tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-200661572024-03-08T03:30:18.271+05:30Venkata Uvaacha...Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-38125188696885572142012-03-30T00:59:00.045+05:302012-04-01T05:18:52.558+05:30Khwabon ke parinde...<div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Ude... </span>my last flight was, well, who knows when... the flight of a weightless feather.. one without much load, without any muddle in the mind, without any purpose.. one that brings with it a certain feeling of unknowing and yet one of clarity as blue as sky devoid of cumulus, of purity white as swan... true, it has been quite long a time that my memory cells decided not to retain the impressions, and understandably so.. but am I flying again today?<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Roshini mili... </span>the brightness of the Cambridge sun brings with it a certain kind of lazy freshness that is tough to evade. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ-2UnNvNA0_GGtXMCDB9h6FWNLkMgCxD7rvx-k80UsEN_QxRRRoVbozfug4Bk8OR7ks4_5cJgbeiioy23QDn3zNaszbVc7V1opKDJvfg3Y1qxkw7KTEJOrwbUzfev8VDjrUeNUA/s1600/DSCN6498.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 210px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ-2UnNvNA0_GGtXMCDB9h6FWNLkMgCxD7rvx-k80UsEN_QxRRRoVbozfug4Bk8OR7ks4_5cJgbeiioy23QDn3zNaszbVc7V1opKDJvfg3Y1qxkw7KTEJOrwbUzfev8VDjrUeNUA/s320/DSCN6498.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726190321370198882" /></a>As I walk past the emerald meadows, the breeze from the lake that wafts across my face, the only uncovered part of me, appears to steal away all stiffness in me, bringing about an elation that is reminiscent of the <span style="font-style:italic;">Pehla Nasha</span> Aamir. A new place sometimes feels like a refreshing dip into a chill pond that opens up a totally new vista… and when you add to it, the warm companionship of your life partner that too in all its exclusivity, feels magical.. <span style="font-style:italic;">bas ek tum ho, bas ek main hoon…</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Lagta hai ab hain jaage hum… </span>to the music of my chirpy companions as I tread the path to the citi bus stand for my commute back home. I get glimpses of memory, years back, where the mind always found a balance - un-inundated, never unnerved. Yes, there were long phases of agony, of loss, but there was a certain peace I found in my silence, a calm in my pain. Where has that gone? Maybe, everyone undergoes this phase. Maybe the boulder of responsibility, that I once thought could never bother me, burdened me a little too hard, that I almost forgot the pleasantness of uncomplicated living.. maybe I was in a slumber that lasted too long.. maybe… have I woken up now?<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyxo8L_Loe2WATfpjHkZouccKtRZmaLLWUenHbL19pc2E_V36IIFDyAyEL62tv9X8rwL2JotL9fHSSZZvZnf_0dKyzqiE9OONfbqwJrj1oGIJj4stYlP_vikTJXPYnq66pHN78bg/s1600/photo+%25285%2529.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 520px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyxo8L_Loe2WATfpjHkZouccKtRZmaLLWUenHbL19pc2E_V36IIFDyAyEL62tv9X8rwL2JotL9fHSSZZvZnf_0dKyzqiE9OONfbqwJrj1oGIJj4stYlP_vikTJXPYnq66pHN78bg/s320/photo+%25285%2529.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726192982814130242" /></a><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Kya pata jayenge kahan…</span> so true that life’s <span style="font-style:italic;">safar</span> opens unending surprises<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO5yuTeQYGihUUBTAlG_swZOTk0yGLmRMNxqW3SJqYNskHiVmA9erag3VxdhvVRENCBex59SW2QH8lw55FF55mrN6-bSBRKN5AjBFZZQQNaxuIRa-AaqumxaUL5K-ukk9AE-Tg5w/s1600/DSCN6497.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO5yuTeQYGihUUBTAlG_swZOTk0yGLmRMNxqW3SJqYNskHiVmA9erag3VxdhvVRENCBex59SW2QH8lw55FF55mrN6-bSBRKN5AjBFZZQQNaxuIRa-AaqumxaUL5K-ukk9AE-Tg5w/s200/DSCN6497.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726193299564505922" /></a> every time you think the setup around you is nothing but mundane humdrum. Seeing the university crowd’s unending weekend fun well into the Cambridge night makes me yearn for a “give-me-another-such-stint" time machine. Witnessing from my balcony, the river Cam in all its orange splendour saying goodbye to the day, is quite an instant refreshment.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNRW72J9EsJWSInYaaQa28SLXwwCLO_JugJJa4XM7XRIziNCpjZR10MJHz3rAdIMg7toOU4U0FudWA0OZ6PrXEBWN2w8ImK7iuDlFbbWG2ZCo_XaCiGZdmDRhd-FgVCf_QKsGUvw/s1600/DSCN6514.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNRW72J9EsJWSInYaaQa28SLXwwCLO_JugJJa4XM7XRIziNCpjZR10MJHz3rAdIMg7toOU4U0FudWA0OZ6PrXEBWN2w8ImK7iuDlFbbWG2ZCo_XaCiGZdmDRhd-FgVCf_QKsGUvw/s200/DSCN6514.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726188525504461314" /></a> I can't but fall short of adjectives to describe the pleasure I derive from my evening stroll when I pause now and then, just to simply marvel at the “environment friendly” holi that the bright red bug celebrates by smearing yellow pollen all over her body, so as to welcome the arrival of spring. I have not a clue which colour the chameleon of life will assume next. Tomorrow is again going to be different. A different day, a different season.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Ab jeena humne seekha hai… </span>not sure if I’ve even come a few light years closer to being in the state of “just” living. Maybe this blog is an orgasm of my newfound Cambridge lust, maybe it is just a flash that will fade back to the constricted “Venkyness” that I am so used to for the past few years… or maybe, I hope, this feeling is just going to continue.. long after Alyssa and Mohit’s vocals fade out of my ear drums.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Jo bhi ho so ho!</span></div>Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-75180032470786988802009-07-08T23:17:00.008+05:302009-07-09T00:01:03.341+05:30let the Hangover stay..<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link style="font-family: georgia;" rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CVenky%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><link style="font-family: georgia;" 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mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal">(This post is for all of you who repeatedly wished that I break my one and a half years of silence and start scribbling again :) )</p><p style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal">Every now and then, the searing heat waves scraped through below my Rayban lenses, reminding me constantly of the fact that I no longer belonged to Seattle.<span style=""> </span>As the RX-135 made its ascent on Gemini flyover, I was pushing myself hard to accept the fact that the once magnificent Chennai skyline, dominated by huge vinyl hoardings, is no longer a reality.<span style=""> </span>Just 2 years back, I was flashing my cousin’s canon S2 at every hoarding (from the pillion seat of this same bike), marveling at the cityscape, even as he was accelerating his beauty through this very flyover.<span style=""> </span>I still remember <i style="">The Hindu</i> headline “<i style="">Hoardings disappear, Chennai reappears”</i> - what still evades my cranium is the pathetically absurd justification given that those hoardings were a distraction to the city motorists.. the craziest move a government can do to mutilate a multi million industry!</p> <p style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal">Things have changed quite a lot within a span of 2 years.<span style=""> </span>While I was able to quickly adjust myself to a nomenclature change from UTI Bank to Axis Bank (or Hutch to Vodafone, for that matter), the half dead NRI (<b style="">N</b>ot quite <b style="">R</b>eady for <b style="">I</b>ndia yet) within me, still finds it hard to accept the fact that the exponential increase in Carbon Mono Oxide levels, thanks to the density of motorcycles in the city, is something one has to live with, without choice. <span style=""> </span>Nevertheless, something that still hasn’t changed is the youth’s unquenchable thirst for hanging out at Spencer Plaza, the <i style="">u-find-everything-here</i> shopping mall.<span style=""> </span>I mean… everything ;)<span style=""> </span>Our hungry gang was all the more ready to pamper itself with arguably the best food Chennai can provide as we entered the Saravana Bhavan serving hall.<span style=""> </span>I have to confess that this is one thing I missed so much these 2 years, even despite the fact that Seattle did have a lot of options for Indian cuisine per se. So much so that during my Uncle Sam tenure, we hunted for every HSB in the US (we even took a Canadian visa exclusively to eat at the Vancouver HSB :) ).<span style=""> </span>The food at the Spencer HSB was exquisite – ghee paper roast, onion rava dosa, 14 idlis, poori masala, basundi ,rasmalai, rava kesari and filter coffee… and what more can you ask when there is banters going all around, each trying to pull each other’s leg at the slightest possible opportunity.<span style=""> </span>It was a royal fight between laughter and platter, only to concede victory, hands down, to our fulfilled stomachs!</p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" face="georgia" class="MsoNormal">Next was destination Satyam.<span style=""> </span>No weekend is complete without a unique Madras theater experience.<span style=""> </span>And Satyam, for sure, has painted a new shade on Chennai’s 35mm.<span style=""> </span>The vast renovation that this Cineplex has undergone in the recent past clearly pushed me into stupor as I was scrambling to find the motorcycle entrance and then the entrance to the screen itself.<span style=""> </span>The movie – <i style="">The Hangover</i> – laughter flat out. <span style=""> </span>When the director of a movie of this genre can generate such non-stop laughter from the audience just 10 minutes into the movie, he, in my view, has justified his claim of succeeding in making it.<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span>How four friends who land up in Las Vegas for celebrating the bachelor’s party of one of their own, not only to find themselves scratching their heads after a one night amnesia but also to lose their dear buddy, the bridegroom, forms the plot.<span style=""> </span>What ensues is total stomach pounding hilarity as the friends deal blow after blow during the course of discovering all their misdoings the previous night.<span style=""> </span>Taking as familiar a subject of humour as a bachelor’s party and giving it such justifiable treatment is worth applause.<span style=""> </span>And what more, the 1.5 hours took yours faithfully through a 4<sup>th</sup> trip to the Sin City, this time virtually though, but not with any less fun.<span style=""> </span>The Bellagio fountain, the Pyramid and the Eiffel tower replicas, Caesar’s palace.. man! So familiar I am with that place now that you can literally blindfold me in the middle of the strip and I can guide you into any casino or show you want to go to!<span style=""> </span>However, I would really have loved it had all traces of my Las Vegas trips too been annihilated like how the four friends in The Hangover decide to do in the last scene of the movie. ;)
<br /></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">Outside the movie hall, the film didn’t cease to roll as I got a glimpse of the rapidly changing face of the Chennai elite, frantically trying to infuse cosmopolitan blood into the city’s veins.<span style=""> </span>Gorgeous ladies in designer attire, polished glass and steel structures that only 5* hotels could earlier boast of, a choice of burgers and sandwiches that one would only have seen in Star Movies five years ago.. <span style=""> </span>and to top this all, a digital LCD display (switched off though) above each urinal in the restroom, <span style=""> </span>in front of your eyes as you pee!!!<span style=""> </span>We then landed in Idly – the ‘restaurant with a theme’ in the Cineplex.<span style=""> </span>Presenting yet another elitist ambience, this eat-out prides itself of a unique pub-like setup of a round table with barstools, the only difference being that the preparation in front of your eyes is a steaming idli or a dosa as against a vodka or a tequila.<span style=""> </span>For all those who like to relish their evening in a barstool (sans liquor for a change :P) or for those who always wanted to but never gathered enough courage to venture into Bike and Barrel, this is an ideal hangout.</p>Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-52150759838578798292007-12-29T07:24:00.000+05:302007-12-29T10:04:37.138+05:30Hindutva hierarchy all set?After so much of pull and push, it looks like the BJP has finally got its bearings right. While news channels have started making so much of hue and cry on BJP's 'Jadu Ki Jhappi' (Magic Hug) by including the hero Modi into the parliamentary committee, the party is meticulously rejoicing the plausible fruits of the massive restructuring in the ranks. Blow after blow to congress, it looks like 'Destination Delhi' next for the BJP.<br /><br />Modi has never ceased to amaze me with his sheer political acumen and his election methodology. He has emerged, in less than 5 years, as one of the strongest and the most influential politicians of independent India. Without any ambivalence in his speech and actions, he campaigns for what his party stands for. The victory in Himachal, in my view, should also be attributed to a great extent to the wave that Modi created during the Gujarat polls. When the post-Atalji BJP was starting to look weak, brand 'Moditva' was the best theory Advani and Co found sensible to cling to. And the manner with which he fought every force that opposed him, from the Congress to the RSS to his own party workers, to clinch victory by wielding the most powerful weapon, his personality, speaks volumes of his steel. He knows how to move his coins well. A great advertiser he is, Narendra Bhai has caught the attention of friends and foes alike with catchy terms like 'Desh Gujarat', 'Chappan Ke Chathi' and some cool cyberspacing with his <a href="http://www.narendramodi.in/">www.narendramodi.in</a><br /><br />The party as a whole seems to enjoy the feel good factor that has engulfed it once again. A fair enough restructuring of both thought and people has started yielding benefits. Advani seems to be a lot more composed and convinced of his projection as the Prime Ministerial candidate. A far more convinced Sangh, a pivot as far as party election work is concerned, has started to bridge the distance with the party once again. The uncontrolled hue and cry that media creates about BJP and Hindutva looks like working in the favour of the so-called saffronising. Look at this Rajdeep 'Jittery' Sardesai video from CNN-IBN:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.ibnlive.com/videos/55147/saffron-cover-spreads-over-indias-political-map.html">http://www.ibnlive.com/videos/55147/saffron-cover-spreads-over-indias-political-map.html</a><br /><br />News channels and vernaculars clamour foul on Hindutva as though that is the only deterrent to the progress of this 'secular' nation. Even as leaders like Modi have made the distinction clear more than once with statements like 'BJP can be defeated, not Hindutva', the opposition parties have, at vital situations, found it easy to sell anti-Hindutva as an election mantra. May not work always.