Full Circle

I only met Sri Karunamayee once.  It was a memorable event that warmed my heart and sparked an extraordinary adventure.  This tale attempts to chart my circuitous path into the web of Sri Karunamayee's grace and through the mysterious journey such grace sent me upon.

It was the spring of 2013 and I had a lengthy travel schedule touring with the kirtan ensemble Shantala.  I'd been studying classical Hindustani vocal music with Portland's own Kirana treasure, Michael Stirling, for nearly four years at this point.  When Michael heard I'd have a day off in the San Francisco Bay Area on my upcoming tour he strongly advised me to find a way to sit with Sri Karunamayee—or Didi—who he knew was still visiting from India and teaching.  I jumped right on the opportunity. 

On my one day off in San Francisco I borrowed a bicycle and made my way to Joan Allekotte’s house in Albany.  I would be the last lesson of Didi's final day of teaching on this particular trip to the States.  I had to stop along the way in order to make some prints of the album artwork for my hand-pressed three-string guitar CD "Grit and Grace."  Thus replenishing my stock for the rest of the tour, I made some color copies at a local print shop and finished my trek.

Singing with Didi was a joy.  My cheeks began to hurt from smiling so much!  We sang Bhairavi and she taught me the sthayee of an exquisite composition: an ode to Saraswati, the Goddess of the vast creative realms.  Didi had a unique way of accompanying on the harmonium.  She would play the perfect reference tones to aid my ear in locking in the intonation, but would often omit the tone I was singing.  I was charmed and filled with gratitude to be in her gentle, loving presence.

As the lesson came to a close and I was gathering my possessions, Didi noticed the artwork I'd just printed.  She grew curious about it and I told her of my three-string guitar recording.  "Three-string guitar?  What does that sound like?," she asked with some excited interest.  Searching for some sort of analog she might best be able to understand, I referenced a comment that Indian music educator Dr. Peter Row had once made about the sound of this 'home-made' instrument: "I’ve been told it sounds a bit like a South Indian vina."

Her eyes grew larger.  "Ah, vina!  You should play the rudra vina!  A dear member of our community who once played rudra vina [Peter Weismiller] has recently passed.  You must inquire about his instrument which now needs to find a new home!"

It felt like a commandment!  How could she have known that out of all the Indian classical instruments, rudra vina had been the one I'd most been inspired to play?  I'd tried sitar for a few months, but I found it was too demanding on my classical-guitar-playing fingers.  Peter Row had done a few concerts with rudra vina while I was studying at New England Conservatory, and I had fallen completely love with the sound.  In fact, it was more the deep growling lows of the rudra vina that had inspired my 3 string guitar experiments than the South Indian vina, which I'd heard on some recordings during my brief time in Peter’s Indian Music Ensemble.  I was intrigued by the sound of this instrument but I never thought I'd ever see a rudra vina for sale in the States.

With this history of interest I was determined to follow through on Didi's "commandment."  But there was a catch: the only window of time I might have a chance of procuring Peter Weismiller’s beloved rudra vina was in the 72 hours in between two legs of my touring.  It would be a nine hour road trip just to visit an instrument I might not even want (or be able to afford)!

I called Peter's brother, Chris, and asked about what else was for sale in Peter’s collection.  A tamboura was also available!  I'd been wanting a tamboura ever since I starting studying Hindustani vocal music in 2003 with Boston’s beloved Khyal master, Warren Senders.  I used the possibility of acquiring this long-desired instrument as my final rationalization the long day of driving.  

I also called my friend Johnny Dwork, a known connoisseur of rare instruments, for moral (and, perhaps, financial) support should I need it in a pinch.  He backed my plan to check out the rudra vina.  I landed from the first leg of my touring, threw some laundry in the washer, got in the car and headed north.

When I arrived, the bereaved Charles Weismiller was very kind and generous with me.  I tried his brother’s gorgeous looking rudra vina, but after 10 seconds of playing my shoulder cramped painfully!  My broad shoulders were a terrible fit for this particular instrument.  It was an instant ‘no’.

"Ok," I thought, "Plan B.  Perhaps Sri Karunamayee really sent me here to get this tamboura and rededicate myself to my singing."  Nope!  The tamboura was a smaller, higher-pitched 'female' instrument (and a mediocre one at that). 

Deflated, I headed back towards Portland, put my earbuds in, and called Johnny to process the news of my seeming failure.  Johnny was unaware of the Plan B to get a tamboura.  He when heard of this he got excited, "I didn't know you were looking for a tamboura?!  My friend Jeff—the monk who lives in a Tibetan Buddhist hermitage at the top of a remote mountain in Maui—is trying to sell one right now!  I'll put you two in touch."  

What!?? Where was I headed in less than 24 hours? Maui!

