Her Name Was Lola

69 ‘Smriti’

October 2001. Today Lola and Noah perform her raga for Indira and Hariprasad. Hariprasad has set up his equipment to record the music and will burn it on to a compact disc. ‘This raga is dedicated to you, our teachers,’ says Lola. ‘I have tried to be the vessel only for what has come to me. And whatever has come to me has come through your teaching. Thank you.’

Now when she plays, the sarod and the plectrum come to her hands like old friends. The music is already there, waiting to be heard. Noah has handled his nakkara since infancy. Now, almost four years old, he keeps the beat impeccably, proud to be making music with his mother.

‘Smriti’ begins so quietly that almost it seems unwilling to leave the silence. The first notes are like leaves falling on autumn waters. Yearning for what has been, tasting the passage of time, calling up faces from the shadows, words from the silence, reaching for departed hands. As it goes on, the raga circles and repeats and lingers over its themes. Happiness, sadness, longing and regret trace their figures with recognition and without anger. This is music that was not in Lola when she first came to Diamond Heart.

When the raga ends, Indira and Hariprasad nod their heads and there are big hugs all round. ‘Now,’ says Indira, ‘you are sumadhur-ragini. Su means good; madhur means sweet; and ragini means an expert in rendering ragas. You have given yourself to the music and we have just heard how the music has given itself to you. You are an artist now, and it is good that you are serious about your music. But don’t be serious all the time. Have a little fun now and then.’

‘Music is all well and good in its place,’ says Hariprasad, ‘but the main action here is Zen poker. You should come back some time and give it a try.’

‘Maybe when Noah’s a little older,’ says Lola. ‘Until then, wherever I go, you’ll be with me.’

‘And you’ll be with us,’ says Indira. Hariprasad gives Noah a wooden flute and she gives Lola a copy of Buddhist Wisdom Books.

‘I’m embarrassed,’ says Lola. ‘I’ve had a borrowed copy all these years and I’ve never read it.’

‘No matter,’ says Hariprasad. ‘Just hold it in your hands from time to time. Maybe not reading it is the same as reading it.’

‘My present for you isn’t much,’ says Lola. ‘It’s only my notation for the raga I’ve just played. Maybe it will remind you of our time together.’

‘This time with you was itself a gift,’ says Indira. ‘We thank you.’

Hariprasad gives Lola the CD, good-luck wishes are exchanged, and the years at Diamond Heart are almost at an end.