<br /><br />Eloquently powerful media persons like Rajdeep Sardesai and Sagarika Ghose have to realise the fact that the recent BJP victories are more than personality driven wins unlike the NTR-MGR cult and has to, a good extent, be attributed to the fine tuning of ideologies and hierarchy that the BJP is currently undergoing.<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">My pick from Modi quotes today:</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">"Kya hum Italy ke beti se Hindutva seekhenge?"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">("Should we learn Hindutva from the daughter of Italy?")</span>Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-25937028051836311412007-12-28T08:32:00.000+05:302007-12-28T08:38:53.663+05:30through the frosted glass...<p class="MsoNormal">The drizzles relentlessly conglomerated with its target, even as I coiled into my comforter (what an apt name that!!), making sure that not a wee bit of my sleepiness is stolen away.<span style=""> </span>It would easily have been 2 degree Celsius or less outside, and with the heater in our hall dumping me, the laws of thermal conductivity worked just a little slow before the heat from my body equalised with the sofa and comforter.<span style=""> </span>Here, it never pours down; neither does it cease to sprinkle – a typical <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Renton</st1:place></st1:city> morning.<span style=""> </span>My frame of view resembled a ruled sheet of paper with the silhouettes of the white window blinds lining in front of the frosted glass window.<span style=""> </span>The tiny islands of condensed water droplets on glass, to me, symbolises the pristine purity of this element, the nectar of existence.<span style=""> </span>In this part of the world, the sun, I sometimes wonder, starts its travel only after weather.com confirms that it is going to be a ‘Sunny’ day!!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I have, for some time now, started liking this kind of weather, where there is very little room for outdoor venturing, leave alone adventuring. <span style=""> </span>It makes you confined within the plasters of your room giving you an “opportunity” to retrospect and ponder over the multitudinous aspects of life and the world – “opportunity”, I stated, because we’ve started moving far too away far too fast from the simplistic living and thinking that this race of ours started out with, many thousand years ago.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The bits were streaming fast into the USB port of my Dell as iTunes kept playing that retro parade from my iPod.<span style=""> </span>This is THE setting, if you are one that relishes doing nothing but gaze at the rain with some Kishore in the background and a steaming coffee mug… or a beer mug, rather?? Beauty, after all, lies in the eyes of the be‘er’ holder, isn’t it?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Each of us is like the Musafir ‘Jumping Jack’ Jeetendra, the traveller, drawn by a horse-drawn cart that is life as we stumble across people, places, cultures, experiences and revelations.<span style=""> </span>My journey has been no different.<span style=""> </span>The current phase, as a ‘Rentonvasi’, I was wondering, has brought in an amazingly different shade to my whole existence… <span style=""> </span>Kishore Da aptly sings…</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="">din ne haath thaam kar idhar bithaaliya<br />raat ne ishaare se udhar bulaaliya<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"><b style=""><i style="">(Musafir Hoon Yaaron – Parichay)<o:p></o:p></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>So true… Amazing feel good song.<span style=""> </span>I hummed with the singer as to concur with these lines <i style="">mujhe chalte jaana hai… bas chalte jaana…</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">A remarkable aspect of winter rain in regions like <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Washington</st1:place></st1:state>, I noticed, is the thin demarcation between liquid and crystal.<span style=""> </span>Even as I was gazing at the discrete drops in the numerous threads of drizzles, my eyes were tricked with the smooth yet rapid transformation of rain to ice.<span style=""> </span>Differentiate between water and ice is not so easy, more so when it is drizzling, and happens even before you realise it – a <span style=""> </span>transformation similar to the one that man experiences when he loses his heart long before he realises it…<span style=""> </span>completely unknowingly...</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="">mujhe tum se mohabbat ho gayi hai<br />mujhe palkon ki chaav mein rehne do<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"><b style=""><i style="">(Ehsaan Tera Hoga Mujh Par – Junglee)<o:p></o:p></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal">If you are sitting in the portico with your girl in such a setting, Hindi cinema provides you with so many beautiful songs that can qualify to be heard in the background… keep the volume so low that the song is <i style="">just</i> heard…</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="">nayi adaa se sataayegi.. tabhi tho chanchal hain tere naina…<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"><b style=""><i style="">(Tere Mere <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Milan</st1:city></st1:place> – Abhimaan)<o:p></o:p></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Words that perfectly orchestrated the pleasant effect – an ideal romantic setting for the morning…</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Relive the first experience of walking with your loved one with these words…</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="">jahaan pehli baar mile the hum<br />jis jagah se sangh chale the hum<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"><b style=""><i style="">(Jab Deep Jale Aana - Chitchor)<o:p></o:p></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Every time I listen to the silky waves of Yesudas, I’m blown to smithereens.<span style=""> </span>Awesome!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">If you are the ‘bit more energetic and enthusiatic’ type, Rafi pitches in.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="">har subah kiran ki laale, hain rang tere gaalon ka<br />har shaam ki chaadar daale, saaya hai tere baalon ka<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"><b style=""><i style="">(Yeh Chand Sa Rohan – <st1:place st="on">Kashmir</st1:place> Ki Kali)<o:p></o:p></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Such a vividly descriptive song wonderfully orchestrated by O.P.Nayyar, this is an all-time favourite.<span style=""> </span>Whenever my dad hums this tune I could always see his youth brimming out as though to pay tribute to his 20s.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">As I was eyeing the lone drop about to fall from the roof, my roomie interrupted “Venky, enna paatu idhu kaalangaarthaala… edhaavadhu kuthu paattu podunga!”.<span style=""> </span>I was in no mood to reply…</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="">kuch to log kahenge.. logon ka kaam hain kehna<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"><b style=""><i style="">(Kuch To Log Kehenge<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span>– Amar Prem)<o:p></o:p></i></b></p><o:p></o:p>Rain is a great companion when you’ve lost something precious…<span style=""> </span>Even if the drops of tears last only as long as a rainfall, the eternity of love goes on like the unyielding process of evaporation and condensation. Lata’s voice is a perfect tribute to anyone who has lost his loved one.<br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p><i style="">kabhi mujh ko yaad karke jo bahenge tere aansu<br />to vahin pe rok lenge unhe aake mere aansu<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"><b style=""><i style="">(Tu Jahan Jahan Chalega - Mera Saya)<o:p></o:p></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Not just that… rain accompanies you even when you <b style="">are</b> lost.<span style=""> </span>It sometimes happens that the numerous drops of water falling outside could still not quench your thirst… </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="">phir bhi mera mann pyaasa<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Life is not so good when you are separated from your love.<span style=""> </span>Rain has the magnificent quality of soothing you with its smooth continuous harmony.<span style=""> </span>Research has indicated that flowing water and falling rain are great healers.<span style=""> </span>Each man who lost in love after 1976 would’ve hummed these lines numerous times…</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="">dard bhara yeh geet kahan se<br />in hoton pe aaye… duur kahin le jaaye<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right">(<b style=""><i style="">Mere Naina Sawan Bhadon – Mehbooba)<o:p></o:p></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Playlist ends!</p>Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-17231215981284168562007-06-06T10:41:00.000+05:302007-06-07T02:12:04.986+05:30Payanangal mudivadhundu!It was very similar to a conveyer belt except that it carried humans. Each stretch ran for few kilometers and these belts placed serially one after the other enabled passengers to reach their gate. I was in awe marvelling at the sheer enormity of the Suwarnabhumi airport. This airport in Bangkok was the first one I saw outside India and the very sight wowed me! I was able to feel the amount of planning that went in to have made this a reality. The airport was, well state of art, if I can state it in banal terms. I had to get to the counter that would give me the boarding pass to enable me complete my travel to Seattle. There were direction boards everywhere and still I felt lost. Maybe the amazement that had gotten into me overwhelmed me I guess. There was one more transit point in Narita, Tokyo and the journey was already taking a toll on me.<br /><br />I would’ve proclaimed that this was my first experience of cruising amidst clouds had it not been for that Kingfisher experience few months back. I was en route Mumbai when I got the message of my grandmother’s expiry. Vijay Mallya welcomed me into his vehicle for a quick 2.5 hour journey back to Chennai. I have to confess that I would’ve enjoyed every bit of that first time experience had it got into my way during better circumstances. For once I saw the elite face of my country. Business men flaunting their blackberrys and discussing about their trip to Swiss or Rome, executives with expensive laptops pretending as though Microsoft’s next product depends on the way they spend these 2.5 hours, gorgeous air hostesses with expansive makeup (man I’ve seen such girls only in cinemas before!!)… I saw the divide reeling in front of me at that moment of time… between the rich and the poor, business men and the working class… Who said that Indian economy is booming? If a Dalal street surge alone meant economic boom, then India is booming!!<br /><br />My second flying experience, to be put in simple words, was not as exciting as the first. For one, I was not new to it. Also, the thought of leaving homeland coupled with the very ambience of that Thai Airways flight dampened me a bit. Only moments earlier, I had been given an elaborate send-off what with my entire family and Kartik waiting in the visitors’ area of the Chennai International terminal till the last second they could get a glimpse of me. Appa’s moist eyes still were standing in front of me even as I heard the announcement “Please fasten your seat belts during take off and landing…”<br /><br />I was given all the warnings that any lacto-vegetarian would’ve received when he travels out of the country. I was slowly starting to understand what those numerous “you’ve to adjust da” meant! The breakfast didn’t present a great sight but I made sure I pushed in a bit into my oesophagus, just for purposes of survival. Tropicana was more similar to one of those cough syrups that amma used to give me but I vowed that I’ll drink this somehow and reach my destination rather that trying solid ‘unconfirmed’ food!<br /><br />Indian railways has consistently failed to get me into serious sleep all these years. Sleeping deep in journeys, even when I’ve been provided with a nice berth, was not my piece of cake. Thai ensured that I don’t even get such a thought with those closely spaced seats that resembled nothing more than a luxury bus. Also as I already mentioned, the food was not great and neither were the air hostesses ;) Wavering incoherent thoughts befriended me for the next four hours... family, US, security checks, J2EE…<br /><br />Airbus carried me from Mumbai-Chennai as well as Chennai-Bangkok. It was the first time I boarded a huge flying vehicle made by the world’s largest manufacturer… I work for projects that are being deployed in this guy’s company. (My organization prevents me from disclosing client identities and that is why this small puzzle!!). Destination Narita. I would’ve uttered a thousand thanks for allocating Sathish the very next seat. I was playing with the Toshiba laptop that Infy had given me, trying to detect some wireless network. A voice asked “Infy’aa?”. Sathish is from Infosys deputed for Microsoft, Seattle. <strong>“Thank God I have a companion for the rest of the journey – 18 more hours to go!”