Some electricians strung up these exciting lights in the neighborhood, over the main drag, Mahakali caves road. The fifty or so strings of Christmas lights strung perpendicular to traffic take up the half block or so before a busy intersection. They flash off and on in "the wave", of stadium fame, providing a very attractive focal point for one's attention. You can use your imagination to conjure images of the driving repercussions; please make sure to include the soundtrack of squealing tires.
I've also recently discovered Mawa sweets, created entirely of milk and sugar (with a characteristic flavor like cashews or kesar flowers) and fried in ghee. They taste something like cookie dough, but are composed of much smaller granules, and dissolve in one's mouth with little effort from the tongue. While my complexion deteriorates from my new vice, my palate is also rejoicing in having found katchori, a pastry crust lined with a mild dal (lentils, peppers, spices, water) and fried up like a samosa. When eating them the crust flakes into ninety layers. They're not sweet; I'd say they're Indian croissants. And they're fantastic.
Last night I finished 'Lord Jim', by Joseph Conrad, and it nearly made the Mawa sweets pale in comparison. I loved it, and I'll tell you why. Except for a bit too much racism and misogyny, which there's bound to be in an English novel from 1900, it's obvious that Conrad is trying to be as 'above board' as possible. In light of my recent rant, 'Lord Jim' pleases me because of its treatment of literary morality--the narrative affords its characters the opportunity to discuss (and sometimes argue about) the moral ramifications of the events in the plot. Also, the manner in which Conrad consistently let slip the outcomes of Jim's conflicts before relating the conflicts themselves annoyed me in a very pleasant way. And it's really quite funny. I forgot to bring the notebook in which I wrote a couple of quotes, so I'll include them in the next update. Next up is more Steinbeck--'Tortilla Flat' and 'Of Mice and Men'. Something about India really compels me to read his stuff.
But what really got me off my duff and over to the internet cafe (where yes, the duff is again sat on) is raga Lalat, which has my ears bench-pressing microtones. Even last week I responded to my father's question about whether or not Indian music employs microtones with a "yes, but..." (This is because there are never 'extra' notes added in between existent half-steps. This is a bad, cursory answer but I bet if you really care you'll look it up.) However, raga Lalat has three notes which are so far afield from normal half-steps that I've spent three days fine-tuning them. They're now sounding less like braying animals to me and more like notes that don't even exist outside of Lalat's context. The cool thing is that they all sparkle, in a way that they wouldn't if they were the normal flat two, sharp four and flat six (and the seventh is a bit low, but not so far as to feel like a totally different note). Learning how to play alap and improvise within two compositions in raga Bihag was (and still is) challenging to me because I'm so new to Indian music. Lalat is, and will be, challenging because it's on the fringe of my understanding of what music IS. It's also driving home the idea of 'rasa', or associated emotional theme. Bihag is a romantic, fun raga meant to be played between 9pm and midnight. Lalat is a stately, kingly raga for the early morning. Those of you who have played music with me know of my penchant for imagery-driven descriptions of sound, and I've got to admit that it's nice for a teacher to give me specifics in this area. The notes being so outlandish really brings home for me the absurdity of politics; playing a note just barely above the tonic, two octaves above the drone, is like congress purchasing a two-hundred dollar hammer. Without the framework, the specific event is impossible to understand--within it, a product of cause and effect. At the same time, the sounds in this raga are capable of pushing these notes so far above their context, in such a beautiful way, that it's not too much of a stretch to liken them to a nobility that lives in a delicate, refined state while constantly abusing a million serfs that rarely question the struggles of their existence. I've heard that at the height of the Raj in Calcutta, the average British family had 119 servants!
I've got to cut this short, because the owner of the internet cafe is trying to close early (it's ten-twelve pm). I hope I don't sound like all those wishy-washy idiots who are so desperate for anything different they'll espouse 'truths' learned in India as often as possible. If I do, let the fruit be the judge--just wait a couple years until I've assimilated these concepts into my playing and writing. Then come up to me at a 2008 New Year's party and punch me in the shoulder, saying "you dolt--the stuff you're writing now is crap!" (you CANNOT be under the influence when you do this, to be fair). Next installment, I've been really affected by how personal Kala's teaching is, how GOOD it is, and I'd like to write about how my idea of teaching music is changing. For now, however, the stereo outside is screaming a techno version of 'Brazil', and I'm thinking of the final scene in Terry Gilliam's movie when the executioner says to Jonathan Pryce: "Don't hold out too long, sonny--it'll damage your credit rating." I think I'll go back to my microtones. Happy New Year
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