Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Friday, July 30, 2010
...on music and more...
it was a glorious summer day on the eastern seaboard. i was driving through the interstate,headed to a national park for the weekend. i had passengers, of course. passengers who whiled away the time discussing lightly about issues ranging from politics to music.it was the music part of it that got my goat.
i mean, i'm not the kind of person you see barging in on every conversation with my opinions. mostly, i am quite satisfied listening to others discoursing about any topic under the sun. it is but rarely that i find myself forced to intervene. this was one such occurence. the parties involved were, to all extents and purposes, part of the Indian Intelligentsia; the highly educated and well-travelled class who represent our impoverished
nation across the globe. it is therefore, in such people that i look for a liberated mindset,an ability to view things neutrally and dispassionately before divulging an opinion on them. this,is precisely what i did not find in the said discussion.
the topic had veered to music. not fortuitously,but simply because i had put on the cd player an album of one of the more recent bands in my native language,bengali. before anything, let me clarify that this band is one which i believe has given us some really melodious numbers but has distinctly lacked in lyrical strength; in fact, i had complained on numerous occasions to my better half about the same. when the songs started,
my passengers fell over each other criticizing and distancing themselves from the music. a passing comment opined that the music of the '60-'70s far surpassed the one playing.
the same voices, truth be told, had classified Denver as Pop. sacrilege,i know. a host of names rolled off eager tongues while enunciating the greatness of bengali music in the decades past. i mildly pointed out that the names mentioned were those of singers; those who rendered a song to the best of their abilities, which, truth be told again, were amazing. however, it left open two significant areas , namely those of lyrics and music composition. how many of those creators were my passengers aware of? none, it seemed. one smooth customer hacked into Salil Choudhury from my words and stated that that had been the exact name he had been looking for. however, on being asked, he could not definitively state a single composition by the named person that he, the passenger, admired.
another, who claimed to be an ardent fan of Queen and F.Mercury, could only remember We are the Champions on being requested to name some of his favourites by the said band. all in all, i figured, while they compared A to B and stated one to be undoubtedly better than the other, they, in fact, knew little about one and even less about the other. that made it a triple insult; one each to the parties they were judging, and one to their listeners, which included me.
what is it that makes people judge music so masterfully? my mother and her two sisters were trained by a cousin of Sachin Deb Burman, a legendary figure in Bengali music. from her recollections, he forbade his disciples from singing any of the songs of Rahul, the son of said S.D.Burman; additionally, singing the songs of Tagore were forbidden too, as they were considered as 'light' music, which spoilt your voice.
almost half a century later, there's not a soul in Mumbai who wouldn't swear by 'Panchamda' and i am yet to see a contemporary non-mainstream Bengali movie that did not use a song by Tagore. opinions on art change, and drastically at that, it seems, over time.
the artist and his specific creation, however, do not change. what is it that makes us confidently declare something as the be-all and end-all of an art form? i think it is the beauty and wonderous nature of art itself that grants us this privilege. imagine someone saying 'i don't really like Newton's second law of motion, you know, it's so boring...the third law, however, totally resonates with me...i love it!'. doubtless, he/she would be considered as the prime candidate for one of the lunatic asylums. on the other hand, someone saying 'Bach's second symphony is really low-key,i myself rather prefer Mozart's fifth, you know' is likely to be taken as a serious music connoisseur. that freedom of not only expression but also of opinion, is the beauty of art that scores over science.
to sum up, if its at all possible to sum up such a discussion, it is necessary to evaluate any art form not only against its contemporaries or by its ability to endure over time, but also by and in itself; by its unique and distinguishing characteristics that makes me watch Ray's Aagontuk or Govinda's Joru-ka-Gulaam with equal enthusiasm, or in other words, without prejudice. for prejudice is the poison that education cannot eliminate but wisdom can, but seldom does, avoid.