<br /></strong><br />Sathish and I were closer in aspects other than just the spacing between our seats. He had also blocked and released air tickets for nearly a month thanks to the innumerable uncertainties clients throw every now and then. We started striking some lively conversations pretty quickly. I knew that this would be a much better way to fly than staring at boring magazines and ordinary air hostesses! I was walking around so much just to make sure that my spine didn’t get too stiff. This time, there were more options than Tropicana. Some bread, butter, fruit… Occasional naps, intermittent chats, sky gazing and we were in Narita in no time.<br /><br />I didn’t see as much of the Tokyo airport as I did of Bangkok. The route to our gate was pretty straightforward and so we reached quickly and opened our laptops. In few minutes, I was chatting with my school friend Srikanth through Gmail. Broadband signals wandering all around the airport ensures that passengers could get connected to the internet without wires, free of cost!! I’ve to confess that technology has grown so furiously that information sharing has become simpler than brushing your teeth. A quick mail to my sis and then to my colleagues…Status report – <strong>“Hey! Am in Narita!”<br /></strong><br />The last leg was the longest and that didn’t amuse either of us. We were already starting to get restless. I boarded yet another ordinary United Airlines deck… there was yet another first for me… seeing so many Caucasians in one single place sent a very strange feeling into me. I was finding it odd all of a sudden, with everyone greeting all unknown Homo sapiens around them trying to behave far too courteous. For someone from such a populous country as ours where greeting everyone on a Chennai suburban train would mean nothing but absolute non-sense, the fact that people need to be so polite during a travel evaded my understanding. But still, to keep up with the spirit of being a Roman in Rome, I also started smiling and saying “Hi”, “Sorry”, “Thank you” for anything and everything they did. The breakfast hurled a thunder on my head. “Chicken or mutton Sir?” I felt like asking “Mavale! Enna di nakkal panriyaa??” There I sat motionless, optionless!!! <strong>“Tropicana dhaan po!”<br /></strong><br />10 hours, I can write and give you, is far too much to travel in one leg. Sathish was no longer sitting next to me and I was left without company again. The guy sitting next to me gulped beer after beer, bottle after bottle, as though his only mission in life was to do that. I walked and drank Tropicana until the little wheels under this enormous vehicle opened out to touch earth again!<br /><br />Flying thousands of feet above land is something that has always fascinated me. I’m sure someone would’ve stopped and stood in the rim of GST road, just like Kartik and I have done so many times, to marvel at the Thai airlines that carried me. The cotton like stacks, the fine layer resembling glass, the sudden enormous ‘white out’ and the innumerable formations that the clouds make high above the reach of humans generated a sense of admiration in me. The enormous engines that propelled the huge flyer, the speed at which the wings slit across air like a razor and the sharp descent in seconds reducing vast expanses of land into google earth images magnetized me into a state of astonishment. All this is certainly not child’s play!<br /><br />Heroes get what they deserve and I did ;) I was presented with a wonderful welcome at the SeaTec (Seattle-Tacoma) airport. Anand, Lakshmi & Susheel lined up to spread the red carpet… something that not everyone gets on landing into unfamiliar territory. Thanks guys!<br /><br />The cool Seattle breeze (11 degrees was the temperature), emission free Audis and Chevys, lush green tropical trees, McDonald’s, huge muscular men…. <strong>“En payyan Amerikka la irukkaan!”<br /></strong>Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-50773697910810516872007-04-26T22:52:00.000+05:302007-04-27T08:13:08.269+05:30Bye Prince!“Did I entertain?” the Prince asked as the crowd roared in the affirmative. The tear waiting in his eyes travelled down my cheeks… quicker than the speed of that spherical piece of leather meeting its fate (read his willow), only to be picked up behind square boundary by a boy belonging to the academy, dreaming to become Lara some years down the lane. The farewell was not as extravagant as his dancing pull nor was it lavish like his picture perfect square cut. The last super 8 match nevertheless was a West Indian loss in more ways than one!<br /><br />As far as cricket is concerned, I have been, over the years, emotional about two things, Indian cricket and Lara’s cricket. Seldom can I forget those countless nights I spent in front of my TV set, constantly adjusting the volume, making sure that I don’t wake up ‘appa’ but at the same time listen to every little comment that the Blofelds and Benauds give on Lara. The master technician he is, Lara can invite packed crowds in any part of the cricket world, which only sub-continent super heroes like the Tendulkars or the Jayasuriyas can think of. He named his daughter ‘Sydney’ as a tribute to one of his favourite grounds, the SCG than witnessed his first test century. If tributes can be made thus, Lara’s wife would’ve to endure many such pregnancies, for the number of grounds that has been glorified by this great batsman is huge! Agnes is the luckiest in more ways than one. She has witnessed him take shape right from a blank canvas to a painting to the most perfect portrait that is Brian Charles Lara. She was the bow that ensured that the arrow, her brother, hit the bull’s eye every time he took stance. Taking him day in and day out to the academy, sitting in the bench for countless hours of practice and making sure that his focus is not lost… Agnes, the world of cricket bows down!<br /><br />Killing warriors is not child’s play. Wasim Akram was fully aware of this fact even when the Prince took stance in one of the league matches in the ’92 WC. This was one of the first matches that I caught a glimpse of this genius. Lara was at his mercurial best, pulling and driving at will. Akram knew that he can’t fell this soldier but can delay the inevitable by injuring him. A Yorker wounded the unquenched lion as it was taken back to its den with 88 runs already added to the team score. Right from his early days, Lara has remained an entertainer, a master craftsman who weaved and created art with élan. Such was his hand-eye co-ordination that the elegant high back lift and the huge shuffle across the stumps against the deadliest of fast bowlers didn’t deter his immaculate sense of timing. When Lara wielded his weapon to showcase his flamboyance, the game was beautified. Ever time he too guard, a masterpiece waited to be created… made of sweet cover drives, skilful pulls and lofted sixes… by the magician, out of thin air… When in his elements Lara always played the mental game. The totality of his dominance was such that he most often started manipulating the fielding captain and his thoughts. Adventurism was in his blood and never ever did he restrain himself from innovating and improvising at every chance. The situation would be such that the team would want him to stay, as was the case with every innings he played, when he would gently guide the Fraser bouncer inches above the second slip’s dying fingers or late cut the Murali doosra with such delicacy that the keeper can but wait and watch. Every shot in his mammoth 375 speaks volumes of his brilliance. At one point of time, the English bowlers lost all hopes of stopping him, so much so that they stood in their positions marveling at the exquisiteness of his display and waiting for him to get out by himself. The 153 that took West Indies home against the touring Aussies, according to me, was one of the most defining moments of his illustrious career. His effortless assault against Steve Waugh’s men to take the match single handedly will, for sure, go down as one of the gutsiest displays of batting in the pages of cricketing history.<br /><br />Neville Cardus would’ve created an epic for this man no doubt. There was music in his batting. He played to the calypso of the Kensington ovals and the Sabina Parks. The sweet sound that emanated when the ball met the piece of wood right in the middle as he danced down the track to humiliate many a great bowler was just any connoisseur’s delight. He was swifter than wind and stronger than rock. Neither can Mcgrath nor Warne, both tormented by this guy more than once, deny the fact that he was one batsman who played spin and swing with equal ease and elegance. That he accumulated the most number of runs in an over, an innings and a career carries ample testimony to his thirst for more. Not many know that Lara scored 42% of the West Indies’ runs in the ’01-’02 SL series!! Admiring Lara has been an almost regular habit for many involved with the game for the past decade and a half. So many rival captains, cricketers past and present, spectators and writers… he inspired awe in many. Gilchrist was one such devotee. I read this interesting snippet from an article. During the series in 2003, Lara was in full bloom in one of the tests. The Australian captain moved the deep mid wicket fielder to add on to the man already guarding point. Gilchrist heard Lara murmer “Mistake!”. The very next thing Gilchrist saw was the ball disappearing over mid wicket for the maximum. Gilly taunted Lara to beat the two point fieldsmen and the very next ball marked the mid point between both the men only to land in the boundary. A repeat show the very next ball too and Gilly decided that it is better to remain silent… He was a helmeted Richards, an armoured Sobers and a padded Bradman all rolled into one. He had not many contemporaries to match… in terms of batsmanship, his spirit for the game, his sheer class and elegance… no one can!<br /><br />Karan Johar can weave a perfect Indian melodrama with Lara’s life. Both on and off the field, his life was dotted with controversies and glories, failures and comebacks. He was the only witness to the rapid decline of a potent empire from the time when sun set on Richards’ career till date. The lone warrior who openly declared that he was ready to trade all his records for West Indian victories, his love for the Island nation’s cricket was immense and yet he never made a successful captain. His three stints as captain brought out flashes of his tactical brilliance yet he never succeeded in getting beyond board politics to excel in man-management. Great cricketers seldom make great captains because of the fact that they expect the same level of proficiency from each team member. His controversial stand against the board more than once made sure than there were too many breaks in his career. And before a critic could complete an article writing off Brian Charles Lara, he emerged as Brian Blitzkrieg Lara, only to bask again in glory… and more glory.<br /><br />Trinidad and Tobago is a place that I’d die to visit in my lifetime. Brian Lara Boutique, Brian Lara Street, Brian Lara Bar and now a Brian Lara Stadium… every man here, I heard, knows cricket and Lara even better than his wife’s name. When WI lost that super eight match by a whisker, the camera incidentally focussed on a sobbing woman, with real emotion in her swollen eyes. Her face will stay etched in my mind and eyes just like each of his shots… long after the Prince stops wielding his sword!Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-28747005847902612352007-01-15T19:12:00.000+05:302007-01-15T20:50:10.321+05:30Thennangur diaryMy feet didn’t suffer much this time, thanks to the newly laid road… the rugged stretch on which I had walked 7 months back, I realised, had depicted almost an entirely different Thennangur villagescape. That was my first visit to this pretty hamlet. But then, the pathway that I treaded was not the only difference between my two visits. There was more… this time there was no Srikanth, no Lakshmi, no Vishalam mami, no Seetha Kalyanam… My memories rewound as I ambled towards my destination.<br /><br />Earlier, the 2 hour ride along the Chennai – Uthiramerur - Vandavasi highway didn’t offer anything exciting, more so with the chill gusts forcing me to shut down the window for most part of the journey, leaving me with my ipod and a small nap. The last half an hour of the journey, though was interesting, with me making acquaintances with my fellow traveller, a Vandavasi villager. A farmer by profession, he was returning from Madras after having visited his sons, both of whom have been lured by the city and its luxury, thereby leaving their father as the last man in their lineage to spill sweat drops on farmlands. I requested him to alert me when my stop comes. He undertook this job with much dedication, so much so that he started giving me so many details on things like the total time it will take to reach the place, what I should do when I get down, how famous the temple is and why I should’ve come there 2 days back when some festival was underway and lots of other information. He in fact repeated these things so many times thereby confirming my doubts on his impressions about ‘dumb city dwellers’ who can’t help themselves much in these places without assistance. Having spent my entire 25 years in the hustle and bustle of city life where the same situation would have generated not even 10% of this man’s response, I found his behaviour rather amusing and interesting at the same time.<br /><br />Travelling alone, with due respect to the diverse experiences of group travelling, has its own bunch of advantages. For one, the pleasure of one being entirely with oneself gives that sense of freedom to experiment things. One will have loads of time to explore and spoil oneself that extra bit. And there I stood, all alone, on the pathway, Sodaasakshari Amman Koil to my left, Pandurangan koil to my right and GA trust to my back. GA trust, founded by Swami Haridoss Giri and now run by Guruji Namaji, I learnt has been, to a great extent, instrumental in preserving the temples of this village. It was around 9:00 in the morning and the tourist crowd had not started flowing yet. I had always enjoyed the experience of calm empty temples than crowded festive ones. The lord here is decorated distinctly everyday, ranging from the Dwaraka Krishna make-up to the Tirupathi Venkatachalapathy make-up, symbolising the confluence of the diverse worship cultures in this holy land. During my last trip and also this time, I was treated with the ‘Lord Venky’ adornment. I quickly recognised the paatti clad in sungudi, running her finger tip over the Sanskrit verses in that bulky book, Bhagavatham I guess. She was the one who was regulating the flow and discipline of devotees even during my last visit. “Baniyan’aa avuthuttu pongo.. sonna kaadhula vizhaadha?” – she remarked, briefly pausing her recital. I was curious to talk to her and know more about her association with Thennangur, but was afraid to, lest she refuse to acknowledge me. After the bunch of devotees who had returned fresh from Sabarimala vacated the Sanctum, I entered, carefully making sure I remove my Kurta and baniyan and put it into my bag else the paatti wouldn’t spare me.