 |
| Bishnupur villager (AT) |
Bilip picked us up at 9am for the long
drive back to Kolkata. Bishnupur is a wonderful town, calmer and
more manageable than the larger cities. We will probably use it as a
base if we are able to come back to complete the research. We
stopped several times to photograph, our visual alertness to what was
passing before us as acute as when we first got of the airplane, now
almost 3 weeks ago.
 |
| Bishnupur woman and child (JZ) |
We suddenly heard music; a small
parade was stopping traffic. We asked Bilip what was happening. He
told us that it was somebody's birthday. Jerri and I thought he said
“Sebastian.' Later we learned that it was the birthday
celebration of Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose, a controversial but
revered nationalist leader of India who argued in favor of violence
to end British rule, in opposition to Gandhi. Was Bilip shielding us
from this issue? Did he not understand our question or did we not
listen closely enough to his answer? We're taking a basic Hindi
class before our next visit, although mastering the subtleties of a
political discussion would take years.
 |
| Parade honoring Netaji (AT) |
When we made it back to our Kolkata
hotel, we realized that despite checking our room in Bishnupur
several times, I had left Jerri's Birkenstock sandals behind. We
called Bilip, who lived near the hotel, and he found them. But the
logistics of getting them back to us were too complicated. India
does not make these things easy—people make their living by sitting
outside post offices and offering to properly tie up bundles for
mailing. As Max says of much of India, it's an “illusion of a
system.” So Jerri's Berkies are now either an unintentional present
for Bilip's wife, or they are sitting quietly waiting for us to claim
them. I can only conclude that the gods wanted to make sure we had a
tangible reason to return.
Max flew in from his trip to Bangalore
and the ruins at Hampi, a World Heritage site. India has so many
places to visit that you could spend a lifetime exploring. Years
ago, as a young archaeology student, I assisted in the excavation of
a late Neolithic hill-fort in Dorset County, England. I've never
given up the sense of mystery and wonder apparent when standing
before the physical remains of long past effort and belief. Those
scenes surround you in India.
The next morning we went to see Subir
at the AIIS office to tell him of our journey and to review the
material. He was right about the temple at Karnagarh; it was indeed
the same place as our 1945 photograph. No doubt he is right about
three other temples from our collection being in Malanchar. We won't
know for sure until we are able to return and spend the proper amount
of time with them. They may have changed significantly. It would be
nice to see the temples closer to their original state, that is, not
painted orange. Unless of course that's how it was to begin with.
Historic sites don't have to be colorless.
 |
| Jerri, Emma, Bachoo Roy (AT) |
Our artist friend Gopal joined us at
Mirchi Masala, a Chinese-Indian restaurant that was about the only
place open for lunch after 3PM. Our sense of meal time has been
seriously altered. We then walked to Bachoo's house nearby to
introduce Max to this remarkable man. They discussed classical
Indian music and Bachoo shared an album of photos of his family,
including pictures from his one-week elephant rental trek near the
Himalayas. “In America, you rent a Chevy—here, I rent an
elephant!”
Friends of Bachoo's arrived and we were
invited to attend a concert by an Indian singer. But Max and Emma
had already arranged to go to the Dover Lane Festival, starting at
9pm. Jerri and I decided to return to our hotel, pack and catch a
few hours of sleep. We were going to a 4am concert by Shivkumar
Sharma at the festival. It would be our first chance to meet the man
who has influenced Max so greatly.
 |
| Outside concert hall, Dover Lane, Kolkata (AT) |
We were out of the hotel by 2:45 in the
morning (we had to wake up the guard to raise the security gate.) We
walked a few blocks through quiet and deserted streets, a rarity, and
saw a taxi driver asleep in his cab. We woke him up and he took us
to the Dover Lane grounds. Fortunately, I had a map—he made
several wrong turns but through a series of gestures and repetitions
we were able to get to the venue. Max was waiting outside. He
introduced us to several of his friends and then took us backstage to
finally meet Shivji.
We removed our shoes and were ushered
into the Green Room. Guraji (another honorific name) was warm and
gracious. The protocol for devotees is to stoop to kiss his feet,
but Shivji simply extended his hand. We thanked him for teaching our
son, for helping him navigate more than musical technique. Shivji
turned to Max and said “He's really good!” Max was beaming. So
were we.
 |
| Max and Shivkumar Sharma (AT) |
 |
| At 4AM Concert, Dover Lane, Kolkata (AT) |
The concert was magnificent. Shivji
was playing a morning raag, hence the early hour of the concert.
