Music Literature Weird Stuff

Short Stories on Facebook

2011-12-26T14:15:00.001+05:30

Some of my short stories are on FB here

https://www.facebook.com/vasudev.murthy?sk=notes

Please do take a look

2011-11-13T20:50:00.001+05:30

Miscelleneous Turkey Photos Including Nature Scenes Slideshow: Vasudev’s trip from Bangalore, Karnataka, India to Turkey was created by TripAdvisor. See another Turkey slideshow. Take your travel photos and make a slideshow for free.

The past month

2011-11-05T18:43:00.003+05:30

So much has happened over the past month

An important trip to Saudi Arabia and Bahrain
An amazing trip to Turkey - Istanbul (Topkapi, the bazaars, Hagia Sofia, The Blue Mosque, the Cisterns), Konya (Rumi's tomb), Antalya, Demre, Phaselis, Chimera, Myra. Erzurum, Ishak Pasha, Kars, Ani, Ardhavan, Childer Golu, Shaitan Kalesi, Ardhanuc, Savsat, Hopa, Rize - so many photos on my FB page - have attached two here
Another Trip to Saudi where many issues were resolved
A speech at the Social Media Summit at Chennai

I was hardly home. But it was fantastic.

Auroville Recording

2011-08-20T19:42:00.001+05:30

Do listen to my interview and a recording of me plying the Araban Oudh at Auroville Pondicherry.

http://www.aurovilleradio.org/arts-a-culture/performing-arts/2315-vasudev-murthy-on-the-oudh

Barbarians at Thiruvaiyaru

2011-08-15T15:27:00.006+05:30

I visited Thiruvaiyaru, where the great saint-composer Thyagaraja lived and composed wonders.

His house has been restored by barbarians. Bizarre ideas like ugly metal gates, shocking gold paint, absolutely ugly sculptures, bathroom tiles - oh God, where did these idiots show up from??? What have they done to our heritage??

Inside you see horribly painted walls, with pictures of other musicians - and hold your breath - photos of politicians leering down, taking credit for this 'restoration'! What could be more outrageous???

The house opposite - very humble - is probably what Thyagaraja's house actually looked like. Now we have a concrete monstrosity, and no one can imagine that great musical wonders took form there. India is destroyed by modern vandals, clueless about aesthetics, philistines with no sense of colour, proportion and heritage.

Nemo passes away

2011-01-28T18:31:00.005+05:30

My dearest Nemo passed away after months of suffering.

A urinary infection, a body weakened - what else? He died in my lap and I watched his last breaths form bubbles. And then they stopped. His eyes were fixed in the distance and he did not respond to my voice. And then I too had no voice.

I wrapped him my T-shirt and we put flowers on him. We buried him next to another beloved dog. Perhaps we shall plant tulips and roses on his grave. They will thrive, fanned by the vapors of love and innocence. We are left behind, to regret we did not do enough.

Here are some photographs

His first picture at the shelter from where I brought him home.

European Pictures - October and November

2011-01-01T18:08:00.001+05:30

Trips & More Trips

2010-09-25T11:17:00.002+05:30

Bangalore - Delhi - Bangalore - A Management Game

Bangalore - Mumbai - Lucknow - Delhi - Bangalore - Consulting Workshops

Bangalore - Mumbai - Indore - Mumbai - Calicut - Bangalore - Consulting Workshops

Bangalore - Delhi - Workshop Planning

Next Month - Europe

I'm tired

The Saatchi Gallery

2010-07-03T15:26:00.004+05:30

I spent a couple of hours walking around the Saatchi Gallery in Chelsea, London. In a city full of great museums, the Gallery seems to hold its own because of its vivid, extremely unusual exhibits.

A corpse on chairs?

A two headed lamp!

Not sure what this is, but its cool!

This is not a creased cloth. Its the actual design!

A room full of speakers!

Workshops and Exercise

2010-05-01T15:02:00.002+05:30

I've been helping some folks with running workshops in Delhi. I'm enjoying that though not the travel but thats not too bad.

On a fitness mania at the moment and of course, it has its advantages. Not the least being an ability to be more alert and effective on my feet at the workshop, where the display of kinetic energy is needed.

I feel light and energetic at the ripe old age of 47. In fact I feel more fit than when I was half that number! I hope it lasts!

Nemo's illness

2010-03-21T08:45:00.003+05:30

Nemo is ill and we are very down. He has stones in his bladder and is unable to urinate. An operation is the only option but he is too small and weak. It could be dangerous. Wish him well.

My Dogs

2010-03-16T19:54:00.002+05:30

Scotty

Cookie
Mocha

Jumble
Jimmy

Jimmy

Jimmy

The Collapse of Education

2010-03-07T07:16:00.003+05:30

An entirely new wave of oddly-literates stalk the corridors of the corporate world.

The origins of this strange set seem to be in the zillions of B-Schools to be found at every corner. What are they teaching? Where is the faculty? Why can't these students write at a BASIC level? Why are they completely confused about what they want to do?

Over the past six months I have met students who have no idea what they want to do - finance is the same as marketing which is the same as consulting. All that matters is some strange notion of a 'pay-package' and the brand. Bravado alone is apparently enough. Inflated resumes claiming all kinds of baffling excellence ("Top 0.013% in India in Grade 6") , restless body language, eyes that have already wandered off to the next scheduled interview - are these the leaders of tomorrow? I guess the answer is yes.

I can't wait to be led!

Music in London

2010-01-26T12:10:00.002+05:30

I had the pleasure of visiting the Raj Academy of Sikh Music in Southall, London. Met their Principal, Dr. Surinder Singh, a wise and knowledgeable Musicologist. I listened to some soul stirring music in Raag Badhans (not far from Desh) in an orchestra by his students - Esraj, Sarangi, Dilruba and Sarinda. They really believe in bringing feelings out. I was very touched.

I shall be back in Feb to visit them again.

The Runaway Puppy

2010-01-17T08:43:00.002+05:30

Sarang's book is featured in a list by Reading Rainbow as something small children should read!

http://www.readingrainbow.in/rrr.shtml

You can get it here http://www.flipkart.com/run-away-puppy-sarang-dev/8187649615-dw23for8te or

Dog Rescue

2009-12-30T17:50:00.003+05:30

I managed to get a dog rescued two days ago.

Hour after hour, day after day, month after month, year after year - there it was - tied up in an area called BTM Layout. Half-starved. No dreams of unrestrained freedom. Complete hopelessness. Perhaps waiting for the the bliss of death.

Finally, a complaint to CUPA and my friends there actually rescued it. The 'owners' gave up without any resistance!

Hats off to CUPA!

I am adopting the chap after he recovers at the ICU at CUPA. That might take ten days. Photos soon.

Utterly Ghastly cruelty to animals

2009-12-27T07:03:00.004+05:30

There is no limit to the base cruelty of man.

If you have a Facebook account, see the photos on this group of animals skinned alive, beaten to death for 'better taste' and so on.

http://www.facebook.com/#/group.php?gid=6976864122&ref=nf

There is no God.

