With sitar and parai, 2 musicians attempt to break the chains of caste in south India

Navya Rudrappa, 29, a Bengaluru-based sitar player, and Keela Naren, 26, a multi-instrumentalist from Karnataka’s Bangarpet specialising in parai, an instrument traditionally linked to marginalised communities in the caste hierarchy, have formed a unique partnership fuelled by their shared passion for music and a desire to challenge its social and political boundaries.

“The first time Naren and I performed together, the most common response from people was that they had never heard or seen the sitar and parai together ever before,” says Rudrappa.

A passion for percussion that was ignited by local festivals led storyteller-musician Naren to master instruments like parai, thamuku, and dholak. After honing his skills independently, he joined a professional troupe called Budhar Kalai Kuzhu.

Naren embraced music as a career, training over 500 parai artists and co-founding Adavi Arts Collective. His work extends beyond music; he is also a published writer focusing on parai, tribal music research, theatre, and music.

Rudrappa has for over the past 14 years learnt Hindustani music under the guidance of gurus. Prior to dedicating herself entirely to music, she pursued a career in architecture and education.

“Our conversations about music and the politics of music led us to think of collaborating,” says Rudrappa. This desire for collaboration was further strengthened by a grant from the artists’ collective, Fishes At Offstream, in 2023. “We decided to document musicians from marginalised communities,” she explains.

Their journey has taken them to remote villages across Karnataka, Tamil Nadu, and Andhra Pradesh (Solagar Doddi, Alanganallur, Kothacheruvu) where they met and documented musicians from Dalit and Adivasi communities.

Some of the musicians they found among the marginalised communities performed together at the Goethe Institute in Bengaluru earlier this year.

In the course of their journeys, the two young artists say, they have discovered rare instruments and musicians. A recent visit to a village near Chamarajanagar in Karnataka led them to a pinnachi player – possibly the last of his generation to play the instrument.

Their work, however, extends beyond performance and the aim is to challenge preconceived notions about music and caste.

“Our collaboration is an attempt to break notions about instruments that are associated with caste – who dictates the context where the instruments are performed, what is considered pure, why do some forms have barriers, why are some forms gatekept,” Rudrappa says.

“Through our documentation, we want to shed light on how marginalised communities celebrate music and life,” explains Rudrappa.

“Their music is inspired by extraordinary stories of love, joy, assertion and togetherness. We want artists to be able to share their stories themselves, without mediators and their gaze. We are excited to learn and share from fellow artists in this long musical journey,” she says.

The parai

Speaking about the parai, Naren says: “Parai is a percussion instrument traditionally made from animal skin. There’s a folk story about its origins. Back when people were hunters and gatherers, they would leave animal skins to dry on tree branches. The wind would make the skin vibrate, creating a sound that scared away birds. This inspired the creation of the parai.”

“The word ‘parai’ itself means ‘to speak’ or ‘to communicate’ in Tamil,” he adds.

“Historically, people from oppressed communities were assigned the tasks of processing animal skin for parai making and cremating the dead. This association with dead skin became a symbol of untouchability,” he points out.

“While plastic has replaced skin in recent times, allowing people from other communities to participate, those from oppressed communities are often still involved in working with the skin.

“There’s a deep-rooted prejudice here. Even though everyone talks about inclusivity, many hesitate to touch the skin. This is a form of subtle untouchability. Everyone must know that the skin used to make the instrument is taken only after the animal is dead and no animal is killed for this sake,” Naren says.

“Every parai player, trainer, and performer must never forget the roots and history of parai,” he says while stressing the importance of respecting the ancient traditions of the instrument.

The work of the duo plays a crucial role in preserving and promoting tribal music. “Preservation is crucial,” says Naren, who draws inspiration from his involvement in the anti-caste movement.

“Nobody is going to speak for us, and we must speak for ourselves,” he asserts, echoing the words of figures like Iyothee Thass and Dr B R Ambedkar. Naren sees his work not as a grand achievement but as a significant step towards a better future for marginalised communities and their musical heritage.

Navya Rudrappa and Keela Naren’s collaboration is more than just music – it’s a journey to celebrate artistic expression, challenge social norms, and preserve the voices of marginalised communities.