In Nepal as a child, I discovered the two-headed madal drum that players would sling round their knees to play. It can be placed round the neck as well and the player can create a point-counterpoint effect by hitting each head with his/her hands. Each time I found some one playing, I would beg to be allowed to try my own hand at it and I learned some of those traditional rhythms. I never saw a female player in those days but I was a foreigner and a child and I daresay I was given privileges that a Nepalese girl might not have been allowed at that time. I cannot swear, however, that girls were not allowed to perform, but certainly the Newar girls I knew would not have thought of it.
Actually, there are photographs of women playing the madal... so perhaps it was simply my own limited experience in the valley.
I tried not to think about Nepal for years, lost in a sort of miasma of emotional heartbreak about a number of different aspects of my life there. I did have very beautiful memories as well and sometimes they would surface, very vividly in my dreams at night. Beyond that, however, although I realised that one day I would want to return, I slammed the door on that part of my life. In many ways, I was far too young and vulnerable for some of the things I experienced.
Now, however, I realise that if I do not recover those memories, I will run out of time and never be able to do so. It was before the awful recent earthquakes that I began to try to work on my old memories and to ask my Mum for the items I brought back. Apart from a few photographs, she has not sent me anything. i begged for the Madal drum but she claims not to know where it is. I begged for the brass water jug and the butter lamp but in this case, she simply refused to send them... She is almost incapable of letting go of anything, even when the items do not belong to her, strictly speaking. I have to understand that it is a psychological disease of sorts rather than thinking of it as selfish and greedy. She is the ultimate hoarder and she does know this about herself.
Nonetheless, I need the items because they would stimulate my senses and allow the memories to come flooding back.
I found some one willing to lend me a cheap madal drum on a temporary basis. I had to pay for the shipping and do have to return it soon, but meanwhile, I have found great pleasure in the drum.
I think that many people who never have played a drum are totally unaware of the physical and spiritual effect. Every shaman knows how magical and powerful a drum can be. In many of the ancient languages and traditions, they are called 'steeds' or 'horses' and are believed to have the ability to take the shaman to other realms. Drum beats have the power to put the user or hearer into another state of consciousness as well as being able to regulate heartbeat. A drum beat is a sort of heartbeat.
I have played many drums in my life and have a few shamanic-type drums. It is not the physical appearance of the drum that matters but its tone. A good drum has a deep resonance. A drum that is not very good will sound flat, no matter how it is struck. Someday I would like to have a bodhran because that is the Northern European equivalent of the Eastern shamanic drums. I do have a bodhran stick. It is interesting because it has two heads rather than one. The player strikes each in quick succession, playing with a sort of rolling motion of the hand.
The madal, however, is fascinating because it has two heads, one for each hand. You can play the drum in a number of different ways, with a single finger, with two fingers alternating or with all fingers, the flat of the palm or the ridge of the palm. You can produce a kind of duet, with each drum head speaking to the other and then replying to the rhythm of the other or you can play them both at once. It is a wonderful experience for me.
I no longer can tap dance effectively because my hips are damaged badly. I can produce some of the rhythms with my feet but that is all. The drum becomes even more important to me because of this.
I downloaded some traditional Nepalese songs in order to relearn the rhythms and have had fun doing so. I discovered something new about the madal by experimenting with this one. The two heads are bound by long straps that go along the entire length of the wooden frame, and there is a ring that connects every pair of straps. By moving this metal ring towards one end or the other, one can tighten or loosen the heads a little. It can change the tone for the better or make it less attractive. Again, another way to experience different aspects of this wonderful instrument's voice.
Perhaps I will write my own 'song' and record it. I am becoming better and better, despite the arthritis in my hands. It is not the mastery of the instrument that excites me most but the interaction. It becomes a living creature beneath my hands, a 'steed' on which t ride to other realms. With limited physical mobility now, I am even more grateful for any ability to transcend this realm with its constant severe physical pain and lack of mobility. I can lose myself a little in the drum beat...
I would love to be able to encourage other people to play a drum, whether it is a traditional single-headed drum or tambourine or a two-headed drum. Large or small, every drum speaks with a very unique voice and the player can become one with that voice or even lend his/her heartbeat and cadence to the instrument. It is almost as exciting as a ride on a carousel, but not quite! I do miss those rides...
31 May: Horrible weather today, very hot and humid and yet it has affected the Madal in a wholly positive way. Either that, or my skills have leapt to a new level. For today, the drum had a deep resonance that surpassed anything I had experienced from it before. Even when I hit it ever so softly, the sound was gorgeous and on both sides. There was not a hint of flatness. It was perfectly aligned as well in tone. Such a beautiful experience, albeit short-lived. Never mind... I will play it again later. Not every one loves the sound of the drum as much as I, but surely when it is played softly, it cannot disturb any one. As for its effect on me, it is as good as a tonic.
I had a vision suddenly of myself leaping upon the drum as if on a steed and it was transformed into Garuda, the sun bird. We rose higher and higher in the heavens and below us, in the fields, there were young girls swinging as they did at the festival, all dressed in a hundred different shades of silk, their saris fluttering in the wind. How I miss that as well! I always loved swinging and it was in Nepal that I learned to swing standing with another girl facing me. The swings had flat boards as their 'seats' and two girls would stand facing one another and alternate in bending their knees to propel the swing higher and higher. What utter bliss! And so innocent...