South Africa's SPCA

2009-12-01T18:30:00.000+05:30

The NSPCA believes that an animal’s welfare should be considered in terms of the five freedoms

freedom from hunger and thirst
freedom from discomfort
freedom from pain, injury and disease
freedom to express normal behaviour
freedom from fear and distress

The NSPCA does not support the chaining of elephants and is opposed to any handling methods which may cause pain and suffering. In terms of the Animals Protection Act, Section 2(1)(b) – any person who

“confines, chains, tethers or secures any animal unnecessarily or under such condition or in such a manner or position as to cause that animal unnecessary suffering or in any place which affords inadequate space, ventilation, light, protection or shelter from heat, cold or weather;”

is guilty of an offence.

Nathaniel's Nutmeg

2009-11-29T07:20:00.002+05:30

A fascinating book by Giles Milton about the Nutmeg trade and the associated bloody history.

The Island of Run was exchanged for Manhattan as a political settlement between the Dutch and English.

And read all about Dutch atrocities at Amboyna! Shudder!

Voltaire's Philosophical Dictionary - about Animals

2009-10-19T15:51:00.000+05:30

The Philosophical Dictionary
Voltaire
Selected and Translated by H.I. Woolf
New York: Knopf, 1924
Scanned by the Hanover College Department of History in 1995.
Proofread and pages added by Jonathan Perry, March 2001.

Animals

What a pitiful, what a sorry thing to have said that animals are machines bereft of understanding and feeling, which perform their operations always in the same way, which learn nothing, perfect nothing, etc. !

What! that bird which makes its nest in a semi-circle when it is attaching it to a wall, which builds it in a quarter circle when it is in an angle, and in a circle upon a tree; that bird acts always in the same way? That hunting-dog which you have disciplined for three months, does it not know more at the end of this time than it knew before your lessons? Does the canary to which you teach a tune repeat it at once? do you not spend a considerable time in teaching it? have you not seen that it has made a mistake and that it corrects itself?

Is it because I speak to you, that you judge that I have feeling, memory, ideas? Well, I do not speak to you; you see me going home looking disconsolate, seeking a paper anxiously, opening the desk where I remember having shut it, finding it, reading it joyfully. You judge that I have experienced the feeling of distress and that of pleasure, that I have memory and understanding.

Bring the same judgment to bear on this dog which has lost its master, which has sought him on every road with sorrowful cries, which enters the house agitated, uneasy, which goes down the stairs, up the stairs, from room to room, which at last finds in his study the master it loves, and which shows him its joy by its cries of delight, by its leaps, by its caresses.

Barbarians seize this dog, which in friendship surpasses man so prodigiously; they nail it on a table, and they dissect it alive in order to show the mesenteric veins. You discover in it all the same organs of feeling that are in yourself. Answer me, machinist, has nature arranged all the means of feeling in this animal, so that it may not feel? has it nerves in order to be impassible? Do not suppose this impertinent contradiction in nature.

But the schoolmasters ask what the soul of animals is? I do not understand this question. A tree has the faculty of receiving in its fibres its sap which circulates, of unfolding the buds of its leaves and its fruit; will you ask what the soul of this tree is? it has received these gifts; the animal has received those of feeling, of memory, of a certain number of ideas. Who has bestowed these gifts? who has given these faculties? He who has made the grass of the fields to grow, and who makes the earth gravitate toward the sun.

"Animals' souls are substantial forms," said Aristotle, and after Aristotle, the Arab school, and after the Arab school, the angelical school, and after the angelical school, the Sorbonne, and after the Sorbonne, nobody at all.

"Animals' souls are material," cry other philosophers. These have not been in any better fortune than the others. In vain have they been asked what a material soul is; they have to admit that it is matter which has sensation: but what has given it this sensation? It is a material soul, that is to say that it is matter which gives sensation to matter; they cannot issue from this circle.

Listen to other brutes reasoning about the brutes; their soul is a spiritual soul which dies with the body; but what proof have you of it? what idea have you of this spiritual soul, which, in truth, has feeling, memory, and its measure of ideas and ingenuity; but which will never be able to know what a child of six knows? On what ground do you imagine that this being, which is not body, dies with the body? The greatest fools are those who have advanced that this soul is neither body nor spirit. There is a fine system. By spirit we can understand only some unknown thing which is not body. Thus these gentlemen's system comes back to this, that the animals' soul is a substance which is neither body nor something which is not body.

Whence can come so many contradictory errors? From the habit men have always had of examining what a thing is, before knowing if it exists. The clapper, the valve of a bellows, is called in French the "soul" of a bellows. What is this soul? It is a name that I have given to this valve which falls, lets air enter, rises again, and thrusts it through a pipe, when I make the bellows move.

There is not there a distinct soul in the machine: but what makes animals' bellows move? I have already told you, what makes the stars move. The philosopher who said, "Deus est anima brutorum," was right; but he should go further.

The Path: Autobiography of an American Yogi

2009-09-28T13:18:00.003+05:30

I just chanced upon this fascinating book by Donald Walters and I found it as powerful as the book of the author's Guru (Autobiography of a Yogi - Paramahamsa Yogananda)

A must-read!

Some great music

2009-09-13T07:39:00.002+05:30

After a long time, we actually sat through an entire concert.

Mormukut and Manoj Kedia from Giridih performed in Bangalore yesterday. The sarod and sitar duo started off very beautifully. They played Raag Jhinjhoti and did a very fine Alaap Jor and Jhala. The Teen Taal

compositions were good as well, but I was left vaguely dissatisfied by the usual convergence to a crescendo where the nuances of Jhinjhoti were sacrificed in the interests of ‘performing’. Pilu was nice but a bit shorter than I would have liked. All in all, a pleasant performance.

This was followed by a remarkable concert by Dhondutai Kulkarni. Your typical little old lady, but with a great voice and complete mastery. Simply loved her wonderful Pulashree, with the beautiful use of Shuddha Madhyam and a rising Komal Rishabh. She sang Desh, Rageshree and Shahana. It was a thoroughly enjoyable evening.

Tabla accompaniment in both cases was pleasant.

And now I am listening to Amritvarshini by the late Pandit Jitendra Abhisheki.

A weekend well-spent!

(Images borrowed from the net)

Nemo & Scotty

2009-08-26T14:19:00.003+05:30

Two nice boys

Nikhil Bannerjee

2009-08-23T15:46:00.001+05:30

The most amazing musician. What musical thoughts, what feeling.

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eSnips Social DNA

Twitter http://twitter.com/dracula99

2009-08-07T19:26:00.001+05:30

I am on twitter at http://twitter.com/dracula99

Do follow me if interested!

A Life Event

2009-06-30T20:56:00.001+05:30

My Mother passed away last Friday while I was away on a short business trip to the US.

Her music, love for books and animals has come down to us, not as perfectly as she might have wanted.

Have I reconciled with her passage? Time will tell.

Kalavati by Malini Rajurkar

2009-06-21T17:33:00.003+05:30

Some fabulous music - Raags Kalavati

Malini Rajurkar 1969

When I look into these eyes

2009-06-21T16:32:00.000+05:30

A nice video on compassion - the animal anthem

Geeta Dutt

2009-05-31T19:12:00.004+05:30

What nostalgia, such marvelous music...eternal brilliance..

Waqt ne kiya: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dS681XZqAoQ

Babuji dheere chalna:

Youtube Tabla wonders

2009-04-04T15:34:00.005+05:30

Some amazing old footage of musical greats needs to be acknowledged.