<br />The Lord, as usual, was at His exquisite best. The embellishment, replicating Tirupathi to the hilt, amazed me. I’ve to accede to the fact that He is one god who has received the best Alangarams ever, be it the Tirupathi Moolavar or the Brahmotsavam Urchavar or this Thennangur hero – He is posh! Goddess Padmavathy, with silver embellishments shining all over Her, accompanied Him in all splendour. Lakshmi’s friend and well-wisher (J), the Gurukkal, was there but it was his new assistant who performed the archanai and aarthi this time.<br /><br />‘Iyer theru’, as the locals call it, the lane adjacent to the temple, houses the Meenakshi Sundareswarar koil. This, unlike many other Sivan temples in Tamil Nadu, was not abject and totally neglected but still the attention that Pandurangan received was, I felt, a lot more than what Mr.Sundareswarar got. The desertion was evident in the lone pair of slippers outside the temple walls, even as I added on to the count by leaving mine and entered in. The silence was inviting and the Lord majestic. A quick ‘pradarshanam’ and aarthi and I left the Sivan koil only to meet Mr.Perumal just outside the temple. Perumal, a maistry residing in the same lane, seeing my digicam, requested for a snap, though his friend was not interested. “How will you get the snap? It’ll be with him only. So what is the use.”, he queried. They posed and I adjusted the frame.. click… I promised to deliver the hard copy on my next visit. His friend smiled.<br /><br />As I walked further, I passed the hut that made me envious of Thennangur during my last visit. I curiously looked into it to find the old man lying on his cot, as usual. This old man, I noticed during both the days of my first visit, was lying in his cot forever gazing at the sky. He was, according to me, the embodiment of defiance to the very concept of running and catching that I and so many of us are doing – study, work, earn… how much of a difference does all this actually make? Maybe this old man has also done all this but then this picture of he lying in the cot, enjoying the stars and the moon forever, unmindful of the organisms and things around him... this is where everyone ends up doing – nothing. “Radhe Krishna! Where are you from?” - a mami in sungudi broke my philosophical shell.. “Radhe Krishna! Chennai.”, I replied. I learnt that she was based from Mumbai but had come here with her husband to stay for sometime until her son returns from ‘foreign’. She lauded the place, the food and the care Thennangurvaasis show on them. I was impressed.<br /><br />‘Lakshmi Narayanar koil’ – a memory that will be etched in my mind for a long time… the hall where ‘Santh padaachi Saadhu padaachi..’ (if I remember those words right..) resonated, much to the amazement of the devotees, bestowing Bhagavatharship on Srikanth within minutes... Last time around… Srikanth, Lakshmi and I had joined the ‘Seetha Kalyanam’ festival just then and Srikanth volunteered to sing this song and that moment made us famous all over the village. The two days of Naamasankeerthanam, studded with divine performances, is something for which I’ll thank my good friend forever.<br /><br />Flashback - the Bhagavathars were singing the 12th Ashtapadi when I left the temple for a brief period, just to stretch myself a bit. I took a stroll and found myself gazing at the enormous expanse of paddy fields in front. The very sight of such vast greenery wow’ed me and I vowed that day to return to this place sometime in the future. This second visit of mine had that hidden agenda as well of fulfilling this very vow and I quickly left for the fields. This time the sight was even more pleasant, thanks to the impending harvesting season. I sighted some toiling farmers in the distance. Most of the paddy was grown and ready for harvest and so were the sugarcanes. I walked into the fields to find two small girls with their cow. Aruna and Pramila are in the 8th and 5th grade respectively and today being a Saturday, they’ve been entrusted with the task of feeding their cow with some high quality farm grass. After chatting with them for a while, I captured them into a jpeg and promised them of a delivery the next time around.<br /><br />The sun had sunk into the cumulus for quite some time, giving me the prefect setting to find a place in the tranquil fields and recline. The paddy blades hustled every now and then, orchestrating with the vibration of the hovering bee and the song of the distant cuckoo turning the place into a mini music studio. The smell of ploughed land combined with the paddy and cane filled my nostrils. “Oxygen can’t get purer!”, my lungs exclaimed. I plugged in my ipod and pampered myself with a playlist dedicated to the ‘O.S.’es - O.S. Sundar and O.S.Arun. ‘Momujupara’ in Behag, my latest crush, wouldn’t have found a more appropriate ambience to enter my auditory canal. ‘Sumiran Karle…’, ‘Hari Hari…’, ‘Kamala nayana…’, ‘Krishnanaama…’ – Oh Yes! I felt as though I was lost forever!<br /><br />11:15 AM and I headed towards the Mutt for some annadhaanam. I stumbled across a familiar face and greeted “Radhe Krishna”. It was the mama who takes care of the ‘Veda Paatasaalai’ run by GA Trust. He too faintly remembered my face and when I revealed that I had been there during Seetha Kalyaanam, he asked instantly “Paatellaam paadiniye.. needhaana adhu?”.. “Adhu naan illa maama. En friend Srikanth. He’s now in the US.”, I replied with my head high. After exchanging few words, he enquired “Annadhaana hall enga irukkunu theriyumono? Po po.. seekaram po.. Radhe Krishna.”<br /><br />A sumptuous annadhaanam forced me back to the fields for some more time pulling me back from my thought of a return journey. This time I ventured further into the fields and found a place in front of high canes that protected my slumber from the sun. 2:30 – I started reading ‘The sages of India’, Swami Vivekananda’s Madras discourse when some farmers passed by discussing about snakes. I asked casually “Inga kooda paambu ellaam irukkuma?” A young girl replied quickly with a smile “Irukkum.. neenga paduthirukkingale.. adhukku pinnaadi kooda irukkum.. odi poidhunga seekramaa..”<br /><br />The 6-7 hours that I spent at Thennangur increased the already countless unanswered whats, whys and hows in my mind. The experience, nevertheless, was blissful filling my mind with a mix of divinity, delight and nostalgia… a weekend that neither Satyam Cinemas, Marina beach nor Citi Centre can ever think of providing!<br /><br />(When I wrote <a href="http://moremolagaa.blogspot.com/2006/04/radhe-krishna.html"><span style="color:#000099;"><u>my first essay</u></span></a> on Thennangur I mentioned in the footer ‘to be contd...’ I somehow was not able to write the concluding part. Pandurangan made me do it this time. Radhe Krishna!)<br /><br /><a href="http://in.pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/venkysreeni/album?.dir=ee5ascd&.src=ph&store=&prodid=&.done=http%3a//in.pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/venkysreeni/my_photos"><span style="color:#000099;">some captured memories here...</span></a>Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-1165854505412195452006-12-11T21:51:00.000+05:302006-12-11T22:04:50.313+05:30My Maharaja!A subliminal effect was mounting into that mass of nerve tissue inside my cranium. 5:20 bus – i-pod plugged into my ears… ‘On-the-go’, loaded with a set of very special <em>kritis </em>from a very special singer, was performing the DJ’ing for me even as my tympanum was relishing each auditory impression that came its way. Stalwarts of the carnatic tradition often imprint their signature on certain kritis and make them their own just like Maharajapuram Santhanam made <em>‘Thunga theera viraajam’ </em>his... the first song in my playlist…<br /><br />I tried to pierce those foggy memories of my 6th grade days when that cartridge of magnetic ribbon inside our ‘Sanyo’ tape recorder played this voice for the first time. Those were the days when the ‘sophisticated’ stereo recorded cassettes were introduced. <em>Appa</em>, a connoisseur of this great classical tradition that is carnatic music, made sure that his almirah housed a rich collectible. Madurai Mani, MSS, Chembai and a host of other such exponents embellished the amplifier of that HMV record player (electric gramaphone) which appa had bought sometime during the early seventies. We still have those black vinyl record discs and the record player as well. (if someone reading this blog and who is knowledgeable about this equipment can give me pointers as to where I can get playing needles for HMV, it’ll be great.). The 80s saw the emergence of magnetic tapes and <em>Appa </em>started converting all these LP records into tapes. MSS, DKP, Semmangudi, Balamurali, Yesudas – the illustrious list appended one more great to itself in the form of Maharajapuram. Maharajapuram was an instant hit in our home, so much so that I remember <em>appa </em>buying a Maharajapuram title every fortnight or so during one particular phase - ‘Maharaja sings for you’, ‘Oothukkadu venkata subbier kritis’, ‘Mellifluous’, ‘Gracious’… Of late I’ve also been involved with the preservation act by converting these tapes to MPEG-1 Audio Layer 3, mp3 in short.<br /><br /><em>‘Raaghavendraaa…’</em> – the beautiful strains of Maharaja’s voice were testing the higher octaves even as he effortlessly flaunted the <em>gamakams </em>with élan. Every now and then the captivating effect that his voice exuded pushed my follicles to stand upwards. I’ve started liking <em>Kambhoji </em> immensely after listening to Maharaja’s rendition of <em>‘Maragatha vallim’</em>. His unique approach in <em>aalapanai</em>, the method of building up a raga, has, over the years, enthralled many a soul and this song – the second in my playlist and my personal pick - is a perfect showcase of this aspect of his music. Whenever I hear this piece my cousin Prabhu, who sings this so very well, comes to my mind. In fact, ours is a family of good singers and my relatives will be quick to point out that <em>appa </em>and <em>periathai </em>(my aunt) can in fact render a quick <em>katcheri</em>. <br /><br />Saint Thyagaraja can’t stay out of action for too long and in <em>‘Nannu Vidachi’</em>, like many of his compositions, he pleads for his Ramayya’s grace. Maharaja’s recital of this <em>kriti</em>, my third one, brought out a kind of poignancy and beauty that I felt like crying when those words <em>“Raamayya raama.. kodhanda raamaa.. kalyaana raamaa..” </em>flowed from his larynx like silk. <em>“Aadaadhu ashangaadhu”, </em>the fourth and last for my day, kept me guessing till the end… what is so appealing about this song? Is it Oothukkaadu’s words or is it Santhanam’s voice? The combination maybe! Maharajapuram infused so much life to Venkata kavi’s words that one could in fact visualize the Lord as the narration unfolded. <em>“Un aadalai kaana thillai ambalathu iravanum than aadalai vittu inge Gokulam vandhaan” </em>- the ultimate compliment to Lord Krishna’s dance. When he sang with that subtle anxiety in his voice <em>“Kann pattu ponaal manam punn pattu pogume” </em>– I was WOWed!<br /><br />Maharajapuram Santhanam burst into the scene very late and his early exit meant that the music world has lost a portion of ‘genuine classicism’ from its pie. His enchanting voice that communicated profound expressions and which was further embellished with his natural melody will linger in the hearts of his <em>rasikas </em>forever.<br /><br />Maharaja is for sure the uncrowned Maharaja of carnatic music!Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-1161639501046437732006-10-24T03:06:00.000+05:302006-10-24T03:08:21.066+05:30How far would you…D10 – I was seated alongside my pal Kartik (D9). Studio – 5 was filled to capacity with 78 other nocturnes. That irritating model (?) in the Nalli Silks ad was standing between us and Nagesh Kukunoor. After 10 minutes of agony, the censor board certificate flashed!<br /><br />The first few frames, toggling between the lush green valleys of Himachal to the vast desert expanse of Rajasthan, both aesthetically captured, sets the context for the narration and introduces the main characters – Amir, Zeenat, Shankar and Meera. Himachal - Amir marries Zeenat the day before he leaves for Saudi Arabia in search of greener pastures. Rajasthan – Shankar, married to Meera, too leaves for Saudi to earn good money. Few months later, Meera receives the news that Shankar is dead and Zeenat is informed that Amir is jailed for allegedly killing Shankar and awaits death penalty very soon. Zeenat has only one option to save her husband – get a signed letter from Meera that her husband is innocent. The rest of the narration deals with how Zeenat traces Meera to get her work done.<br /><br />Gul Panag and Ayesha Takia – the protagonists - play Zeenat and Meera respectively. Shreyas Talpade of Iqbal fame plays the Behroopiya while Girish Karnad plays the typical Rajasthani house head and Ayesha’s father-in-law. Nagesh Kukunoor makes that customary brief appearance as a lecherous factory owner who opens shop in Jodhpur.<br /><br />“Dor” – another non-formula Kukunoor film is truly world class. The director has grown in stature right from Hyderabad blues and Rockford to Iqbal and now Dor. This intensely captivating narrative, capturing the underlying emotions in each and every frame, conglomerates with the artistic direction, fabulous photography and evocative music to present a feast to the connoisseur. The characters have done full justice to their roles and stay etched in the minds of the audience with some sterling performances. Surely Kukunoor’s best creation till date, Dor belongs to world cinema!