LAUTOKA & ISKCON

Yesterday, I flew from Savusavu back to Suva. My old friend Jiten picked me up at the airport and drove me to the bus station, so that I could catch a bus to Lautoka. Packed like sardines in a tin, the bus ride took just over four hours. Driving along the southern Coral Coast was beautiful indeed, especially since I had not yet seen the south or the west of Viti Levu. I am currently staying in a dormitory; but am not sure how much longer I will remain in Lautoka.

This morning, I went to the Hare Krishna Temple (ISKCON, the International Society for Krishna Consciousness), because I had read that the Sunday service was laden with music. The West is familiar with ISKCON because, in the late 1960s, George Harrison became one of the primary financial backers of organization – although, later in his life, he distanced himself from the Hare Krishna movement.

I arrived at the temple at around 10:15am and found myself to be the only one there, besides the priest! Regardless that no one was in the temple before I arrived, the priest was still diligently reading through a scripture, while playing the finger cymbals. The sermon was from the Bhagavad-Gita, and mostly was sung. The priest was facing the three statues of Sri Gaura Nitai, Sri Krishna Kaliya, and Sri Radha Govindji; I am not sure whether he was doing this so that he was singing his prayers directly to the gods, or simply because no one was there to listen to the service – I would assume the former explanation to be the reason, though.

After about hour, the service concluded. I was told to return in the afternoon for another, larger service. When I returned at 12:30pm, the temple was packed – it seems that the Fijian “coconut time” has an influence on when Indo-Fijians attend their Sunday services!

This service, which was about 75 minutes, was much, much more interesting: the temple was divided with men on the left-hand side, and women on the right. There was singing and dancing throughout the bulk of service. Interestingly enough, only the men dance. And yes, the Hare Krishna mantra, “Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare, Hare Rama, Rama Rama” was sung (over and over again, I might add).

Throughout the singing, several of the men played finger or hand cymbals, in addition to two drummers, on two different types of drum. I was unfamiliar with both drums: both were a similar shape, but one was electric blue, and the other was sort of like a dholak, but with a much more intricate tuning system.

After the service, I spoke with one of the drummers, a man in his early 30s named Rohinisuta Das. When I inquired about the drums, he informed that the blue one is called a balaram, and other one is called mirdanga. The shell of the balaram is made from fiberglass, and the skins are just a basic plastic. He told me that to tune the balaram, it requires an Allen wrench. I had never seen such a modernized Indian drum before; in all truth, it was a little strange, and I don’t like the idea of using an Allen wrench to tune a hand drum.

The mirdanga (which he spelt “mrdanga”) is a more natural drum: the shell is made from clay, and the heads are made from ox skin. As I mentioned before, that drum had a fairly complex tuning system: there were countless cords connecting the two sides of the drums together. Rohinisuta told me that in order to tune the mirdanga, you just pull the cords; but this is only done, “once a season.”

When I asked Rohinisuta of his personal training, he said that he did not formally study, but rather, “learned through association.” He said, “the best way to learn is to listen to a good player.” Once again, it seems that within the Hindu Indo-Fijian community, there is not much of a formalized system of musical training.

After the service, I was invited to “the feast,” which was very nice. It was a basic Indian lunch of rice, daal, and curried potatoes. It was interesting because I noticed some indigenous Fijians at the meal, although they had not attended the service. I began to realize how the value of a religious institution on the greater community: especially with the ethnic tensions throughout the country, it was nice to see indigenous Fijians and Indo-Fijians come together.

This warm, fuzzy feeling quickly disappeared, as I left the dining hall to find that my sandals had been stolen. With the help of Rohinisuta, I searched for a while, but to no avail. He said that it was probably one of the indigenous Fijians that had come for the free lunch that took my sandals. It’s not a big deal, it was only a pair of sandals, but I must admit that the walk back to my hostel was terrible! The ground was very hot and pointy!

Lastly, I did not take any photographs during the service, because I always feel reluctant to photograph, film or record without direct permission. I will post photographs of the drums and Rohinisuta when I can find a faster internet cafe...