Here is Ustab Ahmad Jaan Thirakwa on the Tabla with Ustad Habib Khan on the Vichitra Veena (no one plays it anymore)

Pandit Anokhe Lal of Benaras

Ustad Tafo Khan of Pakistan

One more of Tafo Khan

The late Ustad Amir Khan with the late Pandit Shyamal Bose, with whom I spent many days in Kolkata. He taught me some pieces in Bihag and taught my son Tabla. He was a wonderful short-tempered genius. Memories of a lifetime.....

Rupak Taal

2009-03-23T17:13:00.003+05:30

A nice seven beat taal (3 + 4). A favourite for many, though I do not find it easy since I didn't apply myself when I should have.

Here is an example

Here is a piece by Zakir Hussain

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EvPMLQSz4y0

Basant

2009-03-22T20:39:00.003+05:30

And this is Basant from a Pakistani movie.

Horrendously difficult on a violin, mathematically brilliant and lovely to hear.

A modern version from Rashid Khan

The beauty of impermanence

2009-03-22T17:51:00.002+05:30

As time passes by and one gets older, it seems right that memories become a burden. Its great that nature dulls the sharpness of some poignant thoughts of events and people.

One looks back with surprise - was I that dumb? How could I have said such and such or done this or that? Was that really me?

I read a science fiction story once that talked about the conquest of death and the accompanying agony of those who wanted to be rid of too many memories, good or bad. The fear of passing on then perhaps went away. We shall move from one reality to another and never know the difference. The observance of cruelty, of a certain God who keeps desperate hopes alive but looks away at the suffering and pain of the innocent - a message garbled by philosophical rubbish, designed to keep us sane - yes, this is not a reality I am interested in. To that extent, I am happy when time accelerates and the pain of the innocent stops. But the cries of their agony will last beyond time.

I wrote a book many years ago on the survival of the animal kingdom and our own eradication as a punishment for centuries of depravity. The logic of suffering of the mute escapes me entirely. But we are superior, we are told, and have the right to erase and inflict.

Basant - Mallika Pukhraj and Tahira Syed

2009-03-11T19:34:00.002+05:30

An extraordinary piece based on Raag Basant, a simple beat and two brilliant singers

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jq3bb33sElU

swimming in the cauvery

2009-03-06T19:35:00.001+05:30

Water & Fire

2009-03-01T12:15:00.002+05:30

A great trip to an idyllic and picturesque spot called Manchanbele near Bangalore. We had some terrific fun leaping off like fools from 40 feet cliffs into deep water, kayaking and swimming.

And we were face to face with a forest fire that stopped 20 feet away from where we were.

I was happy that I was as fit as guys half my age, which may not be saying much, given our sedentary lifestyles.

Pups & the House

2009-02-15T11:24:00.002+05:30

A room with a view

These pups were born on the site.

Side view

Front View

Another view

Finally, a Great Concert

2009-02-09T07:11:00.003+05:30

After months of waiting and watching, I finally attended a great concert.

We listened to Alka Deo Marulkar of Goa at the Gokhale Institute.

After a little warming up hesitation, she really stunned the audience. These were the Raags she sang

1. Marwa
2. Purvi (truly delightful)
3. Tilang (a variation)
4. Nat Bhairav (I think, but I could not precisely nail it down)
5. Bhairavi

I greatly appreciated the peace on her face when she sang. I think she is an evolved soul.

The tabla was a bit loud. The accompanists were very average.

Don't miss her if she visits your part of the Galaxy.

Points to ponder

2009-01-04T15:46:00.002+05:30

There is only one thing more powerful than all the armies of the world, that is an idea whose time has come.
- Victor Hugo

Our scientific power has outrun our spiritual power.We have guided missiles and misguided men.
- Martin Luther King, Jr.

The whole history of science has been the gradual realization that events do not happen in an arbitrary manner, but that they reflect a certain underlying order, which may or may not be divinely inspired.
- Stephen W. Hawking

To confine our attention to terrestrial matters would be to limit the human spirit.
- Stephen W. Hawking

The visible world is the invisible organization of energy.
- Physicist Heinz Pagels

There is no reality in the absence of observation.
- The Copenhagen Interpretation of Quantum Mechanics

No theory of reality compatible with quantum theory can require spatially separate events to be independent.
- J.S. Bell

If quantum mechanics hasn't profoundly shocked you, you haven't understood it yet.
- Niels Bohr

Man can learn nothing except by going from the known to the unknown.
- Claude Bernard

Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.
- Lewis Carroll

Your theory is crazy, but it's not crazy enough to be true.
- Niels Bohr

To know that we know what we know, and to know that we do not know what we do not know, that is true knowledge.
- Copernicus

Few people are capable of expressing with equanimity opinions which differ from the prejudices of their social environment. Most people are even incapable of forming such opinions.
- Albert Einstein

The power of Thought, the magic of the Mind!
- Lord Byron

The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mystical. It is the source of all true art and science.
- Albert Einstein

Not only does God play dice, but... he sometimes throws them where they cannot be seen.
- Stephen W. Hawking

It gives me a deep comforting sense that ‘things seen are temporal and things unseen are eternal.’
- Helen Keller
The greatest discovery of my generation is that a human being can alter his life by altering his attitudes.
- William James

We feel and know that we are eternal.
- Edmund Spenser

As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of being.
- Carl Jung

Time is not a line, but a series of now points.
- Taisen Deshimaru

The birth of a man is the birth of his sorrow. The longer he lives, the more stupid he becomes, because his anxiety to avoid unavoidable death becomes more and more acute. What bitterness! He lives for what is always out of reach! His thirst for survival in the future makes him incapable of living in the present.
- Chang-Tzu

How could there be any question of acquiring or possessing, when the one thing needful for a man is to become-to be at last, and to die in the fullness of his being.
- Antoine De Saint-Exupery

The spirit down here in man and the spirit up there in the sun, in reality are only one spirit, and there is no other one.
- The Upanishads

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you've imagined. As you simplify your life, the law of the universe will be simpler.
- H.D. Thoreau

Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.
- Carl Gustav Jung

The gift of fantasy has meant more to me than my talent for absorbing knowledge.
- Albert Einstein

Man will occasionally stumble over the truth, but usually manages to pick himself up, walk over or around it, and carry on.
- Winston Churchill

All that we are is the result of what we have thought. The mind is everything. What we think, we become.
- Maharishi Mahesh Yogi

Perhaps in time the so-called Dark Ages will be thought of as including our own.
- Georg C. Lichtenberg

Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.
- Chief Seattle

Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity...and I'm not sure about the universe.
- Albert Einstein

Know thyself.
- Socrates

A man of genius makes no mistakes. His errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery.
- James Joyce, Ulysses

He who joyfully marches in rank and file has already earned my contempt. He has been given a large brain by mistake, since for him the spinal cord would suffice.
- Albert Einstein

Words ought to be a little wild, for they are the assaults of thoughts on the unthinking.
- John Maynard Keynes

Nothing exists except atoms and empty space; everything else is opinion.
- Democritus of Abdera

All great truths begin as blasphemies.
- George Bernard Shaw

What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters to what lies within us.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

When the violin sings

2008-12-28T06:57:00.002+05:30

Yesterday my violin sang.