<br /><br />One noticeable thing about such films is the genuineness they bring with. Be it the portrayal of Zeenat and Meera as local women looking natural without make-up or the unceasing hooka smoking Rajasthani family head or the emotional and intense yet ‘no-senti, no-nonsense’ dialogues throughout the film, everything about this two and a half hours piece of entertainment is authentic. The Behroopiya’s imitation of movie stars, Meera’s dance steps to ‘You are my sonia’ and the three of them dancing in the dunes to ‘Kajra re’ provide some lighter moments to the otherwise serious plot but without disrupting the flow of events. Shreyas is one actor to watch out for in the years to come. The director has compensated for the zero-dialog mute Iqbal with a diametrically contrasting cast – the Behroopiya. The Behroopiya, who first entertains travelers and then cons them, has been crafted as a tool, a means to guide Zeenat to her destination. Though he cons Zeenat also at first, he later befriends her and accompanies her journey across the desert. The various guises he sports and his imitation of Bollywood with terrific ease provides justice to his characterization. But the scene when he returns home drunk and expresses his love for Zeenat was uncalled-for. Overall, Shreyas is an actor who can do serious as well as commercial cinema with equal élan. Shreyas – Dexterous!<br /><br />Gul Panag looks beautiful sans make-up. The strong willed, self-assured woman that she plays, she handles her character with ease. She knows what she wants and how to get it. Her suppressed yet strong emoting in various scenes like when she hears about Amir from the external affairs ministry and when she is being pushed out by Meera’s in-laws and also during the last few closing frames add lustre to her character. But the real revelation is Ayesha Takia. I’ve never believed that Ayesha can go beyond her glamour doll image. Right from the initial frames where she plays the colourful innocent village girl to the subdued widow in dark blue robes who is being stripped of all her joy and independence, she reinforces Kukunoor’s faith in her acting abilities with a first-rate feat. Her subtle expressions when she is left alone with Shankar’s suitcase and during the closing scenes when she starts raising questions within herself about the patriarchal setup of the society around her are noteworthy. The innocence that she exudes captures the heart of the audience. Ayesha you won’t get such roles too often! You’ve made the most out of this golden opportunity. Ayesha - Award winning!<br /><br />Dor is a photographer’s delight, frame by frame. The picturesque valley in Himachal in the opening scene, the lone temple in the vast expanse of sand, the panoramic view of Jodhpur painted blue – the camera work is captivating. When I first watched Hyderabad Blues, I felt as though the entire film has been shot with one damn handycam. From there, Kukunoor has traveled quite a distance. Art is another fascinating facet of Dor. Art direction doesn’t encompass constructing heavy extravagant forts or bungalows that are in no way connected with the plot. On the contrary, it involves setting up the environment for each frame in the film such that the underlying narration and screenplay is augmented or enhanced. Dor excels in doing this. Artwork – exemplary!<br /><br />‘Yeh Honsla’ – my lips kept humming for the next two days. Music is an integral part of every facet of Indian culture and the film industry is no exception. Over the years, music in films has become increasingly pathetic, playing no constructive role to the plot as such, but just to add that extra bit of ‘masala’ so as to commercialise it more. So much so that very few directors today believe in using music as a tool to enhance direction and screenplay. Our director fortunately falls into this category. Two very strong songs – ‘Yeh honsla’ and ‘Kesariya baalam ’ - that add a lot of value to the undercurrent called script, coupled with an exceptional background score fortifies the director’s intentions and helps him hurl his thoughts towards the audience better. The director has also proved that one can in fact do away with two or three songs already in market (‘You are my sonia’, ‘Kajra re’ and ‘Lambi Judaai’) if these can really supplement the narration better. Music – Moving!<br /><br />The director has succeeded well in putting forth his motive of depicting the strong bonding between two women both of whom have been challenged with a different yet related predicament in their lives. The poignant weaving of the sisterhood between Zeenat and Meera with a tinge of subtlety adds a magical touch to the film. The female bonding between Meera and her dead husband’s grandmother boosts the director’s cause. The curtains close with an exceptional display of the intricate softness of humanity and compassion transcending hatred and dumb societal beliefs. Kuknoor- Victorious!<br /><br />Dor – aesthetic!Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-1157210575464378192006-09-02T20:51:00.000+05:302006-09-02T20:52:55.483+05:30Pallaandu pallaandu....“Archanai will be done in Tamil” I read as both of us were standing in the long queue, waiting to get a glimpse of Arjuna’s charioteer. The Parthasarathyswamy temple, Chennai’s oldest surviving temple, situated in Triplicane, once‘Thiru Alli Keni’ (‘The divine Lilly pond’ is the literal translation), has withstood the challenges that time has thrown on it for centuries, witnessing everything that has happened in Chennapatnam, Madras and Chennai. For many years a Brahmanical stranglehold, or rather a Sri Vaishnava stranglehold, Triplicane has retained its traditional charm and flavour even as modernisation has, for many years now, slowly invaded its territory. The narrow alleyways between rows of ancient Aiyangar houses and shops doesn’t seem to hinder, even a wee bit, the unceasing traffic of bikes to cars to cycles to tricycles to cows to what not. The temple is hailed as one among the 107 ‘Divyadesams’, that every follower of ‘Visishtadvaitam’ has to visit in his life so that he clears the basic entry criteria into the 108th Divyadesam which is ‘Sri Vaikuntam’ – the abode of Sri Narayana. Kartik was eagerly eyeing every single soul that passed by, hoping to have some good Saturday time pass. Triplicane lifestyle has evolved around the Parthasarathy temple over the centuries, much like how Sri Ranganathar has defined Srirangam life.<br /><br />The archakars, sporting big Sri Choornams on their foreheads, were chanting Tamizh pasurams (Divya Prabandham I guess) aloud as we entered the ‘Garbha Graham’ or the Sanctum Sanctorum, where the Perumal has been installed. I have, right from my childhood, been enticed by the beauty of the ‘Thiruman’ or ‘Sri Choornam’ or ‘Naamam’. The ‘Sri Choornam’ is a mark of the Vaishnava who undergoes ‘Pancha Samskaaram’- the five tasks that the ‘Ai’yangar (Aindhu – Five in Tamizh) is entrusted with. The mark gives an intellectual look to the individual who sports it. In fact, I have, over the years, met many intellectual ‘Aiyangars’ which generates a certain kind of natural respect towards this community in me. Apart from their Vedic mastery, ‘Aiyangars’ have distinguished themselves in various fields all over the world. The ‘Thiruman’ comes in 2-3 different colours which, I learnt, signifies the ‘aachaaram’ or intensity of orthodoxy of an ‘Aiyangar’.<br /><br />And I noticed that there were ‘Aiyangars’ with different levels of ‘aachaaram’ inside that mini hall in Sarojini street as well… A week earlier…<br /><br />‘Sri Oppiliappan caterers’, read the badge on the white and white dress of the boy who greeted me with a ‘Fruit squash’ as I entered the mini hall. The hall was almost full, with every eye awaiting the arrival of the ‘Nichayathaartha ponnu’. I went and sat in the front seat beside a big bare bodied ‘mama’ who had tattooed the Sri Choornam all over. The ‘payyan’, a ‘US mappillai’ crossed us and the mama asked me “Is he the mappilai?”, his resounding tone enforcing authority. I nodded. Arthi had already sent the photo of her ‘would be’ through e-mail to me. There were many such bare bodied ‘mamas’ in the front rows, chatting with one another and awaiting the start of proceedings. Sitting quite and witnessing Brahmanical conversations is something that I had loved doing always. One ‘mami’ greeted another ‘mama’, anxiety written on her face: “How’s your amma? Is she doing fine now?”. The confused ‘mama’, after a brief pause, replied “No mami. That is not my amma. It was my appa who slipped down in the bathroom. He is recuperating well.” Betrothals and marriages are functions that bring a complex network of relations together and such errors are common given the fact that one is expected to remember a huge amount of multifarious information like the state of one’s ‘akka’s mattu ponnu’s appa’s health’ or ‘athai’s peran’s baarya’s delivery date’ etcetera. People meet after long gaps that they have volumes of matters to discuss and gossip upon. A set of youthful guys, the 20-25 age group, were standing near the entrance, discussing something, I guess, about the latest case study in IIM – A that one among them had worked on, or about how the repetitive yet unchallenging Infosys coding work had eroded another’s weekends… Two girls ,6-8 year olds I guess, clad in traditional ‘Paavaadai chattai’, their oiled hair adorned with ‘kunjalam’ (an ornamental embellishment meant to beautify the tresses), were competing with each other and taking turns to distribute the threaded jasmine to the ‘mamis’ in the hall. There was a sense of pride in their execution of the work that has been assigned to them. A set of ‘mamis’ were discussing a host of happenings ranging from how much of progress has one’s daughter made in her ‘paattu class’ to which stream of engineering is the state first son of another ‘mami’ would opt to how yet another ‘mami’ enjoyed the Lord’s darshanam during her recent temple trip. All these conversations are generally interspersed with examination of the pair of new diamond earrings from GRT or the new shade of ‘Pattu pudavai’ from Rangachari. The ‘Shastrigal’ announced the agreement of both the parties and the marriage date and went on to recite verses from the Vedam and Divya Prabandham. Arthi was in un-uniform (I mean Saree ;-) Courtesy: Ravi) and Srini (the US mappilai) was ‘Bhavyam’ personified. The myriad hues people were attired in, the smell of ‘Puliyodharai’ emanating from the kitchen, the ‘Aiyangar bhashai’ – everything conglomerated to give me a sense of inexplicable delight. The Aiyangar bhashai….<br /><br />“paacha”, “nochu”, “rangu”, “thambu”, “varadha”… “thaligai”, “unchavruthi” - Sujatha’s ‘Sreerangathu Devadaigal’, a collection of short stories, which I had read recently, gave me a taste of ‘Aiyangar bhashai’. All short stories are set up in Srirangam, the Divyadesam that houses ‘Sri Ranganathar’ in full splendour, posing the same way he is believed to in ‘Sri Vaikuntam’. I was amazed by the author’s narration of the various facets of Srirangam in the 50s and 60s – the huge temple in the middle of the town surrounded by lanes on all sides, the Aiyangar households, their lifestyle, their unique ‘bhashai’ that has over the years faded to such an extent that there are very few Aiyangars in the Dravidian mainland who speak this slang today – all this woven as part of the larger fabric of each of his remarkable storylines. Thank you athimber for introducing me to ‘Srirangathu…’ (My athimber had culled out this compilation from desikan.com when he was in Saudi some months back.) Sujatha’s potent descriptions of the Aiyangar characters in the stories enticed me like iron filings towards a powerful horseshoe and I sat non stop for a day to complete the entire collection. The RSS movement in Srirangam, the reach of the Dakshin Bharath Hindi Prachar Sabha to places like Trichy during those times when information didn’t travel as fast as it does today, the Periyar movement and its effects in such a Brahmanical throttlehold, the various festivities of the temple and how ‘Chakkarathaazhvaar’ formed an integral part of the Srirangavaasi’s existence, the never ending gossips when people unite at places like ‘rangu’s shop’ – the sights and smells of an entirely different milieu… <br /><br />I have to admit that I’ve been ferociously bitten by the ‘Aiyangar’ bug nowadays that my inspirations have come out as this piece of writing. I can write about Triplicane, Arthi’s betrothal or ‘Srirangathu…’ for the next four days non stop. But then there will be no one to read such a long piece. So I stop here. <br /><br />“SrImathE RAmAnujAya Namaha”Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-1154810050452555602006-08-06T02:02:00.000+05:302006-08-06T02:16:12.423+05:30Masti da Shaniwaar“Kuch to log kahenge…” I was humming Kishore, thanks to the all-morning Hindi nostalgia, as I walked back home. I was looking at the moon. I love the sight of her shyness as she tries every now and then to hide behind the veils of nimbus. I looked at my watch.. 15 minutes for Sunday to take over… It had been a wonderful meal, thanks to Ajith. More than that it had been a superb Saturday. A very fulfilling one!<br /><br />‘Sachin Ka Dhaba’ is one place in Chennai that can declare with authority that they serve ‘bona fide’ dhaba food. Might be that name they had kept has a lot to do with their class I guess:) . With every eat-out in town claiming “We serve Punjabi too” (“Naanum naan serve panren!!”) authenticity becomes the key differentiator. No wonder Shyam chose this place. After all, he is my cousin which means that I need not elaborate too much on the tastes he has. I had been to this place 3-4 times already. And the waiter, I guess, will automatically pen down “Ek Pudina Paratha aur ek Bindi Masala” the next time he sees me around. There have not been any changes to my preferences with regards to ‘Sachin ka…’. Arthi had come with Shyam in his RX135… the same RX135 that had kept Shyam ‘Lucky’ sometime back :) Ajith and Kishore joined us shortly even as I was gulping down my ‘Bhangra Pepsi’ (I was having this for the first time). I strongly oppose the fact that we Indians have got westernised in more ways than one. Rather we have ‘Indianised’ every western concept that had come our way… be it reducing the thickness of pizza crusts so that it resembles more like our dosai. (Italians must be startled to know that there are now pizzas whose thickness can give a real competition to our ‘paper roasts’!!)