Vivaldi in the hills

The little town of Kalimpong in the eastern Himalayas is everfull of surprises. In our visits there over the past 35 years, we have found ...

The little town of Kalimpong in the eastern Himalayas is everfull of surprises. In our visits there over the past 35 years, we have found something new, something quaint, something precious every time. This year was special. 8220;Come with us to Gandhi Ashram8221;, said a friend. Thoughts arose of tired spinning wheels and non-functioning beehives and we were all out to decline politely. 8220;Have you ever heard the children play?8221; insisted the friend. And we were persuaded.

A quarter of an hour down the main road and we stopped on the roadside by a house under construction. Down some steps carved into the hillside and we were greeted by Father E. Maguire S.J., the Canadian priest whose brainchild the Ashram is. He led us into a large hall or shall we say Alladin8217;s Cave in the hills? On one side lay timber for construction, and one end was a stage. Covering the walls was an enormous mountain fresco and in one corner were arranged chairs in a semi-circle, each with a small violin on it and a music stand before it.

At the sound of a gong, in trooped 20-odd six to eight-year olds, gap-toothed, snotty nosed, rubber slippered. Urchins from any bustee anywhere in India. Then they took their chairs and poised their violins and, as Dawa Tamang directed them, it was as if a wand had suddenly been waved. They were no longer smiling Reshma, impish Kailash or aggressive Alan. They were musicians with a determination and precision hard to find in adult professionals. They played simple arrangements of Handel8217;s Harmonious Blacksmith and Occasional March, enchanting their audience with the merry spontaneity of their years and the obvious enjoyment in their music.

Then came the older children, ages ranging from 8 to 14, led by Susmita and directed by Rudramani Vis-hwakarma. They tuned their violins to a quick movement of Mozart8217;s Quartet No 11 followed by the sl-ower 2nd Movement of Quartet No. 12 also by Mozart, sending their notes way up into the mountains.

Soon, the Kalimpong hills were echoing with the music from this small assembly of strings. Birds twittered, bees hummed as Nature awoke out of the long blanketed winter to the sound of Vivaldi8217;s Spring from the Four Seasons. For these little ones held magic in their bows. They played and the listeners shed tears of joy, and Vivaldi from the skies above must have thrilled to his notes coming alive in the Himalayas.

And who are they with such music in their veins? They are 8220;coolie children8221; as Father Mag-uire calls them, the children of daily labourers who come to his school from their huts in the surrounding villages. They spend long hours every day learning to grow oranges, to read, write, do sums, speak English and play the violin. Each class has a music lesson every day in this school, run on Gandhian principles. Once a year they go fund-raising through the country with their violins and their music scores which they read better perhaps than their text books, for this is their expression, their message to the world 8211; live in harmony with music.

That8217;s how it8217;s been for the past 10-odd years, ever since Father Maguire set up the school. More than 150 boys and girls have passed through the school; some, like Dawa and Rudramani, return to pay their dues. 8220;They have no cinema, no TV, no cassettes, but they have Mozart, the lucky things8221;, says Father Maguire. As we walked out into the clear spring evening, however, the thought struck us that this time around, it was we who had been lucky. Lucky to hear the hills come alive with the sound of music.