Pandit Ravi Shankar said that when he was a child, his mother used to take him to the ghats of the Ganga, in Benares. Early in the morning, he would see the priests descending down the steps of the ghat to wash themselves in the holy waters, women buying sweets and garlands to offer their prayers before God, the half-naked sadhus still fast asleep ~ alone in their forlorn experience of life, on the pavements. His mother would bring him there, and tell him mythological love ballads of Radha and Krishna; his mother used to tell him whatever she knew....he would hear it, see with a young boy's imagination what romance is, and yet hear the cries of a poor deserted child in front of the temple, and see something else....
He said that a chord was struck, with these childhood memories of his.
Dawn breaks; the sun rises over the Ganges; at the backdrop of green banyan leaves and the rehearsing play of a flute, after taking three dips into the water, a devotee slowly raises his head from underneath the water, with closed eyes, clasped hands and a radiant physique."Brahma!" Much at the same time, a poor boy, at the temple door, throws his voice in singing a song to the devotees, coming for the aarti; pleased, they give this boy some paise; but ah! he wants that 'note' ~ again to be played. The flute-music has stopped. Just what a still void the boy felt with cold dread? The flamboyance of innocence, willing to make a coloratura....with the accompaniment of that flute-music. When the prayer ends, the boy _ who knows, out of what expectations _ rushes to the waters, submerges his head thrice, and murmurs his prayers in red lips!
Poverty bites. But once we are born, we want to live. We desire to create; be heard; be noticed. For the dhakis of Bengal....the majhis with their bhatiali songs....the aspiring flute-players of Benares _ everywhere, they see an imagination, and in reality, see something else. In India, poverty is not less harsh than it actually seems! But then, what's to become of aspiring aficianados?
In spite of all these, our romanticism with regards to faith and self remains viable. Thousands of devotees gathering at the banks of the Ganges fills our heart with the satisfaction of an unique fulfilment. The attraction towards temples, and the excitement at reaching the last step of the ghat and purifying yourself in those turbid waters, speaks immense of our congenital traits.
It is this faith in God that has created so much in this land. We perhaps want faith to conquer us, when we are in troubled times. This faith does not remain constrained to God only; it gradually creates a strength in us to have faith in ourselves; in music; in our motherland, in our creation so that we can absorb the pains and sufferings that make reality. The green mind is enabled to run the green mile.
Pt. Ravi Shankar's sitar strings were moved to move, by the inspirations from the beautiful naked truths of existential life. Life needs to be made beautiful. If 'poverty', 'purity' and 'creativity' can sustain each other when dawn breaks on the ghats of Benaras, do we need to doubt our ability for adaptability? When our tryst with sanctity is so intense that we can conceptualise the purification of our mind and soul with one splash into the Ganga river, exactly like the purified sun rises out of the Ganges to bring light and freshness to the day, are we in any way in real poverty? The sunrise over the Ganges definitely do not make the headlines, but it goes on to make a nation's pride.
P.S. I wrote this article when I was in my final year in school. moved by the Discovery Channel documentary on Pandit Ravi Shankar's early life.
He said that a chord was struck, with these childhood memories of his.
Dawn breaks; the sun rises over the Ganges; at the backdrop of green banyan leaves and the rehearsing play of a flute, after taking three dips into the water, a devotee slowly raises his head from underneath the water, with closed eyes, clasped hands and a radiant physique."Brahma!" Much at the same time, a poor boy, at the temple door, throws his voice in singing a song to the devotees, coming for the aarti; pleased, they give this boy some paise; but ah! he wants that 'note' ~ again to be played. The flute-music has stopped. Just what a still void the boy felt with cold dread? The flamboyance of innocence, willing to make a coloratura....with the accompaniment of that flute-music. When the prayer ends, the boy _ who knows, out of what expectations _ rushes to the waters, submerges his head thrice, and murmurs his prayers in red lips!
Poverty bites. But once we are born, we want to live. We desire to create; be heard; be noticed. For the dhakis of Bengal....the majhis with their bhatiali songs....the aspiring flute-players of Benares _ everywhere, they see an imagination, and in reality, see something else. In India, poverty is not less harsh than it actually seems! But then, what's to become of aspiring aficianados?
In spite of all these, our romanticism with regards to faith and self remains viable. Thousands of devotees gathering at the banks of the Ganges fills our heart with the satisfaction of an unique fulfilment. The attraction towards temples, and the excitement at reaching the last step of the ghat and purifying yourself in those turbid waters, speaks immense of our congenital traits.
It is this faith in God that has created so much in this land. We perhaps want faith to conquer us, when we are in troubled times. This faith does not remain constrained to God only; it gradually creates a strength in us to have faith in ourselves; in music; in our motherland, in our creation so that we can absorb the pains and sufferings that make reality. The green mind is enabled to run the green mile.
Pt. Ravi Shankar's sitar strings were moved to move, by the inspirations from the beautiful naked truths of existential life. Life needs to be made beautiful. If 'poverty', 'purity' and 'creativity' can sustain each other when dawn breaks on the ghats of Benaras, do we need to doubt our ability for adaptability? When our tryst with sanctity is so intense that we can conceptualise the purification of our mind and soul with one splash into the Ganga river, exactly like the purified sun rises out of the Ganges to bring light and freshness to the day, are we in any way in real poverty? The sunrise over the Ganges definitely do not make the headlines, but it goes on to make a nation's pride.
P.S. I wrote this article when I was in my final year in school. moved by the Discovery Channel documentary on Pandit Ravi Shankar's early life.
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