A lovely musical and dance improvsation by Pt Ajoy Chakraborty and Pt Birju Maharaj.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Moments of Inspiration
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
2008
I am quite happy to be out of the two thousand and eighth year. Really, it was long, tiring, and it had its share of disappointments and mini obstacles. Yes, that's what life is like, but sometimes you just want a small sign that things are going to get better. And it had loss. Profound, never-experienced-before, and nothing-will-ever-be-the-same-again kind of loss that will forever taint any future recollections of what the year was like.
It's still difficult to write about it. To use that word. The d-word. There's something very harsh and crude about it. At least when you use it to talk about someone you knew, not some distant murder victim in the news or a historical figure. I will think of any way to avoid saying it. All the euphemisms. He has passed. He is no longer with us. In Tamil we say, roughly translated, that he has surrendered to God's paradise. None of these has that punched-in-the-gut kind of feeling that comes from uttering the d-word.
Anyway, it has been a paradox. The simultaneous feelings of emptiness and tremendous heaviness. The attempt to "move on" and yet tenaciously hold on to every memory. Recreating moments in fine detail - the timber of voice, the gait, the laughter, the quirky mannerisms. It is full of contradictions, this whole cycle of life.
2009 - what do you have in store?
It's still difficult to write about it. To use that word. The d-word. There's something very harsh and crude about it. At least when you use it to talk about someone you knew, not some distant murder victim in the news or a historical figure. I will think of any way to avoid saying it. All the euphemisms. He has passed. He is no longer with us. In Tamil we say, roughly translated, that he has surrendered to God's paradise. None of these has that punched-in-the-gut kind of feeling that comes from uttering the d-word.
Anyway, it has been a paradox. The simultaneous feelings of emptiness and tremendous heaviness. The attempt to "move on" and yet tenaciously hold on to every memory. Recreating moments in fine detail - the timber of voice, the gait, the laughter, the quirky mannerisms. It is full of contradictions, this whole cycle of life.
2009 - what do you have in store?
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Toto, I Don't Think We're in Kansas Anymore...
I came back from the Punjab this past weekend. And it was a trip that was like stepping into an alternate universe for a weekend. So many times I wonder about the lives of other people - strangers walking on the road, eating in restaurants, taking the bus, and the many in the places that I don't see on a daily basis. What do they do? What are their lives like? I would love to be somebody else for a day. Step into their shoes. Eat the food they eat. Worry about their worries. Enjoy their simple pleasures.
This trip allowed me to do some of these things for a very brief, fleeting moment. But still, it was an eye-opening, intriguing and at times mysterious experience. And very re-affirming about the inherent good nature of all human beings (that I am sometimes skeptical about).
I first attended the Harivallabh Music Festival in Jallandhar. It is one of the cornerstones of the major Hindustani music festivals - it has been held for over a hundred years, and hosts local Punjabi artists as well as the big stalwarts. I was disappointed but not surprised by the total disregard for sticking to a schedule, at least the pretense of being organized. Perhaps it was because it was the last day, but there were so many self-congratulatory speeches by the organizers, who were all misty-eyed and pedantic about the future of Hindustani music. If we are sitting in the biting cold weather at your festival, then we are not the people you should be lecturing (hello!!). Alas, after many such speeches and the presentation of numerous tacky plaques, the requisite shawls, and endless photography, the music finally commenced. I had come to hear Pandit Ajoy Chakraborty, who sang raag Abhogi, followed by Darbari Kannada and two lighter items. I'm not going into a musical analysis here because this is more about the overall experience, so I'm going to skip over the concert to the post-concert festivities.
Listeners camped out at the Harivallabh Music Festival
By the time we left the festival it was around 2 am, I think. It was getting colder but not unbearable (my threshold for the cold is better than I thought) - and just when I thought we were off to crash, to be tightly snuggled in the warmth of our stale-smelling hotel blankets, I learn that we are off to have dinner. A full-fledged Punjabi meal at 2 in the morning. We arrive at our hosts' flat, and they tell us about the cow they own that supplies all the milk and milk derived products (which they use in abundance). Still wearing my hat, scarf, sweater (with 2 layers underneath), I devour an amazing home cooked meal with straight-from-the-cow's-udder (well, not quite) ghee, paneer, and thick creamy yogurt. Among the many side dishes include kadi, aloo gobi, dal, mattar paneer. The woman preparing this sumptuous meal is pleasantly smiling at us at this unearthly hour as she single-handedly makes all the food and serves us with the utmost graciousness. We head home at around 3:30 and call it a night.
