Each of the reeds around us - and there are
thousands on this island - contains a natural musical instrument;
and the musician, Wind, comes here daily to try his art after
nightfall - especially during the last quarter of the moon."
"The wind!" murmured the colonel. "Oh, yes! But this music begins
to change into a dreadful roar. Is there no way out of it?"
"I at least cannot help it. But keep up your patience, you will
soon get accustomed to it. Besides, there will be intervals when
the wind falls."
We were told that there are many such natural orchestras in India.
The Brahmans know well their wonderful properties, and calling this
kind of reed vina-devi, the lute of the gods, keep up the popular
superstition and say the sounds are divine oracles. The sirka
grass and the bamboos always shelter a number of tiny beetles,
which make considerable holes in the hollow reeds. The fakirs of
the idol-worshipping sects add art to this natural beginning and
work the plants into musical instruments. The islet we visited
bore one of the most celebrated vina-devis, and so, of course,
was proclaimed sacred.
"Tomorrow morning," said the Takur, "you will see what deep knowledge
of all the laws of acoustics was in the possession of the fakirs.
They enlarged the holes made by the beetle according to the size
of the reed, sometimes shaping it into a circle, sometimes into
an oval. These reeds in their present state can be justly considered
as the finest illustration of mechanism applied to acoustics.
However, this is not to be wondered at, because some of the most
ancient Sanskrit books about music minutely describe these laws,
and mention many musical instruments which are not only forgotten,
but totally incomprehensible in our days."
All this was very interesting, but still, disturbed by the din,
we could not listen attentively.
"Don't worry yourselves," said the Takur, who soon understood our
uneasiness, in spite of our attempts at composure. "After midnight
the wind will fall, and you will sleep undisturbed. However, if
the too close neighborhood of this musical grass is too much for
you, we may as well go nearer to the shore. There is a spot from
which you can see the sacred bonfires on the opposite shore."
We followed him, but while walking through the thickets of reeds
we did not leave off our conversation. "How is it that the Brahmans
manage to keep up such an evident cheat?" asked the colonel. "The
stupidest man cannot fail to see in the long run who made the holes
in the reeds, and how they come to give forth music."
"In America stupid men may be as clever as that; I don't know,"
answered the Takur, with a smile; "but not in India. If you took
the trouble to show, to describe, and to explain how all this is
done to any Hindu, be he even comparatively educated, he will still
see nothing.
