If you think I’m referring to the deafening parody bhajans, or the cruel shloka recitations; breathe easy, I’m not.
I’ve been to a temple many times, with varying feelings- right from excessive devotion to complete detachment. But it was only yesterday that I completely felt the intensity of music generated by the aarti. It beats any concert I’ve attended and all the music I’ve ever heard.
It all starts with a mild roll of drums, like a distant thunder of clouds- a deep growl. The crowd suddenly falls silent. It is amazing to see the complete transformation from a noisy chaotic bunch to a congregation of silent monks. The pin-drop silence is broken by the small tinkle of a brass bell. The lights are dimmed and a multi flame diya is lit. In the darkness, the tinkle continues as the head pundit starts swaying the multiple flames in front of the deity. The tinkle is then drowned in the loud tic-tacking of a damru. Tick-tack tick tack it goes till the pundit starts the chanting. The chanting is audible only as a loud murmur as the other pundits join in the singing.
It is at this precise moment, the cymbals meet with a loud clang, and the drums roll. But they do not sound distant this time, nor do they stop. As if on cue, the brass bells start ringing, stuck by eager hands. Thus starts the symphony: the drums, the bells, the cymbals and the damru, all playing within a five meter radius of where I am standing. Each of the devotees starts clapping in sync with the beat.
It’s a weird experience. The sound is intense, and each beat thumps on your chest as if hit by a battering ram. My ears are ringing, reeling under the thumps of the loud sound, my hands hurt as I clap fast and hard, but I do not feel irritated. The atmosphere is electric.
10 minutes into this aural extravaganza, someone blows into a conch; and a loud howl is heard over all the beating of the drums. A number of wind instruments follow, each with it’s own characteristic sound. This is another cue and the drums are beat faster, the tempo rises. The bell-men are relieved by a new team of devotees and the tempo rises further. The chanting becomes louder and the people start swaying. Faster and faster it gets. The roar of the drums is now deafening, and each sound blast hits you with ever increasing intensity. Just as you think that any louder would tear away your eardrums, a very large tom-tom that I had not noticed earlier, starts to sound. The conch calls out shrilly once more and then everything is silent.
In one moment the sound is gone. Though my ears are still ringing, the vibrations have all died out. The lone voice of the pujari can be heard as he chants ‘
