“Of all living creatures in the world, man has his vital and mental energy vastly in excess of his need, which urges him to work in various lines of creation for its own sake […] Life is perpetually creative because it contains in itself that surplus which ever overflows the boundaries of the immediate time and space.” – Rabindranath Tagore in The Religion of an Artist1
Source: Pulak Dutta. Santiniketan: Birth of Another Cultural Space. Santiniketan 2015. Contact: pulaksantiniketan@gmail.com | Download his free e-book here | Backup copy (PDF, 5 MB) >>
Listen to Tagore: Unlocking Cages: Sunil Khilnani tells the story of the Bengali writer and thinker Rabindranath Tagore: https://bbc.in/1KVh4Cf >> The acclaimed BBC 4 podcast series titled Incarnations: India in 50 Lives has also been published in book form (Allen Lane).
“I was moved by how many of these lives pose challenges to the Indian present,” he writes, “and remind us of future possibilities that are in danger of being closed off.”2
Quoted by Pulak Dutta (p. 97) from Sisir Kumar Das (ed.). The English Writings of Rabindranath Tagore, Vol 3. New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi 2006 (pp. 687-8) [↩]
Sunil Khilnani quoted in a review by William Dalrymple in The Guardian, 14 March 2016[↩]
Mythes, afbeeldingen en een uit de Indiase oudheid overgeleverde verhandeling over het muziektheater geven een indruk hoe geliefd de fluit was. Zo weten we dat ze al lang als een volwaardig muziekinstrument werd ingezet. Naar gelang de streek wordt ze anders aangeduid, bijvoorbeeld als kuzhal in het Tamil (spreek uit als “kulal” of “kural”); en als bansuri in Noord-India. In gedichten, liederen, dans en film komen ook benamingen voor als venu en murali, waarmee gelijk wordt verwezen naar Krishna, de herder en fluitspeler “met de donkere huid”.
De vroege Tamil en Sanskrit dichtkunst beschrijft het ontstaan van de eerste fluit, zonder toedoen van de mens: doordat zwarte hommels hun nesten bouwen in bamboebossen laten ze gaten achter in de stengels. Die gaten komen in grootte overeen met de blaas- en vingeropeningen van de huidige bamboe dwarsfluit. De wind zorgt dan voor het laten klinken van natuurlijke tonen. Ook het melodieuze gezang van vogels in al zijn nuances vormt een inspiratiebron voor de nauw met de natuur verbonden mens. Dit alles bevordert een muzikale symbiose die op veel plaatsen steeds opnieuw ontstaat.
Het verrast daarom niet dat Pannalal Ghosh, de pionier van de Hindoestaanse fluitmuziek, in zijn jeugd werd beïnvloed door tribale musici van het noord-oostelijke Santal-volk.
Bij Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941), die te midden van Santal-dorpen zijn wereldberoemde school Santiniketan stichtte, komen we het ‘Oneindige Wezen’ tegen als fluitspeler: de ‘muziek van de schoonheid en de liefde’ lokt ons weg uit onze egocentrische beperking.1
Hier plaatst zich de dichter, pedagoog en invloedrijke geleerde in een lange traditie, die barrières van taal en godsdienst weet te slechten dankzij de muziek. Zo laat Tagore ons de rol van de bamboefluit voelen als het meest ‘democratische’ van alle muziekinstrumenten.
*
Ludwig Pesch specialiseerde zich op de Zuid-Indiase bamboe dwarsfluit, toen hij studeerde bij Ramachandra Shastry aan de Kalakshetra kunstacademie in Chennai. Samen met zijn leraar gaf hij concerten bij talrijke gelegenheden.
In samenwerking met twee universiteiten ontwikkelde hij e-learning cursussen (carnaticstudent.org). Voor muziekliefhebbers en docenten heeft hij een handboek geschreven, The Oxford Illustrated Companion to South Indian Classical Music. Voor het Concertgebouw Amsterdam heeft hij teksten bijgedragen naar aanleiding van het India Festival in Amsterdam in 2008 (b.v. “Wat is een raga” gepubliceerd in Preludium).
“Very often I think and feel that I am like a flute – the flute that cannot talk but when the breath is upon it, can sing” schreef Rabindranath Tagore uit London aan zijn vertaler, de Nederlandse schrijverFrederik van Eeden, London op 9 augustus 1913[↩]
Amidst lively debates within and beyond India, 1 these perspectives on our shared legacy make interesting reading:
Savithri Rajan who believed that Tyagaraja, like these other great men, was always meditating, but his medium of expression was nādam, “sound”. 2
In the introduction to his unfinished yet voluminous magnum opus Karunamirtha Sagaram, titled “The dignity and Origin of music”, Abraham Pandither 3 entices readers to embark on a virtual journey through time and space; a discovery of nature that for him would have gone hand in hand with musical evolution if not advanced civilization itself.
