PONGAL

I have a theory: on any given day, somewhere in India, there is a festival. Whether it is to venerate a god, to commemorate a local hero, or simply to celebrate life, India is teeming with festivities.

Throughout South India in mid-January, Pongal, a four-day festival, is celebrated. (Pongal actually is celebrated throughout India, but my writing is only in reference to the Pongal of Tamil Nadu). Originating as an annual harvest festival, Pongal has become much more than a simple celebration of farmers’ crops. Like many Indian festivals, Pongal is a medley of music, dance, food, and parade after parade. Without a doubt, Pongal is a religious festival with specific rituals and actions that uphold the values and traditions of Hinduism.


In actuality, each of the four days of Pongal is dedicated to a different god within the Hindu pantheon. Bhogi Pongal, the first day, pays tribute to Indra, the rain god. It should be noted that labeling any Hindu god with one characteristic, like “rain god”, is rather misleading, as whatever each Hindu deity represents is dependent on what sect of Hinduism is observed. For example, Indra also can be recognized as the “war god” or “king of the gods.” Yet, in this instance, in Tamil Nadu, Indra is revered as the god of rain.

Unequivocally, Surya Pongal, the second day of the festival, is the most important day. Similar to pagan festivals around the world, Surya Pongal pays reverence to the Sun, for sustaining the growth of crops; and even more broadly, for nurturing all of existence. “Surya” literally means “Sun.” This day is the most exciting of all the days, as there are the many processions throughout the streets.




The third day of the festival, Mattu Pongal, honors cows by decorating them with all sorts of bells and whistles (literally). One has to wonder whether a cow truly appreciates being
painted; regardless, the bovine receive attention normally reserved for the divine. It is quite the sight indeed.

While the entire festival is an elaborate worshipping of the gods (or more specifically, the Sun), the final day, Kannum Pongal focuses on the family and the food. In a certain sense, Kannum Pongal is very similar to the American holiday of Thanksgiving. The word “pongal” literally translates as “boiling over.” Thus, the name of the festival is symbolic of being thankful for the abundance of food provided by the harvest.

During the four days, many families create small shrines outside their doorways, ranging from candle arrangements to decorative paintings, called kolam. The kolam designs are made from brightly colored powders. Many streets are lined with lights, as well.

The music of Pongal is folk music; I will write more on the specifics in the following post, on my Pongal experiences. So until then here are a handful of pictures. Needless to say, any writings, photographs or video footage fails to capture the true essence of Pongal…And yes, the prashad (food) was more delicious than it looked...

DRUM SHOP IN CHENNAI

Hi everyone. I just wanted to share the address of the drum shop in Chennai where I bought my tabla set. I would HIGHLY recommend Abdul's shop if you are in the market for any Indian percussion instrument or sitar or sarod. The quality of the instruments are excellent and the prices are very reasonable. More updates to come shortly...

Abdul Kareem
A.R. Dawood & Sons
286, (New 154), Triplicane High Road
Chennai – 600 05
+91 44 28546934 (tel)
akareem@airtelbroadband.in

MORE TABLA LESSON VIDEOS

Below are a handful of videos from my tabla lessons with Chandran in Chennai....

MORE TABLA LESSONS

Since the New Year, I have taken several tabla lessons with Chandran. It has been a real treat to learn how to play this drum – although I will be the first to admit that I do not “know” how to play the tabla, as it takes years of studying even to begin to understand the instrument. The tabla is my favorite percussion instrument (for reasons I will get to in another post); in short, I have always been fascinated by the sound of the drum and seemingly infinite possibilities of rhythms of the drum.

I must admit that one of the most basic elements of playing the tabla, the positioning of the body, is very difficult for me. When I practice with Chandran, it can only be for about thirty minutes or so before I need to stretch my legs. Because in Western society children are taught to sit in chairs, and not on the ground, we grow up with a different capacity of flexibility than most Indians. For many people, Eastern or Western, this is not a big deal; but for those who know me, I have very long legs and extensive cross-legged sitting can be a problem for me! Oh well…

The coordination of the various finger positioning and moments is a tremendous challenge, to say the least. A true student of the tabla spends countless hours every day to perfect the mechanics of playing the tabla. Being that I understand the complexity of the training, I do not let myself get overwhelmed when I struggle to play something correctly. Further, like all instruments, tabla is best played with a clear mind.

As I have written in an earlier post, the different finger strokes, called bols, each produce a unique sound. There are eleven “main” bols; although, I only know of about half of them (I would never claim to truly “know” any bol). Each bol (finger stroke) can be played on a different part of the drum; so there are a multitude of combinations of sounds that can be made. There are three parts of the drumhead that are played: the edge of tabla (called the kinar), the interior white portion of the head (called the chantii) and the black circle in the middle of the head (called the siyahi). The pitch of the drum is highest on the edge of the drum.