… be it dancing wild in Bangalore discs but to pure Daler tunes only.. be it flaunting our English in crowded MTC buses, not with undecipherable accent but with our vocabulary. The accent has always been our (read ‘awar’) very own… and be it fizzing off with cola but with all flavours of our land injected into it - ‘the Bhangra Pepsi’. And Ajith will be contributing his 0.005% in Indianising Thames too very shortly. ABN Amro’s acceptance testing requires Ajith’s presence in the UK and that is why he was treating us. All of us were happy for him.. all of us were happy that we had a wonderful meal.. he was happy for that Indigo Nation shirt (‘Split AC’ was the name of this particular series signifying the extent of coolness the shirt will provide for our body!!) we had gifted him. The tag on the shirt read “Best before 30”.<br /><br />Earlier in the day… Morning 9:50... Isaiah woke me up. My friend Sankaranarayana turned Enoch increases Airtel traffic every now and then with messages from Jesus. “Fear thou not; I am with thee; be not dismayed” – Isaiah 41:10. Good thought to get out of my blanket. ‘Israel bombings; Natwar Singh and Volcker report crap; an article on Dhoni’ - there was nothing new in ‘The Hindu’. I switched on my iPod... connected it to my Sony music system… proceeded to brush. For the next two hours, Rafi, Lata, Kishore and Mukesh competed to push me into nostalgia… ‘Inhi Logon ne..’, ‘Chingaari..’, ‘Musaafir hoon yaaron..’, ‘Tere mere Milan…’, ‘Mera jeevan kora kaagaz…’ – music was flowing faster than the fastest of rapids. Before I could finish reveling in one piece, the next piece pushed me into awe. Two hours passed by… I, the gulabjamun was immersed totally in the ‘jeera’ of those classics. Timeless they are. Thank you ‘Madhava mama’!! (I was in my II year of B.E. Madhava mama, our neighbour in Tambaram gave me ‘50 years of Independence’, a compilation of evergreen classics organised into a set of 4 cds. This was when I got interested with the likes of Kishore da and Pancham da.)<br /><br />When I stay at home everything is special. And the meal is no different. ‘Bisibela bath’, ‘Vadaam’, ‘Thayir pachidi’, ‘Bahaala bath’ – that list reads delicious right? After my meal it was time to train my niece Sandhya. Her ‘Vishnu Sahasra Naamam’ recitation competition is fast approaching. So too is her ‘Bhagavad Gita – VI chapter’ competition. “Atha shashtodhyaayaha… Shree Bhagavaan uvaacha: Anaashritha karmapalam…” I took a rewind to my school days even as my lips kept reciting and Sandhya repeating after me. Egmore Sanskrit school, Chinmaya vidyalaya, Ahobila mutt… I would be attending one competition or the other every Sunday. My amma’s eagerness and enthusiasm would increase every time I come home with some prize. Monday morning, the school principal would give the prize during the prayer assembly. Sri Sankara Vidyalaya had indeed given me a lot. May be I will dedicate a piece for my school in this space sometime.<br /><br />Sandhya’s pronunciation is too good for her age. Her sharp and loud voice can give her that extra bit of mileage required in recitation competitions. And the speed at which this generation picks up things is amazing. Had I belonged to this generation I would’ve sat in a corner, demoralised for life!! These kids are into everything – music, sports, creativity and what not. This place has become competitive… very much competitive! Sai Charan, my nephew, is in LKG now. And he is also participating in these competitions. This essay would become very very lengthy if I start narrating about this 'awesome twosome'. So.. Sandhya and Charan! A separate essay reserved for you both!<br /><br />Evening… Some good ‘Ulundhu vadai’ for tiffin. Some music again… this time from my guitar.. I was on the top floor of our apartment playing the ‘aarohanam - avarohanam’ of 'Desh' for Nanganallur to hear. I tried reproducing that guitar bit in KK’s 'Pal' for sometime. Then my mandolin class. Sir declared as I entered “I’ve scheduled a programme on the 24th of September… You are playing ‘Chinna china kannanukku…’.. solo mandolin piece…” Some quick tips ensued on tremolo. That will be quite a challenge I guess!!<br /><br />As I keep writing, Sunday has already greeted me. So much more to do today also... I have this peculiar habit of smelling my right palm every now and then when I had had a real sumptuous meal. And my hand still smells pure ghee… the dhaba ghee… And my day still smells pure joy… Masti da Shaniwaar, can I say?Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-1150211973014664022006-06-13T20:34:00.000+05:302006-06-13T21:48:09.710+05:30Life outside the pressure cooker..Things were too pressurising for the past two months. I was literally sitting inside a cooker. I won't say that the work load was huge. But I had to do too many things. Filling innumerable spreadsheets, plan & track, code, test, deliver, boost team's morale, withstand every rotten egg and tomato that my boss & onsite co-ords throw... throw some back as and when you get a chance.. Well being a project lead is afterall not that simple.. 'With power comes responsibility' :)<br /><br />Now that the BIG release is over. Am out of that cooker... to see more pleasant things... scribble things like these, read Bourne Identity, be with my ipod, guitar and mandolin more often.. missed tasks during the past 60 days...<br /><br />Just now completed an Adv Java e-learning course and typing this aaraam se... God! Let life be like this for some more time........Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-1150130696715597212006-06-12T22:07:00.000+05:302006-06-12T22:23:09.956+05:30Buddhi heena tanu jaanike… sumirow...As I entered the hall, <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Hanuman Chalisa’</span> flowed into my ears. <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Sanskar’</span> was telecasting the usual 6 PM <span style="color:#ff6600;">prarthana</span>… an animated visual depicting the greatness of ‘muscular <span style="color:#ff6600;">Hanuman’</span>… real good stuff… that too amidst a dozen TV channels that telecasts nothing except Ms.Sherawat, smooches & Mr.Hashmi.. (oops! Sorry for those synonymous repetitions.)<br /><br />Those animations pulled me into a flashback......<br /><br />‘<span style="color:#ff6600;">Hanuman</span> to the rescue (adapted from <span style="color:#ff6600;">Kirttivasa Ramayana</span>)’ was the title of that comic book. Publisher: <span style="color:#ff6600;">Amar Chitra Katha</span>. It was a gift from <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Bala athai’</span> (<span style="color:#ff6600;">athai</span> - Aunt). I was in III – ‘C’ then. I utter a ‘Thanks’ to her for this book till date… my first handshake with Hindu mythology. I read (read studied) that book cover to cover almost everyday… so many times that each description, each dialogue, got imprinted in my mind. I would be fast asleep and appa would ask: “What does <span style="color:#ff6600;">Hanuman</span> say when he meets the physician <span style="color:#ff6600;">Sushena</span>?” And I would spring from my bed with the answer. This was one ploy he deployed to wake me up from my otherwise lazy slumber. I soon got into action with my favourite’s costume – a mace (a branch from the neighbour’s tree), a tail (<span style="color:#ff6600;">‘sanal kayiru’</span> - a thread made out of coconut fibre) & a monkey's mouth (no costumes needed for this!!). The bed and almirah served as my <span style="color:#ff6600;">Ram</span> & <span style="color:#ff6600;">Ravan</span>. My dialogues were adapted from ‘<span style="color:#ff6600;">Hanuman</span> to the…’ initially. As time went by and I gained more experience, I started framing my own dialogues (and situations as well!!). I still remember that evening when I stood on that writing desk laid upside down and tried jumping (like how my idol does from hilltops :)), only to end up losing some haemoglobin.<br /><br />My parents recognised my inclination towards mythology instantly. Volumes of <span style="color:#ff6600;">Mahabharatha</span> and <span style="color:#ff6600;">Ramayana</span> started flowing, from <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Bhavani book centre’, West Mambalam</span>. ‘A comic a week’ was the scheme. I don’t know how much <span style="color:#ff6600;">Aruna</span> my elder cousin struggled explaining each line for me from a <span style="color:#ff6600;">Mahabharatha</span> volume, answering each crappy question of mine, when I was vacationing at my aunt’s house in <span style="color:#ff6600;">Thambiah Reddy Road, Mambalam</span>. I thoroughly relished reading those, book after book, competing with <span style="color:#ff6600;">Shyam</span> & <span style="color:#ff6600;">Vijay</span>, my cousins as to who will finish reading first. <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘</span><span style="color:#ff6600;">Bhima’</span> was my instant favourite. Soon I became well versed with every dynasty that had some remote connection with <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Hastinapura’</span>, so much that I became a ready reference for doubt-stricken <span style="color:#ff6600;">Mamis</span>. ‘How is <span style="color:#ff6600;">Satyaki</span> related to the <span style="color:#ff6600;">Pandavas</span>?’ Off runs my memory reel…. ‘<span style="color:#ff6600;">Satyaki</span> belonged to the <span style="color:#cc0000;">Yadava</span> dynasty and was devoted to Krishna. He trained under <span style="color:#ff6600;">Dhrona</span> and was a good friend of <span style="color:#ff6600;">Arjuna</span>.’ I would not stop with that. Extra information also I’d give… (freebies for the main product u can say) ‘He was one of the very few <span style="color:#ff6600;">Maharathis</span> left alive after the war.’ <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Ambi kalakkarai po!’</span> – showers of praise. But there were more probing <span style="color:#ff6600;">Mamas</span> who will get into the technicalities. That drove me to learn more. ‘An <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Akshouhini’</span> consists of over a lakh of infantry plus an additional one lakh elephants, horses and chariots combined.’ ‘The <span style="color:#ff6600;">Pandava</span> army comprised of 7 <span style="color:#ff6600;">Akshouhinis</span> as compared to 11 under <span style="color:#ff6600;">Duryodhana</span>..’, ‘<span style="color:#ff6600;">Hanuman</span> was the only monkey who can jump over hundred <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Yojanas’</span> – a measure of distance.’ And thus grew my fascinations…<br /><br />I was reading an article in ‘Young World’ some time back about how much reading as a habit has shot up among kids, thanks to the Blytons and Rowlings. Great to hear… Wait! If you try sampling a group of children, you’d find that this pie doesn’t have much space reserved for the likes of<span style="color:#ff6600;"> ‘Bhoorishrava’</span> or <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Jarasandha’</span>. Might be I’m wrong. Might be I’ve started thinking like an old man. But with whatever sample I have at hand, I’m right. Not many kids who are nuts about Harry Potter know about <span style="color:#ff6600;">Hari Puttar</span>. Today’s curriculum that aims at preparing kids for IIT-JEE from the I grade seldom covers moral sciences (of course barring few exceptions like <span style="color:#ff6600;">Bhavan’s</span>, <span style="color:#ff6600;">Chinmaya</span> etc.,). Inculcation of values through mythology is slowly getting phased out. There is not much emphasis on the core values of this great religion. With the last generation of knowledgeable <span style="color:#ff6600;">paattis</span> remaining and with working parents who care more about the client for whom they work for than their children, the situation sees no amelioration.<br /><br />10 years down the lane… will my kids have any inclination to learn who this ascetic <span style="color:#ff6600;">Veda Vyasa</span> is or why the hell did he write such a voluminous book with an elephant's broken tusk? I am left with questions alone!<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Rama lakhan seeta sahita...’</span> - as the animation piece closed with <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Pavan putra’</span> tearing open His heart to reveal His Lord with <span style="color:#ff6600;">Lakshmana</span> and <span style="color:#ff6600;">Sita</span> and a pious looking <span style="color:#ff6600;">Goswami Tulsidas</span> prostrating before Him, I took a last sip of filter coffee placed on the <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Teepoy’</span>.Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-1145125669376483432006-04-15T23:46:00.000+05:302006-04-16T00:03:35.420+05:30Radhe KrishnaThe conductor shouted <span style="color:#ff6600;">“Thennangur”</span> as the three of us alighted. She also got down with her suitcase. We exchanged looks as I started casually <span style="color:#000000;">“How long is the temple from here?”,</span> wanting to strike a conversation with her. “Not very distant. But normally a bus will ply till the temple. Seems like it will not today given the road’s condition”. We smiled at each other. Mission accomplished! “I’ve been coming here since 1989, the year when <span style="color:#ff6600;">Guruji</span> established the temple. By His grace I’ve attended every <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘utsavam’</span>…”. “What about your accommodation <span style="color:#ff6600;">mami</span>?”. (<span style="color:#ff6600;">Mami</span> is the Brahmin way of addressing an elderly woman.) “Since I belong to the <span style="color:#ff6600;">mandali</span> I won’t have any problems. You guys can also stay with me.” ‘<span style="color:#ff6600;">Lakshmi</span> is safe’ – we smiled again. Detailed introductions filled the next five minutes of our walk. <span style="color:#ff6600;">Pallavaram</span> to Infosys to <span style="color:#ff6600;">Haridos</span> <span style="color:#ff6600;">Giri</span>… She then directed us to the <span style="color:#ff6600;">Pandurangan</span> temple and said “Have <span style="color:#ff6600;">darshan</span>. Come to the cottage. <span style="color:#ff6600;">Vishalam mami’nu kelungo. Solluva</span><span style="color:#ff6600;">!