Music season 5 January 12 2011 Shashank + The gods dancing in ecstasy, and some introspection.
I wrote this entry the day it happened. I just didn’t get around to posting anything until now. The events around this concert turned into a bit of an adventure.
Today David and I went to see a flute player in Nanganallar (a suburb of Chennai near the airport). West mambalam is on the way to Nanganallar so we both scheduled a lesson today, and took the train out after. After January 2nd the concerts have been mostly at temples (instead of concert halls). The temple concerts are not listed as clearly in the music season program we have been using as a bible (the locations and times are either unclear or inaccurate), This is confounded by our ability to understand the language. The location for a temple concert is usually listed with 3 names (one is the name of the deity for the temple, one is the location, and a 3rd is the name of the organization hosting the concert.) If you can’t distinguish between the name of a god, and the name of a street it makes it a little hard to figure out where you are going. We have missed a couple of concerts as a result. The flute player Shashank is someone who we have missed repeatedly throughout the season, but have been advised by multiple people to see, so for this concert we checked with my teacher before going.
We left my teachers at 5:30pm, so of course the train was packed. I have heard stories and seen pictures of public transportation in big cities in India (Chennai is India’s 4th largest), but actually it’s not that bad (I mean it looks that bad in reality, but it doesn’t function as badly as I imagined it would before being here). The trains and buses get really packed (so that people hang out of them, and really look like they are going to fall out), but you don’t have to get on those trains. If one train is packed, and you don’t get on it you will be first in line for the next one (which in rush hour will come in 5 or 10 minutes. In rush hour you are going to get crammed either way, but you don’t have to endanger your life. Impatience is what gets people killed. Today we missed the first train and got on the second. The ladies car had room, but David wasn’t up to a quick change of dress. There was also a first class car with room, but we weren’t sure what first class was (so it probably wasn’t us). I have to wonder though how that car is regulated (I mean this is a mass transit system. It’s hard to understand how anyone would have the time or energy for class distinction on a busy intercity train). I think being packed on a bus or a train would be hell in the summer here (when it’s 50 degrees), but now it’s around 30, so it’s not bad. The trains are really fun. It’s nice to be able to stand in open air on a train. Actually, I’ve noticed many Indian men wait to get on last so that they have the opportunity to hang out the doors.
The sun was setting when we got to Nanganallar. The view of the sun setting over the tracks was really pretty. Pink sky, hills, city, palm trees in the distance, against the perspective of diminishing train tracks. I tried to take a picture, but it didn’t turn out (so I tried to remember it instead).
Coming down off of the train right away I noticed that things were a little different in Nanganallar (the first most obvious thing is that the air was almost fresh), but there was something else in the air, something more intangible then cleanliness. It felt relaxed! I didn’t feel like people were suspicious of me, or even cared that much what I looked like. Right away we saw an auto, and then another, but none of the drivers said “auto ma’am, auto” (Let me translate what an unsolicited “auto, ma’am” actually means. Under most circumstances “auto ma’m” means “rich white lady give me your money. You look like a friendly one. I bet I can get at least twice the normal fare from you.”) O.k. now maybe I seem like a bitch, because compared to western taxi’s the cost of these autos aren’t much, but here’s 2 reasons why being harassed by auto drivers because you are white is really annoying. 1. I can’t afford to take a taxi in any western country, and 2. Most of the Indian’s who take autos have a lot more money than me.
There were lots of fresh fruit and vegetable shops, and people seemed to be very involved in their routine, and unconcerned with harassing white people. There wasn’t any shiny tourist stuff to sell us any ways. It was really really nice. The smells and sights of Nanagallar reminded me of west mambalam (only on a larger scale). It contributed to my dislike of R.A. Puram. As we walked towards the temple we encountered MANY cows. There were more cows in the streets here than anywhere I’ve been so far, and they were for the most part pretty healthy. We also encountered friendly people who were happy to guide us to the temple without too many questions. Indian’s, for the most part seem to have an excellent concept of where things are in their city.
In the end our ears led us. The concert was being amplified and projected through loudspeakers outside the temple. The concert itself unfortunately didn’t take place inside the temple but in a marriage hall across the street. The room was large and square. The center of the room had a very high ceiling, and was surrounded on all sides by a second level balcony floor. The space was not designed with acoustics in mind. The unfortunate response to this problem was just to turn the main performer up really really loud. Excessive volume is always uncomfortable, but the carnatic flute is a very high-pitched instrument. I could tell that Shashank was an innovative and talented musician, but still, the concert was a little painful to listen to. We tried to listen to it outside through the loud speakers, but the street was too noisy to focus. In the end David went on a walk, and I found a slightly better spot in the room (were the sound wasn’t completely distorted).