New strings that have had time to settle and some great musical inspiration helped. I am a very average violinist but sometimes the sounds of a contented violin are captivating. Especially when one of playing for oneself.

a great piece in Raag Paraj was the inspiration - check this out http://sarangi.info/sarangi/vocal/ratnakar_paraj.wma

Paraj is related to Basant, Puriyadhanashri etc and all flow from Purvi Thaat.

Who are my visitors?

2008-12-16T06:12:00.002+05:30

I see that I get a few repeated anonymous visitors who do not leave comments.

You don't have to, but do write and tell me who you are. It would be nice.

Englewood CO
NJ
Delhi

Oddly, a very common search that leads people to my blog is 'forensic'. :-)

Throw them into Jail for Negligence and Dereliction of Duty

2008-12-05T07:08:00.002+05:30

While in power, they have security, power, foreign trips - all at our expense.

When there's a problem, they defer to the Italian 'High Command' and 'offer to resign'. If the High Command decides after deliberations to accept their resignations, they just ...LEAVE!!!!! Nothing happens to them! They probably get accommodated as Governors or even Presidents. Nothing happens to them. NOTHING!!! They are NOT ACCOUNTABLE TO US!

This MUST CHANGE! They cannot just resign and get away with this!

These guys should be thrown into jail for negligence and dereliction of duty! They must be held accountable and punished severely!

The great country of Israel

2008-12-03T08:56:00.004+05:30

How I admire Israel....

A country where the people have learnt lessons from history and treat every single citizen and his or her grief with great tenderness, while making sure avenging deaths is never a lower priority.

For this poor child, the entire country stood up

"Moshe, you don't have a father and a mother to hold you in their arms... no parents to hug and kiss you," Rabbi Moshe Kotlarsky said as mourners dressed in black chanted hymns with tears rolling down their eyes. "You are the child of entire Israel," Kotlarsky said adding the community would take care of the boy, whose parents Rabbi Gavriel Holtzberg, 29, and his wife Rivka, 28, were among those killed when terrorists stormed the Nariman House in Mumbai.

How utterly moving, how utterly beautiful. I have no doubt that in parallel, those who killed or ordered the killing of the boy's parents will be hunted down and hopefully tortured continuously (not to death please, that's an escape) for years on end.

And now cut to India, where &^%&^%& politicians like the Chief Minister of Kerala, Achuthanandan said this about the family of Major Unnikrishnan who was killed in Mumbai

Achuthanandan, who went to offer his condolences at the Bangalore house of National Security Guard commando Sandeep Unnikrishnan on Sunday night, was turned away by his father. The chief minister reacted sharply, saying that "even a dog would not have gone to their house if he had not been a martyr".

This #$@)(*%$# dares to say this!

And where was the Defence Minister? Why did he not attend the funeral?

I forgot - he is busy figuring out who the next Chief Minister of Maharashtra is to be.

Patil, Patil & Patil

2008-11-30T09:04:00.003+05:30

More weird stuff.
29 Nov 2008, 2134 hrs IST, IANS: When asked at a press conference whether the terror strike was an intelligence failure, Patil said in Hindi: "Aisa nahi hai. Itne bade shahar mein chhota hadsa ho jata hai. To total failure nahi hai. (It is not like that. In big cities like this, small incidents do happen. It's is not a total failure.)"

Others do notice Incompetence:

Walter Andersen, currently associate director of the South Asia Program at Johns Hopkins University's School of Advanced International Studies, told rediff.com, "I am surprised that after several terrorist incidents, the government hasn't moved faster to get something much more effectively in place."

"You have a totally incompetent home minister (Shivraj Patil), and why he isn't removed is beyond me," he said, "He really doesn't know how to get the bureaucracy organised to have some sort of coordinated planning."

Our 'President' is still holidaying in Indonesia. Others notice.

Fri Nov 28, 7:20 am ET DENPASAR, Indonesia (AFP) – Indian President Pratibha Patil arrived in Indonesia for a six-day visit Friday, going ahead with a Southeast Asian trip despite deadly militant attacks in Mumbai.

More pictures of house construction

2008-11-30T08:21:00.003+05:30

Some fine Gentlemen

2008-11-30T07:59:00.002+05:30

This is my little boy Nemo. He thinks I'm his Dad.

These guys like to hang out with me because I can be easily manipulated. Thats Jumbtle, Scotty and Nemo.

Humble Jumble, with the big heart.

Weird Stuff At a time of crisis

2008-11-29T03:34:00.005+05:30

The most astounding, weird stuff is happening now in India.

The Prime Minister has warned Pakistan for the 3462474th time. He's asked the ISI chief to visit, all expenses paid.

The Home Minister said: "Before I could reach there, the terrorists who had attacked one of the hospitals, the Cama Hospital, had left and those who attacked the railway station had also left," Union Home Minister Shivraj Patil said. NOTHING bothers this man.

Our 'President' is vacationing in Vietnam and has not thought it necessary to return to India. On second thoughts, let her stay there.

Sonia Gandhi has condemned the attack. Imagine that!

Rahul Baba, heir-apparent, with no known source of income, has said "Its a terrorist attack." Now that's profound!

Allahabad and Pune

2008-11-09T08:01:00.001+05:30

A nice trip outside Bangalore on a campus recruitment mission.

It had been quite some time since I visited UP. I went to Allahabad and enjoyed Sangam, the confluence of Yamuna and Ganga. An expensive boat ride takes you from the banks of the Yamuna to the point of confluence, where one takes a nice dip and then returns. Religious ardour is everywhere and the setting is quite nice. I also brought home a Guava sapling – Allahabad is famous for its Guavas – and I also visited the temple of the reclining Hanuman, which comes with its own interesting myth, about how he lay down to control Ganga and how she washes him once a year. Such stories are actually quite beautiful.

Then on to Pune, which I had not visited since 2002. Not too much to say except that it seemed a cleaner city (than Bangalore) and the roads were better. Now I’m back and quite exhausted.

On the subject of Literature, the only note of disappointment is that I discovered that the habit of reading anything sensible has been discarded a long time ago. No one cares.

2008-10-29T08:04:00.001+05:30

Someone I know had this written about him...it was quite amusing that he became the subject of some literary examination...

http://openspaceindia.org/essays_52.html

Almost a year ago, on another network called Shakespeare and Company, a strange person made his debut: Akira Yamashita. Akira-san claimed to be a Japanese Koto player, with an interest in writing poetry. He was received warmly by the network. A few weeks later, however, he put up this startling post:

Some of you may recall that several weeks ago, I fell a victim to Fugo fish poisoning. I was hospitalized in a Sapporo hospital and fed activated charcoal as part of the treatment. Time stood still.

It was a period of intense soul searching. I had visions. I spoke to God and several doctors and nurses. As a side effect of the poisoning, I lost the ability to converse in Japanese and now speak English with a pronounced Angolan accent. Not being able to speak Japanese in Japan despite being Japanese has certain disadvantages and I am now looking to emigrate. In any case, I discarded Koto playing and now play the Sitar, which affords a deep sense of meditative pleasure. I find I cannot tolerate Japanese food either and prefer the more charming Idli and Dosa from South India, despite having never visited India. And I never want to write a haiku again. Never. Ever.

