Dear Friends,
I'm writing this from an undisclosed location, taking some much-needed down time. (And tomorrow we go diving, which was why I took that refresher course a couple of weeks ago.) If this newsletter seems like it's coming fast on the heels of the previous one... it is. My goal was (is) every other Tuesday, but last time being my first use of Substack it took me a couple of extra days to figure out some logistics and get my account configured, so the newsletter went out on a Thursday. You know how that is.
Today is (or was, given the hour) Fat Tuesday, or Mardi Gras. Having grown up in France, I always think of it with a French accent. But a few weeks ago I was in New Orleans, and everything and everyone was gearing up for Mardi-Gras-rhymes-with-Hardy-Bra. (Sorry, turns out very few words rhyme with that.) Mardi Gras in France, or at least in Paris, is more of a one-day affair, not six weeks starting on January 6th like in New Orleans. The main activity for kids used to be dressing up, sometimes in school, although I hear that now most kids don't even get to do that anymore. I loved the atmosphere in NOLA a couple of weeks before Mardi Gras--so much music, so many decorated houses, general festiveness in the air. There was an infectious exuberance around the city. We followed a Second Line through several neighborhoods, and happened upon a line of very talented kids--some 120 of them or so--from The Roots of Music organization.
Some other highlights of our stay were the Herlin Riley Quartet at Snug Harbor, seeing floats being crafted by artists at Mardi Gras World--a huge hangar filled with massive figures from past years--the Backstreet Cultural Museum in Tremé, listening to Meschiya Lake and the Little Big Horns at DBA on Frenchmen St, and some excellent meals, including the best Southern greens at Lil Dizzy's Café. This experience of NOLA was far different from my past ones--in 1992 with a friend who grew up there, when we attended a debutante ball and had way too may Tom Collinses as we avoided getting hit on by the father of one of the debutantes; in 2002 with friends, before we all had kids, when we were relatively fancy-free but also a bit clueless; and in 2007 shortly after Katrina when the city was still staggering to recover.
At the airport on our return a few weeks ago, a friend and I were discussing how to retain some of the NOLA spirit. Twenty two years ago, on returning to Boston from India, I had that same thought about Rajasthan, and sought out my first kathak class. Stepping into the studio in January 2001 ended up changing my life--twenty years of kathak classes, co-founding a dance non-profit, writing novels that featured kathak dance. So we signed up for a drum line class. An eight week session, just to try it out. Practice some rhythms, get my brain to tell my left hand to do something. I'm so right-handed just holding the drum stick in my left felt weird. Eight weeks to be a total beginner at something, and do it just for fun. How often do we as adults allow ourselves this kind of treat? We had a trial lesson during which a rather bemused and lanky Millenial named Kyle took us through the basics, so we can have a hope of keeping up with the beginner class next week. It was fun, and a challenge, and I felt like a complete klutz.
Drop a line if you've done something like this lately. Tried out something new on a lark. How did it go?
Meantime, I learned some fascinating facts about the history of jazz in India, which of course is intricately linked to colonialism, but also to other global geopolitical shifts across the decades, including the US entering WWII. "Anglo-Indians," i.e. the mixed race population, played a fundamental role in the development of a vibrant jazz scene in India, especially in Calcutta where my father is from.
"While interracial children, or Anglo-Indians, were not allowed to join the military as soldiers, they were allowed to join the brass bands. Thus began an association with music which has come to be one of the main characteristics of the community even today... The reason this is important to know is because of the role that Anglo-Indians would go on to play in the Indian jazz scene of the 20s, 30s, and 40s."
India's own classical musical culture is very much based on improvisation within a structure, and there have been, over the years, a number of stunning collaborations between Indian classical artists and US jazz musicians, including India Jazz Suites, featuring (then) 62 year old kathak master Chitresh Das (my dance teacher's guru) and 26 year old Jason Samuels Smith. Lots of creativity in those mixed spaces and overlaps.
On that note, it’s cocktail hour. And time to finish up the last few pages of Barbara Kingsolver’s Demon Copperhead. Her ability to inhabit the mind of a hard luck male teenager in coal country—a modern retelling of David Copperfield—is breathtaking. I’ve always been a big fan of hers, not only for her writing but also for the fact that she’s one of the few authors I’ve read who has been able to have a career in a variety of genres, with a really broad range of topics and styles. I aspire to be like that some day.
Warm wishes from the beach,
Anjali
For me, that would be mandolin, which I'd always loved the sound of. We were in a music store one day a couple years ago, and I saw one cheap, and I thought if not now then when? I'd never used a pick before, despite playing self-taught guitar for years, so that was and is an adventure. I've loved starting from almost-scratch, and doing drills, and repeating simple things that don't feel simple until finally they do. And I love feeling like the discipline has rewarded me with slow but steady improvement.