Shravanabelagola & Belur (Teresa, ILR'15)

When I first learned that we would be climbing up about 700 steps today, I was immediately wowed by such an opportunity. But then it hit me: it was 700 steps. Outside in the summer heat. While still wearing traditional clothing. Uhh... 

But my worries were set aside as we approached the historic place. I took the time on the bus to read up on the history of Shravanabelagola. Created around the 4th century BC, Shravanabelagola consists of two hills, Chandragiri (the smaller hill) and Indragiri (the bigger one) and around which is situated small town. A the top of Indragiri sits the world’s largest monolithic statue-- a 58’ tall statue of Bahubali or Gommatesvara a worshipped figure in Jain tradition. 

When we finally reached the base of the monument, I was a completely amazed. How was all of this made from one rock? Wow! After a short introduction by our guide, Mr. Sushma, we began our ascent. I’ll admit, the first dozen steps made me regret all the chupati, plantain chips, and Mysore Pak I had eaten in our first days here. Yet slowly, but surely I made my way up the steps. As they were literally carved out of rock, the uneven and irregular statured steps made for some treacherous moments, but with my friend, Gabby, and our other classmates by my side, I pressed on. We made frequent stops along the way, taking in the view and giving our hearts a needed rest. 

When we finally reached the top it was such a great sight to see the statute that I had only read about. At the base there were both Hindus, Jains, and Buddhists alike, saying prayers and giving offerings to it. But our journey wasn’t over yet. Graciously, we were given access to the very top of the temple--an unparalleled view of the structure and the surrounding town of Shravanabelagola.

After taking in the view, we made our way back down the mountain. Interestingly, the trip down proved harder than going up. But nonetheless we all made it safely back down, feeling proud and awed by the experience. As a frequent visitor of the Cornell equivalent, I can attest that the 161 steps of the clock tower is nothing compared to the steps of Shravanabelagola! 

After a delicious lunch in the Hoysala village (thanks Donna!), we made our way to the Blur temple nearby. Here again, Mr. Sushma provided a great history and background on the temple.

We made our way inside and traveled around the perimeter, taking in the beauty of the monuments and reflecting on their importance to the community. We returned to Mysore that night grateful for our newly widened view of the world.

Carnatic Classical Music (Andy, ILR'15)

On June 4 we were fortunate enough to be invited to high tea and a Carnatic concert in the evening performed by the Mysore Brothers, an Indian violin duo, with two percussionists accompanying them. As a percussionist and avid music listener myself, I cannot put into words how amazing this music was to experience in its home country. Since it is almost entirely improvised, the music is amazingly expressive, and allows the musicians to “say” whatever is on their minds at the time. With the virtuosity of these award-winning musicians, they were able to convey some truly powerful ideas. As I told them after the concert, I have listened to and played with many orchestras in the United States, but I have never heard a violin sing as I did that night. And as a percussionist, hearing how much command their accompanists had over the mind-bendingly complex rhythms was truly humbling.

While the percussionists played an improvised duet, the Mysore Brothers kept the rhythm, or tala, by clapping. The clapping occurs with either the palm down or up. Here, the eight-beat meter followed the pattern “down, down, down, down, down, up, down, up.” These clapping patterns are one of the first things Indian musicians learn, so it is second-nature to them. The rhythm is therefore internalized so much more effectively. Even when they are not clapping, I could sense that they “feel” the pattern.

During the concert, while not playing, the musicians listened very intently. They often nodded and would even express their approval out loud when something particularly beautiful was played. They encouraged the audience to do the same, even though Western concertgoers are often silent for the performance. But collective gasps and some “Wow!”s could be heard throughout the concert (probably mostly from me…), which made it a much more intimate environment.

Just seeing the smiles on the musicians’ faces drew the audience in more. You knew that they were enjoying themselves, and the music was not seen as their work, which seemed to invite the audience to enjoy the music along with them. It made me reflect on how seriously I can take music sometimes, and was a good reminder of what is important in any art form.

Explanations of various aspects of Carnatic music helped the Western audience grasp what exactly went on during the concert. Here we are learning about the drone machine, which was set to a D# for the concert. This machine – which emulates and replaces a player who would usually play the drone on a stringed instrument for the duration of the concert – helps the players tune and gives them a reference pitch to base their raga, or scale, on.

This photo is rather blurry, but this is me with one of the musicians after the concert. They were all very humble, which is a lesson all of us can learn from. When I told one of the percussionists how amazed I was at his playing, he responded by telling me that it is not him that is amazing, but the music he played, and that I should appreciate not him, but the whole tradition of Carnatic music.