Nisha Purushotham

Soon after moving to the Greater Boston area three years ago, I befriended a seasoned and gifted musician who regularly pushed me to seek out performance opportunities. I often responded that my work as an artist-in-residence with various organizations, educational institutions,  and communities was so consuming that I didn’t have time to book gigs and rehearse for shows. I did not expect this dynamic to change.

And then in November I felt this pull. Not an abrupt forceful pull that compels inauthentic action or ways of being. But a gentle invitational pull like that of a child drawing you over the threshold between the actual and the imagined, between certainty and curiosity.

In response, I booked my first gig in the Greater Boston area which took place last week. What was the source of this pull towards creative authentic action? Several seemingly unrelated developments of the past year:

The call of an Elder organizer and educator for new movement songs.

    The witnessing of people’s movements throughout the Middle East                      which challenge economic oppression and state sponsored violence and             strengthen people's resolve to create just and peaceful societies.

The introduction to a soulful musician and healer seeking new ways to share music in the world.

    The engagement with the Occupy Movement in Boston.

The expression of desire to resume our creative collaboration by two local artists in the span of one week.

One experience alone may not have held the power to move me from my creative inertia. But when gathered together in my consciousness, these separate experiences coalesced into a life giving force. This gentle and power-filled energy heightened my awareness of the role my music can play in the lives of individuals and movements for cultural awakening and transformation.

What seemingly unrelated experiences are coalescing within your consciousness? What is this coalescence calling you to?

Jux·ta·pose
tr.v. jux·ta·posed, jux·ta·pos·ing, jux·ta·pos·es
To place side by side, especially for comparison or contrast.

On Friday, November 11th, video gamers in San Diego came out in droves to purchase the 5th installment of Elder Scrolls, a fantasy role playing game. One 18-year-old made a purchase just after midnight seeking to maximize game playing time during the three day weekend. At 5:30 am on Monday morning, he groggily acknowledged a strategy of playing until his body “gave out”.

On Sunday, November 13th, a 15-year-old boy in Dier ez-Zor refused to participate in one of President Bashar al-Assad’s staged protests of the Arab League’s decision to suspend Syria’s membership. (A decision coming 8 months into his regime’s brutal crackdown on peaceful protests throughout the country. This military onslaught has claimed over 4,000 Syrian lives.)

Perhaps in refusing to participate in political theatrics, this courageous young person sought to maximize on the growing resolve of many Syrians to force the al-Assad regime out of political power. His body gave out when military forces shot and killed him at point blank range. 

As I heard these stories in the course of one day, the contrasting realities of middle and upper class North Americans and the vast majority of the world’s population  overwhelmed me once again. Is it possible for us to live in solidarity with those who face daily repression that is decreed politically and imposed militarily?

What are ways you nurture a sense of solidarity with people whose history and present day circumstances are markedly different from your own?

I am prone to being an All or Nothing type of person.

Efforts in language acquisition that don’t lead to fluency? An exercise in futility.
Research on a work related subject that isn’t exhaustive? A waste of time.
Correspondence that doesn’t include my entire extended family now sprawled out over 4 continents? A feeble expression.

I know my All or Nothing approach limits my actions and development.

Nowhere is this more evident than in my study and performance of world percussion. In this ongoing journey, technique building, rhythmic accuracy, and research of the cultural origins of traditional rhythms serve as valuable guideposts. However, there are times when I turn these guideposts into chastening rods that keep me “on track” and confine my creative exploration.

While jamming with a dear friend and soul mate in music recently, I took my tablas off the book shelf. It was the first time in nearly 9 months. As my friend grooved on old and new original songs, I began playing a blend of warm up exercises and improvised riffs. The foundational tones I used were softer and less clear than they were when I practiced daily.  The combinations of tones were limited and less fluid. As waves of judgement and disappointment rose in me, I centered my awareness on playing in the present moment. Gradually, my tablas transformed from ornamental decoration on a book shelf to an instrument in my hands. A profound change evoked not by virtuosic performance but a simple and modest act.

What simple and modest acts are evoking profound change in you and the world?

My father Sam and second mother Gwen are currently on the road to their new home Nashville, TN. In preparation for the move, I’ve watched them sort through memorabilia, clothes, knick knacks, books, photos, kitchen utensils, cleaning supplies and even perennial flower blossoms. This will be their 10th move in 32 years of marriage. This ongoing practice of gathering, sorting, and letting go, of planting, uprooting, and replanting has become a way of life.

Among our many homes, I only feel attachment to the first apartment my father, mother, and brother moved into after immigrating to the United States. There I felt most connected with my neighbors.

Jackie Wright, who, with my foster sister Tammy, introduced me to the best of 70’s R & B.

    Mr. Sigmund, the 70+ building manager, who spent many an afternoon tossing     a frisbee in the courtyard with my brother and me.

The Cacuzza Family who regularly hosted us for meals of homemade spaghetti and meatballs.

While dwelling with these neighbors I suffered the passing on of my mother, Kanaka. As I felt the world around me caving in, the love of neighbors and friends pulled me to solid ground. Not ground made of hardwood or concrete. But the solid ground of companionship and compassion.

We live amidst great change. New technologies emerge at an accelarated rate. Regimes of several decades have ended through peaceful resistance and violent retribution. Human induced disasters have destroyed and displaced thousands all over the globe.  A hastily resuscitated and fragile global economy continues to gasp and totter. Widespread people’s movements rattle the foundations of dictatorships and multinational corporations. Whether half way across the world or around the corner, these developments send forth tremors we can all feel.

In this time of change, as the ground we have stood upon shifts, changes shape, and begins to give way, what nurtures a sense of solid ground in you?

As a retired English teacher of 30 years, my beloved grandmother Mercy valued precise speech. Under her watchful gaze, I practiced naming the world.  With great effort, I strove for precision and grammatical correctness.

The work of great writers continues to be a balm and clarion call for me. I marvel at writers' ability to name what we know but cannot yet articulate. I sink deep into this grounding resonance.

Still, something has shifted in recent years. As I grow older, I value more and more that which speaks without words:

The rainbow which appears against a concentration of sun lit blue black clouds.

    The felled tree, once source of life and shelter, now decomposing into a bed of     earth.

The long silence in which a friend's long dormant anguish rises to the surface.

    A crowded subway train where ipods, kindles, newspapers, and blackberries         anesthetize us from sensing our fellow travelers.

When I listen to that which speaks without words, meanings penetrate my consciousness before rational or habitual interpretations deflect them. In these moments, I am offered an unadulterated glimpse at the possibilities and obstacles to living fully in the world.

To what will you listen today?