A summary of findings by archaeologists titled “How prehistoric societies were transformed by the sound of music“. 4
Learn more
Read excerpts from Abraham Pandither’s work (Karunamirtha Sagaram, 1918 ed., pp. 4-5)
The devotees who worshiped the deity in such a manner, found Him, according to the several conceptions, either as a King, or as a parent, or as a Guru, or as a timely helper, or as one who relieved them from all difficulties, or as a loving son, or is the loving bride-groom, and gave vent to the feelings in singing His praises; some worshipped by prostrating themselves before Him; some prayed to Him to deliver them from all their troubles; some prayed for the gift of obtaining whatever they desired; some bewailed their fate owing to separation from the deity; some, who realized His presence in themselves, danced for joy; many who desired His presence sent messengers for enquiry; others, filled with love, praised Him fervently. They described His several virtues and told the others about them by means of verse. They deplored their own unworthiness; conscious of their own faults, they implored pardon; some, owing to intense love, were so taken up with the contemplation of His image that they completely forgot this world and their food. […]
p. 5
In the same manner, little children, playing in the streets, rolled the leaves of the Poovarasu tree [“Indian tulip” or “umbrella tree”], made the kind of reed out of the thinner end and produced music by blowing through it finding that the sound was in proportion to the size and the mouthpiece, they played together three or four such reeds and felt elated when they found a certain kind of harmony existing between them. Then they may reeds out of the stems of the leaves of the pumpkin and attached rolled up leaves to them and were delighted to find that the sound was either dull of bright in proportion to the length of the rolled up leaves. Of these, those those who had a special ear for Music when they advanced in age, made reeds of horns, conches and bamboo, and later on of wood, gold, silver and brass of various shapes. In the same way, they made progress in stringed instruments. They found that Music could be produced by tying the bent ends of a stick together, either by a rope or a string. They proceeded to bend big bamboos in the form of a bow by means of leather thongs, tied bells to them to keep time, and sang those particular songs used on the occasions of using bows. Finding by that strings, either metallic or of catgut, sound better when passing through the medium of a vessel full of air or a box or a dried Sorakkai [bottle gourd] with its contents scooped out, made instruments like the […], adjusted the strings to suit their voices and send the praises of the deity. […] From these beginnings, music with its new with its few fundamental rules, is making progress.
increasingly so pertaining to religious (or caste) affiliation, ownership or cultural appropriation[↩]
“Savithri Rajan believes that Tyagaraja, like these other great men, was always meditating, but his medium of expression was nādam, ‘sound’ – he was an aspirant who followed nādopāsana, the approach or worship by way of sound. She points out that Tyagaraja composed a song beginning with the word nādopāsana saying there is nothing higher than worship via sound, music is the best vehicle because Brahman is nādam – divine sound – which is the omnipresent, omniscient power, ‘call it Power with a capital ‘P’, call it God, call it Christ, call it Krsna, call it Rāma.'” – Excerpt from: Tyagaraja and the Renewal of Tradition: Translations and Reflections by William Jackson (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidas, 1994), pp. 174-175 https://search.worldcat.org/en/title/878687716 A longer excerpt titled “The greatest, most beautiful thing is compassion expressed through music” is found here: https://www.carnaticstudent.org/audio-dedication-to-her-guru-veena-dhanammal-by-savithri-rajan[↩]
London, Januar 1977 (aus dem Englischen übersetzt) 1
Der Begriff “Wechselbeziehungen” schließt einen bestimmten harmonischen Verlauf in sich ein, der diejenigen strengen Gesetze der Harmonielehre verletzt, deren eigentlicher Sinn ein glatter und wohlklingender Verlauf der Stimmen im Kontrapunkt ist. Die Musik unserer Zeit befolgt diese Gesetze nicht mehr, noch waren Meister je von Regeln abhängig. […]
Es gibt keinen günstigeren Platz als Israel, um die gegenseitigen Beziehungen zwischen den östlichen und westlichen Kulturen zu erforschen. Israel ist nicht nur geographisch an genau der Stelle gelegen, wo sich drei kraftvolle Ströme begegnen: aus Afrika, Asien und Europa; die Volksgruppen, aus denen sich die Bevölkerung Israels zusammensetzt, zeigen selbst ein dynamisches und lebendiges Abbild der äußerst komplexen und reizvollen Modelle, welche der Wechselwirkung dieser verschiedenen Ströme entstammen. So ist dieses Buch über eine wissenschaftliche Studie hinaus in lebendiger Erfahrung verwurzelt und daher ein aktuelles und fesselndes Dokument.
Ein Hauptbeitrag Europas ist die Kraft, die Fähigkeit, der Wille zur Synthese. In Europa haben sich all diese großen Ströme zusammengefunden: aus Asien von der Mongolei im Norden bis Indien im Süden – in den Magyaren und Zigeunern [Sinti und Roma] 2 Ungarns vereint […]
Es ist deshalb umso mehr die besondere Pflicht unseres Zeitalters zu versuchen, diese unendlich komplexen Wechselbeziehungen mit einer Mischung von Voraussicht und Vision zu verstehen und klarzulegen und dabei die große Fähigkeit zu nutzen, die wir wie alle Völker und Kulturen besitzen: die Kraft zu geben und zu nehmen, zu lehren und zu lernen; denn wir werden stets voneinander abhängig sein. Nur in solchem Geist der Demut 3 können wir das Bestmögliche erreichen, oder zumindest dem Schlimmsten entgehen, das immer vielfältigere und bezwingende Verflechtungen uns zu bringen haben.