After the concert we went to eat in the temporary canteen. Almost every concert hall throughout the music season has a canteen attached. Like everywhere else here the hierarchy was very visible. Nicely dressed taller (usually whiter people) tell smaller dirtier darker people what to do. There are so many servers in India it makes me feel almost like the poor must think the rich are stupid, because they can’t actually do anything for themselves. Normally I feel like there is resentment and a suspicion on the part of the servers towards the rich people they are serving (especially towards me – maybe because my skin color and my height places me in the super rich category). I didn’t feel any of that here. The servers were really nice (maybe a little overly curious), but when I smiled at one older lady who was creeping near our table for no reason other than to stare, my smile was returned with a bigger one. I have to wonder what has caused the servers in the city to be so suspicious. One of the server lady’s was concerned that David wasn’t eating, and talking to him in Tamil. We felt really bad that we didn’t understand anything she was saying especially when the woman in charge of the canteen came over and kind of rudely shooed her away saying “English!” and then something else to the lady in Tamil. It seems O.k. for rich people here to treat the poor like they are lesser people. Rich Indian’s usually don’t understand that we find this disgusting, and that we would be much happier not being served properly then to see a poor old lady being humiliated because she doesn’t know English. Despite the uncomfortable incident with the servers the food was absolutely delicious (mint chutney, cinnamon curry ++++++).
We left the canteen, and were drawn in by the daughter of a fruit vendor who was delighted to practice her English on us. During this “what is your good name, what country?” conversation a religious procession began proceeding towards the temple. David had to go the bathroom, so I waited, and watched. The procession consisted of nagaswaram (a really loud trumpet like – in effect – double reed instrument), tavil players (a very powerful double headed drum played with sticks), singing, and 2 floats of god idols seated on chairs decorated with flowers held between two large logs carried by shirtless men in dhoti’s. The musicians, and the gods passed by, stationed themselves in front of the temple and continued with some sort of ceremony. I was behind the god idols waiting for David to return when a man approached me, and said “ The god is dancing in ecstasy! Go, you have to watch”. I told him I was waiting for my friend, and he wouldn’t find me in the crowd. He said “Your friend will find you. You have to go watch.” He was very persistent, so eventually I went. I learned later that the same man had watched for David, and taken him to me when he showed up. What a friendly thoughtful man. Everyone in the crowd was Indian, and all of them seemed to want us to experience the procession as fully as possible (giving us a good view, encouraging us to take pictures ect.) The gods were bounced around, and brought low to the ground, and eventually brought into the temple. We took our shoes off, and followed them inside. There were no pictures allowed inside this temple, but the deity of this temple was Ram. Ram is depicted as a chimpanzee. This Idol was about twenty feet tall, and stood in the center of the temple (visible from the door). We really had no idea what the ceremony was about, and after taking the architecture in we went back outside. We tried to climb the stairs of the marriage hall and take a picture of the temple, but some people cleaning up after the concert stopped us. They didn’t speak English, but they called their boss over to talk to us. Their boss was really nice. He introduced us to his driver, and another man who worked for him. His attitude towards his employees was different from everything else I have experienced. He didn’t talk to them like servants. He talked to them like employees (or even colleagues). It was REALLY refreshing. It turned out that he had a sound, and lighting business, and him, and his crew had decorated the temple, so he was proud of it in a way, and happy that we wanted to take pictures. He explained that we couldn’t take a picture from the second floor (because you could see inside the temple there), but he took us to the 3rd floor of the marriage hall were we got some really great pic’s. He also explained to us a little bit about lord Ram. He told us that Lord Ram was a really great god. He had prayed to him, and come so far. He said that he was just a young man, and had this whole sound, and lighting business. I had to wonder were this guy had come from. He seemed so different from other rich Indian’s I had met. I think his wealth had been acquired through work, and an understanding of what kind of freedoms democracy is supposed allow.
When we walked back towards the train station he passed us (and waved) on a bike with one of his servants on the back. This kind of confirmed my belief that he did not grow up on top. There are so many fascinating things about this country, but the more I stay here the more uncomfortable the resonance of the caste system makes me.
On our way to the train station we got a little lost. It was around 10:30pm, which is pretty late to be lost foreigners in India. A man saw us, and asked if we needed any help. When we told him we were looking for the train station he told us it was a little confusing to explain, and offered to walk us there. I trusted him right away, but I later found out that David was a little nervous. He told us we were in between 2 train stations, but a little closer to one that we hadn’t come from (so it was really an act of faith, because we were walking in the opposite direction of where we had come from). He told us about some places to visit in Tamil Nadu (which I have since forgotten). He was an IT professional (not surprising given his English skills, and relative visible wealth), and had spent quite abit of time working in Australia. He asked us why we visited India. We told him about our studies, and asked him if he played an instrument. He said “No. I’m a member of one of the backwards castes. We don’t play instruments.” He explained to us a little more (something I have already become aware of) that Brahmin’s traditionally have the exclusive right study instruments as children. I have recently learned that Brahmin’s place in carnatic music only became dominant in the last 100 years, but that is another story. As we arrived at the train station he told us that in 1947 (India’s Independence) the caste system was abolished, but this is India. He didn’t say anything else, but kind of looked around. Outside the ticket counter men and women, and a little baby were bedded for the night. As we bought our tickets I saw a man (a little rudely) ask a sleeping woman (with a baby) to move so that he could get his bike out from behind her. Looking around the train station, and reflecting on my almost 4 months in Chennai I understood that something so ancient as the caste system cannot be abolished in a day. It’s funny and inspiring that we saw 2 people in one day who clearly broke the trend. I think is not understood by westerners (certainly was not understood by me before I came here), and seems to be denied by a lot of higher caste Indian’s is that these kind of success’s are rare. I’m really no expert, but from every thing I see most lower castes stay poor, and for the most part they treated in away that encourages them to believe that they will always be poor.
