By Farah Ahamed
Saam - The First Clap
I whistle raag Bhairavi and rap both drums, the tabla on my left and right, and check the tautness of the rough leather straps, and tap them twice, and listen to their tone and echo, separately and together, and using a small hammer I strike the straps and edges of each drum, one at a time, rotating and knocking at the pegs until every stroke gives off an even tone, and with the heel of my hand I apply pressure to the drums in a rapping, sliding motion so that the pitch matches that of the tanpura humming in the background, and I adjust the wooden block between the drum and the leather strips and move it up and down and along the side to regulate the tension of the drums; she is sitting next to me on the carpet in my living room and I tell her I was attracted to her from the moment I heard her sing and I knew together we could make music and love, and in response she shows me the LP in her tote bag, Jazz Raga, where inscribed in the inside cover in blue-ball point pen it says “To Jo Rae- the swingingest lady on air, sincerest Gabor Szabo,” and she tells me, You could be like Szabo, famous and inspired, and I could be Jo Rae, and together we could experience musical nirvana, and she leans forward and her long hair brushes against her cheek and she pushes it back from her face and the gold bangles slide up and down her slim arm, and she says, will you play for me? and I say yes, yes, because I’m thinking I'll do anything, anything, if only she'll let me kiss her, just once, or twice, and she says, concentrate on this moment, on now, make it devoid of everything except musical joy, do you understand? and when I don’t respond, she asks me to play raag Bhairavi in a fast tempo and repeat the mantra Aum, and outside it's already dusk, so I flick on the floor lamp and it catches the auburn highlights in her hair and the gold flecks in her brown eyes and I nearly reach out and touch her, but stop myself, as she begins to sing the Sargam: Sa, Re, Ga, Ma, Pa, Dha, Ni, Sa.
Taali - The Second Clap
I hit the drums in short, rapid beats and sing Dha Dhin Dhin Dha, Dha Dhin Dhin Dha, Na, Tin Tin, Na,Ta, Dhin Dhin Dha and she shuts her eyes, sways, click her fingers and she's like in a psychedelic trance, absorbed in the music, and I stop drumming and lean towards her and she's breathing fast and in the background the tanpura is whirring and I want to kiss her lips and caress her silky hair and she moves her leg, and it brushes mine and an electric current passes through my body and I can feel that any minute now she'll kiss me or she'll put her head on my shoulder and I’m wondering if she can hear my heart pounding to the beat of Bhairavi, but then she smiles, and the cashmere shawl around her shoulders falls away and I can smell her floral perfume and it makes me dizzy and she gives me a coy, sideways glance and her earrings sparkle and I can see the bones at the base of her neck and she comes closer to me and her warm, breath is on my face and my mind drifts and I'm counting the cycle of beats thumping in my brain and she whispers, the raag is teen taal, sixteen beats, divided into four cycles of four, and it heightens the mood for love through the minute vibrations of the Sargam, so play it again, this time in madhya laya, medium tempo, with two seconds per beat.
Khaali – The Wave
I reach for the tablas, the smaller one is by my right knee, at a thirty-five degree angle, and the larger, baylan, is near my left knee, positioned straight, and I bring them closer, and adjust the pegs to increase the tension and play a taal in bhand bol and khula bol, and tap the drums in madhya laya, and sing a tarana, where I am vocalising, enunciating, repeating, mimicking each beat, consonant and vowel and the sequence of their arrangement, to represent the sounds of the tablas, Dhaa Ga Ge Gi Ka Ke Dhi Dhin, and Tin Tun Tit Ti Te Ta Tr Naa Ne Re Khat Taa Dhaage Ti Ta Tiriki Ta, and swipe my fingertips from the top of the drums to the side and all the way to the bottom, so the floor is vibrates, the air pulses, and my voice mirrors and echoes the drumming; I hit the tablas more rapidly, and all the while the tanpura is humming and my fingers and palms are thwacking and thumping and I'm lost in the dhoon, in musical ecstasy, and I tap harder and faster till I finish the bandish, the sixteen-beat rhythm cycle of Bhairavi, and I pull back the strokes to a more restrained pace until I'm tapping lightly, and the melody comes to a close, and then she looks directly into my eyes and says, do it once more, in a slower beat.
Last Taali - The Final clap
I play the raag in a softer, more even rhythm, and her eyes are on my hands as I thump, rap, thwack, stroke, and tap the drums to show her that I can improvise music and love, sixteen beats, teen taal, four cycles of kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, and the floor quivers and the air jumps as the beats reverberate in the room and I’m waiting for her to acquiesce to the Jazz Raga and as I bring the melody to its natural end she says, softly, repeat Aum with me, and I say, but all I want is to kiss you, you’re my Jo Rae, and I move towards her and I’m about to touch her lips with mine, but she pulls away and says no, I can’t do this, I have to go, I can't stay a minute longer, and I beg her not to leave but to stay, and sit next to me here on the carpet, and sing with me, and I’ll play any raag she wishes, and I reach out and take her hand and pull her gently to me, but she pushes me away and cries no, no, it's impossible, and she gets up and runs to the door and doesn't look back, even though I'm shouting wait, wait, don’t go, let me show you what Jaaz Raga can do, and I hear her feet running down the steps and there is a long moment of silence until I strike the tablas and sing Dhaa Dhaa Ga Ge Gi Ka Ke Dhi Dhin and Tin Tun Tit Ti Te Ta Tra Naa Ne Re Khat Taa Dhaage Ti Ta Tiriki Ta and play the finale for raag Bhairavi, which has a mood of yearning, loss, loneliness, but somehow the tempo, the laya is wrong, so I stop and hammer and knock the pegs and rotate the drums to adjust the tension and then rap the drums again and again, trying to get the beat right but nothing works and then I see her cashmere shawl lying on the carpet and I pick it up and hold it to my face.
