Nadopasana: A Story of Sound and Soul: Part 1 of 4

Year 1826, Thiruvaiyaru, India

Richard Baker wiped the sweat off his forehead with his shirt sleeves. He was breathless as he tried to keep pace with the younger man. He paused to take another swig from his water bottle - a gift from the military men who had cleared him for the visit. He offered Valavan a drink, who simply shook his head.

‘How much farther?’.

‘We’ll enter the town in ten minutes. The house is very close to the Aiyanaar temple at the entrance to the town’, replied Valavan, and started chuckling.

‘What is so funny?’

Valavan paused to translate the words in his head and then said in halting English. ‘You’re asking ‘how much farther’ every few minutes. Reminds me of the lines children chant in my village as a part of games - how much farther is the washerman’s house?!‘

Richard grinned. Valavan was obviously not the deferential sort. Most Indians froze with fear and awe as they talked to the colonizing race. Valavan, refreshingly, talked as an equal, and even teased Richard on his appearance as he seemed to wilt under the sun.

Richard took another look at the man walking ahead of him. Slim, dark-skinned, energetic. His eyes seem to always wear an amused look. A man of uncertain age. He had been working as a translator to the East India Company’s forces. Richard’s friend, John Morrison, had lent him as a local guide and translator when Richard arrived in Madras on his research mission. Valavan had suggested a bullock cart for the trip into town, but Richard had refused, not wanting to draw too much attention. He was interested in speaking with one man, arousing as little interest or suspicion from the locals as possible.

The house was a modest one - shingled, neatly painted in white with red decorations along the bottom. Two neem trees provided shade in front of the house. The ground was smooth, devoid of vegetation - perhaps treated with cow manure, as was the custom in those parts. There was decorative floor art in front of the house. Richard later learned that it was called kolam in Tamil. There was a granary painted in black, sheltered under the shingled front porch, the thinnai. The host had arranged a simple, but elegant mat to be spread on the spacious thinnai. 

An older man welcomed them with his palms together as a mark of respect for the visitors. He was dressed in all white, with a white towel on his right shoulder. His skin was wrinkled from exposure to the sun. The skin suggested that he would be about sixty, but his gait was upright, suggesting a younger age.

The man spoke a few words of welcome. Richard had trouble understanding him. He would normally understand most of the words, but this man’s accent seemed very different from that of the people in Madras who had taught him the little that he knew. Valavan performed the superfluous introductions, as both men had been told about each other. The man was introduced as Ponnan, respectfully known as Ponniah, the great nadaswaram artist. Richard had been in awe of nadaswaram, the wind instrument, and had been looking forward to meeting its most famous exponent.

Two young girls brought buttermilk, some fruit, and a tray with betel leaves and betel nuts to welcome the visitors. Richard took the buttermilk gratefully. Ponniah also told the visitors they would be served lunch in an hour or so. Valavan smiled, as if that was expected. Richard accepted, thanking his host profusely.

Seeing Richard struggle to sit on the mat, the host arranged two cots under the neem tree for them to sit on. They started talking. Two bare-chested young men, probably Ponniah’s students, stood at a respectful distance.

Richard thanked their host for agreeing to see him, and said, ‘I’ve come to India to learn about the various music forms and musicians. I come from a very different land, and am fascinated by your music culture, your tradition of learning by staying with your teacher, the gurukulam. I’d like to understand how you learned the instrument, how you teach and so on. I’d also like to listen to your music.’

The older man nodded, wiped the sweat with his towel and asked something that Richard was unable to understand. Valavan replied, ‘No, he is not related to the kumbini. He is a traveler and writer’. 

Ponniah’s face cleared. He seemed to relax. 

‘There are hundreds of good musicians around here. Why did you ask for me, specifically?’, he asked.

Richard replied via Valavan, ‘Sethurama Pillai from Madras called you the greatest living exponent of nadaswaram. He suggested that I meet you, and gave me a letter to give you.’

Ponniah asked one of the disciples to open the envelope and read it. ‘My eyesight is not what it used to be’, he added as an explanation. He seemed pleased to listen to the letter of introduction. He started his story.

Click here for part 2 of 4.

Pic credit: Wikipedia and ChatGPT.