Since my first lesson, Chandran always has asserted that to get the proper tone out of the drum, the bol (the finger stroke) must be done as quickly and tightly as possible. Your finger must never rest on the head of the drum. “It is like you are touching fire,” Chandran has told me. “Or like [the movement of] a snake.” It can be very strenuous to always have the fingers hovering above the drum without any support.

View of Marina Beach from Chandran's house.

In another life, I would love to dedicate forty-plus hours a week to study the tabla. The paradoxically “gift and curse” element of the tabla is that because, in my opinion, it the most expansive and complicated percussion instrument, it does sound the best; nevertheless, the tabla requires an unprecedented level of dedication just to play it on an elementary level and get the proper sounds out of the drums. I know that when I get back to New York, I will be practicing tabla when I can; yet, I do wish I could really learn how to play this instrument. That being said, I am thrilled to have had the opportunity to learn more about the tabla.

I will post more videos when I can.





Kalai with parrot

TIGHTROPE

Below are two short videos I shot in Pondicherry. The footage speaks for itself - I'm not sure what else to say besides that this is just another (random) example of how drums are used in Indian culture/how children are forced to work...Enjoy?

PHOTOGRAPHS FROM THE TABLA SHOP

Abdul at work.













A shop assistant tightening a head of a duggi.













Abdul rubs chalk on the head to prolong the life of the head; apparently, it prevents moisture from damaging it.











Kalai, myself and Abdul













From left to right: a stainless steel duggi, my copper duggi, and a brass duggi. The smaller drum in the middle is a tabla.











Chandran tunes my tabla, and that is my duggi in the background.












Wooden drum shells.














Bless this mess?












Old man crafting a sarod (or sitar, I am not sure).

THE PURCHASE OF A TABLA SET, PART TWO

At around ten in the morning, Chandran and I went to a music shop in Triplicane, a neighborhood in Eastern Chennai, just minutes from Marina Beach. The owner of the shop, Abdul Karim has been a tabla crafter his whole life. Not surprisingly, his father owned the shop before him, and his grandfather owned it before his father. For Abdul Karim, this is a familial trade: making drums is in his blood.

Interestingly enough, Abdul’s son is not going to take over the business, but rather his daughter is. To be honest, the details of why or how that decision was made were ambivalent. I was very curious to find out, but in India, questions pertinent to the structure of a family business might be deemed inappropriate. Abdul did say his son was studying to be an engineer, but again, I wonder if that disappoints Abdul or not. In hindsight, I regret not asking those specific questions, but recognize that it was a sticky situation.

Regardless, it was really amazing to hear that his daughter would eventually run the business. I think that is reflective how the rigidity of the social structure of instrument craftsmen has changed dramatically over the years. I cannot imagine that in 1908, or 1808 for that matter, a daughter would take over a family trade; then again, it might not be as uncommon as I think it is.

The shop was a standard, dusty drum shop. There were wooden drum shells stacked and scattered throughout the narrow room. On the left-hand wall, there was a very high shell overflowing with all sorts of percussion instruments. Although they specialize in tabla, mridangam and dholak drums, there were about a half-dozen sitars/sarods (stringed instruments). In the shop, they craft all of the wooden shells and heads: so everything for the tabla (right) drum is made on site. For the duggi (left) drum, they buy the metal shells from a famous drum shop in Hydrabad.

There was no religious iconography in the shop; but, that makes perfect sense, as Abdul and his family are Muslims. (I have visited larger music shops in Chennai that are owned by Hindus, and thus have various religious figures and pictures scattered throughout the shop). Abdul’s shop also serves as the family’s home: everyone lives upstairs.

Chandran has known Abdul for over fifteen years; so that worked to my benefit when negotiating the price of the drums. After spending some time in the shop, I concluded that it would be best to get a cooper duggi. The drum is absolutely beautiful, as it has been hand-hammered with an imperfectly perfect pattern of indentations to augment the sound. The tabla (right) drums are more nondescript: aside from the pitch of the drum, there is not a tremendous range of kinds of tabla, unlike the several choices of materials for the shell of a duggi (left) drum. I decided to get a tabla (right) drum tuned to C. After having played on the drums for several days, I am really happy with my decision, as they sound incredible!

These drums would cost five, maybe even ten times as much in New York City. I actually have shipped my tabla set home, and they already arrived safely thanks to DHL. I cannot wait to play them more upon my return.

