Rahman Live!

I got to hear Rahman perform live for the first time yesterday on the grounds of a near-packed Salt Lake stadium; the audience spread over the grounds and the galleries to add up to something close to a lakh!, if the organizer's live announcement figures were anything precise.

To be honest, my whole experience was rather a mixed one- a good part of the show was a real disappointment, as i also realized how outdated i was in keeping up with his latest trends- almost every other track was unfamiliar to me! To top it off, there was a clear shift towards western music- and experiments with rap, hip-hop, and remixes were being done rampantly- once even extending to a song as classic as the "Chaiyan Chaiyan"! (this one was even attempted without a male voice around!) There was also a string of performances that were sung by robot-like, metallic-sounding voices- the lyrics, though sounded hindi, were indecipherable for the most part. And then, there was a band of foreign artists, who had come "all the way from France/US..."- who, to my untrained ears, sounded amazingly fluent in rap genre- and i waited patiently for my kind of music to return, as they all rapped, hip-hopped, funkied and danced away to glory. :)

For the kind of Rahman music that i do have a ear and an appreciation for, my biggest personal disappointment was "Dil Se Re"- perhaps the one on which i had pitched my greatest hopes on! For anyone who has loved this song just for the intense passion, the hopeless desperation, and the sheer power that only Rahman at his best form could put into it- almost capable of waking up a dead man from the morgue! or, moving a pyramid around!- would have found precisely all of that lacking in his performance last night. And all the flames set up on the stage- all real fire, precisely-timed to shoot up at the high moments- could not make up for this lack of burning passion and energy. Even the flow of the song was broken quite a few times.

My second big disappointment was with the sufi genre- maybe just because this was again something i had real high hopes on! Though the ambience seemed quite perfect and serene for a spiritual takeoff- the audience got composed for what this genre needed most, as the stage lights dimmed and turned to the pure, soothing, serene green that symbolizes sufism; and Rahman & team, heads covered with white cloth, seated themselves on the stage floor with harmoniums- the performance itself failed to mesmerize a live- living, breathing- audience; coming nowhere close to drawing out your soul, nowhere close to uniting with the divine and inspiring the kind of trance that Sufi music/singers are so well known for. The performance was limited to "Khwaja Mere Khwaja" and "Arziyan/Maula Maula", the latter surely being the better of the two performances by a good measure- and i really missed "Piya Haji Ali" here.

And now for the really good pieces of the show :)- though you could see Rahman play almost every role with equal readiness; from lead singer to just lending his voice for a small vocal-piece, to accompanying the singer on stage by playing on his casio-keyboard hanging around his neck in a guitar-like style, Rahman was perhaps at his best when he took charge of his piano, and came up with a beautiful musical composition with Sitarist Asad Khan (he played marvellously well!)- it was not a jugalbandi; in fact Rahman played down his own performance, letting the Sitar overshadow the piano completely; before a whole band of musicians joined them into a strong chorus in the build-up to a powerful climax, only to recede away from there to let the duo perform alone again, just as the music moved from subtle to very powerful and back to subtle again. There were individual performances by other musicians too- a powerful drumming piece by Sivamani sounded really good too.

Hariharan was good as usual (have heard him live before)- and shared a very good rapport with Rahman. As Rahman accompanied him on his piano, his rendition of just the first para of "Dheemi Dheemi" before breaking off to "Tu Hi Re" was truly soulful, refreshing and soft! (wished he could sing that fully!) His rendition of "Nahin Saamne", though, could have been a bit more softer and closer to the original version, as suits his style and voice better. Missed his "Sun Ri Sakhi" too. His best moment probably came with his little experiments with sargams as he tried to make the audience sing "Raag Yaman" with him (with his claim that every Calcuttan can sing!), before moving on to merging all the pieces of the puzzle so meaningfully and seamlessly into what turned out to be "Aye Hairathe"! :)

The 4 hour-long show- coordinated with the utmost professionalism, without any glitches/delays whatsoever affecting the show's smooth execution- closed well with "Jai Ho" and "Vande Mataram", as expected- and you got to witness Diwali for the second time this year :), with fireworks going off one after the other in quick succession right above the stage. By this time, the audience had got really charged up- and you could sense an air of madness and danger around you. People on all the galleries had lit up fires by burning newspapers on a large scale, while people on the grounds climbed up on their chairs to dance and to cheer. This is when you understood what Rahman had meant by his words- "Even if i sneeze, Calcutta claps". :)

Mayapur

My long pujo weekend- though drawing to an end now- was made wholly worthy by a visit to Sri Mayapur Dham! Got up in the wee hours of the morning yesterday, and after some 5 hours and 150 kms of road-journey, reached the sprawling campus of the ISKCON headquarters quite in time for the noon's "Bhog Aarti" at the main temple of Sri Radha-Madhava. The beautifully, intricately adorned Radha in pure-white marble, Krishna in stark-black marble, along with the Ashta-Sakhis, and the whole aura of the temple hall-and-floor blooms to full ecstatic life with these soul-wrenching hare-krishna/hari-bol kirtans.

