My Turkish friend and I have a ritual. He sends me a link of something from Turkey. It usually involves music (My favourite thus far is still moustache man ibrahim tatlıses playing the baglama). I find the Indian analogue. It is kind of scary. You see and hear the same sorts of instruments. But the music is different. Yet familiar. The other day, I was listening to a Malayalam song. I do that from time to time... to ensure I still understand it (that's a joke by the way). It mentioned Omar Khayyam. I asked the Turkish fellow about Omar Khayyam. And he knew who he was. With a slightly different name but still, the same Omar Khayyam. Bonus points to anyone who points out which Malayalam song that came from. I am still at a bit of a loss as to how it made it into the song. The only place I can find is that the Rubáiyát was translated in the 1930s by G. Sankara Kurup. But for whatever reason, there it is.
Nevermind that Omar Khayyam, by all measures, is a polymath and genius and someone that, had he been English or French perhaps would have been that much more recognised. And yet, he should be familiar. He studied at Samarkand. That place has contributed to Indian history in plenty of ways.
He wrote about wine. As in consuming wine. He is supposed to have written the following verse:
"Enjoy wine and women and don't be afraid, Allah has compassion,"
So where am I going with this? Well, I don't really know. But I find it fascinating that there are so many shared experiences we as people have. The Turkish fellow sent me link to someone playing something called a Mey. I swear I have heard it before. Mind you, it isn't that much of a stretch to imagine something like this developing in these parts of the world. After all, we have all met each other culturally along the way. Conquered each other and brought ideas and music along with us as we went on. We just didn't have precision guided munitions and jets to do the dirty work.
Years ago (and perhaps I have recounted this story before) when I first came to Canada and was in grade 12, my lab partner's was this Ghanaian chap. Ekow and I were sitting in the lab trying to sort something out when we decided to ask the Japanese girl in front of us. You see, she was Japanese by heritage. She was born in Canada, but her parents stuck her with a Japanese name. Anyway, somewhere between trying to figure something out with a piece of lab equipment and a Japanese girl, we stumbled upon our shared knowledge of this NHK story about a Japanese grocery chain owner's story. Her name was Oshin. I remember Ekow and I being super excited that we had seen the same show all those years past, in different countries. The Japanese girl was clueless as to who Oshin was or why it was significant to Ekow and I. Poor woman. Anyway. I've mentioned this story from time to time to others... and my Persian friends have also had similar reactions. When I say Oshin, their eyes tend to light up. I guess NHK was busy exporting Oshin to the world. Honestly, I still try and recall what language I saw it in. The Persians watched it in Farsi, but I am fairly certain that it was dubbed into English for those of us watching on Doordarshan. I can't imagine it being in Japanese and sub-titled. I've seen a few episodes on youtube and I am still not certain which type I watched as a kid.
It is often hard to explain your heritage to an outsider. But then again, I think over time, what I think of heritage changes. I have this mental block of India. It is from 15 years ago when I left. When Tendulkar was still young (not that he isn't brilliant even today) and cable TV was still a novelty. The India of 1996 lives only in my mind. I've been to the India of 2008, and I am fascinated by it. It has that woman host butchering the Malayalam language in idea star singers. Everything in the India of 2008 seems to have something to do with SMS. My version of India was simpler somehow. But back to trying to explain my interpretation of heritage and culture to outsiders. Sometimes, rituals, belief systems and social norms are just not obvious to outsiders. But every so often, when you make the effort, you end up being enlightened. Someone else has something similar. Instead of 14 days it is 41 days. Instead of 6 strings, it has 7 strings.
I am convinced that we as a world are a lot more closely related to each other than we believe. We tend to amplify the differences between ourselves to claim niches or superiority. And yet, just beneath that competitive surface lies a whole maze of interconnected thoughts, shared ideas, common ideals and belief systems that make us more of the same than not.
I am curious what peoples experiences have been with others. Have you had that 'Aha' moment where you realise that something you thought was uniquely yours is no longer so?
Oh yeah, before I forget, go read Omar Khayyam's works. Read Khalil Gibran's works. Read Henry James. Heck, read Julian Barnes (for he won the Booker prize yesterday). And rejoice in the brilliance that is the human mind.
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