The strange case of Akira Yamashita – a persona that continues to grow, change and became an independent narrative – is one way of dealing with the problem of personality in an impersonal space. With self-deprecation and humour, Akira-san constantly subverts and at the same time, draws attention to some aspects of our behaviour online. In this post, he has raised the issue of identity: What kind of a Japanese man wakes up to find he speaks English with an Angolan accent and wants to emigrate to south India? Which part of this narrative is real and what does that word mean anyway?

Another member of the same network, David Israel, had this to say when it became apparent that Akira-san was a fiction:

Is this, rather, a question of fictional persona-construction as lying close to the imagination-generating heart of his poetical creativity? Or if one is to essay the writing of haiku per se, does this fairly necessitate constructing a Japanese persona who may then do the writing? -- if one is to write from the vantage of a Black American, does this call for the formulation of a personality who can justify such a literary exertion?

Is [this person] radically different from any significant poet who, perforce, constructs a "self who can speak" in the very process of speaking?

Akira Yamashita is a story that magically transforms our ideas of ourselves in an online space. We are forced to question the stories we tell about ourselves, our identities as writers and our identities as speakers in the stories we tell. He is a mirror held up to us; if we are conscious of absurdity in his posturing, it is a timely reminder to us to examine our motivations and our stances online.

P D James again

2008-10-26T07:41:00.003+05:30

I regret that I learned about her so late. I am astonished at her elegance. Extremely subtle thoughts are expressed in a few simple words of such depth that I am blown away. Examples:

"There had been kindness, affection, tolerance and understanding, but those were the common currency of all the well intentioned. Had he, during the course of his ministry, changed a single life?"

"The light fell on a face of grave and astounding beauty and he experienced an emotion that now came rarely, a physical jolt of astonishment and affirmation."

Having a great vocabulary does not mean mastery of a language - it is the spare usage of words and their precise introduction that makes a difference.

The mystery of dogs

2008-10-26T07:18:00.004+05:30

Rani's passing on hit us severely. Its easy to acquire a pup and make it happy, but taking in an old dog that must have been treated badly and then allaying her fears is something else. We learned a lot in the two years Rani lived with us. I learned to interpret her barks and moods. I knew when she was calling me to help her or was angry about something. I regret some moments of impatience when she wanted something and I was on the phone or busy elsewhere. Nevertheless, we have to move on.

A couple of months ago, another interesting vagrant moved in. A terrier called Scotty with a tremendous attitude. A truly attractive dog with an extraordinary personality - photos later with long white hair with a light brown saddle and bangs over his eyes. A single bark has a decibel level intended to crack open your skull. He is impervious to commands and declines to listen to remonstrations that he get off the couch. He does whatever he wants. NOTHING is acceptable to him - a dog outside, a strange voice or noise, a squirrel running about in a jungle in Madagascar. His walk is like a ballerina and he has enormous strength though he hardly eats. If he wants to be scratched, he gets it and there's nothing I can do but obey!

The dogs react to the presence of a person at the gate in an interesting way even though they cannot see the gate. A known person clanging on the gate gets no response - they continue snoozing. An unknown person opening the gate gets a loud volley of head-splitting barks. HOW DO THEY KNOW??

But less about that - the area I live is full of dog lovers. Strays abound. In the market areas, there is a shopkeeper who has kept his personal comfort aside and maintains a family of dogs who come and go as they please. He has a TV. Everyone stands and watches as the dogs lie about everywhere, including seats and occasionally ON him, when he's snoozing. Dogs KNOW. No irrational fear of diseases, 'will he bite', 'dogs are dirty!' etc.

My house under construction is full of stray dogs who are not concerned if I stroll in and out inspecting things. They may look up in a bored way "Oh its you..." and go right back to sleep. I think they are advanced creatures with a well developed sixth sense.

I think they are truly evolved. I think I'd do a dog test to evaluate interviewees - how they react will tell me what I would need time and experience to conclude upon.....

Rani passes on

2008-10-12T06:50:00.002+05:30

Our beloved German Shepherd Rani passed on to final peace this morning after much suffering. I shall always owe her for her blessings. We shall never be the same. Sleep for ever, loved one.

Goa & construction

2008-10-09T09:22:00.003+05:30

Bridge to the sea
Beachside shack

Random pictures from Goa and more of our house under construction

Mendrem Beach
Scooter ride preparation
Cabo de Rama
Bay inlet Cabo de Rama
Ferry to Cavalesimo
16th century old church
Church at Old Goa
Colva Beach

Cannon at Cabo de Rama

House construction updates

2008-09-20T13:09:00.002+05:30

Lambani woman at the construction site!

Framed!

Laying the wooden flooring for a mezzanine room at the base of a dome

Off beat house or a Ghost House?

House Building!

2008-09-07T14:06:00.003+05:30

Things are zooming along now - will we move in by end October? A great architect, some great ideas - there's no question of an apartment....

something i read

2008-09-03T18:08:00.000+05:30

"How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving and tolerant of the weak. Because someday in life you will have been all of these".

~ George washington Carver

more pictures - Abby Falls & house under construction

2008-09-01T06:01:00.002+05:30

Chamundi - Bylekuppe - Coorg

2008-08-30T19:18:00.004+05:30

A lovely weekend trip to Chamundi/Mysore - Dubare - Bylekuppe and Madikeri(Coorg)

Great roads and the company of my son and niece.

Dream House underway

2008-08-16T20:45:00.004+05:30

Slowly but surely, our little house is getting there. Here are some photos of a rather crazy house which we hope will shelter music, books, us, dogs and more - in no particular order.

Links to ITC SRA

2008-08-11T14:56:00.003+05:30

To those who visit my blog for music

Many links point to the ITC SRA website, which I personally like it quite a bit. Do take the time to visit it here

I point to streaming media.

Some links

2008-07-28T08:38:00.000+05:30

Effective Proposal Writing Vasudev Murthy Sage Publishers ISBN
Here's a review in The Hindu Business Line
And another in The Dawn, Pakistan

What the Raags Told Me Vasudev Murthy. Rupa and Co., ISBN 81-291-0317-6.

Book Cover and a few press reviews of my book
	Review in the Indian Express	Tribune India Chapter Extract	Interview in the Deccan Herald	Interview in The Hindu	Review in Sruti Magazine	Radio Gandharv review	A reference to my book in The Hindu

My son Sarang wrote a nice book which I highly recommend :-) Its a publication from Katha (www.fictionindia.com www.katha.org)

Articles in the Deccan Herald


On Cruelty - East or West	On the Nagasaki Bombing	On William McGonagall, the World's Worst Poet	About the lawyer Jacques Verges	About Violins and the Supernatural
Music and Spirituality	The Music of New Orleans	A Solitary Lamp for Sardar Patel	Flat Earth and Globalization	Why we hit out at the Police
The Rosetta Stone and the Decay of Indian Culture	Find your Own Space

Articles in Vijay Times

Nov Article on Nuremberg Trials
Dec Poem: Give me a Bribe! Cried my MP
Dec Corruption our new National Religion

The Music of Mali - Segu Blue

2008-07-21T09:11:00.003+05:30

I listened to the intense music of the Mali musician Bassekou Kouyate on a flight from London to Bangalore

Segu Blue is what I heard. Simply brilliant addictive stuff!!!! Listen to it online (click here)

Nemo at the Dog Show

2008-07-16T17:38:00.002+05:30

This is our little Nemo, the Pug with an attitude, photographed by many people at the Dog's Day out event in Bangalore.