Also, the truly enchanting hari-naam chants at the bhajan-kutir, carried out non-stop day in-and-out by small choral groups taking their turns in shifts, is another experience that really touches you and lingers on with you.

The Mayapur campus boasts of modern amenities- phone-booths to cyber-cafes, currency exchange centers, ATMs, health-care, food-stalls, guest-houses etc. Cars are not allowed beyond the main entrance to the ISKCON premises. The only drawback of the place is the scorching heat at the temple courtyard- trees and shades around the temple premises are relatively few, and you burn your feet for sometime once you have bared them outside the temple premises. A wonderful respite from the relentless heat comes during the somewhat long and tranquil walk to the Goshaala- this is a typical narrow village road, surrounded by untouched nature- with ample trees and lakes on both sides. Occasionally you pass across ashrams/dharmashalas/cottages/schools run by ISKCON. The Goshaala is home for scores of cows/bulls, where each one is assigned a carefully chosen Hindu mythological name- Savitri, Sati, Laxmi,...- a very well-fed, hefty bull is aptly named Bheem :-)- and they supposedly respond to their names!

The day ended well with a much-needed generous shower pouring in finally- cooling the earth, albeit dampening the Nabami spirit of many a pandal-goer! All in all, a wonderful experience!- Mayapur is one place i wish to visit every year!

Tommy

Tommy- re-named as his original name got buried somewhere in his past life, never to be known again- was adopted by my very dear friend, Debmita, two years back. He was nervously roaming about in her locality- a perfectly domestic dog, most likely abandoned by his very owners. As she described to me the next day, what had struck her most was the way he sat right on the middle of the road- something that the street-smart dogs, who know better, would typically never do. It was obvious that his exposure to this outdoor world had not been for long- he was tense, vulnerable, and shocked- he clearly lacked the requisite survival skills, and had been through a raw deal- he was in bad shape; hunted down by street dogs, bruised and bleeding.

My friend's initial impression was that he was lost- and his family would be looking for him. She got him inside her porch, attended to his wounds, fed him food; but kept him visibly there for a day/two- seriously hoping he might get noticed and reclaimed back home. In the meantime, she conducted her own inquiries around- if anyone knew about any such family or, if anyone could recognize the dog and where he belonged. I can't recall if she had informed the police- but she did everything otherwise possible for her. Failing at her efforts to locate his rightful owners, she finally took him in. I had felt a surge of pride when she told me so- i knew it was not a decision, it was simply an inner call she had to answer- and i knew she had really wished and hoped she could find the concerned family, and hand him over to them- rather than having to take him into her home. I have always been very proud of this friend, and equally proud of her family- for all the good deeds they are so naturally capable of; for rising up to any emergency so effortlessly- together as a family.

What followed next was an attempt to recover his name, and give him back his lost identity- she tried calling out all common dog-names she could imagine (i offered some leads too!), but he just wouldn't respond to any. Giving up on his luck again, she went ahead and named him Tommy- he now responds well to this name. He is not too young, though not old either- his age, like his name, is not known. My friend still regrets why his ex-family could not just tag along his name/age while deserting him.

As for his temperament, there was bad news in store here- he gave them a very difficult time; he still does, but to a much lesser extent. His painful, abandoned days; however long they had lasted- and maybe even the treatment that was meted out to him in his first home; seem to have done his psyche enough damage for a lifetime. Even as he was recovering, he had started revealing a high-strung, distrusting, and an almost paranoid nature! At the same time, he was extremely insecure and felt a constant need to stick around as close as possible to his new found master- never really granting her her own little space. He came out with extreme, uncalled-for reactions; had no qualms about attacking my friend, digging his teeth at her rather violently at the slightest possible "offense"- whether real or, perceived. The offense could take the form of her hands mildly brushing against him accidentally; and at times he would just imagine her movements to be coming back from behind him to inflict harm.

Over a timeframe, it grew even more adhoc, and unprovoked- and i really wondered if biting was a passion for him- often, my friend, oblivious in her sleep, would wake up to the sudden realization of having just had a sharp bite from him!!! It was impossible for anyone in the family to put a collar/leash around him, so as to take him out without risking others around- here, however, she would strongly disagree with me :)- she always maintains that he has never harmed an outsider or, a guest! Tommy needed professional dog-handlers to give him a bath, and even to tie a leash around him!!!- something i can't imagine in my wildest dreams about Elsa! At one point, i think she even debated with the idea of giving him away to some adoption center- but she could not. I had stopped visiting her place ever since this canine member became a part of their family.

