand that this is cultural. And I like the teacher.


I am staying in a house with 2 levels - downstairs there are 2 rooms (a New Zealander guy learning Kathakali and Kalaripayat and French woman learning singing and dance) and they share a bathroom downstairs. Upstairs is me, a French woman and an Irish woman, both of whom are doing the intensive yoga teacher training course. Their first session of the day is 5.30am so they get up at 5 and go to bed very early. Hence there's not much partying upstairs.

As classes and at different times and in different places in the village, often I don't see many opf the other students except at mealtimes, when we all gather at a long table and are served various kinds of Keralan foods, served on a banana leaf and we eat with the right hand. Great food.

So that's what most days look like. We'll see how weekends turn out. This weeked is different though, because it is a Hindu festival of the goddess Saraswati - goddess of music and learning (she is pictured playing a veena - a stringed instrument which looks likea sitar) All students have to not study and rest and pay respect to her, so I'm not supposed to practice on the weekend. There will be concerts here on Sunday of carnatic music (so mrdingam will be played) and dance. So it should be a treat.

Arrival

So here I am at last in MY village. It's so exciting to finally be here. I arrived in India late Friday night spent yesterday in Trivandrum, which was in itself exciting as I could finally make the jump into believing that I was in India. Even the font on Indian signage seems to be distinctive, let alone the morning sounds of men hacking up phlegm, movie soundtracks being played somewhere in the street, autorickshaws zooming past and the sound of their horns. I managed to walk to a temple and arrive as puja was happening - unplanned on my part, and I watched the priests parrading around the sanctum sanctorum with drums and a kind of clarinet, and the devoted following close behind them. Ah yes, I'm in India, I remember this.

But even so, Trivandrum is a city and I felt a bit purposeless there - just a lone tourist walking around the streets and not behaving the way the autorichsaw drivers expect (No I don't want to go to Kovalam beach or the museum). Today as soon as the train took me into rural Kerala I knew this is the India I want to be in - green and lush, spacious, water, village life. And so I arrived in Aranmula this morning and all sorts of memories jumped out at me as the autorickshaw drove into familiar territory.

There's been a big change of staff here and I'm trying to hold back disappointment and let what will be happen. But from those who remain (Hari, Arjit, Santhama, Manesh, Kamel) it was a very warm greeting - Arjit ran out the door yelling "Tony Hole" and hugged me. It's nice to be remembered and loved!

For the ex-VKVers' information: Nancy, I'm in your old room and take it as an honour to take in your spirit. But Tharayil House doesn't look like it's the party house anymore. Hari and Arjit both asked if you were coming back. Sadly Atma has left as well as Rajesh and Kurup. Also the old school house is being returned to the landlord after this month so there will be a new building for the classes. Things are changing. I was looking forward to seeing Atma - hope I can organise it anyway. I intend to go to Cochin to see Rajesh. Raju the nightwathman is still here but on leave back in Nepal at the moment. I'm looking forward to seeing him.

Anyway, there are 24 students here at the moment and most of them are long termers apparently. At lunch I met some but not all of them. There's even a Belgian couple with 2 young kids stayinf here. A number of French women, British, New Zealander, others I haven't met yet. There's an intensive yoga course going on at the moment so a group of 6 are devoted to that. The New Zealander is an actor and dancer and he is learning Kathakali traditional dance/theatre. Others are learning classical South Indian dance, and/or Carnatic vocal music. Apparently there are 2 other people studying tabla, but no-one else is learning mridangam (in fact when I say I'm going to be learning mridangam no other students seem to know what it is.) They seem to be a very dedicated lot here, so serious art learning is happening (I remember Nancy referring to this place as Art Prison once) But this is the kind of environment I want to be in. On the plane on the way here I was reading Michael Ondaatje's new novel (a favourite author of mine) and in it he quotes Nietzsche: "We have art so that we will not be destroyed by the truth" I like this, for me it is very appropriate - not to avoid the truth but to integrate it, heal it. Added to this is InterPlay's philosophy of art as play and play as art. And add to the mix the riches of studying a tradition of an art form from another culture under a master. So there's some important reasons why I've chosen to be here for 3 months.

This morning I went to the local fabric shop to buy dhoti and lungi (both a kind of sarong) and now am doing the familiar thing of having a dhoti dragging along the ground and trying to adjust the thing in the street without exposing myself. I feel this is where I belong at the moment - just have to work out where I am in the pecking order of the students!

I was walking along the street this afternoon and I was recognised by the tailor who came out of his roadside shop to shake my hand and greet me with a big smile and tell me he is very happy. Such small things can warm the heart.

The biggest thing that happened today (still my first day at VKV) was that I went to try to find a family whom I visted once last time. They invited me into their home, even though they have only a simple concrete house and gave me a cup of tea and a pawpaw. I only saw them once but they made a big impression on me. So this afternoon I wandered to where I remembered their house is in the village, and it was such a lovely feeling to experience their genuine welcome and delight. As we chatted their 10 and 9 year old daughters and neighbouring kids gathered round to watch and listen and practice their English lines ("What is your name?" giggle giggle) I was again invited into their home and again offered tea (they had to send out for a cup of milk because they didn't have any - embarrassing. Next time I want to take them something) We talked about families, comparing India with Australia, remembering last time, what fruits they grow in their garden, what subjects I am studying at VKV. Such lovely people. I will make sure I visit them from time to time.

So today, being Sunday, there are no classes and it is a settle-in day for me. Tomorrow the learning begins - there will be yoga for an hour at 7.30, a 2 hour tabla lesson and a 1 hour mridangam lesson and the 1 hour of kalaripayat in the early evening. Dive in!

Meanwhile I read an email from Anne to say that our Prime Minister has finally announced the election date. So now I have to go online on the Australian Electoral Commision website to find out how I can have a postal vote sent to me in Aranmula village. That's a new experience for me. If the election is a cliffhanger, they'll have to wait to receive my vote for it to be counted.

Next report - fulltime music student.

Welcome

Welcome to my blog of my trip to Vijnana Kala Vedi Cultural Centre (VKV) in Aranmula Village, Kerala.

If you are interested in finding out more about my home for 13 weeks, visit VKV's website:
http://www.vijnanakalavedi.org/

As many of my readers will know, this is my second trip to VKV - I was there in Dec 2004 / Jan 2005 (during the infamous tsunami) Some of my current readers were also there at that time and have become friends through the experience. So now almost 3 years later I am on my way to Kerala again, to continue my Indian percussion internship.

Kerala: "God's own country"
Rivers, "backwaters", beaches
Green paddy fields
Tropical climate
Monsoon
Coconut trees, palm trees, jasmine, hibiscus
Often communist government
Highest literacy rates in India
Language: Malayalam
Hindu, Moslem, Christian et al
Rich in arts and festivals

3 years means change and difference. My 5 week stay last time was profound and energising. Much has changed since that time - in my life and in the life of Aranmula village. There are different VKV staff members. There are different co-students. And I am different, at a different point in my life. Watch this space to see how it all unfolds.