Join Gaura Vani, Ananta & Acyuta, The Mayapuris and many friends this Saturday, February 20^th for 12 hours of kirtan (10am-10pm) for the second montly event.

This time we’re celebrating the birthday of Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu, the father and founder of the kirtan movement we all enjoy so much today. Sri Caitanya created a spiritual revolution around the chanting of the divine names that swept the Indian sub-continent in the 15^th century. This continues to change our lives even today, more than 500 years later.

I was sitting in our big white van cruising through the streets of LA, when Gaura, who was driving and eating and talking on the phone (always multitasking!), threw the question to us over his shoulder, “hey guys, how would you like going to Australia?” Need I make our unanimous answer explicit?!

When Australia sent out initial feelers to Gaura, they were thinking to bring him and maybe one more person, that’s it. Ultimately there was six of us! Due to a combination of Gaura’s love for all of us and his insistence that we come, and the Aussie organizers giving in to Gaura’s “demand”.

And so it happened, that six of us stepped out of the airport coming to Australia for the first time. It didn’t take Vish and Gaura long to figure out that now we’d done kirtan on every continent (save for Antartica).
It’s an amazing thing when total strangers met for the first time and immediately feel bonded. This was the case with the Australian crew that brought us over, took care of us, and traveled with us through the country. I didn’t feel that I was among strangers at all. Maybe our goal, or interest, in kirtan simply took over and connected us on a higher level.
Before we arrived Sitapati, the main organizer, sent us a forty-page playbook, indicating every show, every meal, basically every detail. We were quite blown away by such detailed pre-planning. The person behind such meticulous planning had to be a seasoned older gentleman. When Sitapati met us at the airport, I think everyone of us asked him a version of the question, “Who are you?” Because we simply didn’t expect the force behind such a major tour to be our age.

And this turned out to be one of the many sweet things about the Australia tour. The guys who brought us out there were not rich people dipping into large bank-accounts. They hustled to get us over there, called everyone they knew with the idea, collecting funds as one person here and there would donate. There was a real grassroots feel to it.

We did around ten shows and one 24-hour kirtan during the fourteen days we were there. But because the organization was seamless and our reception so enthusiastic, we did not feel drained or tired but enthused and inspired. So many Aussies love kirtan! I was delighted by Janardan in Brisbane, Tina in Sydney, Krsnagraja in Melbourne, to mention a few. Notably, this enthusiasm was not limited to experienced kirtan-singers like the above, but to those completely new to it.

“Is there anything bad about Australia?” I kept asking our hosts as we drove through the beautiful country side from Brisbane to Sydney, then Sydney to Melbourne.

I was particularly happy when Sitapati, who had never seen The Mayapuris and As Kindred Spirits play together, commented that “We couldn’t imagine you without each other. You complement each other so well. ” His observation highlighted something I’d been reflecting on for a while. Gaura and As Kindred Spirits are melodic, sweet as honey, soulful, while we are passionate and fierce, with an edge that would border on aggressive without the soothing vibe of our kindred spirits. We feel so blessed to be singing, dancing, and serving together.

And being Down-Under only made it more dreamy and surreal. Did we dance with Kangaroos? No, didn’t even see one (though Gaura did chase a wallaby up a hill with his iPhone for a close-up) But everyone we did kirtan with put a kangaroo’s jump to shame, as they reached their arms high in the sky, jumping high, spirits soaring! Singing the holy names!

What more can I describe than this? Millions of opulences are of no use to me, my only wish is to have these pastimes constantly appear in my mind.

-Vrinda

Gaura Vani & As Kindred Spirits and the Mayapuris are currently touring all around Australia. Our hosts have provided free live streaming audio from all the events. To listen, sign in at WorldSankirtan.net.