Then much later, she would tell me one day that things were turning around to be a bit better- he had started to reveal a sensitive side too. His bites hadn't entirely stopped coming, though- but they had become quite predictable, less violent, and what helped was you sort-of understood how to avoid getting one!- most importantly, he had come to realize that they hurt! His bites would now be followed by instant pangs of conscience, and a deep sense of remorse- followed by an urgent need to redress all the damage done. What that meant, in his world of nursing, was to instinctively reach out to his master, and generously offer some magical, liberal licking at his inflicted wound!!!- as my friend put it lightly, if she could manage to survive yet another of his bites; she would now have to die of his wound-licking stunt! If earlier she had to be careful about one of his lethal acts, she now had two successive ones to cope with!

We had just about moved to our new home, when Elsa had suffered a bite from a street-dog who had sneaked into the compound. She was having a walk with my Dad- and the other dog had suddenly sprung up from behind, catching them both completely unawares- before things were even realized, she was under attack. She had sustained two deep incisions, and some superficial ones too. While i was nursing her back to health, i wondered what kind of lasting impact this incident would have on her mind- but as she recovered, she bounced back not just in health but in spirits too- and while we still continue to feel anxious whenever she is out for longer than expected, she seems to have so completely left every trace of the horrific memory behind her- and thanks to her indomitable spirit!, she remains overly-friendly and still has this constant tendency of going all out of her way to meet any of her canine friends she happens to spot during her walks! :)

Elsa - Part II

Had a surgery on my thumb last month- and, though typing is not exactly fun right now, especially getting the combination keys to work :(- i thought if i could pull through three weeks of near-normal work, i might as well indulge in some blogging today. :) And what better than coming up with a whole series on Elsa!

Though i had introduced Elsa in my very last post, i had scarcely written anything about her grown-up days. She still remains as endearing, and almost as disarmingly naive as she was in her puppy days. :) You may shout at her, or slap her tight for sneaking into the kitchen and overturning that dustbin (in one of her rarely successful dustbin-raids!); or for just chewing away at anything inedible, at vanishing speed, before you could even see and react (matchboxes too!)- but all you would get back from her is a dumb, blank stare! To drive the whole point home, it though helps somewhat to get her back to the original "scene of crime", and admonish her right there on the spot- amidst all the evidence of her action preserved untouched.

As for her naivety, she would get a sore in one of her ears, itch it with a hand till it hurts, cry out in a sharp, sudden pain- then would instinctively pull back her hand, only to lick at it liberally- nursing it to her heart's content, and thinking all the while that it was her hand that had got hurt in the process!- and ending up feeling relieved too. :) I actually caught a part of this phenomenon replay a few times over, before I could locate what the exact problem with her was!

Coming back home after a lot of shopping is a fun experience too! As you start unpacking, she would be right there in front of you- standing tall, all too eager and curious, and demanding a sniff at all the items- one by one, as you take them out- x-raying and "sanitizing" anything that gets into the house, like the perfect sniffer dog!

And need i say how welcome it feels to come back home after a long day at work? :) More on her, later!

Elsa

Elsa- named after the iconic lioness of "Born Free", was brought into our home on a somewhat chilly, winter morning- comfortably, securely tucked inside a fancy food-basket, and all wrapped-up in a warm towel. As we watched with sheer amusement, she was pulled out and unwrapped to reveal the cutest, most animated form of life you ever get to meet. My dad had been living on his own, away from his family for almost 2 years then (on a posting), and being the dog-lover that he is, this was the way out he found for keeping him company. Heedless of all our protests (we had lost our first pet some years back, and were determined never to keep another), he went ahead with his plan- and just called up one fine morning, to announce that he had picked up a cute little hybrid-Lhasa puppy, while on an official tour to Vizag. In just another couple of days, on his next home visit, he carried along a Cerelac-fed baby Elsa to what was soon to become her home and family. She was, however, to remain with Dad till he got posted back- which took another six months to happen. That being the case, we missed out on most of her fun growing-up days- having had the chance to see her only when we visited Dad on a vacation, or when he would come down to visit us.

As we began our hunt for the most apt name for her, in which exercise my brother was contributing the most with his decent research on how a puppy's name matters in shaping up her personality in the formative days- e.g, a puppy named Roger or, Tiger would most likely grow up to be ferocious!- after much deliberation, we settled for the name "Elsa". We still keep getting suggestions within the family of what else we could have called her- like, while we were just having Momo on a weekend evening, it suddenly occurred to Dad that we could have just called her "Momo"- thanks to her Tibetan origin!