The next day, we are on to the "headquarters" of the Namdhari community, Bhaini Sahib. The Namdharis are a particularly orthodox sect of Sikhs, who believe that their community's Guruji is the ultimate authority on religious beliefs, not the Guru Granth which is the holy text for Sikhs. They follow an austere lifestyle - they are strict vegetarians, they wear only white, they drink and cook with only water that has been collected through rainfall (in wells).
Bhaini Sahib is a self contained community sustained by their own endeavors (such as farming) and their devotees through the world. Those who live on the premises all have designated responsibilities - some farm, some teach in the school, some are the resident musicians, some take care of their Satguruji. The whole place functions like a well-oiled machine.
Hospitable is an inadeuqate, almost trivial, word to describe the Namdhari temperament. If they could walk, blink, or breathe for you, they would. They are at the complete service of their guests. At their houses, they would have plentiful assortments of freshly prepared delicacies and sweets (even if we had just gorged ourselves with food), which we were not allowed to refuse. After finishing a meal, they would come around to each person with slightly warmed water (the tap water was frigid) for washing hands.
Pandit Ajoy Chakraborty again performed a special and particularly shant concert for the Satguruji. Everything proceeded as per the Satguruji's wishes - if he wanted to the concert to continue, it would be indicated to the artists. (On a total side note, but something that cannot go unmentioned, the Satguruji also had a special person seated next to him with a spittoon to collect his excess mucous and saliva when he was coughing :)
Artists with the Namdhari Satuguruji
The morning we left, there were so many people who came to the train station to escort us. At four in the morning, they arrived at our guest house full of smiles and flasks of hot chai. They drove us through the fog, full of spirited conversation and an innocent and untouched enthusiasm that I rarely see in adults.
At a touristy mock-Punjabi village retaurant in Jallandhar.
This trip allowed me to do some of these things for a very brief, fleeting moment. But still, it was an eye-opening, intriguing and at times mysterious experience. And very re-affirming about the inherent good nature of all human beings (that I am sometimes skeptical about).
I first attended the Harivallabh Music Festival in Jallandhar. It is one of the cornerstones of the major Hindustani music festivals - it has been held for over a hundred years, and hosts local Punjabi artists as well as the big stalwarts. I was disappointed but not surprised by the total disregard for sticking to a schedule, at least the pretense of being organized. Perhaps it was because it was the last day, but there were so many self-congratulatory speeches by the organizers, who were all misty-eyed and pedantic about the future of Hindustani music. If we are sitting in the biting cold weather at your festival, then we are not the people you should be lecturing (hello!!). Alas, after many such speeches and the presentation of numerous tacky plaques, the requisite shawls, and endless photography, the music finally commenced. I had come to hear Pandit Ajoy Chakraborty, who sang raag Abhogi, followed by Darbari Kannada and two lighter items. I'm not going into a musical analysis here because this is more about the overall experience, so I'm going to skip over the concert to the post-concert festivities.
Listeners camped out at the Harivallabh Music FestivalThe next day, we are on to the "headquarters" of the Namdhari community, Bhaini Sahib. The Namdharis are a particularly orthodox sect of Sikhs, who believe that their community's Guruji is the ultimate authority on religious beliefs, not the Guru Granth which is the holy text for Sikhs. They follow an austere lifestyle - they are strict vegetarians, they wear only white, they drink and cook with only water that has been collected through rainfall (in wells).
Bhaini Sahib is a self contained community sustained by their own endeavors (such as farming) and their devotees through the world. Those who live on the premises all have designated responsibilities - some farm, some teach in the school, some are the resident musicians, some take care of their Satguruji. The whole place functions like a well-oiled machine.
Hospitable is an inadeuqate, almost trivial, word to describe the Namdhari temperament. If they could walk, blink, or breathe for you, they would. They are at the complete service of their guests. At their houses, they would have plentiful assortments of freshly prepared delicacies and sweets (even if we had just gorged ourselves with food), which we were not allowed to refuse. After finishing a meal, they would come around to each person with slightly warmed water (the tap water was frigid) for washing hands.
Pandit Ajoy Chakraborty again performed a special and particularly shant concert for the Satguruji. Everything proceeded as per the Satguruji's wishes - if he wanted to the concert to continue, it would be indicated to the artists. (On a total side note, but something that cannot go unmentioned, the Satguruji also had a special person seated next to him with a spittoon to collect his excess mucous and saliva when he was coughing :)
Artists with the Namdhari Satuguruji
At a touristy mock-Punjabi village retaurant in Jallandhar.
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