The Mridunga – Our Favorite Drum

If there wasn’t the Mrdunga, there would be no such thing as the Mayapuris. We feel that it’s the best drum in the whole universe, especially for kirtan. That is our happy bias. Today we play other instruments, like tabla, flute, harmonium, etc, but the mridunga was the first instrument each of us, the Mayapuris, learnt to play. Actually, my mother played mridunga often when she was pregnant with me, so I began to learn the rhythms from within the womb. The first mridunga I played was a nicely decorated Quaker Oatmeal box, with a strap attached to it. Kish practiced on a wooden block for years, because his little arms couldn’t reach both sides of the mridunga. In fact, Kish’s dad remembers him playing on one side, ti ti ti, then crawling to the other side, ta ta ta.

There is a mridunga pranam mantra that I learnt from my teacher, Bablu Mashai, whom I studied under from the age of ten. We would chant thismantra before each class to offer respects. The mantra begins by offering respects to Caitanya Mahaprabhu, the founder of kirtan, who also invented the mridunga five-hundred years ago. Earlier they played big heavy wooden drums. Instead, the mridunga makers used the clay from the nearby banks of the Ganga to create a light-weight drum. “Mrid” means clay and “anga” is body, so literally clay-body. It’s the primary instrument in Gaudiya Vaishnava kirtan, the kirtan of Western India, the style that our music is rooted in. Bhaktivinode Thakur, a scholar and poet from the Gaudiya tradition, says, “When I hear the sounds of the mridunga, all my worries, all my problems and sorrows fly away like crows at the sound of thunder, and my heart dances in ecstasy.”

Another interesting point of the mridunga is the range from the small, high side to the larger, low side. There is a symbolism inherent here as well; the sweet sound of the high side represents the feminine energy, or Radhe, and the low, bass side is the masculine energy, Shyam. Practically speaking, it’s a very dynamic drum. It can be played very softly and sweetly with lots of intricacies, and also very loudly with full vigor and passion. You can sit with it, dance with it, walk, and twirl with it. It’s the heart-beat of the kirtan.

- Vishvambhar

The kirtan movement was inaugurated in Mayapur, which lies along the banks of the Ganga in West Bengal, India. This special place is very close to our heart. My brother Bali and I studied and lived in the ashram there, Vish lived there with his family, and Vrinda was four the first time her parents brought her all the way from Sweden. Even now when we go to Mayapur, there is a feeling of having gone back in time, five-hundred years ago, to the time when Caitanya Mahaprabhu danced in kirtan through the villages. The story of how kirtan started is one we relate to quite a bit. Initially, the kirtan movement started surreptitiously. The doors were open only to Caitanya’s intimate associates who gathered together blissfully singing the night through. They dove deep into the essence of the holy names. This was the secret “nocturnal school of kirtan.” Eventually, Caitanya, full of compassion for the lost souls in the world, brought kirtan out into the streets of Mayapur and eventually all of India. Everyone was encouraged to join in this kirtan, which caused quite a revolution in the caste-divided India.

We love the history of kirtan because we’ve been singing at home and in our temples for many years before the idea of becoming kirtan-musicians even crossed our minds. Unknowingly, we’ve spent all our life doing kirtan, preparing in a sense to do what Mahaprabhu did, go out into the world and share this singing, this dancing, this happiness!

We were also quite inspired early on by the Manipuri drummers from Manipur, who have a well-developed style of dancing and seemingly flying with their drums. Once we had our mridunga-techniques down, we spontaneously began dancing with our drums, and the name “Mayapuris” manifested from this joint love of the mridunga-dance and the place Mayapur.

-Kishor

The story behind our first official photoshoot is actually pretty funny. To see the entire picture story click on the link below. (Read along each photo so you get the full picture=)

http://www.facebook.com/mayapuris?v=photos&ref=profile#/album.php?aid=106470&id=134692904547

Profile Page: facebook.com/mayapuris

Fan Page: facebook.com/The Mayapuris

Pictures by: Jivi

Just the week before Radhastami we were in Vancouver celebrating Sri Krsna Janamstami, which was a wonderful experience. But we couldn’t stop thinking about New Ramann Reti and our beautiful Village of Vrndavan that is organized by the Older Generation of Youth. (Shout out toall of you beautiful Vaishnavas). Everything worked out because Gauravani left with his crew to England for Janamastami so…we bought tickets back home and ditched the Mantralogy tour so we wouldn’t miss our Radhastami Festival.

