The talking drums

We used to love vacation time at Pallavur, where our maternal tharavad was located. All the cousins were around then and that meant lots and lots of merriment. Cricket was still to reach us, football and other games like seven stones were the main pastimes, spending whole days in the hot sun (no, we did not use sun screens!), till of course a lady with the loudest voice screamed food time from the kitchen area, accompanied with dire threats if we did not come right away.

Holidays usually coincided with the Ulsavams, be it Aaratu or Vilakku, in our huge Siva temple and during these a Thayambaka or Panchavadyam session took prominence. We kiddies were always there, hanging around, managing to squeeze past the bare bodied dhoti clad men to be up close and personal to the drummers (The air had the sweet smell of the Agarbathis and Kalabhom).

The sounds still remain in the head; I can pick up the starting Thayambaka beat anytime. We children used to have ‘at home’ sessions later, on a biscuit tin tied to our necks and a couple of sticks passing off as Chenda kols. The trick was finding a stick with the right curve, After some mastery, the hunt went on for a Kanjiram tree, it was mentioned by somebody that real Chenda sticks were whetted out from Kanjiram branches. We did find a tree, but it was so big and the branches so high that the whole idea was summarily dropped. Even the most daredevil amongst us (me?) could not find a way to climb that tall one. After playtime and a bath in the pond (can you imagine that! Some 10 of us splashing away to our hearts content and screaming our heads off), it was drumming on the dinner table, of course an action perfected to irritate all and sundry. Ah I remember it all…. When I try telling these things to my son, he sniggers…he says, “Oh! What losers, you played with biscuit tins & sticks”??

I remember the drummers; they were the heroes in our village. The brothers Manian, Appu and Kunjukuttan were a class unto their own, the Pallavur brothers or the Pallavur trinity as they were fondly called, held a percussion audience in rhapsody. For a tiny village nesting somewhere around the Western Ghats with a population of a few hundreds (those days), this was our claim to fame, three Chenda stalwarts who made it to concerts around the world and who worked magic with their drum sticks, ah! They could get their drums to talk, believe me!!

I still remember Appu marar, a long gold chain round his neck. Kunjukuttan was the stockier one, his Chenda rested on his potbelly. I can’t picture Manian though; his memory has faded away like someday the others would too. But the drums continue to beat at every festival, the very same beats that were once played by the brothers; and people still remember and talk about the lost trinity…like it was yesterday..


Picture - Guru Pallavoor Appu Marar preparing for Keli Classical Rhythm Festival 2001 Thayambaka, Mumbai -Picture courtesy Prithvi Theatre