i mean, i'm not the kind of person you see barging in on every conversation with my opinions. mostly, i am quite satisfied listening to others discoursing about any topic under the sun. it is but rarely that i find myself forced to intervene. this was one such occurence. the parties involved were, to all extents and purposes, part of the Indian Intelligentsia; the highly educated and well-travelled class who represent our impoverished
nation across the globe. it is therefore, in such people that i look for a liberated mindset,an ability to view things neutrally and dispassionately before divulging an opinion on them. this,is precisely what i did not find in the said discussion.
the topic had veered to music. not fortuitously,but simply because i had put on the cd player an album of one of the more recent bands in my native language,bengali. before anything, let me clarify that this band is one which i believe has given us some really melodious numbers but has distinctly lacked in lyrical strength; in fact, i had complained on numerous occasions to my better half about the same. when the songs started,
my passengers fell over each other criticizing and distancing themselves from the music. a passing comment opined that the music of the '60-'70s far surpassed the one playing.
the same voices, truth be told, had classified Denver as Pop. sacrilege,i know. a host of names rolled off eager tongues while enunciating the greatness of bengali music in the decades past. i mildly pointed out that the names mentioned were those of singers; those who rendered a song to the best of their abilities, which, truth be told again, were amazing. however, it left open two significant areas , namely those of lyrics and music composition. how many of those creators were my passengers aware of? none, it seemed. one smooth customer hacked into Salil Choudhury from my words and stated that that had been the exact name he had been looking for. however, on being asked, he could not definitively state a single composition by the named person that he, the passenger, admired.
another, who claimed to be an ardent fan of Queen and F.Mercury, could only remember We are the Champions on being requested to name some of his favourites by the said band. all in all, i figured, while they compared A to B and stated one to be undoubtedly better than the other, they, in fact, knew little about one and even less about the other. that made it a triple insult; one each to the parties they were judging, and one to their listeners, which included me.
what is it that makes people judge music so masterfully? my mother and her two sisters were trained by a cousin of Sachin Deb Burman, a legendary figure in Bengali music. from her recollections, he forbade his disciples from singing any of the songs of Rahul, the son of said S.D.Burman; additionally, singing the songs of Tagore were forbidden too, as they were considered as 'light' music, which spoilt your voice.
almost half a century later, there's not a soul in Mumbai who wouldn't swear by 'Panchamda' and i am yet to see a contemporary non-mainstream Bengali movie that did not use a song by Tagore. opinions on art change, and drastically at that, it seems, over time.
the artist and his specific creation, however, do not change. what is it that makes us confidently declare something as the be-all and end-all of an art form? i think it is the beauty and wonderous nature of art itself that grants us this privilege. imagine someone saying 'i don't really like Newton's second law of motion, you know, it's so boring...the third law, however, totally resonates with me...i love it!'. doubtless, he/she would be considered as the prime candidate for one of the lunatic asylums. on the other hand, someone saying 'Bach's second symphony is really low-key,i myself rather prefer Mozart's fifth, you know' is likely to be taken as a serious music connoisseur. that freedom of not only expression but also of opinion, is the beauty of art that scores over science.
to sum up, if its at all possible to sum up such a discussion, it is necessary to evaluate any art form not only against its contemporaries or by its ability to endure over time, but also by and in itself; by its unique and distinguishing characteristics that makes me watch Ray's Aagontuk or Govinda's Joru-ka-Gulaam with equal enthusiasm, or in other words, without prejudice. for prejudice is the poison that education cannot eliminate but wisdom can, but seldom does, avoid.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
1411 left....and counting down every day....
Just 1411 left...we're talking about our national animal...the magnificient tiger.
Its saddening,unbelievable and we must do all we can.
Please reach out,in whatever way possible.
Follow this link for what you can do...
http://www.saveourtigers.com/WhatCanDo.php
SAVE THE TIGER.EVERY BIT MATTERS.
Its saddening,unbelievable and we must do all we can.
Please reach out,in whatever way possible.
Follow this link for what you can do...
SAVE THE TIGER.EVERY BIT MATTERS.
These amazing snaps are courtesy NatGeo.Lets hope these aren't all we have 100 years from now.....