In all truth, I did not realize that there was such a diversity of materials to make a tabla, and it was a real treat to have such an extensive look into the crafting of a tabla set. Learning about Abdul’s background was insightful, to say the least. I am eager to meet a Muslim tabla craftsman in Morocco: I wonder how, if at all, the making of a tabla differs in North Africa from that of in South India.

Here are a few videos; I will post pictures as soon as possible. Thanks!

THE PURCHASE OF A TABLA SET, PART ONE

After several tabla lessons with Chandran, I told him that I was interested in purchasing a tabla set. Before I tell the story of my purchasing of a tabla set, I think it is necessary to give some background information about the tabla, so you all know what exactly to look for when buying a set…

Like all instruments, the terminology of the tabla is extensive: I learned many new words while at the drum shop. A bulk of the nomenclature is specific to South India, though. A tabla set consists of two drums: the right drum is the tabla, and the left is the duggi. The tabla is the higher pitched drum: in fact, there six different kinds of tabla (right) drums, one for each note on the music scale, C, D, E, F, G, and A. I was unable to find out why there is not a tabla tuned to B; and I just figure that a B-tuned tabla probably does exist, but just wasn’t at that shop. The tabla, a wooden drum also called khumba, is made from sheesham wood, a very durable and heavy wood. There is a direct correlation between the weight and sound of the drum.

Unlike many Western drums, the tabla does not have a consistent circumference; it is widest in the middle - it almost looks like the drum has love handles. At the fattest part of the drum, there are wooden pegs, called gatta, to create tension between the head and the straps. The head of the tabla, called a pudda, is made from goatskin: the thicker the head, the fuller the sound.

The tabla has sixteen leather straps/braces, called deewal, that are made from cow skin. (Yes, I have asked many Hindu tabla players if playing an instrument made from the hide of a holy cow is sacrilege, and only have received ambivalent answers). The deewals can be tuned with a hammer.

The much larger, gumdrop-shaped left drum, called the duggi, is very different than the tabla. The chief similarity between the tabla and the duggi is that both have a pudda (goatskin heads). The duggi is not made from wood, but instead from metal, either copper, brass or stainless steel. The cooper and brass duggi drums often are plated with nickel. The cooper and brass duggi drums are the most common, although the two more expensive options for the obvious value of the metal. I was amazed with how differently the sound quality was from cooper duggi to stainless steel duggi: the projection and range of the stainless steel duggi is painfully inferior to that of the cooper or brass duggi.

There is something to be said of the craftsmanship among a selection of cooper, brass and stainless steel duggi drums. The stainless steel ones are manufactured to be mass-produced, so they are mostly machine-made. Any musician will declare that a machine-made instrument has no character. To give the stainless steel duggi drums a further element of “soullessness,” it does not have deewal (leather straps), but uses metal lugs and bolts. It is quite the eyesore, although in all fairness, I am sure it is easier to tune…

Both the tabla and the duggi never touch the ground directly, and always are placed on a ring-shaped pillow, called a langot. The use of the langot is twofold: primarily, the drums simply sound better when they are not touching the group. Although each drum only has one head, the bottoms of the tabla are closed – unlike the djembe, which also has one head, but is open-ended to project the sound of the drum. Without a doubt, the acoustics of the tabla are much clearer when the drum is rested on the langot

Secondly, as I have written about before, as the tabla is employed in various religious rituals and prayers, the langot serves as a sign of respect for the instrument, specifically for devout Hindus that believe the instrument is Sarasvati, the Goddess of Music. While this explanation might not translate to why a Muslim or Christian tabla player uses a langot, almost all musicians regards their instrument with some degree of reverence. Think of your friends that play guitar or drums that do not like when you touch or play their instrument; being overprotective is a sign of respect. (Yes, the most notable exception of an absence of respect for the instrument is Jimi Hendrix, as he was famous for lighting his guitar on fire on stage…hence, why Ravi Shankar was appalled by Hendrix). The drums always are stored in a box or protective bag. Furthermore, a cushion, called a gaddian, cover the head of the drums. Clearly, great care is given to the tabla set.

With all that in mind, let me tell you my story…I will post some pictures shortly....

DELAYED

Hi all. I am very sorry for the lack of posts as of late; I have relocated from Chennai, and living in a technologically-challenged environment. The internet here is painfully slow; so uploading pictures and videos is almost impossible. To compound this problem, most of the computers are so outdated that they do not even have a functioning USB drive – so I cannot write on my laptop and then just post the text! I have been writing a bunch, and have a TON of really cool stories, videos, et cetera, that I will publish as soon as possible. Until then, let’s go Giants!

