Book : Finding the Demon’s Fiddle:
On the Trail of the Ravanhattha
Author : Patrick Jered
Publisher: Tranquebar/Westland
Pages : 606
Price : Rs. 699
ISBN :10: 9385152025
One magical night in Jaisalmer, Patrick Jered hears a sound that yanks him from his sleep, a sound that he initially thinks is coming from one of the insects that terrify him. And then the noise becomes melody, and the more he listens, the more Jered falls under the spell of both the music and the instrument. That element of spellbound wonder permeates this delightfully quirky and difficult-to-categorise work, the product of that single magical interlude, which gives birth to an obsession. The book is as much homage to the lore of the Ravanhattha as it is a travelogue and as much a personal journey as academic documentation.
At the core of Jered's book is his quest for the origin of the Ravanhattha, the 'demon's fiddle', so called because it purportedly derives its name from the demon king Ravan, and is, well, a fiddle. Those familiar with Rajasthani folk music will have no trouble identifying the ancient instrument, nor the haunting strains that rise from its strings. In the grip of an obsession that comes only to a blessed few, Jered travels through vast chunks of India and Sri Lanka (the mythical home to Ravan, of course), trying to ferret both the origin and subsequent influence of the Ravanhattha, as well as how, in modern times, it has come to be the almost exclusive purview of the Bhopas, a community in Rajasthan.
As a musician himself, Jered recognises the possible kinship between the ravanhattha – the name of the instrument literally translates into 'Ravan's arm (haath)' – and the violin, an instrument which he plays after a fashion. Jered begins his four-month journey, mingling, endlessly searching and researching, and deliberately refusing to stick to a plan, as a trained writer would probably do. As his approach, so his voice is refreshingly untutored and relaxed. His documentation is painstaking, but never loses its spontaneity.
Perforce, most of his research is confined to Rajasthan, and he quietly and humbly reaches out to, and is embraced by, the Bhopas, his rickshaw boy who almost becomes a son, an itinerant Frenchman, a cook who makes the worst coffee in the universe, and the owner of a guest house, among many others. These are characters that stay with you long after the journey is over, which means the journey is never over, really. As the trail leads him to Madhya Pradesh (which actually has a village called Ravan) and thence to Sri Lanka, the journey becomes ever more fascinating. In Buddhist Trincomalee, for instance, Jered actually makes a connection between Ravan, Zen and Shaolin monks.
If one were to split hairs, one could probably say that the very lack of tutoring that makes this book such an enjoyable read sometimes creates hurdles in the form of repetitive phrases, where one senses Jered struggle a little to expand his descriptive powers. However, that is a quibble directed more toward his editors than to him. The length of the book becomes insignificant in the face of Jered's delightful, lucid style and obvious passion. Admittedly, travel narratives that transcend the physical journey and turn inward are nothing new. One senses a similar transcendence in Jered's work, which enables this amateur musician into a spiritual traveller whose music comes from the heart.
Review Courtesy: http://www.dnaindia.com
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