Friday, December 11, 2009
Scribblings from half a decade ago...
A half-hearted and rather self-defeatist attempt to clean up my mail inbox from the clutter that had accumulated there over 6 years threw up some interesting,forgotten and special emails....some of them had my earlier writings,from before I had started blogging....putting them together below....all penned during the winter of 2004...the photo below, however, is from the winter of 2009....my nephews...somehow it just fitted with Happiness!...so couldn't resist....
The Insider on (the) Grass
......a spectator in time...watching life unfurl before my listless eyes,seeing but not understanding,trying to pick out the invisible thread running through it all as it slowly but irrevocably trudges on its way, plodding yet determined,meandering but not directionless...losing myself , fascinated by the apparently meaningless sense of purpose manifested in each tiniest bit...something stirring deep down in faraway recognition,only to jerk me back to life as i realize i'm looking at myself...a torrent of cold rage threatning to suck my mind in a bottomless chasm of darkness and almost doing so,nearly,before a detachment comes,as sudden as it is unexpected...picking me,taking me and releasing me in a momentary bed of peaceful air as i close my eyes to breath deeply...momentary nonetheless,for soon my thoughts reassure me of their presence and reassert my presence to the world and then i'm a spectator once again, a spectator in time...as the endless,timeless and seemingly mindless wheel rotates inexorably on......
*****************************************
Happiness!
the age of innocence....basking in the warm sunshine...feeling the blue skies in your heart...a mind full of green landscapes, of a fluttering breeze that sweeps away all troubles even before they reach for you....the time when hopes are born, nascent wishes take shape in a half awake consciousness.....the genesis of memoirs...each day an unknown step taken away from freedom, into the shackled realms of an apparently unfettered world where magic has died.....times when small was big, and beautiful too...when the tired calls of some lonely bird would bring you to drowsy consciousness on a late winter afternoon, the dry smell of falling leaves would accompany the chill in the wind....and you would feel warm and cozy and comfortable and snuggly and happy for no reason at all!!
*****************************************
Time-travelling...
digital nostalgia...google earth....
a lonely road passing by an old building that had been so warm someday...a wide green expanse lit up by the late-noon sun...you could smell the dry grass in winter...an eagles view from above it all...giant structures standing silently for decades...meadows running far and wide between and around them...follow them and you come to a sparkling brook passing under a small bridge...you lay there for hours,waiting for the occasional goods train to painfully groan its way above you...the restless brook would go gargling on,continuously...you would close your eyes and feel peace all around...feel happy and contented...
years later,looking at those frozen moments, you feel a sudden sense of loss,a strange muted pain somewhere deep inside...memories deluge you as a forgotten dam breaks somewhere...sitting back with a sigh,you feel something spread within you...slowly at first,faster then...and you know you are happy for those days,happy that you had them...the happiest days of your lives...days when you were learning to fly...
*****************************************
Love (of course,why not?)...
love is but a state of mind...self attained as easily as externally infused...uncannily resembling a strange form of bliss,of a blissfull unawaredness,of an almost utopian existentialism that lets you selectively view,distort and retain anything without burdening you in any way with the consciousness that you are doing so,convincing you even before you have started that it is the purest and rawest form of truth that you are seeing all around yourself...
bordering on extreme selfishness in its abject simplification of its own existence as those of others...parasitically absorbing its life blood from all that surrounds it-yet denying and refuting precisely those very entities to claim its unique state of being and finding surprising support too, from them, while it goes on devouring what feeds it...
the most discussed,debated and least understood concept in the world spawned by the arts and literature, philosophy,psychology,history,biology,chemistry et al...the exact nature of the neuro toxins released by the motor cells in your brain when you are lip-locked in a kiss of frenzy with your mate is not even hazily understood,what is much better understood,rather felt,is the kind of stimulus it generates in various parts of your body...viz., inflamed nostrils and faster breathing,heart racing,ears burning-in short, the stuff!..
feelings, whether physical or mental are so much more solidly grounded than any explanation which seeks to investigate them,they are just there,so to say,while their reasons for sprouting are founded in the slippery and nebulous mire of human back-calculations...the mind offers little more than silent tears in the way of either resistance or help while you go crazy doing mental heuristics,trying so hard and helplessly to logic-drive that pain away...rather than try to deduce the critical path followed to reach the point wherein one feels "it is there now",it would perhaps be better if one could accept the state where"it is there now" and taking it as a singular take off point,try to figure out the "where do we go from here" part logically...for so often,it is here that one is least able to adhere to logic inspite of trying desperately to do just so all along...
