An encounter with Aaron

In the past few years, my random solo trips have brought me in contact with many travelers coming from the West on their journeys to India. Most of those trips have ended with me returning home with new friendships and a lot of lovely stories.

Somehow, I have always found it easier and a more enriching experience to interact with travelers from outside the country than with those from India. The openness in conversations is a major factor that makes those interactions enjoyable. Indians, generally, come across as slightly suspicious and difficult to be frank and open with. Moreover, conversations with people from outside are naturally richer because there's so much of sharing that goes on. They let me in in their worlds which are painted in different hues than mine. I, in return, try to surprise them with my bland little world. They tell me what they think of my land and its culture while I listen to it with all the fascination before telling them what I know and think of it.

On my last trip to Landour, my paths crossed with another such traveler, who I discovered over the course of our four-hour-long conversation, was anything but a stranger to this land. Let’s call him Aaron.

Aaron is a Czech born musician who first came to India 12 years ago in his quest to master an instrument he believes is rhythmically light years ahead of any other he has played. the Tabla. Since then he has spent several years in Kolkata, Mumbai, and Delhi, the influence of which can be seen in his language which is as polished a Hindi as I have ever heard from anyone coming from the West. Not only that, but he also possesses a better grasp on the socio-political realities of the country than most Indians I know. He says that he once used to be quite vocal on social media but, as a nod to changing socio-political realities, has now decided to be more careful with what he puts out there. His Visa, he says, is more important to him than the politics of a country he can't even vote in.

His time spent in India hasn't been easy. Finding the right master in this line, he says, is very difficult. What's made this journey even more difficult for him is seeing two of his fellow Japanese trainees commit suicide when they felt they were unable to master the tabla. He currently works at his Master's house who teaches him the tabla in return. This barter arrangement is certainly a difficult one, he says, but pretty much the only option he has. He says on the European music circuit there's no space for a late bloomer and a man who decided to learn an Indian instrument at the age of 25 is easily an outcaste. The Tabla, therefore, is not his only love but also his only hope.

His partner for the last 9 years was a US national who he met in Benares. The woman, a trained Dhrupad singer herself, and Aaron believe that Indian classical music shouldn't be presented as exotic in front of Western audiences, for its appeal is global. The two perform in France and other European countries every year and present to the audiences Indian classical music minus the exotic packaging. No saree. No kurta. No bindi. Just music as it is. At least that's what they aspire to do most of the times unless being coaxed into doing the routine. And according to Aaron, that happens quite often because change isn't always easy to come by.

A frail-looking Aaron isn't at his youngest at 37 and finds it a little difficult to keep up with his Guru's prescribed 10 hours of riyaas every day. But there's no way he is going to give up on his quest, even if he knows that it's financially not the wisest decision. But such is the devotion towards music that the two share that they decided long back that they don't wish to have kids in future. So, it's not only the present but also the future that Aaron has devoted to music.

 He even shrugs off my question laden suggestion that maybe he can earn a few bucks if he starts giving classes to young musicians. There's no way he can pass on knowledge without mastering the instrument, which at 37, is pretty much what he wakes up every morning for.

However, it's not that Aaron doesn't put his skills to use to earn a livelihood. In fact, he looks forward to the wedding season in India with great anticipation. In his words, the Indian elite gets a lot of pleasure from seeing white men doing Indian things, which, in his case is playing the tabla. Probably, it massages the ego of some in the society that was not too long ago a subject of colonial rule. To be able to employ the services of whites allows them a chance to project themselves as an elite of such a society. That's why the demand of Aaron and his ilk increases during the wedding season where the 'eliteness' is often put on a display to thousands of guests.

Such gigs, he admits, keep him afloat in an alien land. Lately, though, things have begun to look a little gloomy on that front too for Aaron. A new variable has emerged in the market that he never thought would render him jobless and one whose competition he doesn't feel he can beat. His seasonal work assignments are eaten up by Russian and Ukrainian escorts. Yes. You read it right. While white men playing the Indian instruments is a show in its own right, the Indian elite has realized that attractive white women appearing to play Indian instruments is a better show of power and 'eliteness'. This new phenomenon has struck Aaron hard. Not only has it taken away from him his well paying seasonal gigs but, it has also devalued his music, something that seems more important to him than the cash. He thinks it's a terrible sight to see people handling instruments they've never played and an even worse sight to see them act as if they're playing it when it's actually played in the background. Probably, music is just a facade and even a bait for most for what's possible beyond the performance.

The time spent trekking and talking to Aaron reaffirmed my belief in traveling being one of the better ways of knowing the world around you. It wasn't the usual meeting with a foreigner on a solo trip tryst. In his story, I followed him to places I had not thought could exist. Be it his devotion to music, or his story about being put out of business by escorts, or his dhrupad singer American partner, I was constantly turning pages of his life to discover something new.

No matter how much you read, you'll only know so much about the world of others. But traveling and on journey conversations brings you closer to real and sometimes eye-opening stories. Stories that can't be found in books. Stories like that of Aaron. His story belied all general notions about Western travelers in the country. He wasn't the average dollar fuelled European who was exploring the East for recreational purposes. Instead, this land was pretty much his best hope for a brighter future, a hope tied to his love for music. He wasn't an outsider as the color of his skin might make you want to believe at first. But his presence inside wasn't an easy one either. And nor was it an easy experience listening to him on that afternoon in those long winding roads of Landour. But when have beautiful experiences been easy anyway?