Yehudi Menuhin in Musik zwischen Orient und Okzident: Eine Kulturgeschichte der Wechselbeziehungen von Peter Gradenwitz S. 390-392 | Details: http://www.worldcat.org/oclc/1046379134[↩]
Zitat: Erläuterungen zum Begriff „Zigeuner“ über die Notwendigkeit einer differenzierteren Bezeichnung, die sich jedoch erst lange seit dem Erscheinen dieses Buchs im Jahre 1977 durchsetzen konnte: „Zigeuner“ ist eine von Klischees überlagerte Fremdbezeichnung der Mehrheitsgesellschaft, die von den meisten Angehörigen der Minderheit als diskriminierend abgelehnt wird – so haben sich die Sinti und Roma nämlich niemals selbst genannt. Die Durchsetzung der Eigenbezeichnung Sinti und Roma im öffentlichen Diskurs war von Anfang an ein zentrales Anliegen der Bürgerrechtsbewegung, die sich vor allem seit Ende der Siebzigerjahre in der Bundesrepublik formierte. Dadurch sollte zugleich ein Bewusstsein für jene Vorurteilsstrukturen und Ausgrenzungsmechanismen geschaffen werden, die im Stereotyp vom „Zigeuner“ ihre Wurzeln haben. […] Die Begriffe Sinti und Roma sind nicht, wie häufig unterstellt, „politisch korrekte“ Erfindungen der Bürgerrechtsbewegung, sondern tauchen in Quellen bereits seit dem 18. Jahrhundert auf. […] Als schillernde Projektionsfläche sagt es viel über die Fantasien, Ängste und Wünsche derer aus, die es benutzen. Mit der Lebensrealität der Sinti und Roma hat es schlicht nichts gemein. Zugriff: https://zentralrat.sintiundroma.de/sinti-und-roma-zigeuner/ [6. Juni 2022] Fettdruck zur Betonung hinzugefügt[↩]
“Humility is a quality often associated with self-deprecation. But by championing our achievements while also acknowledging our weaknesses, we could see benefits in many areas of our lives – and even increase our attractiveness.” – Introduction BBC podcast All in theMind (accessed 1 November 2023) [↩]
Whatever we understand and enjoy in human products instantly becomes ours, wherever they might have their origin – Rabindranath Tagore*
During this presentation, musical figures from several distinct traditions were explored in a practice-oriented manner. The figures selected are appealing beyond South Asia where they originated many centuries ago and continue to play a key role in classical and applied music.
Our shared goal was to enable young and old to collaborate in a memorable learning process that blends seemlessly into any chosen subject, academic and otherwise.
The criteria for selecting a particular figure were (1) its flexibility as for combining it with another subject, for instance mathematics, geography or history; (2) its appeal going by prior experience with learners from different age groups; and (3) its scope for variation, movement, visualisation and analysis in accordance with learners’ specific needs and abilities.
As part of integrated music education, Indian music enables even complete strangers to share a useful learning process. This calls for a natural and playful approach to melody, rhythm, hand signs and body movement. In this manner we are prepared to include newcomers – children and adults lacking a common language – to instantly participate in music.
Indian music is valued for fostering memory, analytical thinking, concentration, and cooperation among peers. Its basic concepts are exhilarating and liberating whether or not there is scope for studying Indian culture in its own right. This is a boon in circumstances where verbal or written instructions fail to engage learners. Rather than resigning in the face of such formidable challenges, educators are free to experiment and spread solidarity through instant inclusion – the essential joy of “creating” music oneself. This aspect addresses a common fear among learners, namely to be left behind (again!), be it in music or other subjects – a fear that is all too often justified in competitive modern society.
To help educators to overcome such fears, we build lessons around simple figures that bind tunes, rhythms and movements together into a rounded whole. Some of these may appear familiar enough to “break the ice” if needed; and others are so fresh and mind-boggling as to trigger further experimentation among peers in informal settings – anywhere and anytime. For this to happen, we dispense with technical resources of any kind.
Adaptation is the key to rapidly changing learning scenarios wherein cultural stereotyping, a known stumbling block for educators all over the world, must be overcome. This is easily achieved by integrating Indian music into discussions of academic concepts, or by letting its rhythms enrich social and outdoor activities. Such activities are by definition location specific and all-inclusive.
Educators from Canada, Finland, Germany, Hungary, India, Singapore and Switzerland were among the eleven participants in this one-hour session. They explored a time proven method suited to the needs of a wide range of abilities and learning goals; and this irrespective of participants’ cultural roots.
Date: 28 July 2016 | photos by courtesy of Dr. Tony Makarome, Yong Siew Toh Conservatory Singapore
*Rabindranath Tagore in a letter to C.F. Andrews; quoted by Amartya Sen in The Argumentative Indian: Writings on Indian History, Culture and Identity. London: Penguin, 2005, p. 86.