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.

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.

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

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.

Scenes of Aranmula Village - my everyday experience

Bharatanatyam Dance

Local students performing Bharatanatyam dance at VKV centre. Bharatanatyam is one of the classical dances of South India - originally from the state of Tamil Nadu (a neighbouring state of Kerala)

Kathakali performance at the centre

Kathakali Performance

The evil female demon character (played by one of the Centre's kathakali teachers, a male) The charcter screams a lot and is very vain about her appearance, combing her rope-like hair and looking at herself in a mirror.

Two female characters. The one on the left is played by Louba - the French woman who set up the centre in 1975 (she came to Kerala in 1968 and discovered kathakali and has been living here ever since) The character on the right is played by another kathakali teacher from the school, also a male.













Makeup for the kathakali performance being applied. This process in itself takes hours.

Maddalam - drum used in kathakali performances. I was learning it last time I was here but changed to mridangam this time. It is very heavy and the player has the fingers of his right hand wrapped in a kind of bandage

Arangetram and more

Jaimie's parents both come from Kerala and went to live in the US. Jaimie was born in the US along with her siblings. As a child she had the usual immigrant experience of going to Indian events in the US and she was sent to South Indian dance classes. As a teenager she had the usual teenage immigrant experience of rebelling and being repulsed by everything Indian, and wanting to be American - the usual identity issues. She did not learn to speak Malayalam

She trained in Western classical singing and is a professional singer in the US. Times have changed and now she and her partner Blake are here at VKV and she has been learning Carnatic singing for several months, and Blake has been learning tabla. Jaimie made her arangetram last Thursday night - the auspicious first public concert and a landmark in her Carnatic singing career. We all enjoyed the hour and half concert that she gave, accompanied on mridangam by my mridangam guru Shabhashji, on Mawsing (like a Jew's harp) by the woodcarving teacher, Sharji, and on violin by a hired violinist. The photo shows Jaimie in a rehearsal with my teacher on mridangam and her singing teacher (Sureshji) is helping her keep the talam (the time) In Carnatic music it is the job of the singer to keep the time for all musicians by clapping out the pattern.

Thursday was also Diwali festival - the festival of lights. This is very big in North India but not so important in the South. even so, after the concert the staff from the Centre lit some crackers and sparklers and there were oli lamps lining the road. I imagine that the village was set for all night fireworks, but an enormous thunderstorm struck with spectacular lightening and the loudest and closest thunder I've heard, and a torrential rain fell all night - so it was a natural Diwali light show instead of fireworks.

Photos from weeks ago - see my posting from Octobe 22 - the festival of Saraswati, goddess of learning and the arts. Here the priest is in front of the altar to Saraswati that was erected in the school building for the occasion. On the altar are our books and symbols of the subjects we study. The priest is performing the cermonies of puja and blessing the books.

Local students of my teacher perform on mridangam

Holiday weekend at Varkala. After swimming at the beach, studying the menu to see what evil desserts to have with a mango lassi, and looking ahead to the possibilities of fish or meat for dinner.

My tabla teacher, Ashokji, teaching Blake. This is how I sit for at least 3 hours a day for tabla lessons and practice. And then maybe 2 more hours sitting in a similar position for mridangam practice and lesson.

PS - if you double click on the images you can see them in full size

A 70's movie scene

Therayil House Sunday afternoon.
Upstairs:
I am in my room, first practising mridangam and then tabla.
Leanore (from France) and Evie (from Scotland) are in Leanore's room practising Carnatic singing.
Dan (from England) was in his room practising tabla but now is in the upstairs common sitting area doing yoga, with candles lit around the room.
Downstairs:
Valerie (from France) is in the downstairs common sitting area practising Bharatanatyam classical dance.
Soon the upstairs common room wil be a massage space as the table is the right height and Evie, who has studied massage, has a long list of students wanting massages.
I am reminded of the 70's movie "Fame" and I reflect that I could be in an Indian version of it.

