Playing tabla with Rajhesh Vaidya in Apex NC, May 20 2011

I am going to be accompanying Kalaimani Rajhesh Vaidhya on tabla at an upcoming concert in the RTP area on May 20th. It's a rare opportunity for me to play with somebody of this caliber, so I am suitably nervous.

First let me get the logistical details out of the way:

Date: May 20, 2011 7:00 to 10:00 pm
Location, tickets, and directions to the show can be found here

Here is a writeup about the artist.

Kalaimamani Rajhesh Vaidhya was brought up in a rich musical environment. His father Shri K.M. Vaidyanathan was a stalwart both in Mridangam and Ghatam. His tutelage under Smt. Jeyalakshmi started at the tender age of six. He continued learning the finer nuances of music from Smt. Rama Nambinarayanan and his advanced training from the world-renowned carnatic veena maestro Shri Chitti Babu.

Rajhesh Vaidhya is not only a renowned musician in India, his fame and popularity spreads in all the musical stages around the world including Europe, Brazil, South Africa, Australia, Singapore, Malaysia, Mauritius, Canada, USA, and many more. He has also performed with the Switzerland based contemporary dance troupe “BEJART BALLET.”

Apart from his blistering speed, Rajhesh’s performance is distinguished by his use of electric and amplified strings. He will be performing fusion songs and some light classical music during this concert.



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The one thing I am looking forward to is that I might get an opportunity to play fusion, which means not necessarily stay on tabla the entire time. I will blog about this a little bit more once the practices start and I start preparing for the show.

National pride and the world cup

India and Sri Lanka played in the cricket world cup this past Saturday. These days its important to mention which world cup because there are just so many of them. It was a well contested match and India won. This everybody knows.

When India beat Pakistan and booked their spot in the finals I had friendly banter from my multitude of Indian friends asking about the match on Saturday. After all having a spouse that's Indian meant I'd have to factor how and where I put my allegiance.

When I woke up on Saturday morning, we had already lost two wickets. Dilshan and Tharanga were out. I was using hitcric, which was an excellent find for me. Of course, on that day, there were 36,000 people watching on that one channel. My wife and daughter ambled in an hour later, and we were all sleepily watching cricket when something my wife said jarred me.

"Tell me something" she said "so do you support this team even though it is a Sinhalese team?"

It was always there, deep inside me. Perhaps I thought it was hidden in the recesses where just I could go examine it from time to time. Clearly it was visible to an extent that my wife and others saw it as well.

What is the source of national pride when you were kicked out of your homeland?

Sports is not politics. Sports is supposed to transcend politics. In much the same way that you do not read about debaucheries of authors or actors. You enjoy their craft and prose. These 11 men on the field were not politicians or masterminds of the genocide that occurred over the 27 years from the time that my family and I were evicted from Sri Lanka. I should have been able to enjoy this as a world cup final. Sports in its purity.

It's not always that easy.

We went to a friends house to watch the second half. Malinga took Tendulkar's wicket. I started chanting his name, only to be admonished quickly by the majority Indian audience in attendance.

"You can't do that" one of our friends playfully chided me. It was confusing for them to have a Sri Lankan in their midst. It was disrupting their flow.

Gambhir settled down. The runs started to pile up. Tea was served. Order was slowly restored. I started to enjoy the cricket again. It was my two favorite teams playing each other. After all, when Sri Lanka is not playing, I am an avid supporter of the Indian team.

The thoughts kept coming back though. I have visited India 13 times in the last 15 years. I have come to love the country and feel at home there. I have not returned to Sri Lanka since 1983.

Dhoni hit a stylish 6 and the match was over. Medals were handed out and Kumar Sangakkara made a very gracious acceptance speech. He was truly a great ambassador for Sri Lanka, and a sportsman. Yet as part of the speech when he said 'I would like to thank his excellency the President', I cringed. This was the man who was responsible for the war camps in the Vanni area. This is the man who declared victory, while subjugating mass numbers of Tamil people.

Ironically, this would be Muralitharan's exit. One of the greatest in cricket history not just in Sri Lanka but in the world, and a Tamil. The only Tamil player on the team. Not many notice this, but I'm sure the Sri Lankan Tamils do.

I do not have answers for my queries. I just know I have them.

I'm delighted for India. I feel for the Sri Lankans, especially Dilshan, as it was clearly how badly he wanted a world cup title.