USA here I come!

2008-07-12T15:56:00.001+05:30

A visit to my old haunt - Dallas, for a week!

Thats where I studied, worked, lived for almost seven and a half years!

Thomas Hardy

2008-06-29T09:50:00.003+05:30

I borrowed Selected Poems of Thomas Hardy from the British Library last night.

Nothing like elegant poetry to put you in the mood.

I Look Into My Glass

I look into my glass,
And view my wasting skin,
And say, "Would God it came to pass
My heart had shrunk as thin!"

For then I, undistrest
By hearts grown cold to me,
Could lonely wait my endless rest
With equanimity.

But Time, to make me grieve,
Part steals, lets part abide;
And shakes this fragile frame at eve
With throbbings of noontide.

Old Friends

2008-06-22T08:47:00.002+05:30

A reunion after 24 years! The more things change, the more they remain the same!

Samuel Butler

2008-06-22T08:44:00.002+05:30

Reading the brilliant book The Way of all Flesh by Samuel Butler. For excellence in language and style, you can't beat this book.

Preview - Our offbeat House being constructed

2008-06-22T08:39:00.001+05:30

Our little house being constructed. Notice the granite blocks and sculptures. More pcitures along the way!

Travel

2008-06-13T21:27:00.001+05:30

A quick trip to the mid-east beckons....there's been too much travel lately. On the other hand, its to be my first trip out of Bangalore since the new airport was opened. But other than that, I can;t say I'm looking forward to it. Ticket, Forex, visa - all here, but ....

Soul Food - a short story

2008-06-05T07:28:00.000+05:30

Soul Food
VASUDEV MURTHY

If you like being frightened by things like blood and gore, then you should not read further. That is because this tale does not have these tedious elements in them and you will not find what you are looking for.

The material world remains fundamentally the same, offering little in terms of excitement to one who seeks to swim in the occult, where grim menace emerges unexpectedly, where horror is subtle and not stretched in time, or grotesquely sprinkled with the intent to unsettle and disturb. In the occult world that I visit, horror is permanent and accepted and has no connotation of evil. It is merely � and correctly � another aspect of the universe and does not come with childish and na�ve labels like �good� or �evil�. The very word �horror� is inadequate and is an application of a tedious, contrived value system which refers to some kind of dissonance or an excitement of our nerves in a certain way. With horror comes the feeling of being extinguished in a manner not of one�s choosing. And that then is how it actually is.

After death, you see, our souls are herded together, like so many cattle and we are yoked and taken to Shambala, where we are cleansed and examined for any defects and sorted. We, as those previously alive, but still with a glimmering of understanding of a sense of self, are put through a sieve of sorts and certified.

For what, you ask, perhaps anxiously. Well, my dear Sir or Lady, we are truly soul food, intended for consumption by a more powerful entity, a genuinely permanent reality that needs to eat and stay alive for purposes beyond explanation. Preposterous, you say? It does not matter. Your experiences while you lived actually do season your soul and give it an extra spice, which makes for gourmet consumption. And so, in Shambala, your soul is sorted and accumulated in one of many little bottles depending on the hue your life took. Later, your last sense of self is extinguished as you are consumed, yes indeed. You protest and say that you lived a good life? I applaud you, but regret to say it merely means you shall be used as an ingredient, no less, no more. Were you shockingly evil and did you deliberately cause pain and suffering? No matter. You too shall be used for food. Perhaps this causes bitter disappointment, setting your value systems on their head. Perhaps you are frightened, not of death any longer, but the lingering endless waiting of your soul in a container as you wait your turn to be picked up and eaten. THAT extinguishing, THAT event � now THAT will truly be death.

I see that the innocent, the good, the evil, the macabre, the cruel, the soft and compassionate are all equal and are merely crops of different varieties. Each is allowed to grow till it is ready for harvesting. Then arrives the state we call physical death, where the soul is extracted and taken to Shambala, as described.

This journey requires telling. The first step, immediately after physical death, involves setting free the soul. It is extracted from the top of the head and immediately chained and constrained. You will be bewildered and confused. How different this is from just a few moments ago, you will wonder. Your dignity is stripped and you are tied to other similarly newly-dead with ropes of ether. Not knowing what else you could possibly do in this bodyless state, you will be in a state of stupor, completely terrified, uncomprehending, wondering what next.

And soon there will be a tug and you will hopelessly drift in the direction of Shambala, which you may not even have known existed, except in distorted ways in books here and there. By now you would have realized that you are being manipulated against your will, what little there still is of it. But you cannot protest, for you know not how to express this feeling and you know not who could listen and what they could possibly do. But FRIGHT overwhelms you, as you sense a complete and final loss of control. You are truly paralyzed.

And now in Shambala, you sense many such agglomerations of similarly baffled souls who seek pointless freedom of a sort. The sense of darkness is overwhelming. You are roughly handled and dipped through a soup of what seems purple fire, but which is in fact a kind of cleansing pool. You will emerge, washed but yet completely helpless. You will be separated and herded based on some criteria which you cannot understand and then placed with millions of similar entities. Now your sense of time will leave you. You have nothing to look forward to and have no idea how to mark the passage of time and what to do about it. So you wait, awake for eternities, completely subjugated, completely removed of dignity and respect, for these mean nothing any longer. Were you once compassionate to a sick puppy? Did you once kill an old helpless lady? Neither means anything here � they merely added a kind of spice to your soul and made it additionally attractive for consumption.

And then the Event will unfold. You will be pulled out, helpless, paralyzed, uncomprehending. And you shall feel that sense of being consumed. That will be the final darkness.

That will truly be death.

P D James

2008-06-01T20:55:00.003+05:30

I've just discovered P D James and am thoroughly in awe.

From Innocent Blood

"He held her left hand, wondering what dreams, if any, peopled the uplands of the valley of her shadow."

Striking, fantastic stuff.

A short story - will it scare you?

2008-05-24T15:33:00.000+05:30

Flight NA100 to Mumbai
----------------------

I knew I would never see him again, but I did not speak out. As Pilot of NightAir 100, my duties do not include needless chatter with passengers.

My taxi dropped me at the airport at about 1 am and I walked past security, who ignored me completely, as though I did not exist. The place was quiet and deserted. I walked through the final doors and then on the tarmac towards my plane, a Boeing 737 waiting motionlessly in a dark area of the airport, very far away from the terminal. It stood silently, blacker than night, glowing with tales and mystery. Not a soul was around. I got into the cockpit and started up the engines and went through the manifest and papers. I went through the checks and let the engine idle and waited for my passengers. I turned on the lights in the cockpit. Then I looked into the blackness and waited. And waited. I had all the time in the world.

And soon I saw him, my lone passenger, running across the large concrete expanse, breathless, with two small bags in his hands. I waved at him from the cockpit window and saw the relief on his face from a distance. He clambered on, huffing and puffing, a short fat businessman.