Evening Shanti

Walking through Aranmula vilage at 9pm on a Saturday night, having walked a French student to her home about 15 minutes walk from my house. A group of us have spent the last hour or so chatting in our house about each other's families, what position in the family we are, and our relationships with our parents and siblings. Now the evening has ended but some of the students are watchinga DVD in one of the other houses. Sabine and I walk to her house and then I return on my own. This is a beautiful time in the village. Most families have retreated to their homes and to bed - village life begins early morning and nightlife does not exist. A clear black sky with stars. Shadow outlines of the banana trees and palm trees. An occasional autorickshaw drives past and lights up the road briefly. I carry my torch and use it to indicate to a few bicycle riders that I am there and also to avoid stomping in any huge puddles. In windows of houses there is the flicker of candles or small lamps. At Tharayil Mukku junction (where 2 roads meet in the "hub" of our part of the village) there is a late night vendor of roasted nuts and a couple of the little stores are open - I could buy a packet of chocolate biscuits if I wanted to. Small groups of men are gathered in 3s or 4s at these places having a late night chat as they buy whatever supplies they need at that hour. I am surprised to notice that the village barber shop is still open but I see through the door that the barber is sweeping up. The air is warm and pleasant. I feel alive and grateful to be in this little community.

My master helps me acquire a drum

Saturday with long stretches of no power and lots of rain.

Yesterday was a bright beautiful sunny day in Aranmula, when I set off after my morning tabla class to meet my mridangama teacher in Chengannur. This is roughly a half hour bus ride and I enjoyed being the only whitefellah on the local bus, standing up in the aisle amidst men in their dhotis and trying to look like I was a local. I arrived in Chengannur at the designated place and found a little phone booth to call my teacher on his mobile phone. He said he would come and get me in 5 minutes on his motorbike. I hung up and immediately there was a huge downpour of rain that seemed to come from nowhere - I hadn't noticed it approach. And of course I had made the decision to leave my umbrella in Aranmula, so I got drenched in seconds. I waited for my guru and he eventually arrived after about 20 mins, saying "Climate is not good". He rode his motorbike with his raincoat on back-to-front and handed me a hat, and off we went in the pouring rain - it was quite fun. He took me to his family home, where I was introduced to his parents and his wife and their 6 year old daughter. His wife is a singer and teaches Carnatic singing. I was ushered to a chair on the front verandah and asked if I wanted dry clothes, but I declined - I'm in Kerala. My guru took me into his office and showed me where he teaches mridangam to local students. He is also an astrologer and there was fortune telling stuff there as well. then, when food was ready, I was taken into a simple room and my guru and I ate lunch, served by his wife. The daughter came in and out checking on howI was eating, and after I engaged her in very simple English conversation her parents instucted her to sing me a song, so I was serenaded as I ate. after the meal we went off on the bike (the rain had slowed) to an instrument maker's shop. Through Subhash (my guru) I had ordered a mridangam. I'm not sure if I will bring it home because I already have one, but this in fact is a very good one - good enough for professinal concerts. The instrument maker talked with my teacher and together they checked out the tuning of the drum - it is tuned to G, and the instrument maker used a harmonium to check the pitch and made little adjustments to the black dot on the surface of the drum. Finally both he and Subhashji were satisfied, and voila, I have a new mridangam, which means I can practice it in my room at any time rather than competing for time in teh school room on the lesser quality mridangams there. Subhash was talking to the instrument maker and I heard the word "arangetram" used. This is the concert and he "coming-of-age" process that is organised when teh teacher agrees taht his student is good enough to make their first public performance. It is a very special occasion, and sigtnifies that the student is serious and starting out on the real professional road. So my teacher was suggesting that I would be able to make my arangetram before I went back to Australia. I'm not sure if this will be possible, but I was interested to hear that he might have this in mind for me - he's certainly pushing me hard. We'll see. So then we traveled by motorbike (rain had disappeared by then) back to Aranmula with me clutching the very heavy mrdingam in one arm.
I already bought a set of tablas to practice in my room, so now I have a room full of drums.
three students left this morning, including one of my housemates, and Dan from UK has decided to move house from where he was. He is also a tabla student, so we have a house of percussion.

PS - Ok Aussies - please email me some election campaign gossip. What's happening? Are the opinion polls still bad news for Howard?