</span>”. <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Vishalam Mami…’</span><br /><br />The Lord looked awesome. I was amazed to see <span style="color:#ff6600;">Tirupathi</span> sans crowd! Yes the Lord was decorated very much like <span style="color:#ff6600;">Venkatachalapathy</span> (or Lord <span style="color:#ff6600;">Venky</span> in short) of <span style="color:#ff6600;">Tirumala</span>. There was one more difference from <span style="color:#ff6600;">Tirumala</span> in the form of Goddess <span style="color:#ff6600;">Padmavathy </span>accompanying Him in all her splendour. I learnt that the Lord <span style="color:#ff6600;">Pandurangan</span> has a distinct decoration or <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘alangaaram’</span> everyday. The silver <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘sannidhi’</span> (sanctum) door and the frescos on the wall and ceiling depicting <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Rasleela’</span> and <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Dashaavatar’</span> were inviting. The entrance in south Indian style and the <span style="color:#ff6600;">vimanam</span> in typical <span style="color:#ff6600;">Jagannath</span> style with a flag atop, <span style="color:#ff6600;">Srikanth</span> explained, symbolises the confluence of cultures and how the <span style="color:#ff6600;">Gurus</span> have persevered for such unification.<br /><br />In the distance we could hear <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Guru Vandanam’</span> already starting to fill Thennangur air thanks to some amplifiers. Lakshmi made acquaintances with <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Subbulakshmi Mami’</span>, another <span style="color:#ff6600;">mandali</span> member, inside the premises of <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Sodasakshari Amman Koil’</span>. We then followed the sound waves into the <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Ramar Koil’</span>, the venue for <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Seetha Kalyanam’</span>. Ladies on one side and the <span style="color:#ff6600;">Bhagavathars</span> on the other, music was going on full swing. The mridangist and the ‘dolak’ist (!!) were seated in the centre of the ‘not-so-big’ hall. This was the opening session, <span style="color:#ff6600;">Srikanth</span> explained, in which praise is bestowed upon the numerous saints who’ve treaded and spread <span style="color:#ff6600;">Bhakthi</span> over the ages - the trinity of Carnatic music, <span style="color:#ff6600;">Kabir, Sur, Gnananda Giri, Jayadev, Brahmanand</span>, the trinity of <span style="color:#ff6600;">Namasankeerthanam</span><span style="color:#ff6600;">, Purandara Das…</span> - the list was illustrious. One of the <span style="color:#ff6600;">bhagavahars</span> present there identified <span style="color:#ff6600;">Srikanth</span> and rightly so for the next song… A peppy <span style="color:#ff6600;">abhang</span> and <span style="color:#ff6600;">'Srikath Infosys' </span>had already become <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Srikanth Bhagavathar’ </span>in five minutes of glory. “You are too good da. I’ve never heard you sing like that”, I exclaimed even as the maroon mouthed <span style="color:#ff6600;">Bhagavathars</span> (courtesy: some vigorous pan chewing!) complimented this new singer amidst them with a nod of their heads. I smiled at <span style="color:#ff6600;">Lakshmi</span>. We were proud.<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff6600;">“Ungala madhiri youngsters dhaan pa engalukku venum”.</span> <span style="color:#ff6600;">Balu mama</span> (IOB <span style="color:#ff6600;">Balasubramanian</span>) that was. Any painter who wants to create a typical Brahmin in canvas can find his ideal model in <span style="color:#ff6600;">Balu mama</span>. <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Palichnu irundhaar!’</span>… He was our guide to the dining room. The lunch was stupendous – the typical Brahmin way. He then led us to <span style="color:#ff6600;">Guruji Namaji’s</span> ashram. The news about the new singer in Srikanth had traveled faster than light. As we were entering the ashram, Guruji’s driver came out asking “<span style="color:#ff6600;">Balu mama!</span> I learnt that some new boy sang so well today.” Cool!!! We were introduced to a Sanyasin surrounded by devotees. <span style="color:#ff6600;">Namaji</span> he was. After <span style="color:#ff6600;">Sri Haridos Giri’s ‘jalsamadhi’, Namaji</span> had taken the reins of GA trust.<br /><br />Every devotee in <span style="color:#ff6600;">Thennangur</span> uttered <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Radhe Krishna’</span> to greet fellow devotees. They also displayed a ‘V’ by stretching the index and middle fingers of their right hand in typical MGR style, which I learnt, symbolises the convergence of <span style="color:#ff6600;">Radha</span> and <span style="color:#ff6600;">Krishna</span> or <span style="color:#ff6600;">Jeevatma</span> and <span style="color:#ff6600;">Paramatma</span>. The <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Namasankirthanam’</span> school of thought stresses on liberation through constant chanting of the various names of God accompanied by music and dance. This, expounds the school, is the easiest way to <span style="color:#ff6600;">'mukthi'</span> or salvation in <span style="color:#ff6600;">Kali yuga</span>. There are no restrictions on the genre of music that constitutes this form of worship - <span style="color:#ff6600;">Keerthanais</span> to <span style="color:#ff6600;">Abhangs</span> to <span style="color:#ff6600;">Slokams</span> to folk - you name it…<br /><br />(previous paragraph – Courtesy: <span style="color:#ff6600;">Srikanth Bhagavathar</span><span style="color:#ff6600;">!</span>)<br /><br />We unlocked room no 104 with the key <span style="color:#ff6600;">Subbulakshmi mami</span> had given us. With zero amperes flowing and mercury ever rising, I thought of checking with the people next door and stumbled across <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Intel mama’</span> and his <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘barya’</span> from Bangalore (their son works in Intel). <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Intel mama’</span> was curiosity personified attacking me with a questionnaire that included many items that you normally don’t dare ask someone you’ve just met. The manager of accommodations, another chatty <span style="color:#ff6600;">mama</span>, joined us as the conversations lit up. The manager, going by my first impressions, can talk non-stop no-nonsense on any topic. After 20 minutes I escaped <span style="color:#ff6600;">Intel mama’s</span> room (Room no 106) to reach 104 again. <span style="color:#ff6600;">‘Current pathi kekka poi current affairs ellam kettutu varen’</span> I exclaimed as <span style="color:#ff6600;">Laks</span> and <span style="color:#ff6600;">Srikanth</span> giggled.<br /><br />(to be contd…)Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-1142617433534787752006-03-17T23:10:00.000+05:302006-03-20T08:12:10.303+05:30An apple everyday...70 odd days since I had penned into this space… Lots of interesting things already happening in 2006… Everyday I think of writing something. And as usual my laziness takes over. But not today… this ‘Small Wonder’ has made me sit up and scribble some lines…<br /><br /><em>‘Konjam Nilavu’</em> has always been THE song. It has got everything. Everything. I had tested my sub-woofer and music system and my Sister’s as well with this particular song. If you cry for ‘effect’, this is the song. I always get ecstatic when I listen to this piece of Rehman. But this time I didn’t. I didn’t know how to react. Speechless I was. Ear phones into my pinna… the other side of the wire connected to iPod video!<br /><br />When Srikanth plugged those white little buds into my hearing organ some ten months back I decided instantly – ‘this is MY gadget. I’ll buy one soon!’. That was a ‘Mini’. Patni and Hitachi made sure that Sathish smells some Nippon air. I made sure that he gets me one of those amazing small pieces that Apple makes everyday at some plant in China.<br /><br />iPod 30GB… I’m now holding something that can hold 15000 songs! Thanks Sathish. And thanks Srikanth!<br /><br />In an era when electronics eclipses its own achievements everyday, there is no place for complacency. If Bose and Sony thought that Music is THEIR sphere, they were wrong. When I read in some issue of BW a year back that iPod won the award for the best gadget design, I was not surprised. Fidelity, the measure of the quality of music, is her forte. The precision of reproduction of every detail in a music clip amazes me. She is robust. I’ve seen Srikanth handle her not so kindheartedly. I’ve even dropped her accidentally once. Function overloading is another noteworthy point. Play, Pause, Stop – you can do all with one press. Volume control, navigation and rewind/forward at the rotation of the dial. Not too many features... yet packaged perfectly. Welcome to the world of hi-fi music.<br /><br />I’ve not heard <em>‘Hamma..’</em> like this before. Rehman is a genius. His orchestration inspires awe in me. And iPod brings the entire thing into your sphere of experience, undistorted. Be it bass levels or surround or the treble, you’ll love it. <em>‘Fanaa..’</em> heard though the iPod amplifiers is so different. My latest crush RDB drives me nuts. Rehman hasn’t made such extensive usage of strings till now as he has in RDB. My cochlea likes it more when the source is the bitten apple. Let me tell you ‘Bitten apples are the tastiest!’… <em>“Khoon se kelenge holi…”… ‘Lalkaar’</em> and <em>‘Lukka Chuppi’ </em>succeeds in raising every follicle on my skin. Words are not going to do enough justification to this creation. I tell you this is something that needs to be experienced! Simply out of the world! I remember telling Srikanth in typical Mastercard style “There are some things money can’t buy. An iPod - yes. Music - yes. The iPod experience - NO!” To everyone who read this blog I reiterate.. “There are some things money can’t buy…”<br /><br />“Some dance to remember… some dance to forget…” – Boy those lines are wow! Standing outside our apartment at Nanganallur, Friday evening, street dogs, a Shiva temple and some garbage in front… Hotel California into your ears.. a different experience. I’ve not been particularly drawn towards western but those closing guitar strums makes me jealous. I’ll play those leads in my ‘Givson’ guitar one day!<br /><br />Desh and Sahana sound sweeter. The Nadam that emanates from Babu’s Mridangam when KR sings Gopalakrishna Bharathi’s <em>‘Varugalaamo Ayya’</em> is inexplicable and iPod’s reproduction of the sounds does perfect justification to the artist’s skills. O.S. Arun and his rendition of <em>‘Baso Morey..’</em> captivates me and ties me into raptures. When Aruna sings <em>‘Unnai Allal’</em>, I repeat “iPod.. Unnai Allal vere gathi illai!” Gone are the days when HMV gramaphones and record players (Electric version of the Gramaphone) captured some substandard recordings of stalwarts like M.D.Ramanadhan and Madurai Mani. A black magnetic plate rotates but you hear nothing much out of those amplifiers of HMV. Gone are the days when ‘good-but-not-so-great’ music from Sanyo and Philips tape recorders play Coney magnetic tapes of MS and DKP. Today is the age of digital music – crystal clear music! And iPod is all set to rule this epoch!<br /><br />Worries, noise, boss and yes the doctor… A half-bitten apple everyday keeps everything away. You are left with ecstasy... full time...Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-1136049536698837552005-12-31T22:39:00.000+05:302005-12-31T22:48:56.720+05:30Kannamma...<span style="color:#ff9900;">As per Arthi's request...</span><br /><br />Every stage of our lives brings a different shade, a different experience worth treasuring. At 13, our fascination with the cricket bat gives a satisfaction that nothing else can. A girl in your class giggles and your heart breaks - it would’ve been the 16th or 17th year since your birth. Books, music, instruments, puzzles – these happen at various stages and each gives a distinct hue to our life’s rainbow. Enrique, Sheldon, Sachin, or Vivekananda posters embellish one’s mind and heart at different times as one’s tastes and thought processes change and evolve. I’ve also not been spared from this very syndrome that defines various milestones. When nostalgia overpowers me at times, I buy a ticket in time machine to travel some years back… my first game of Gilli… all those Indi-pop days… Paree hoon main, Piya Basanthi… cousins priding over ‘Most Tintin and Archies completed’ tag… Bhagavad Gita recitation – whose pronunciation is best … spending oodles of time and energy in making ‘my’ girl look at me :)… GRE wordlists… romancing with Anna and Britney magazine covers… spending hours with Star Movies to decipher the Uncle Sam accent… inspirations from Vivekananda and Hedgewar… Wow that has been quite a journey! And it has been just 23 years since I had set foot on the planet…<br /><br />I’ve been thinking of bringing one such interesting influence, a thing that has influenced my thoughts to a great extent. Recently, I had been to a carnatic concert. As I came out of the hall, I was, as always, drawn towards cds on display by a music company ‘Charsur’. A cd titled ‘Aatma-Soul’ with colours from our national flag in its skin caught me - a collection by Bombay Jayashree. I like the depth in her voice. Superb. But I bought it for another reason altogether. It was a compilation of Bharathiyar songs.<br /><br />Subramanya Bharathi made his advent into my life through the ‘Tamilnadu textbook society’ Tamil books provided by our schools for middle school curriculum. <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘Achamillai achamillai..’</span>, <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘Panchaali Sabadham’</span> and a lesson exclusively on this man provided me with first glimpses. In college, one of my dearest friends, Syed, a die-hard fan of this great poet carried a ‘Bharathiyar kavidhaigal’ book apart from his lunch box as the two permanent constituents in his college bag. He used to read out few lines now and then even as we enthusiastic last benchers enjoyed those flashes of brilliance. This was a time when my inclination towards the works of Bharathiyar got renewed. <br /><br />I’m not good at doing ‘Nayam parattal’ and stuff nor am I adept at understanding deeper meanings in Tamil kavidhai. But I couldn’t resist penning this piece, more so with me getting overpowered by his potent verses for quite sometime now. So, pardon me if I don’t strike sync with the poet’s emotions perfectly. <br /><br />I sat awe struck as Bombay Jayashree recited verses from his renowned poems. So many varied subjects... Patriotism, love, spiritualism, progressive thoughts, nature, philosophy… so diversified was his pen in creating magic. <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘Kaani nilam vendum…’</span> – a song that catches me like anything. He explains his perfect setting – <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘oru kaeni aruginil thennaimaram keetrum ilaneerum…’</span>, <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘katthum kuyilosai satre vandhu kaadhil pada venum’</span>- golden! If anyone can describe it better, it’ll be Bharathi himself. What about <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘Kaatru veliyidai kannamma’</span>? Planning for a romantic vacation with your girl friend – a boat house in Alappuzha with one of his ‘Kannamma’ songs playing in the background – the perfect setting. <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘Amuthootrinai otha idhazhgal’</span>, <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘nilavoori thathumbum vizhigal’</span> – examples for the powerful imagery he uses. And then the evergreen <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘Suttum vizhichudar dhaan’</span>… <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘natta nadu nisiyil theriyum nakshatirangaladi’</span>, <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘neela kadal alaye unadhu nenjin alaigaladi’</span> – metaphors that will make Wordsworth proud. <br /><br /><span style="color:#ff9900;">‘Theekkul viralai vaithaal nandalaala ninnai theendum inbam thonrudhadaa’</span> – will the Lord not come down on hearing this. <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘Maadhar theengural paatil iruppal’</span>, <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘geetham paadum kuyilin kuralai kiliyin naavai iruppidam kondaal’</span> explains Bharathi in his <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘Vellai thamarai’</span>, a tribute to Goddess Saraswathi - a glowing example on how much he stressed education and enlightenment through learning. If you are the sort who feels that you’ve missed dwapara yuga and Krishna here is your tonic - <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘Theeradha vilayaattu pillai’</span>. Know Bharathi know <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘Manadhil urudhi vendum’</span>. He expounds his idea on the ideal world. <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘dhanamum inbamum vendum’</span>, <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘pen vidudhalai vendum’</span>, <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘unmai ninrida vendum’</span> – simple yet strong sentiments. Who can write like this? He sure is a Mahakavi!<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff9900;">‘Achamillai’</span> brings goose bumps – an eternal inspirer. <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘Ichai konda porul ellaam izhanduvitta podhilum acham illa acham illai acham enbadhillaye!’</span> – how much more confident can one get!<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff9900;">‘Engal Bharatha desam endru thol kottuvom’</span> – man does that not go bang into your heart. Makes me cry. How would it have been had we seen and heard this man live! <span style="color:#ff9900;">‘Paarukkulle nalla naadu’</span> and scores of such songs – had I lived during his time, I would’ve brandished our national flag the next moment to drive those vultures out!<br /><br />One striking feature of his poetry is the way it gels with any genre of music. Bharathi had loads of what people call ‘music sense’. Be it Madurai Mani’s traditional carnatic renditions or Balachander’s film songs or contemporary Fusion – he fits into everything without getting distorted even a wee bit. All expressions or ‘ras’ are present – happiness, ferocity, divinity... You name it. <br /><br />Little did the elephant that trampled him know about the endurance that this poet’s legacy will have for generations to come! And he was not yet forty then…Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-1135653192951651192005-12-27T08:06:00.000+05:302005-12-27T08:43:12.973+05:30Mummy! :-(<span style="font-family:georgia;">If you are the sort of person who feels that being lean means ‘advantages alone’, <strong>stop</strong> and read this!<br /><br />When I had been caught in swarms, many a time I had managed to sneak through, thanks to my built, or the lack of it rather. I kept patting myself ‘Good job. Being lean is great!’ Little did I realise the real troubles that will arise due to this pencil body until my college. That was when I did some serious commuting in trains and buses. I used to board EMUs at Chennai Central, the starting point, making myself cozy for the next two or three stations. When the train reaches Perambur, flocks of office goers and students flood the compartments. The eyes of fatsos get immediately drawn towards seats next to people like us, the ‘torture bearers’!!! For them it is comfort… for us it is … well HELL!!! The next 30 minutes will make you feel as if you could’ve sat on the engine of the train rather than here :-( . If trains are horror movies, buses are real devils!<br /><br />The main problem with guys with big frames is that they never understand how much of discomfort we small fellas go through. My experiences of suppression are endless. Buses in Chennai come with two seaters and most of the time I get less than half a seat!<br /><br />But there are fatsos who have a certain delicacy of ‘Bum parking’ while sitting with less fatter people. I was once sitting in the middle seat of a three seater in the office bus.. the window seat belonged to a man who cares a hoot about people sitting next… on my left was a real BIG guy - the biggest I’ve ever seen. And this guy gave me so little discomfort… didn’t know how comfortable he was… I learnt one thing that day ‘there are considerate fatsos also’!<br /><br />I wouldn’t have wrote this piece but for yet another experience with two biggies (not too big though!) today morning. This was the office bus, more space to sit, more comfort… but not for me!!! I was sitting in one corner of the seat, like a twisted tendril ready to break at any moment. And this Newton, playing inertia games every now and then as our vehicle neared potholes, added to my woes. I was pressurised and squeezed to such an extent that I thought of jumping out. But then, of the two who were repressing me were a PA and a PM!!!!!!!!!</span>Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-1135399554083010502005-12-24T10:11:00.000+05:302005-12-24T10:15:54.096+05:30Saffron death?Weather in Chennai has become too much unusual this time around. The pleasantness that has become a part of Chennai atmosphere has made sure that Cox & Kings take notice. Who knows the city might get the ‘Best Honeymoon spot’ tag very soon if every depression kisses the city on its way.<br /><br />Bangalore has become total crap (this is a big problem of mine.. I tend to use the same word too often, like Alok of FPS. ) The rape and murder of a call-centre executive has left the cosmopolitan hub shell shocked. My strong feeling is that the entire system needs to be revamped. You can’t allow girls to wander like nocturnes. Not going to help… Equal rights and women’s liberation are all fine. But a man is physically stronger than a woman… always… nature’s stamp… no one can change this. If this issue is not seen seriously and persistently enough, this place we live in is going to turn into a land of rapists.<br /><br />BJP has touched its pinnacle of insignificance. Party tussles in BJP looks like fight for scale and pencil among II standard kids. Atalji knew for long that too many vying for party power at the same time is not going to help. Yet his charisma seems to have vanished and he’s a mere shadow of himself. The Sanyasin’s outburst and her subsequent expulsion from the party would’ve relieved many a congressman in the Hindi speaking mainland as the Hindutva stranglehold in the OBC belt is sure to get softer. And the fact that none of the ‘Backward Caste champions’ – Kalyan Singh, Govindacharya, Uma Bharathi – is still active brings an irreparable blow to Advani and Co. If you have a video camera, you can execute a sting operation – this is the trend of the day. 6 out of 11 ‘Question for money’ guys are from the BJP. And the fact that all this happened in the backdrop of the BJP MPs raising so much of hue and cry over the Volcker report adds more fire to its wounds. All this notwithstanding, when the PM announced the expulsion of the 11 tainted ‘unparliamentarians’, Advaniji walked out of Lok sabha with his allies, while the party acceded to the same resolution in Rajya Sabha. Clearly a confused lot…Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-1135306282606277242005-12-23T08:18:00.000+05:302005-12-23T08:21:22.616+05:30Filter coffee...‘Suchi Suprabatham’ kept the eyelids of the occupants at least half-open. The Infy bus was maneuvering along what I would describe as one of the worst affected roads in the city, the culprit being incessant downpours here. Madipakkam, the lake turned-residential area turned-lake was slowly drying up, thanks to some mercy from Varun over the past two days. ‘Chennai Margazhi’ has always been pleasant. Today the sun was looking almost like a moon, only more illumined, what with the heavy mist veiling him every now and then. At 7-7:30 AM, the most happening places are the road-side tea shops. A glass of tea in the right hand…. cigarette, butter biscuit or ‘Dina thandhi’ – depending on taste - in the left… a perfect start for so many here. The IT Highway potholes made sure that motorists accumulate their share of misery for the day.<br /><br />Suchi started the day with an over exaggerated discourse on how a cup of filter coffee early morning can raise our determination to unsurpassable extents and how one can conquer Mars and stuff… A cup of filter coffee in the morning is heaven, true… but why bring determination and filter coffee together still defies my cranium.<br /><br />Inspiration can sometimes induce great feelings at the wrong time. I was remembering a Pa. Vijay’s verse my colleague had sent. “Nagam kooda naalukku 0.001 angulam valargiradhu… naam?” (“Even Nails grow 0.001 inch a day… we?”) Inspired I was! Raring to go and devour Java. Nevertheless, I’ve seen all these… flashes... will die out after some time…Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-1135181963394084492005-12-21T21:44:00.000+05:302005-12-21T21:57:11.286+05:30An evening in Beasant Nagar<span style="color:#ffcc99;"><span style="color:#ff9900;"><strong>Wrote this a day after experiencing something out of the world. An evening I'll remember forever...</strong></span><br /></span><br />“How was the evening?”, Srikanth asked me. His Unicorn was speeding along the Beasant nagar road. I was speechless… it had been just minutes since we had experienced bliss!<br /><br />Classes, null pointers, deliveries… we decided to take a break. The air carried music even as we entered the Beasant nagar Pillaiyar Koil at roughly 7:15 PM yesterday. A Thyagarajar Keerthanai invited us into the premises where hundred or more rasikas were witnessing a magician in full swing. O.S.Arun it was… Srikanth took a place in the floor and I made myself comfortable in a bench along with some old mamas. Arun was having a superb time with a perfect accompaniment. Music was flowing like silk. “Yamuna…” was touching. The situation - a group of Bhaktas inquiring River Yamuna about Lord Krishna’s whereabouts. The way in which he weaved the raga was stupendous. The unparalleled expressionism in his voice made sure that he captured the various emotions to near perfection.<br /><br />I have never listened to a better version of “Jagadhodhaarana…”. His deployment of “Yashodha…” , “Kesava…”, “Hari…” in myriad hues made this rendition an outstanding one. He was not a mere artist. He was a creator, a sorcerer who conjured up a bagful of tricks ever now and then. As he gave a touching completion to this work, a tear fell from my eye…<br /><br />Some peppy numbers ensued. “Premi Hari…” was a foot-tapper. The Mridangist and the Tablist gave prefect orchestration to Arun. It was as hot as any bangra number. Arun has caught the pulse of the gen-X which was evident with the good number of youngsters he had enticed for the evening. Each of his songs carried a mix of genres - carnatic, Hindustani and Bhajans – all converging so beautifully as to give pure nectar for the connoisseur’s ears. I looked at Srikanth. He looked back at me. No words. Just amazement in our eyes… And… Goose bumps all over…<br /><br />“Koovi azhaithaal…” – the next. As I kept listening, I felt at that instant that there were not enough words in Oxford or Webber to describe this performance. It can only be felt. I told Srikanth, “ippadi koovi azhaithal yen kural kodukka mattaan kumaran?”. Taking your audience to a high plane of divinity is not too easy. Arun made it look too easy!<br /><br />The entire Kacheri was dotted with improvisation, innovation and skilful usage of swaras and raagas. A refresher from the conventional “Aalabanai - Keerthanai” concerts, I’ve to say. I don’t know too much about Raagas and their nuances. Srikanth might narrate that part of it better. But I strongly feel that, to relish such a performance, it is not necessary to understand the technicalities too much. All you need is what they call ‘aesthetic sense’. As Arun signed off with “Pavamaana…”, I felt like wailing aloud (like those teenage girls in Enrique concerts) . Man he was simply superb!<br /><br />The ambience, the quality of music, the mellifluous voice… everything about yesterday evening was perfect… including that girl in the yellow saree. What say Srikanth?Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20066157.post-1135174990604575442005-12-21T19:45:00.000+05:302006-10-24T21:32:17.390+05:30Ganaanaam thva...<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7255/1998/1600/Me.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7255/1998/320/Me.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />My first post. New to blogging. Every 'dude' in town has a blog in his email signature. Lemme also get funky!<br /><br /><br />System.out.println("Hello blog world!!");Venkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12947216112106227394noreply@blogger.com1