He peeped into the cockpit. “NA 100 to Mumbai?” he asked, gasping, trying to catch his breath. I nodded, not turning around.

He went to find his seat, and then returned a moment later.

“No airhostess? No other passengers?”, he asked, a moment later, a bit nervously.

“Nope. Its just us. One Pilot. One passenger. Red-eye flight, you know.”

“Ah.”

“We’re ready to go. Please sit down and fasten your seat belt.”

“Of course, of course”, he said hurriedly. In the mirror, I saw him turn and walk back quickly to his assigned seat. A fat businessman on a mission to make more and more money. I shut the door to the cockpit, made the routine announcements on the intercom and dimmed the lights. It was pitch dark now, inside and outside.

I taxied the plane to the head of the taxiway and announced an imminent takeoff. The lights were off on the runway too, but I knew the way, having taken off so often. I revved the engines and gathered speed. Faster, faster, faster. The Plane shook and trembled and rattled as it trundled down the runway, against the wind, about to lift off, about to take off into the black moonless night, about to take my passenger to his destination.

And soon it took off. A sleek black arrow with one pilot and one passenger. I angled the plane up and away, seeking to gain height as much as possible.

And then I saw it, once again, another 737 right in my flight path. Where had it emerged from? Why hadn’t I been warned?

And my plane crashed straight into the other plane and we went up in flames together, lighting up the night.

I had failed in my task to take my passenger to Mumbai. Perhaps another hundred passengers in the other plane had also died.

Tonight I am scheduled to fly NA100 once again to Mumbai. At the same time. From the same place.

I wonder who my passenger today will be.

On Dogs

2008-05-24T15:27:00.002+05:30

My little fellow Nemo has become quite something - driving away dogs ten times his size, steadily growing and becoming strong and generally coming into his own.

A friend sent me some nice thoughts about dogs. Here they are:

The reason a dog has so many friends is that he wags his tail instead of his tongue.
-Anonymous

The average dog is a nicer person than the average person.
-Andy Rooney

If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite you; that is the principal difference between a dog and a man.
-Mark Twain

Vegas Boston London

2008-05-22T13:38:00.003+05:30

A whirlwind trip through Las Vegas, Boston and London. London is becoming quite my favourite city. I like the place, the feeling and the people. Las Vegas was glitzy, loud and noisy, quite the stereotype I had in mind. Boston was quite nice too, with friends kindly showing me the historical district.

I'm exhausted and plan to sleep for a week after I get back to Bangalore soon!

Battersea Dogs Home

2008-05-02T11:47:00.004+05:30

Dropped by at the Battersea Dogs Home during some free time I had last Sunday.

I was quite impressed by the enormous care they seem to lavish on their residents. Large clean well lit areas, toys and so on. I observed the adoption process too where people seem to be interviewed and evaluated thoroughly for whether there's a fit between a potential adoptee and adopter.

A couple of photos

"The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be measured by the way in which its animals are treated."

London on my Birthday

2008-04-26T20:11:00.001+05:30

Arrived here today - a nice warm day. The hotel is just a few minutes from Paddington. A tiny cosy room - and a nap beckons!

A simple beautiful poem

2008-04-13T18:40:00.000+05:30

What is this life if full of care
We have no time to stand and stare?
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep, or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this, if full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

- William Henry Davies 1871 - 1940

A New Blog

2008-04-03T19:28:00.001+05:30

I've taken on a new role of Head of Intellectual Capital Enhancement at the place where I work.

I've started a blog to mull over Consulting Research and so on. Please do visit.

http://consulting-research.blogspot.com/

"Someone should do something"

2008-03-21T09:25:00.002+05:30

There is every reason -and every logical reason, on the face of it - why its not possible for you to adopt a dog in need. You hope that someone else, apparently better placed, will somehow be able to help.

But consider

"Saving just one dog won't change the world, but it surely will change the world for that one dog." - Richard C. Call

"It is as if life had said, 'I am going to send you into a world of cruelty. I shall make you sensitive to pain, fear, heat, cold, hunger and starvation. In this world of cruelty I shall make you defenseless. In addition I shall strike you dumb.' This is the kind of world that animals are born into." - Grace Johnson

Compassion is free to give. Please be extravagant.

My Dogs

2008-03-16T17:06:00.000+05:30

Jumble, a kind -hearted black lab came to us about 2.5 years ago. He was too boisterous for his former owners. Today his only 'fault' is that he is black and scares the living daylights out of ignorant people who assume he is ferocious. Here he is seen resting prior to be being attacked by Nemo.
Rani was abandoned at CUPA two years ago. I thought I would be tending to her for a few days before a definite passing on to the Rainbow Bridge as she was very very ill and weak. She bounced back and is doing very well. A lovely lady who needs help to walk about but maintains her pride and independence. Tolerates the little pest Nemo.
Nemo is presently creating major chaos at his home. He is the smallest and youngest but is top dog. He prefers parathas, papads and, in general, food. He is forever fighting with Jumble who returns the favour very affectionately like a big brother.Here you see Nemo attacking Jumble ruthlessly.
Here, Jumble has been toppled and Nemo has won a glorious victory.

And here he poses for the media.

A Trip to Kochi

2008-03-10T07:32:00.002+05:30

A trip to Kochi - Vasco da Gama, Zheng He, Marco Polo, Ibn Batuta, the brand new wonderful Kochi airport and a set of extremely nice new friends.

A clean city, polite and courteous people, breathtaking scenery, old rambling heritage buildings.

Yes, this is a cool place. Do visit.

Snake

2008-03-03T20:01:00.004+05:30


Please avoid looking back at me
with cold contemptuous eyes
  as you slither swiftly forward
   intent on anothers death,
    that you may live.

   My spirit chases you,
  since I cannot.
That sensing flickering tongue,
that muscular rapture...
onwards! onwards!
  to your life
    and someone's death.

      Through moist grass,
        dank earth, decaying leaves,
        cobwebs
      and petrified flowers
    a move towards that grey mouse,
  innocent, nibbling
at something. Something nice. Quite unaware.
Of how time is so fleeting.

One moment in the warm sun,
blue skies, a breeze through its fur.
  The next, steel coils
     pushing air outwards from its lungs
        razor fangs stabbing the body
           A descent into time's quicksand
             via your stomach.

                A look backwards at me again,
                  in seething contempt
                    for my pompous values and speeches
                    about sacred life.

                  And then onwards! onwards!
                beneath the brambles deep inside that hole
              you call home.
           The mouse digests within
        and you look coldly at the blackness about.

    My spirit shrivels and retreats.

A Lot to Crow about

2008-03-01T19:14:00.004+05:30

A Lot to Crow about

Outside my window, on the dry crackling branch,
he looks at me, that black crow, head cocked

ready to take flight, to mock,
at my lack of wings,
and alleged superiority.

Write your poems, pal, make a living

Burn in hell, while I flit,
from anywhere to anywhere, shifting blackness.
Excellent rat entrails; some for you? No?
Ah! Savage, am I? Hard beak, a piercing intelligence!
Ugly black feet, you say? Tough luck!

Be beautiful and attractive, Sir, and suffer.
My ungainly nest of mere twigs, my unwholesome diet,
my uncuddly chicks - why, I'm quite happy!
I survive, survive well, watching the antics
of anxious fools like you, hunched over keyboards

searching for meaning in foolish symbols
scrolling on that screen.