We are able to share with you our Radhastami performance because of our dear friend Jivana. She catches the best moments.

(More photos of the performance will be released on our upcoming Mayapuris Facebook Page…its in the works)

We don’t have a clue when we’re returning home, but when it comes, it’s gonna be sweet

Jai Jai Shriii Raaaadddhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

SHYAM!!!

After pretty much going non-stop since Thursday at Bhakti-fest, I wasn’t quite prepared for Saul’s Monday morning workshop. I woke up with a frown “No! Not another thing to do!” at the thought of yet more interactions with the world…Fortunately, Vish and Kish were operating on their usual level of characteristic enthusiasm. As we walked from our lodge to the yoga hall, I noticed that there was a new stillness in the air, only a few people lingered, and the usually scorching rays of the sun were gentle.

We arrived not knowing what to expect, only that we would back-up Saul in whatever way he wanted. Saul had gathered quite an ensemble on the small stage: Momo from Morroco on guitar, Haribol Baba on djembe, Matthew on trap-set, Fantuzzi (the famous rocker), and a super talented cello-player.

Going with his intuition, or perhaps his experience with workshops directly after a major bash, Saul was gentle and meditative, speaking in a soothing voice. Through his words, Saul created a space where each person was encouraged to be free and do spontaneously whatever his or her body asked. There seemed to be a collective sigh of relief; it wasn’t just me, many of the eighty or so people here were overwhelmed by the eventful weekend. Intermittently, one, two, or three of the attendees felt comfortable enough to let their tears flow freely.

I imagine that these tears burst forth from different sources; some were tears of anxiety, over-stimulation, or plain tiredness. Others were tears of purification, coming from a deep place in their heart, where the profound spiritual vibrations of kirtan had touched. There was a need to journey inwards and see what transformations may have happened during three and a half days of kirtan, and Saul provided the framework. All along the way, Vish facilitated the journey, singing soft Radhe-bhajans, reciting mantras, while Kish played flute or mridunga. The rest of our orchestra supported them beautifully. About half way through the three-hour workshop, Vis built his music up to a crescendo; Kish was a madman on the Mridunga, and everyone raised their hands to the sky calling out to Radhe, Radhe!

Then Saul turned to me and asked if I wanted to speak or channel some energy. I hesitated. Migosh, do I know how to channel energy? The day before in Shiva’s class, a lady came up to me and commented, “Amazing energy work, you channel lots of energies through your dance.” I was puzzled but intrigued by the comment because I haven’t thought of dance in those terms. Aside from that, I hadn’t expected to be on spot, so to say, the eyes of eighty people on me. But after a little deliberation, I felt something blossom. What I needed most at that moment was to be grounded, to really feel earth, the mother, beneath me. So I began to guide the class through an extended Bhoomi-pranam, Salute to the Earth.

This is the salute we use in Bharat Natyam, classical Indian dance, before we start dancing and also when we end. It’s really a prayer for permission or an act of gratitude directed to mother earth for all the dancing, stomping we do on her. Vish chanted mantras for peace on earth, and prosperity to all, improvising on the spot and modifying his music to fit in with the impromptu Bhoomi-pranam.

While I’m new to going with the flow this way, Vish, Kish, and Saul are seasoned warriors. This is what they do, show up for a workshop with little idea of its content, and then pull it off with so much charisma, creating just the right mood and space with the kirtan and the spoken word. At the very end, upon Saul’s requ est, Vish and Kish led the group out of the hall with a harinam, singing the lord’s names together.

I stayed inside talking to Tess Yong, my new friend, but couldn’t help but notice that by the looks of the crowd dancing and chanting with abandon, the people were completely invigorated, including myself. Gone with the wind were earlier feelings of being drained and overwhelmed. The sun was shining beautifully and all the faces around me as well.

That’s the power of a sacred space infused with the holy names.

Radhe-Shyam!

Vrinda