Suffering for the sake of art?

Tabla teacher on the right

I love playing the Tabla drums. You can be much more creative on them than you can on the Western-style Drum kit and the rhythms are every bit as difficult – in some ways more so.

I have enjoyed learning the Tabla for the last two years (though I had an enforced six months off while in the UK last year) and have learned much more about Asian classical music as a result; much more than I learned when I studied ethnomusicology at university many moons ago.

Likewise, I have had lessons on the Sitar for about 1 ½ years and learned a huge amount about ragas and the general concept behind learning an ‘Indian’ instrument. I can understand why both instruments are considered to meditative – you can end up playing for hours just the same set of exercises or phrases; not just to gain control and accuracy but also to develop the nuances – a microtonal tweak here or an upper mordant there. One could argue that this should be the same with western instruments and traditional wisdom says you have to spend hours playing even small phrases on an instrument if you wish to master it.

I look better on the Sitar than I sound…

As a music teacher for 20 years I can some truth in this though I teach my students that it is better to practise smart than practise hard; 20 minutes of careful, concentrated work is better than an hour of mindless repetitive playing. But anyway when I have practised such things in the past I always found it gruelling and simply a means to an end: to play music with control and fluency. Playing the Sitar and Tabla, however, are a joy to practise repetitively because you just get lost in the sounds and definitely feel yourself becoming part of the instrument.

Both instruments – once tuned – I can just as easily play in the dark (and did so once – see here) because of this wonderful sensation that these are not instruments to master, as we think of in the West, but partners in a dance made for just the two of you. Without wanting to sound overly erotic, it is a little like learning the Tango – with all the sensuality that comes with that.

But…pain comes with it. More than I’ve ever experienced before with any of the instruments I play – Piano, Guitar, Saxophone, Harmonica, Drum kit etc… – there is a feeling at times that I just can’t play anymore. The fingers of each hand with the Tabla are active all the time and it feels like I am exercising every single muscle in my hands, wrists and arms when playing. With the sitar – which uses one main finger on each hand – there is the pain from the main string shredding your left first finger and the mizrab (plectrum) that grips your right first finger so tightly that even my Asian teacher’s finger turns white and leaves an indent so deep it takes the whole day to lose.

Again, this pain is not unknown to musicians in the West – though I maintain it is more intense than I ever experienced while learning as a teenager. But despite being used to this and now being able to sit cross-legged on a floor for over an hour at a time when I play without losing all sensation to my lower limbs, even I wasn’t expecting the pain I was about to experience.

A few weeks ago, after a wonderful Tabla lesson, I cleared up where my teacher and I had been sitting. We had been working in my daughter’s room because there was more space there. I picked up the tea cups from the floor where we had been playing and stood up fast – right under Thing I’s door handle!

“BANG,” my head and door handle said together.

“OUCH,” said I (it is possible I used different words to that but they meant the same thing…)

“Drip” went the blood.

And it kept on dripping…lots of it. My wifey shot through, flinched at the sight and then kicked into ‘mother’ mode (for which I was very grateful) and got me to the bathroom as the blood now flowed freely to wash the wound.

An hour and a few painkillers later and I finally had a stitched head. I got Thing I to take a photo with my phone.

The picture is suitably blurry, describing my state at the time well, I think.

For 15 days it hurt like mad and for the first few ‘leaked’ every night onto my pillow. For nearly a week I couldn’t wash my hair and I ended up doing a ‘wash around the spot’ because I couldn’t bear it any longer! I was grateful when the swelling and pain went down and I could finally shampoo over it again.

Eventually the stitches fell off and I was left with a lovely scar to prove my adventure. It is unlikely to fade completely, I’m told, but that’s fine.

A nice door handle-shaped scar

In the week that followed I saw both my music teachers on separate occasions. They both did the same thing:

They came into the house, were ushered to the floor where the instruments were sat ready to use and invited to sit. They positioned themselves and readied themselves to play as their water and cha were brought to them. Then they both looked up and looked at me, as if for the first time.

“Hey,” they both said to me in Bangla, “what happened to your head?”

This entry was posted in Bangladesh, Education, Humour, Life, Musical and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

20 Responses to Suffering for the sake of art?

  1. Pingback: Revenge Love – A Father’s view | kenthinksaloud

  2. You look very natural with a tabla! I have never heard how tabla sounds, but I love sitar. I could listen to it hours on end…


    • kenthinksaloud says:

      Thank you Yulia!

      Both are wonderful and if you have listened to recordings of Sitar then you have almost certainly heard the Tabla too. It is the gentle drumming going on in the background. It is rare for a Sitar recital to take place without a Tabla accompanying it. If you check the links to the post you will find my Youtube recording of the (only) public performance given so far and you will hear my teacher playing the Tabla there. The balances are not good and, alas, you hear the Tabla too loud but – it’s better than nothing!


  3. OMG you had such a nasty cut..damn the Tabla, lets sue the teacher and the company which made door handles, the people who put it there,the shampoo company……i am serious when i say this we got to sue some people cos if we dont you will never be free of the Curse of Door handle..its a huge curse..


  4. La La says:

    See, now you know what suffering for art feels like, which is what I will now say when clumsy things happen to me. You’ve given me a good post idea.


  5. Rinth says:

    That… is some scar!


  6. boomiebol says:

    Ouch!!! Sounds painful!!! Glad you are feeling better.


  7. WordsFallFromMyEyes says:

    Wow, what a life you’re on! This sounds wonderful, where you are – if we can just put that yik injury aside, I’m saying it’s wonderful you are part of suchh a unique musical set. I really enjoyed reading on your ‘thinkaloud’. Wish there was some way we could hear you play, though.


    • Ha – be careful what you wish for! If you put ‘Pohela Boishakh’ into my search box on the blog you should get my post on the first public performance I did. There is a link to Youtube there and you can listen to my first public, but very nervous, attempt at a raga. I would send you the link directly but youtube is currently banned in Bangladesh because of recent politico-religious troubles so I can’t get on it myself!


  8. Oh Ken..
    I think my clumsiness has been transferred to your somewhat safe self!
    Apologies! Now I’m worried about YOU!
    I’m glad you are getting better..WAR WOUND!


  9. oddznns says:

    Glad you’re better Ken. I’m interested why your teachers hadn’t noticed before? Were they so immersed in the playing they were on some sort of high and the whole incident slipped past them? Or is it Bangla humor?


    • WordsFallFromMyEyes says:

      Or is it Bangla humour? !!! 🙂 got me to smile, on that!


    • Ha ha! Well maybe it IS Bangla humour?!

      No, they only come once a week (or once every two weeks for the Sitar teacher) and I’m much taller than both of them so it was only once we both sat down and I even looked down at my instrument that they noticed a great big set of stitches on my head!


  10. OUCH!!! I’m glad it’s healed well, Ken!
    When I first saw it I thought “oh no, either the Sitar string snapped from intense training or a Tabla attacked him”, but a door handle?!!!!
    However it’s all in the past and you can now proudly show off your “battle” scar!


    • Ha ha – no the Sitar is my friend! 🙂 The door handle is not 😦

      Yes, I now enjoy ‘milking’ the ‘battle scar’ for all it’s worth with everyone who will listen! Unfortunately, that’s not very many…


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