WE ALL ATE IT, SO CARL HAD....... TO GO DOWN! FUNNY!
Paan, from the word pan in Urdu, پان, and Hindi, पान, is a South and South East Asian tradition which consists of chewing Betel leaf (Piper betle) combined with the areca nut. There are many regional variations.
Paan is chewed as a palate cleanser and a breath freshener. It is also commonly offered to guests and visitors as a sign of hospitality and as "ice breaker" to start conversation. It also has a symbolic value at ceremonies and cultural events in South and Southeast Asia.
In the Indian Subcontinent the chewing of betel and areca nut dates back to the pre-Vedic Harappan empire.[1] Formerly in India and Sri Lanka it was a custom of the royalty to chew Areca nut and betel leaf. Kings had special attendants carrying a box with the ingredients for a good chewing session. There was also a custom to chew Areca nut and betel leaf among lovers because of its breath-freshening and relaxant properties. Hence there was a sexual symbolism attached to the chewing of the nut and the leaf. The areca nut represented the male and the betel leaf the female principle. Considered an auspicious ingredient in Hinduism, the Areca nut is still used along with betel leaf in religious ceremonies and also while honoring individuals in most of Southern Asia.
The skilled paan maker is known in North India as a paanwala. Many people believe that their paanwala is the best, considering it an art that takes practice and expert touch.
Concert at Jayanta Chatterji's penthouse flat
Our team received invitations to a private concert featuring the son of recently deceased sitarist; Shri Shujaat Khan, who was one of the greatest sitarists in India. Jayanta's love for traditional Indian music is obvious. His spacious flat consists of three levels; the tenth floor is devoted to entertaining with a huge living room opening onto a patio, dining room, kitchen, guest room and a transparent spiral stair case leading up to the family's private area on the eleventh floor which overlooks the patio below. The twelfth floor is a roof garden that is hard to imagine overlooking the patio and all of Kolkata. When I stayed there a few days ago I noticed two portraits. The two portraits displayed are of Shri Shujaat Khan and Rabindranth Tagore, an Indian poet, who won the Nobel Prize for Literature. He is known in India as the Shakespeare of West Bengal.
We were seated in chairs about fifty feet from the stage while the majority of guests (50-75) sat on a thin carpet covering a marble floor with their backs straight and their legs folded. Some would not move during the performance that lasted more than two hours. Most of the audience was older (50+) and had a deep appreciation for the art form of sitar and tabla.
The musical movements start off slow and calm. It sounds more like they are tuning the instruments than playing the piece. Only the sitarist plays the first movement, which is fairly subdued. While he is playing the tablaist watches him and listens attentively. As the second movement evolves the two musicians start playing off each other, one giving the other space and time to express the mood. I watch the facial expression of the sitarist which is almost trance like. He hasn't opened his eyes for fifteen minutes or so. He appears to be somewhere else. The sound of the two instruments is very earthy and airy at the same time. I close my eyes and feel as though I am listening to a bird being born and trying to fly, falling back to mother earth, and trying again. It was like an assisted struggle. I felt transformed for a few minutes at a time. I felt I understood something so primal that if anyone listened to this music seriously they would share my feeling. The sounds coming from the two instruments were dancing with each other. It was difficult to tell which instrument was making which sound.
I stood up to get a better view and Jayanta spotted me and sent his photographer over to lead me to an empty seat no more than ten feet from the sitar. Now I could see how fast their hands and fingers were moving. My seating location enhanced the mystic atmosphere even more than before. The last movement consists of a series of sound waves, one instrument supporting the other, taking over, giving way, back and forth. Their hands were moving faster and faster to where they was just a blur. The second string on the sitar snapped, but Khan kept going and finally the bird settled back to earth.
After the performance Jayanta introduced me to Khan and told him I was in the market to buy a sitar for my son, Matt. He suggested that I call him when we get to Delhi and he will personally take me to the people he knows who can help me.
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