Images kept flooding my mind as he played, the creative power of his
work expanding outward, as with all great art. One of the most
striking things for me was to see the audience. They were intent,
serious, knowledgeable. It was 4am, yet thousands of people were in
attendance, in rapt attention. Jerri and Emma's eyes were closed but
they were listening.
 |
| Subhankar Banerjee (tabla), Shivkumar Sharma (santoor) w. Takahiro Arai (AT) |
We could see why Max has chosen to
spend so much time here. He has attended over 90 concerts throughout
India in the year that he has lived in Mumbai. He sees each
experience as a lesson. After the morning concert, we went back to
the TransAid Guest House, finished packing, and headed for the
airport and Mumbai, the last leg of our trip.
 |
| Ali Rosen unpacking one of our boxes of books (JZ) |
We went to Max's friend Ali's for
lunch. She was the founder of the 'Book of My Own' project, for
which we had carted 130 pounds of books at the beginning of the trip.
Here was our chance to deliver them. She was thrilled and would
make sure they were put into the hands of Indian kids. Ali, a former
NBC news producer, lives in a magnificent western style apartment,
with a terrace overlooking the city and a good internet connection.
Her cook provided a delicious meal and we had a chance to relax after
so much music and so little sleep.
 |
| Kids choosing from our books (Ali Rosen) |
That night, Emma slept over at the
hotel and I slept on a mattress on the floor at Max's, so that he and
I could be up early to go to a 6am concert. Emma was exhausted and
Jerri was starting to not feel well again. How Shivji can keep up
this pace at 73 is beyond me.
 |
| Max setting up (AT) |
At 5:30 in the morning, we took a cab
from Max's to St. Xavier College, the concert venue for 'Janfest.'
We passed through the Dadar market, where merchants were already
setting up their wares. Men and women balanced huge sacks of produce
on their heads; the streets were filled with people. St. Xavier's
was the same place where President Obama had given his speech a few
months ago. Architecturally, it is an English-style school, an
Indian Hogwarts. I had a chance to meet Shivji again. Max and Taka
were setting up the stage. It was still dark out. Dawn came up to
the sound of Indian music, the morning raags filling the courtyard.
 |
| College courtyard before dawn (AT) |
 |
| Bhawani Shankar on Pakhawaj (AT) |
 |
| Shivji at Janfest (AT) |
It was Indian Independence Day and after the concert, the entire audience rose to its feet to sing the national anthem. It was a beautiful experience, a far cry from our militaristic Star Spangled Banner. Then the principal, father Frazer Mascarenhas, gave a stirring speech. He said that India was in crisis and that three issues were of paramount importance. The first was the environment; second was corruption; and third was cultural heritage. He spoke of the deadening aspects of globalism, the need to withstand a creeping westernization and homogenization of culture. He pointed specifically to the efforts of Shivkumar Sharma to keep Indian culture vibrant through his music. The concert had been organized by the students, whose Indian Music Group (
http://indianmusicgroup.org/) was responsible for the Janfest concert series.
 |
| Shivji w. St. Xavier College students (AT) |
We made it back to the hotel where we
began packing for the trip home. There was a market nearby and we
made one last shopping trip. Jerri haggled with a merchant who kept
saying “OK, what's your best price? What do you want to pay?”
She bought a kurta, Emma bought a top, I bought red socks and a belt.
A good haul.
We made one last stop at Max's, then walked to the
water. Jerri wanted to see the Ganesh shrine, but it was high tide
and completely submerged. It seemed fitting to have a religious
symbol tied inextricably to nature and to time. Things in India go
at their own pace, without concern for our desires.
Max's friend Aditya Kalyanpur (
http://www.adityatabla.com),
a superb tabla player who splits his time between Mumbai and Boston
where he has a school, stopped by for a farewell visit. We had been
trying to get together since we arrived. Max has built a community
of friends and musicians half way around the world. Seeing his life
in India was one of the best parts of this trip.
Our last meal in India was at Pancho
Dedhaba, an excellent restaurant. Then it was back to the hotel to
pick up our bags and take a taxi to the airport for a 1:45am flight.
We landed in Munich, where we had a
nine hour layover. We took a train to Mairienplatz and had a
European breakfast at the Rischart Cafe, immediately across from the
City Hall. This could not have been more different than India: no
horns blaring, no traffic, no mobs of people, no beggars, no cows
strolling down the middle of the street. Real bread, real space,
real silence, drinkable water. We took the train back to the airport
for the 9 hour flight home.
