It was an unusual sight. A young woman clad in a white sari and saffron blouse is standing on the stage with a giant chenda—a ceremonial percussion drum that is traditionally used during festivals—strapped around her waist. She has a black bindi on her forehead, a gold necklace around her neck and a bunch of jasmine flowers in her hair. The chenda weighs 10 kg. On either side of her stand bare-bodied male drummers wearing white dhotis. A lighted brass oil lamp stands guard on a red carpet in front of them. Deepa is a pioneer in the art of chenda—one of the few female drummers in India. An unusual career for an unusual woman.
You can hear the drum beats of the two-sided chenda usually during temple festivals and ritual dances such as Kathakali, Koodiyattam, Kannyar Kali and Theyyam. Back to Deepa. Suddenly, in unison, the air is tattooed with the rhythmic beats of sticks and left palms expertly connecting with the taut, cured animal skin. The Panchari melam has begun. At the end of the programme, a flushed Deepa gets a hug from her teacher Bijumon Marar aka Bijumon Asan—asan means guru or expert in Malayalam. Her two boys Govardhan and Govindan run up to her. Bijumon says, “Deepa’s example will encourage other women. For centuries, only men were chenda players. But now, a few women have taken it up.”
Nalini K is one such woman. After her husband’s death four years ago she moved from Kozhikode to Kochi where she would visit the Thrikkakara Vamanamoorthy Temple often. The deep sound of the chenda mesmerised her and brought back memories of childhood. She now lives close to the Kothamangalam Maha Vishnu Temple where the drum is omnipresent. Unable to resist the chenda’s call, she approached Biju Asan in the temple and asked whether she could be a student. He answered, “Why not?” That was how two years ago in August, she started practising for an hour at seven in the morning, nearly seven days a week. Initially, she would sit on the floor and hit on a granite stone with a wooden stick made of tamarind. Nalini had been lost in her grief. Slowly, the energy of the drum beats and the focus it took to master its tempo gave her life a new purpose. The drum became therapy. “It brought me a great deal of happiness,” says Nailini. “I was also not keeping well. But once I began playing, my physical ailments and mood fluctuations vanished.” Soon she posted videos of her playing on the family WhatsApp group and received much praise.
Her arangettam—the artist’s debut—was in August 2018. “It was on the first day of the devastating floods,” she says. “But our show did happen.” Deepa is now practising to reach the next level. “I want to play alongside reputed artists,” she says.
With the ancient instrument, Deepa has found ambition and salvation.