Friday, December 12, 2014

The River

Unimaginably, madly happy! Unquestionably in your debt of gratitude. As it is true that I am, as  the sun which rises and energises this world of ours, as the mighty river that never ceases to flow into the seas endlessly, timelessly 

And as I perceive this glorious night, like another river that flows across the boundaries of time and space every ticking moment, every breath I take. There is a me which is forever in you, as I watch with rapturous wonder, as I must have been for eons past

Ananda Shankar (1942 - 1999) was the nephew of Pandit Ravi Shankar and one of the pioneers in East West fusion music with his funky sitar. The River is one of his sweetest compositions, along with Missing You in memory of his father the legendary Uday Shankar, Radha etc and some of the other pieces being a bit psychedelic like the Streets of Calcutta ..


 



Thursday, December 11, 2014

Rambling again



How shall I hold my soul
to not intrude upon yours? How shall I
lift it beyond you to other things?
I would gladly lodge it
with lost objects in the dark,
in some far still place
that does not tremble when you tremble.

But all that touches us, you and me,
plays us together, like the bow of a violin
that from two strings draws forth one voice.
On what instrument are we strung?
What musician is playing us?
Oh sweet song.


(Rainer Maria Rilke)


The imagery of a violin is quite significant, for it is rare to find two souls that are strung to the same length, playing the same music. And the constant endeavour, not to intrude, not to impose an individual's own dispositions upon the other.

And the reference to the musician is an unmistakable sign of the mystic and its exactly here that I find parallels with Tagore. One of his poems, a bengali song, says about the wonder one experiences, listening to the melody that is playing all around. Another promises to sing your song every day, praying for words, praying for melodies, yet another voices the anguish of not knowing the ways and means of offering homage to the god of the soul who sits alone...

Tagore wrote around two thousand songs of which a hundred odd compilation as Gitanjali, won him the Nobel in 1913. What I really find truly remarkable in his songs is that love and worship become indistinguishable at times, and his canvas is wide, universal. (And yes, he turned to painting in his later years, which are now prized collections)

Here is a sample of his own translation into English -

There is a half hour documentary on the Gitanjali, published by the Ministry of External Affairs, which can be accessed from this link

I would be ending with another poem, which is said to have been heard by the Scottish poet Robert Burns from an old herder. He added some lines of his own, and the song Auld Lang syne became famous throughout the world

Should Old Acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind;
The flames of Love extinguished,
and fully past and gone ...


Inspired by this , Tagore wrote a song in bengali and set it to music and here is Srikanto Acharya singing the Tagore song after the English, and explaining it all 

 

Sunday, December 7, 2014

December moon


Another full moon rises. But this time, there is an unhealthy haze gathering in the skies above the dusty plains of Northern India, as it generally does this time of the year when there's no sun for a few weeks, only that the forecasts are rather more bleak than the usual.

Troubled mind in troubled times, uncertain times and there's nothing but music that keeps you sane in such moments of gloom. I would be happy to share this beautiful piece, an interesting fusion composition on the sitar by Fateh Ali Khan with you tonight therefore, Autumn - Sitar ...


Thursday, December 4, 2014

Roses blooming

Never knew them roses to be in full bloom so happily until I chanced upon them, at one corner of our office greens ..





December beginning and I hope all the cuttings and graftings take hold, and the roses continue to open up to the human existence




 You have my favorite missing, the gorgeous white, which is still budding in our gardens and I really hope to catch it in its full glory one of these days for it reminds me quite uncannily, of someone truly extraordinary in an ordinary world!

Fiona Joy Hawkins is a tremendously talented Australian pianist and composer, and here is her Winter Cold - 



Sunday, November 30, 2014

The Jahaz Mahal

There is THE Jahaz Mahal in Mandu, in the State of Madhya Pradesh, a place I have never been able to visit yet. That one is famous as the setting where the famous love affair of Baz Bahadur and Rani Rupmati was played out, and it is said that the best time to visit Mandu is during the rains but that's another story. 
There is another Jahaz Mahal in Delhi, in Mehrauli village behind the Qutb Minar, and as its name suggests, it was meant to be seen like a ship on water, being a palace surrounded by a lake.


The structure is now, right in the middle of human habitat. The outlying buildings have all but vanished. Major portions of the lake which was called Hauz i Shamsi or the Shamsi Talao, have been reclaimed ..
The U courtyard, originally rectangular

 Notice the variations in the pavilions on top. Built before the Mughals, the pavilions were lined with blue tiles. The building was definitely some kind of a resort or resting place for the later Mughals and could have been a Serai or inn for Central Asian visitors before that, in the 15th century

Jahaz Mahal
Boys playing cricket in the grounds that were definitely part of the Shamsi Talao, and the ruins of outlying buildings. The annual fair, Phool walon ki Sair is held in these grounds in the month of October every year when a procession offers flowers at the Yogmaya temple and then presents chaddar at the dargah of the saint Qutbuddin Bakhtiyar Kaki. The festival also hosts cultural programmes so the efforts in conservation could perhaps, have been on a much higher scale

The water level really seemed down at the pavilion on the other side of  the  Shamsi Talao. These three gentlemen actually pleaded with me for something to be done about the general state of affairs, for the Jahaz Mahal has weathered the elements for seven centuries, they said ..


I was anxious to visit the dargah for light was fading fast, and it was already half past four when we came upon the Jahaz Mahal on foot, and invitations for tea and pakora had to be politely declined. When we found the dargah, it was quite dark but it was interesting to see another building, Zafar Mahal alongside, stated to have been the residence of Bahadur Shah Zafar, the last of the Mughals. Another time then, another day!

Thursday, November 27, 2014

Little birds

Found this beautiful bird foraging in the grounds behind our office one Sunday afternoon. Could it be a wren or prinia?



Greenish on the back and a bit of a rust on the head. I think it could be a tailor bird. Not very sure, though

The Indian Robin has been a frequent visitor and is definitely blessed with an inquiring personality 


The ashy wren - warbler. Flick, flick goes the tail. Fickle minded sure, but it has got one of the sweetest songs when it really wants to be heard :))


There are other birds too that I have noticed but could not catch on camera yet. It is really astonishing, this wide variety of small birds right in the middle of Faridabad and one can only hope that they continue to thrive and remind us of the infinite, beautiful and bountiful Nature we are all part of

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Unmistakably

 

From another time, the curve of your smile the faintest hint of fragrance rustle of your silk and your unabashed gaze the sound of your voice like the hidden brook gurgling out of the rocks and I cannot quite manage to wake up to that Kohinoor dream and now like tinkling glass or a needle that jabs at my soul and even more surprising is the fact that you paint me blue wondering if you remember the tiny blades of grass peeping out of the window sill after the rains knew when the storm broke on the sand by the rolling phosphorescent seas at night or is it just me  

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Now it is empty where I stand
and look down the avenues.
Almost as far as the farthest ocean
I can see the heavy
forbidding sky.

(Rilke)