I got busy getting to the Maui retreat and then busier working the retreat for the following week.  It was in the final days of my Hawaii trip that I even first had a chance to reach out to Jeff.  When I did, it appeared Jeff was equally busy.  The only time during my remaining 72 hours on Maui that Jeff could meet up with me was shortly after dawn on the day before my flight back to the mainland.  

A mutual friend of Jeff's, multi-instrumentalist Andrea Walls, was excited to accompany me for an early morning hiking adventure that involved driving as far as we could on dirt trails before having to continue on foot after the road got too rough.  Andrea picked me up in her small Honda in the pre-dawn dark and we arrived on foot at Jeff's Prayer Rock hermitage compound shortly after daybreak.  

It was an experience that was something from an exotic scene in a Rob Fricke/Mark Magidson film (ie. Baraka or Samsara): meeting the humble sage at the top of a mountain, in an ornate temple, at dawn.  We were greeted with tea and the early morning’s stillness.

When Jeff opened the door to the room containing the tamboura, I gasped at the sight.  Having not even heard it, I knew I'd arrived at my destiny.  Five strings floated over a flowery fractal design and a deeply maroon, Dragon's Blood Red finish.  By the looks, it was in impeccable, like-new condition.  The only foible noticeable was a subtle imprint of bubble wrap packaging materials dried into the finish.  (“Did the makers rush the tamboura off before the finish had time to fully dry?”, I briefly mused...)  

Then, breaking the sweet silence of this mountaintop paradise, I sent the strings into motion.  The sonic prism filled my ears, opening my heart and sending shivers down my spine.  This was a once-in-a-lifetime find, a true musical soul mate.  I accepted Jeff's price on the spot.  

I also accepted a ride back in Jeff's giant truck!  With the tamboura supported on all sides by heavy quilts and a laundry basket around the gourd, we bouldered our way down the mountain.

Upon returning into town I headed straight for the best shipping place I could find nearest to the Maui airport.  I paid a sizable amount of money to make a custom box to ship the tamboura back on the plane with me.  On the way to the airport the next morning, I picked up the package and proceeded to pepper every inch of it with hand-written pleas: "VERY Fragile Musical Instrument!".   With the tender mix of confidence and concern of a parent dropping off their pre-schooler for the first day of school, I said "goodbye" to my new, beloved tamboura until our reunion on the mainland.

When we reunited, I didn't think to check it out at the airport as the package showed no outer signs of damage.  But something felt wrong.  TSA had opened my box!   They'd left their own TSA-labeled packing tape upon the resealed seams of the box.  Still, I hoped all would be ok.  I was excited to get home and unwrap my new musical love like a giant Christmas present.  

Tragedy struck.  The entire back of the gourd was shattered into many dozens of pieces!  As the pieces all burst out of the end of the box, I actually burst into tears at the sight!   How could such a long and incredible journey end so horribly?  My spirits were crushed, temporarily.  

When I told Michael Stirling of the tale, he had a strong intuition all would end well.  "It's going to work out, perhaps for the better!  Sri Karunamayee's grace will prevail, just wait."  Remembering Didi's special grin, I somehow found it easy to believe him.  My spirits were lifted. 

Of course, it did work out for the better.  Luthier and miracle-worker-in-all-things-wood Peter Tsiorba got to work on the repair.  I toiled away with the labyrinthine claims processes with both Hawaiian Airlines and TSA, demanding compensation for the damage.  Peter's fix actually IMPROVED the sound of the instrument and you'd be hard pressed to see that there was ever such an injury.  Both the airline and TSA paid claims!  I was able to pay Peter in full for his heroic repair job and actually had leftovers to help pay Jeff for the tamboura itself.  Tamboura and I live happily ever after. 

Looking back on this story, I’ve often wondered if it somehow was Sri Karunamayee's grace that saw me through the final ordeal and to such an auspicious conclusion.  As we were perched atop the mountain at the Prayer Rock hermitage in the early morning Hawaiian sun, I asked Jeff about the history of this instrument.  Jeff relayed an interesting tale of his own, a tale that might speak to my wondering:  

He'd ordered and pre-paid for a very simple, affordable male tamboura from some trusted makers in Puttaparthi, India.  After months of delay he had a friend in India prod the makers about their stall.  Apparently, a great saint of Puttaparthi had passed and the town was inundated with many thousands of pilgrims for months after the passing.  Though it was an understandable delay, the makers felt responsible.  They decided to give Jeff a free upgrade to their fanciest model and ship it out as soon as they could.  

I was satisfied to learn this history and was grateful to gain a better understanding of the great deal I was receiving on such a sumptuously made instrument.  But I wanted to know more about Jeff's motives, "What inspired you to order this tamboura in the first place?  Were you studying? With whom?"

He replied, "I had a lesson in San Francisco with Sri Karunamayee.  She commanded me to get one!"

With great love to Sri Karunamayee,

Sean Frenette, September 9th, 2017