DANCE FESTIVAL

Although the annual December music festival in Chennai has come to a conclusion, in the first two weeks of January, there is a dance festival at the Music Academy Madras. Last night, I attended a traditional dance performance. While I respect the tremendous level of discipline it takes to perform South India dances, to be completely honest, dance does not do it for me.

Of course, in South India, dance without music is like a Q without a U. The music ensemble included a vocalist, violinist, flutist and a mridangam player. Most of my attention was focused on the musicians; after attending so many music performances last week, I have been able to differentiate between a “good” musician and an “excellent” one. (Being invited to perform at the Music Academy Madras is a privilege reserved for South India’s finest musicians; thus, every show is guaranteed to be enjoyable). Tonight’s musicians were very good; I really appreciated the fact that they had to cater their performance to the dancer. To clarify, the music must be synchronized with the dance; and, due to the length of the performances, it is quite impressive to see such consistent and precise coordination.

Not surprisingly, on the right-hand side of the stage, there was a large statue of Shiva in his famous dancing pose, which is referred to as Nataraja, Lord of Dance. The statue was garlanded with flowers; there also were several candles surrounding the statue.

It is so strange to conduct research on “religious studies” in India: surely, there is not a shortage of information, but because “religion” is so embedded in the culture, it is difficult to separate “religion” from any part of the daily life. In fact, it is interesting to note that prior to the introduction of English to the Subcontinent, throughout the various Indian languages (Hindi, Tamil, Bengali, Urdu, et cetera…there are twenty-two official languages today), the word “religion” did not exist. So something like placing a dancing deity on the stage to inspire the performer is not necessary an act of “religious” ritual, but instead, it just is. There does not need to be an academic explanation of why the statue would be there, because it is there because it is there – and that is that. Perhaps my biggest qualm with Western academia is the desire to label and justify everything. So, in short, the statue was on the stage, because…well…just because.

SATHGURU GNANANDA HALL

December 29, 2007

In the late afternoon, I arrived at the Music Academy only to find a queue that stretched out of the venue and well into the parking lot. As I positioned myself to be the last person in the line, I immediately realized that there was no way I would be able to get a ticket, as this was the longest line I had seen to date. I began talking with the person behind me, a fellow named Ajay, who was around my age, and he said that there was no way we would be able to get tickets. Sure enough, within a matter of seconds, a staff member of the Music Academy informed everyone that no more tickets were available.

Ajay was raised in Chennai, but now works for Dell in Bangalore. After a brief conversation, Ajay and I walked over to the Sathguru Gnanada Hall, another venue on TTK Road.

Ajay told me about his experiences growing up in Chennai and attending the annual music festival. For the people of Chennai, he asserted, “The festival is like a religion.” I learned that there are there are thirty-four venues throughout the city. According to Ajay, “In December, in a twenty kilometer radius, there are 5,000 performances.” (The math checks out; each venue has about five performances per day).

Without a doubt, the Music Academy Madras, as it is formally known, is the top venue in Chennai. Ajay referred to the Music Academy as the “Mecca” of concert halls in Chennai; he said all artists strive to perform there, as it is the most storied venue, this being its 81st year of hosting concerts.

Although we were unable to see a performance at the Music Academy, it was very refreshing to see a performance in a new venue. I must admit that aside from attending one concert at the Mylapore Fine Arts Club, I have limited myself solely to the Music Academy.

The Sathguru Gnanada Hall itself is much older than the Music Academy; it almost felt like a high school auditorium – it opened in 1958, and probably hasn’t changed much since then. (The Music Academy is an older institution, but has been renovated recently). Although the Sathguru Gnanada Hall is much more basic than the Music Academy, I actually liked it a lot. The stage has a really interesting backdrop, and on each side of the stage are some pretty neat paintings.

We saw a traditional Carnatic performance that included a female vocalist, a violinist, a mridangam player, a tambourine player and two tanpura (drone) players. There were many people sitting on the stage; I would assume most were family or disciples of the musicians.

Towards the end of the concert, there was a percussion duet, between the tambourine and mridangam players – a true showcase of rhythm. At the end of the fifteen-minute duet, the other instrumentalists join back in to play just a few bars of the original composition (that had initially segued into the duet), and the piece ended with two more bars of the duet. Not surprisingly, for me, this was the highlight of the concert. It saddens me to note that during the percussion duet many people left. Even in India, drummers get little respect! (Below are a few videos of the duet).

After the show was over, we ate a delicious dinner at the venue: almost every concertgoer congregated around the outdoor buffet. It was probably the best meal I’ve had here in Chennai…and, even though it was “street food,” I didn’t get sick!

