Culture
Song of the woods
DEEPA GANESH
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Two Canadians and a Parisian teach Hindustani music in a Karnataka village. Now there's a large waiting list for their music gurukul.
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The first year we had between six and 16 children. We went on a door-to-door campaign in our immediate neighbourhood. But they wouldn't trust us.
Photo: Bhagya Prakash K.
Hard-earned acceptance: Blaize (left), Agathe and Mathieu at the school in Kalkeri.
MUTTU, our 20-something cab driver, hasn't heard of Kalkeri at all. I persist: "Do you know the Veereshwara Punyashrama in Gadag? "No," he looks fazed. For someone who was born and brought up in Hubli, that was a bit strange.
In contrast, a couple of foreigners walking on the University Road in Dharwad are accosted by auto drivers, who holler at them: "Kalkeri, Kalkeri." They suppress a smile and hurry past.
House of music
We follow a herd of sheep on the narrow, winding dirt track, taking the lazing shepherd's advice: "It's up there and your car can go." We hear uninhibited voices belting out "Bhagyada Lakshmi baramma" to enthusiastic thumping on the tabla and stentorian bellowing of the harmonium. Between two water sources stands Kalkeri Sangeeta Vidyalaya on a sprawling spread. A bright-eyed, wild-haired little girl breaks into a spontaneous "Namaste, please come," and leads us to Leelavati Patil's hut where a huddle of kids are clearing some doubts in English. Even as we wait, a youngish, lanky Caucasian enters, following the bright-eyed girl. "Namaste, kab aaye, yaavaga bandri?" he switches from chaste Hindi to chaste Kannada in striking Dharwad dialect. Soon, Mathieu Fortier takes us on a tour of the school, which comprises eight to 10 thatched huts. I have to run, both literally and metaphorically, to keep pace with Mathieu.
Mathieu, a French-Canadian, first came to India 15 years ago as a tourist. "India moved me. And I had to come back." Soon he was learning Hindustani music in Varanasi and Hindi, Bengali and yoga at Shantiniketan. Years later, he met Agathe, a Parisian who was a volunteer with an orphanage in Pondicherry. However, she was not comfortable there. "It was too austere for my liking," explains Agathe, applying balm on a kid who has rashes all over her body.
Even as we talk, another foreigner appears, introducing himself as Blaize, Mathieu's younger brother. "I was travelling in South America and I came to help them shift from Shantiniketan to Dharwad. I didn't have the faintest idea that I would grow roots here," he smiles.
Uphill task
Mathieu met Ustad Hamid Khan of the legendary sitar family of Dharwad and was inspired to take music lessons from him. The trio even started an evening music school in Gauligalli, Dharwad. But a friend told them of a farmhouse in the forest near Kalkeri, which was available for rent. They then decided to start a music gurukul here and went to Canada to garner funds. But this was not to last because the landlord reclaimed his farmhouse a year later. "Don't go back. We'll find a plot for you," promised the villagers. "They found this land for us," recalls Mathieu. They struck a deal, promising to renovate the Hanuman temple of the village in return. The brothers went back to Canada and organised concerts with top musicians. All the money generated was pumped into the school. Even now they spend half the year in Canada.
The school now has about 85 students, including those from the neighbouring villages. Now, there's even a big waiting list to get into the school. But the beginnings were tough. "We were depressed. The first year we had between six and 16 children. We went on a door-to-door campaign in our immediate neighbourhood. But they wouldn't trust us. There were people who were trying to foil the entire project. Some even went to the police and told them we were running a brothel. The police turned up at our premises. Those were difficult times... " Mathieu trails off.
Battles won
"We have in a sense won the battle. For each teacher here, these children are like one's own. They have come away from their homes for knowledge. It's our duty to do our best for them," says Agathe, who is pregnant with her fourth child. The other three are students of the school. "Kalkeri's Chairman's children are also studying here," chips in Blaize.
The three hate it when people say they are running a school for the poor. "It is depressing that these children, who come from such rich cultural traditions, are denied a holistic education simply because they don't have the money. They are the link between the past and the future. To me, poor are those who have no values." Mathieu's passionate outburst is interrupted by the village panchayat head and his huge family trooping in. Ever the perfect host, he greets them: "Namaskara. Elru sherbet kudidu hogri," and despatches 10-year-old Sukanya to organise sherbet for them.
My thoughts suddenly turn to Muttu. He's happily dozing in the taxi. I wish he were 10 years younger.
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