I thought long and hard about what an appropriate title for
this post should be and finally settled for an unoriginal, borrowed title you
see above but it encompasses very well everything that I am about to pen down
in this post. It has been a hectic month of activity - a whole month full of
color, culture, music and magic, a
month full of spectacular people who live their lives with a sparkle in their
eye, a month full of uncountable hugs exchanged and received (my favorite thing
in the world), a month full of telling and listening to tales of people who are alien to the fear of what tomorrow has in store. Any number of words simple or complex
will fail to express what I feel as I try to recall moments from the past few
days and any number of pictures will fail to replicate the intense alchemy of
emotions and happiness that was experienced in those very moments. But the immensity
of the lasting effect that it has had on my mind can be gauged by observing
what I have been doing for days after I realized that it was all over - I have
spent not just hours but quite possibly a whole day flipping through the many
pictures from the Blue Lotus festival trying to create and relive those moments
of profound happiness in my mind.
It's not every day that you witness a confluence of
musicians from the remotest recesses of a country as enormous as India flocking
to one holy city - carrying on their shoulders the weight of a musical legacy ,
the beauty of which is hard to comprehend until you witness it first-hand . It
is not every day that you witness people from at least 20 different countries
of the world dance without inhibition in the narrow spaces of a street bustling
with energy , with falafel vendors one one side and an Indian kachori vendor on
the other . If this myriad dynamic of mingling
existences onto one street wasn't enough , and you must believe me when
I say this , even the cows , dogs and apes of Pushkar city were as much a part of
this musical harmony as were those of us with developed faculties. It's often
said that a picture is worth a thousand words but in this case I think either will
fail to describe that epoch where music unified one and all.
It's not every day that you wake up early morning in a city
the very aura of which spells divinity , where the stark contrast of the
past and modern life reflects in the most interesting ways , a city of a
thousand priests and a thousand musicians chanting early morning to
awaken the consciousness that engulfs the lake , the people and thousands that
throng its heart to get lost in a world that is alien to malice, to
distinctions that exist in the permanent world , to the cobwebs of right
and wrong that fiercely guide our actions every day . This is a city where
everyone who has a smile to share and arms to wrap around another lost soul is
welcome. It is a city that celebrates the lord, the universe and its energy in
its richest glory - by conducing an environment that allows you to just exist
in perfect harmony with the beautiful sights, sounds and verve that pervades
the air of this sleepy lakeside town .
I was fortunate enough to be here at a time that brought together the most
wonderful musicians from all across India and the most beautiful people from
all over the world to create and
experience the magic that music and this holy city created .Straight from the
soulful Sufi night on a stage set before the mighty sand dunes, the grand
welcome to the day with the roaring sound of kettle drums by the lakeside ,
unabashed movements of the feet following the sound of the iktara and a gradual
uplifting of the soul as the 'Bauls of Bengal' lead their audience to a musical
epitome - all of these amazing musicians carve an impression on your being not
just as a memory but as living reminders of the fact that away from the hum
drum life that we lead there exists beauty beyond compare , unabated by the
worries of a steady job and a secure future , disenchanted by the mystics of material life .. pristine and shining on the inside and out with the sheer joy
of music and love.
It is hard to describe in words just what encompasses your
mind as you watch a group of turban clad men perform on a stage set before a
fort that is an expression of their glorious past while a hailstorm rages down
fury on a desert that is otherwise quenching for the last drop of water.
It is hard to describe in words how a group of snake
charmers performing under the arched entrance of a hundred year old temple
relic relinquish their might into a simple wood wind instrument to create
sounds that soak through the moisture laden, biting cold air with hints of
sunshine and lace it with a mystery that grips the minds of an eight year old
child, a dread locked hippie, a temple priest and a regular person like
you and I alike.
Words will fail to describe how it stirs your soul to hear
the music of a Mirasi Muslim as he sings with a backdrop of the holy lake on a
chilly winter morning while gently gliding flocks of pigeons sway to the
godliness that he enthuses in the air through his compositions sung in praise
of the one, the eternal. It was almost as if the weather was also changing its
mood to suit the emotions expressed through music.
These are just some of the many moments that left me
stupefied , halted in time and space with just the lingering sounds which led
me and I’m sure everyone else who witnessed it to a place that I did not know
existed somewhere in the most obscure region of my mind .Through ecstatic
moments of dancing in the streets , blissful mornings spent basking in
music and glorious days enthused with colors and energies so vibrant and
positive , through aimless walking and random conversations with people I never
expected to meet in places that I never expected to be at - I found a little
bit of myself .
In one particularly profound moment I stopped by the
ghat to watch a musician with a clarinet, another with a doumbek and a sadhu
who joyously beat the empty vessel which he had earlier been collecting alms in
as they collectively created a perfect medley rising in ecstasy, gently
cascading into melancholy and eventually into silence. Throughout this time at
least ten people had gathered to watch this unceremonious gathering of musicians
by the ghat but when it concluded not one of them broke the silence which in
that brief flight of seconds spoke more than an applaud or words of appreciation
.In that consummate moment of silence
broken just by the reverberating sounds of Om and the distant clinking of brass
cymbals from evening ceremonies in the surrounding temples , I found a little bit of myself . In this moment shared with
perfect strangers, the yonder sounds, the setting sun and the holy waters , I
found a little bit of myself.
All picture credits to - Tarik Gok , Rene Bauer , Vinod Ravindaranath and Nitesh Mohanty .