The Insider on (the) Grass
......a spectator in time...watching life unfurl before my listless eyes,seeing but not understanding,trying to pick out the invisible thread running through it all as it slowly but irrevocably trudges on its way, plodding yet determined,meandering but not directionless...losing myself , fascinated by the apparently meaningless sense of purpose manifested in each tiniest bit...something stirring deep down in faraway recognition,only to jerk me back to life as i realize i'm looking at myself...a torrent of cold rage threatning to suck my mind in a bottomless chasm of darkness and almost doing so,nearly,before a detachment comes,as sudden as it is unexpected...picking me,taking me and releasing me in a momentary bed of peaceful air as i close my eyes to breath deeply...momentary nonetheless,for soon my thoughts reassure me of their presence and reassert my presence to the world and then i'm a spectator once again, a spectator in time...as the endless,timeless and seemingly mindless wheel rotates inexorably on......
*****************************************
Happiness!
*****************************************
Time-travelling...
digital nostalgia...google earth....
a lonely road passing by an old building that had been so warm someday...a wide green expanse lit up by the late-noon sun...you could smell the dry grass in winter...an eagles view from above it all...giant structures standing silently for decades...meadows running far and wide between and around them...follow them and you come to a sparkling brook passing under a small bridge...you lay there for hours,waiting for the occasional goods train to painfully groan its way above you...the restless brook would go gargling on,continuously...you would close your eyes and feel peace all around...feel happy and contented...
years later,looking at those frozen moments, you feel a sudden sense of loss,a strange muted pain somewhere deep inside...memories deluge you as a forgotten dam breaks somewhere...sitting back with a sigh,you feel something spread within you...slowly at first,faster then...and you know you are happy for those days,happy that you had them...the happiest days of your lives...days when you were learning to fly...
*****************************************
Love (of course,why not?)...
love is but a state of mind...self attained as easily as externally infused...uncannily resembling a strange form of bliss,of a blissfull unawaredness,of an almost utopian existentialism that lets you selectively view,distort and retain anything without burdening you in any way with the consciousness that you are doing so,convincing you even before you have started that it is the purest and rawest form of truth that you are seeing all around yourself...
bordering on extreme selfishness in its abject simplification of its own existence as those of others...parasitically absorbing its life blood from all that surrounds it-yet denying and refuting precisely those very entities to claim its unique state of being and finding surprising support too, from them, while it goes on devouring what feeds it...
the most discussed,debated and least understood concept in the world spawned by the arts and literature, philosophy,psychology,history,biology,chemistry et al...the exact nature of the neuro toxins released by the motor cells in your brain when you are lip-locked in a kiss of frenzy with your mate is not even hazily understood,what is much better understood,rather felt,is the kind of stimulus it generates in various parts of your body...viz., inflamed nostrils and faster breathing,heart racing,ears burning-in short, the stuff!..
feelings, whether physical or mental are so much more solidly grounded than any explanation which seeks to investigate them,they are just there,so to say,while their reasons for sprouting are founded in the slippery and nebulous mire of human back-calculations...the mind offers little more than silent tears in the way of either resistance or help while you go crazy doing mental heuristics,trying so hard and helplessly to logic-drive that pain away...rather than try to deduce the critical path followed to reach the point wherein one feels "it is there now",it would perhaps be better if one could accept the state where"it is there now" and taking it as a singular take off point,try to figure out the "where do we go from here" part logically...for so often,it is here that one is least able to adhere to logic inspite of trying desperately to do just so all along...
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