Most of all, I grieve for the Tamil civilians who are still in a war zone, and now mostly forgotten, as the world moves on to the crisis du jour.

Cricket truly is an expression of the world at large.

Gratitude

Two weeks ago, a friend shared with me that he is going blind. It's a genetic issue. His father and uncle have a similar affliction. His retinae are dying from the inside out. At this point he has no peripheral vision and has trouble playing basketball. He'll gradually get tunnel vision, and by the time he is in his 50's he will no longer be able to see.

He's in his early 30s and he is good looking. He's carefree. A long haired hippie. Now he's married and careworn. There's anger and frustration in his voice. He is working really hard to remember all the things that are going well for him.

Today, I spoke to another friend that found out that his kidneys are no longer working. Well, they are at 8% capacity. He will need to go on dialysis, and get on a list for a kidney transplant.

I know the sayings about gratitude. It just feels fake to pray and say that I'm glad I have the basic necessities, and to then start my litany of why my life would be better if only I had this other set of things.

Until things like this happen.

I cannot imagine a weekly schedule that involves going to the hospital three times a week. I know I would not remember to hook myself up to a machine every night so that water could get pumped into my stomach and then pumped out.

I want to buy bigger and better television sets. I drool over blue ray, and HD. I salivate about the ipad2.

On the radio I hear about Sendai, Libya and the aftermath of Egypt. A country should not have to endure two nuclear disasters within one human lifespan.

Of course, I do not give thanks that there hasn't been a nuclear disaster where I live. I haven't felt gratitude that I now live in a place where I do not have to fear imminent civil war and violence.

Perhaps its time to start.

Welcome to the United States

We just went to India for 3 weeks. It was an amazing trip and there's lots to write about around it.

What's fresh in my mind tho is the re-entry to the United States.

We came in refreshed this time, thanks to a serendipitous upgrade to business class by our friends on Jet Airways. My daughter was asleep, so I carried her while my wife carted all our carryons. It was pre-emiment in a way, carrying a large weight as I moved towards customs and immigration.

They've done a lot to try and make entrance to the United States more friendly. There's still the distinction between US citizens and non, but the non are now called 'visitors' rather than foreigners or immigrants as the signs used to say in days past. There are large LED screens that show images of people smiling and saying hello. It's refreshing in a way. People forgot to move on in line because they were caught by the images flashing above them. This is also a commentary about how intoxicated we are by digital screens but that's a digression.

The immigration officials are also much friendlier. We went to one who had a yamakah on, and was joking with us while he stamped the passports.

So far so good.

Then you get into the baggage area, and the welcome starts.

I have travelled now to at least 15 airports, and the US is the only one I know of where interational airports charge you money to use a cart. A smart carte costs $5/use. For those of us who live in the US, its just a hit on the wallet. For foreigners, it makes it unusable. Yes they allow you to use credit cards - so what?

We got our luggage, paid our $5 fee and piled all our bags sky high on one cart. Lucky for us, one bag didn't arrive, because it was short checked and was (still is actually) sitting in Brussels airport.

Coming out of international and transferring to our domestic flight we got a full taste of New York hospitality. I dropped off the cart in front of the security line and heard a testy TSA rep barking at me.

'Excuse me Sir, SIR. No. That is not going to happen. I need you to move that cart out of the way so that others can move ahead in line.'

I was jetlagged, surprised and startled. My daughter was standing in front of the cart so I told her to move it out of the way.

'No. Not her. She can't do it.'

I looked at the woman as Rai pressed down on the handle bar and moved the cart out of the way.

'Yes she can' I said.

'Ok, she's strong' was the muttered response.

I do not usually say things in such situations, but today I was irritated.

'Maam, I'm sure you know a lot about airport security and rules' I said 'but please keep any opinions you have about my daughter to yourself.'

She was looking away. I was still angry. I think my daughter was nervous.

So as I handed the other lady our passports and boarding passes I said my final piece.

'I don't know what your story is, but I do not set my daughter up t fail'

So here I was, back on my way home, and I was completely thrown off by this one TSA woman who couldn't keep to herself.

In the past, I have told myself its because they work minimum wage jobs and get shouted at all day. They probably have tough lives at home and are just fighting to survive. All of that still remains true.

But I was still angry.

I thought about it all the way home, interjecting other retorts I might have made. I constructed an alternative conversation in my head about how it should have gone.

Finally I realized it was not worth the amount of time I was giving it.

So I figured I'd write it down. Hopefully that will bury it.