Much to our relief and delight, she started exhibiting a very sweet disposition, a natural warmth, a goodness of nature, very high spirits, the most credulous gaze!, and an innocence (read dumbness :-)) that surpasses any you have ever known. She still retains her innocence, and is, at worst, "amoral" about any of her "wrong-doings". ;-)

Signing off now with a famous (far-fetched?) theory/analogy by Sherlock Holmes on families and their dogs-

"A dog reflects the family life. Whoever saw a frisky dog in a gloomy family, or a sad dog in a happy one? Snarling people have snarling dogs, dangerous people have dangerous ones. And their passing moods may reflect the passing moods of others."

Why i love fiction

I love good plots, well thought-out and well sketched-out characters, good story-telling, well-strewn conversations- and, above all, the wonderful insight that only a fiction author who knows and can see through her characters really well can provide us on the psychology or the motives that drive the characters- thus infusing in them the life and the meaning they deserved the very moment they were conceived.

I have always harbored the utmost regard, and a curious fascination-and-awe for all the genius imagination and the originality of thought that goes into building up a good work of fiction. While i have had my own share of Paulo Coelho/Shiv Khera/Robin Sharma kind of reading- having practically tried out many times over any author who becomes a best-seller in the market- reading anything from inspirational/leadership/self-improvement/spirituality/psychology books- and while they undeniably have their share of wisdom or insights to offer; at times compiling some invaluable lessons from sources as ancient and relevant as the Panchatantras- fiction still remains what i always keep falling back to and ending up feeling truly rewarded for making the choice. Only fiction gives me a sense of reading for pure pleasure and escape- reading a book not to draw any professional/business-value/worldly-wisdom out of it, but just for the pure joy of it- nevertheless, i end up drawing a lot of real value from them in the process!

The last novel i finished a couple of weeks back was "The Rose & the Yew Tree"- a non-crime novel by Agatha Christie (under the pen name of Mary Westmacott), and this was a truly refreshing change from the kind of "inspirational" books that i have been reading lately. At times, it's exhausting even to think of just how many people around us are preaching us on the cliches of how to become a positive thinker, an effective individual, a successful leader/manager or, how to grow spiritually, or even just how to become a dreamer by listening to and following your own heart! Once you are done reading one book on the topic, the second one leaves you with a very strong sense of deja vu. This is where the novelty and originality of a work of fiction comes to your rescue like a breather- thankfully, no two works of fiction tell the same story, and no two fiction authors try to explicitly preach the same words of wisdom. Happy fiction reading to all! So long!

A rediscovery!

Yet another day off! As usual about all my weekends/holidays, I slept all of last night and this morning like i hadn't known sleep for ages. Reality being that i am not at all that sleep-deprived. While there's no way i can deny waking wide-eyed like a night-owl over odd hours, and then sleeping through odd hours more often than not, i have never really compromised on my hours/quality of sleep or, even the continuity of it. It's just that my hours have become a little skewed towards an altogether different timezone- nothing worse than that. :) But if i start writing down about my sleeping-excesses and erraticities here, i would end up making this post very different from what i actually intended to write about today. I had generally intended this blog-site to be my personal space where i could occasionally put on print some of the little pleasures that we draw from simple things and that make life BIG and worth it! Had one such pure little joy again today, and this time i don't want to let go of the opportunity to scribble down my feelings about it. The pleasure this time, like many a times before, was that of discovering a good song. Though in this case, it was rather a re-discovery- I had listened to this song (in snatches perhaps) only once some time back, but had somehow lost it in my mind- and that probably made it all the more precious today! Today, as i had the luck of re-discovering it back, i allowed myself to get completely intoxicated, and to surrender fully to it's spell. The song is "Bawra mann...", and i just can't stop playing it now. The effect produced by the extreme overuse and the constant repetition of the word "bawra" (mad) throughout the song, and in every context, is to further take you to the next level of intoxication, instead of diluting it. The only time that the word "sayaani" (wise) finds a mention is in the context of the "bheed" (crowd) around him. He sees/seeks pure madness in everything intangible around him- ranging from the mind, the heart- it's beats, the words, the thoughts, the movements, the vision, the world around, nature, the togetherness, the music, the lyrics, the rhythm, the tune, the silence, and the darkness. The last time i can recall a similar experience was when i had discovered the amazing Pakistani song "Mora saiyaan mose bole na..." (thanks to the Saregamapa show)- i could not but keep it playing on "play continuous"-mode for the whole evening the very day i had managed to get my hold of it. :) Shall similarly savour this song fully till the spell works for me, and before i somewhat start taking it at it's face-value. So long!