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Is music appreciation universal or subjective? Or is it both at the same time? Different cultures have musics that are very different from each other. What is music to some, can be noise for others. Indian classical music, for impatient listeners can be boring. On the other hand, rock music can be a torture to the ears for gentle listeners. Jazz can be totally random if one doesn’t understand chord changes. And despite all these differences, we all universally respond to music. Is there something ingrained in our evolution that makes music appreciation not just a choice for sensory pleasure but an inevitable genotype of our definition? Such were the issues addressed at the World Science Festival event entitiled ‘From Notes to Neurons’.  A panel or neuroscientists discussed the cognitive aspects of music while a group of musicians including Bobby McFerrin demonstrated spontaneous interaction. For more information log on to http://www.worldsciencefestival.com/video/notes-neurons-full

Of the two great epics of India, the Ramayana chronicles the story of Lord Rama’s name chanted on a boat when Kevat, the boatman ferried Him across river Sarayu. However, Mahabharata has no such story for its Lord Krishna. If this is a shortcoming of the epic, it was rectified on October 5th.

The Bhakti is  the easiest path to worship God and the Kirtan, the easiest ritual. This movement started in ancient India to free the religion from the straglehold of  elaborate rituals. It was a  call to the Supreme from of the yearning hearts of  devotees bypassing all intermediaries. The premise was simple: if your heart is full of devotion,  recite the name of God. That’s all. The simplicity and directness of this made it popular in the East and West alike. In the Catskills region of NY, the movement has thrived in recent times and Shyam Das is a prominent torch bearer.

Shyam Das is a seer of Caucasian decent, born into Jewish religion, wears dhoti better than many Indians, spends many months in Vrindavan- the abode of Krishna; performing the duties of a priest every day. Then he comes to America and gives discourses on Krishna and Radha in excellent English,  bringing out  subtleties and nuances of the entendres of spiritual realms; quoting Sanskrit and Vraj passages with second nature.  He also organizes kirtan related activities including the boat ride- the subject of this chronicle.

On October 5th,  about 70 kirtanwallas boarded the boat from Athens, NY headed by Shyam Das. He was joined by Arundhati , Ishwari and Sruti Ram and supported by Kamaniya. Avinash on the drums and Adam on base were very becoming. Steve Gornwas playing the most appropriate instrument for the occassion- the Bansuri. And yours truly was on tabla. The afternoon was pleasant with a cool breeze. At 3.30 pm, the boat began its 2 hour ride on Hudson.  The chanters began the recitation and the whole crowd joined in.Very soon all individualities merged into a  unison of naam samkirtan. The clear blue sky, the crisp air, the woods on the banks, overhead bridge, the many gingerbread houses on the shores, the people in the small towns by the river- all these sceneries passed by. People aboard the boat were aware of them but not distinctly- it was all cloaked in kirtan.The energy of Radhe- Krishna  chant was being projected outwards and wherever it landed, it was reflected back in kind. The whole concoction was truly mesmerising.

I grew up in Pune, India. My mother would take me to local temples on auspicious days to listen to Kirtans of local priests. I would clutch her finger and take in the rejoices of chants. They would ask me to play tabla for kirtans from time to time and I would always beam with happiness to do so. Those were my earliest public ‘performances’. I didn’t know I would come back to it, so many years after my childhood was over, so many miles away from my home. And yet, on that evening the river felt very much like Yamuna, the country felt very much like my own, the people felt very much like my family.

The ride was over way too soon. The evening advanced upon the landscape much like the shadow of the blue skinned Lord. The sunshine lingered for one last glorius moment with all the golden hue like a  beacon of promise. Come to think of it, that is exactly how the boat ride was.

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