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"