To cap off a really great evening, Ajay and I went to a nearby record store – although, it was more of just a very large room with a lot of CDs and DVDs spread on many tables, rather than an actual record store. Ajay recommended seven different records of famous mridangam and tabla players; I must admit I would have been very lost as to what exactly purchase without him there to help!

When I reflect on the evening, it makes me appreciate how our meeting was entirely serendipitous: it is just neat how, sometimes, things can unfold so perfectly.



The tambourine player in white looks very sad.

DIDN'T SEE THAT COMING

A couple weeks ago, I received this very random email titled, "Question about a Japanese taiko drum." I answered the question to the best of knowledge; hopefully was of some help. Here is the message:

Hello Jesse,

Came across your "drum" blog while looking to identify a Taiko (Daiko) drum which we believe to be in the Osaka area of Japan. Let me explain. The (RealityFanForum.com) fans of the CBS reality show The Amazing Race try and identify ("spoil") the locations of the upcoming episodes of the show before they are aired. Currently the 12th season of The Amazing Race (TAR) is airing in the states. We know from the previews that TAR passed through the Osaka area of Japan sometime this past June/July. According to the previews, they visit the downtown area (home of the famous mechanical Osaka Clown), as well as the Kishiwada Castle and a third, yet unknown site which contains a ornately decorated Taiko (Daiko) drum. See attached photo. The drum head is gold colored, with a "three tadpole" center design, surrounded by red/green/blue/black "rays" pointing inward toward the center design. The drum is resting on a blue/purple pad with two mallets either side.

The fans of TAR are trying to identify the drum, and thus identify the location where the race visited. We gather from your blog that you are particularly interested in drums, and being an expat in Japan, might be interested in our quest. Any information you could provide regarding the drum pictured would be appreciated.

If you would like to follow along with us, you are welcome to visit the realityfanforum.com web site any time. After weeks of googling the web, we have come up empty handed as regards this drum. The Osaka episode will air in a few weeks. Thanks again.

Regards,

Fans of The Amazing Race

realityfanforum.com



(The internet is crazy!)

CORRECTION

After publishing my post on Rajna Swaminathan, the young female mridangam player, I received an email from her mother, Lalitha Swaminathan. Thank you very much for clarifying this! (Note, "mrudangam" is an alternate spelling of "mridangam").
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hi Jesse:
I saw your posting on the blogspot. Thanks.
Actually, Rajna's father is Dr. P. K. Swaminathan, a scientist in Maryland, USA. He also plays Mrudangam and is a disciple of Maestro Umayalpuram K. Sivaraman. Rajna was born and brought up in Maryland. She studied Mrudangam under Maestro Sri Umayalpuram K. Sivaraman, who made several lengthy visits to the Swaminathan residence to coach her personally. She just turned 17 in early January. She got the "Best Junior Mrudangam Artiste" award from the Music Academy.
www.rajnaswaminathan.com
Lalitha

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So, thanks again, Lalitha! Rajna's website is pretty neat, there are a bunch of pictures, videos, and audio recordings, so I would high recommend checking it out...

MINI HALL?

(Written December 30, 2007)

At the Music Academy, the weekends always are pure pandemonium: Chennai is the largest city in Southeast India, so it comes as no surprise that to obtain concert tickets is more a matter of luck than effort. This afternoon, after standing in line for a bit, it was announced that the venue was entirely sold out. There were tickets, however, still available for the “Mini Hall.” At first, I assumed that the Mini Hall would just be a smaller venue, with less acclaimed musicians. Forty rupees later (a buck), I had my ticket and found my way to the Mini Hall at the Music Academy Madras.

I walked in, and immediately said out loud, “Are you serious?” On the stage of the Mini Hall was a projector, with a live feed of the ongoing performance from the Main Hall. I couldn’t help but laugh; there I was, sitting in an auditorium watching a video of a live performance that was going on just a few feet from where I was. In all fairness, both the video and sound quality were very good. It was actually pretty funny, especially since people came pouring in!

After staying for a while, I ventured over to the Sathguru Gnanada Hall, another venue, about a ten-minute walk from the MAM. Unfortunately, only aisle “seats” were available, which I decided to pass on.

I’d say today was an interesting day to observe the madness of the music festival...






The Music Academy Madras













Sathguru Gnanada Hall, the second most popular venue in Chennai

'08

Apologies for the absence of posts as of late. I have a bunch of updates to post, and will get those up in the next few days or so. Happy 2008!

My chair in Chennai. (I really wish I knew how to make this not sideways...sorry!)





One of the temples on my street in Royapettah, Chennai.








The sign from my "hotel" in Chennai. Apparently, somebody stole the "B" as it is called "Balan International"
















The drum man.