He looks up at the clear blue,
his canvas to choose, preens his dark bitter wings,

caws twice, once in contempt and the other
in inquiry. An answering raucous echo,
from a mate sneering elsewhere at us,
a fluttering of wings,
green leaves in distress,
and - gone!

Forensic Science

2008-02-29T21:27:00.002+05:30

Forensic Science

Note, Sir
the gentle depression on the sofa
where she sat, her arm draped on the backrest
Do photograph the vacuum;
It may tell you something.

The air shimmers -
She was here; I sense the form
and the quiet air still carries
the echoes of her voice;
can it be recorded?

Pick up that strand of black hair carefully,
with tweezers
Decipher the DNA
Reconstruct that beautiful face
that I may once again look and be lost

Ah! a wine glass! Evidence!
Handle it carefully, with a soft cloth;
capture her prints
and model her soft fingers
that I may hold them to my lips again.

Lipstick prints on a tissue!? Wonderful!
Are they identical, Sir,
to those placed on my eyebrows
so long ago? Those
that I failed to collect?

How will you find her?
She, the victim AND the murderer?
Go back in time, snatch her,
before she vanishes
into colourless memories.

The Sea of Japan

2008-02-24T19:24:00.003+05:30

The moon has waned today
to a mere speck of grey light
draped by red restless clouds

The salty winds in my town near the Sea of Japan
punctuated by your dark screams
As I bite into your dreams
tasting the purple blood of eternity.


Who hears them?

The mermaids have slept
In the dark green kelp
that floats for ever
and muffles your cries

The whales have gone away
with the currents
thinking sweet thoughts of your pain.
They shall be back next year
succulent bits of them
on your plate


The Octopii have descended deeper
All arms flailing
pretending to be you
As you try to die

In the morning
there shall be no blood
on those clean white sheets


Merely the impossible aroma
of the deep sea.

An Unheard Melody

2008-02-24T13:41:00.004+05:30

An Unheard Melody

Where is that light, from the beacon
across vicissitudes, across pain so acute
skimming surfaces, reaching below
finding nothing, only the agony of solitude?

What lonely note is this, that flies across
distances and ticking clocks, to enter my mind?
When hearts have shrunk, grotesque wraiths have risen
trapping in mindless ether, this love - why must it bind?

What has cleaved through the atrophy of despair
seeking, seeking - and when not finding, severing?
Why have eyes closed, just when they should see
a light that falls, on a compass without bearing?

Reach out then, but do not seek to touch
The loneliness within, sacred, and so clean
This melody you alone must hear and then it must die
Like flowers growing under a dark sun, never to be seen

The Song of Oluadah

2008-02-23T17:49:00.003+05:30

A Poem I wrote a couple of years ago

The Song of Oluadah

Said Oluadah's Father:

Oluadah! Oluadah!
My son, my son!
Where are you?
Who took you away?
Oluadah! O Oluadah!
They say a white man dragged you away
and you walked on the water
and went away.
Say it is not true
Oluadah! Oluadah!

Said Oluadah:

Father! O Father!
I do not wish to say Goodbye
My children must know you
and I do not wish to go away
What shall I tell these men, O Father?

Said Oluadah's Father:

Oluadah! O Oluadah!
My son!
I wish to see your children
and their children
I wish to stroke their eyebrows
I wish to hold them to my chest
Do not go, my son!
Do not go!
Oluadah! Oluadah!

Said Oluadah:

Father! O Father!
They say I shall go to Savannah
They say I am worse than the dog
who died of sores in the village
These chains hold me to the wood
and I rock with the water
Can I not drown, O Father?
Can you not teach me how, O Father?

Said Oluadah's Father:

Oluadah! O Oluadah!
Come back my son!
Your mother grieves, your sister cries
The village is dark
Your friends dash their heads
against silent trees
asking for you
what shall I tell them, Oluadah?
What shall I tell
the leaves and the birds, Oluadah?

Said Oluadah:

Blood stains the rocking wood, O Father
So many die,
so many wish to die
I can hear them throw their bodies
and the sharks feast lazily
And ahead of us, I can hear
the sharks swim
waiting for my unborn children
Where are you, Father?
Where are you?

Said Oluadah's Father:

Oluadah! O Oluadah!
Come back, my son!
Take the chicken, take the yam
take the ripened fruit
what use are they to me without you?
Oluadah!

Said Oluadah:

O Father!
They have tied a rope
around my neck
They have chained me to the planks
I have died
though they say they shall
sell me alive
No longer shall I see you, O Father!
No longer shall I sleep under your tree, O Father!
No longer shall I eat the ripe yams, O Father!

And you shall not hold your Grandchildren, O Father!

Oluadah! Oluadah!

My Books

2008-01-06T10:04:00.000+05:30

I've written a couple of books. The experience of writing, getting it edited and finally published was interesting, though exhausting.

The first book took about six months to finish, but took two years between revision, acceptance and finally release. It hasn't really moved a great deal, so say the Publishers, because I guess its a niche book. Its a novel based on twenty different Indian Classical raagas (scales). The Publisher is Rupa & Co., New Delhi.

The reviews were not too bad, I guess.

Review in the Indian Express

Tribune India Chapter Extract

Interview in the Deccan Herald

Interview in The Hindu

Review in Sruti Magazine

The second book was about writing proposals and was published by Sage Publications, Delhi. Here's a review in The Hindu Business Line And another in The Dawn, Pakistan

There are a couple more in the pipeline (in fact, I'm done) but I need to get over some lethargy and find a willing Publisher.

Meanwhile., why don't you get a copy of each published book?

Nemo the Pug

2007-12-30T16:47:00.000+05:30

Here is a photo of my pug Nemo, sadly paralyzed in his hinds. He has recently acquired a wheelchair and is learning to move around.

He was recently featured in Woof Magazine and is soon to have his own monthly column where he will express his opinions on various matters!!!

More photos from Bulgaria

2007-11-14T07:13:00.000+05:30

Sofia - Kyundestil, Rila, Melnik, Gotse Delchev, Dospat, Pompograd, Brachov Monastery, Plovidv - SOfia

The wonderlands of Southwestern Bulgaria - near Dospat

Alexander Nevski Cathedral, Sofia

A wild dog at a water hole in the Rodopi Mountains

Romania & Bulgaria

2007-11-08T19:52:00.000+05:30

I'm back after a fantastic visit to Romania and Bulgaria.

Romania, offshoot of Rome, with a fabulous 'dark' history, Dracula (Vlad Tepes) and more, with very beautiful women and dark Metros.... here is a photo of a Romanian tapestry work I took there.

A visit to two enchanting countries with rich histories and cultures.

Bulgaria turned out to be paradis on earth. I went around Southwestern Bulgaria and took many pictures. I found the people very nice and friendly and the landscape breathtaking. From Pernik, to Kyundestyl, to Melnik, to Getse Delchev to Dospat to Asenograd to Plovdiv and back - the whole experience was enchanting. Do visit.

A little bridge near Dospat

The church at Asenovgrad Fort....

Switzerland

2007-09-29T18:14:00.002+05:30

I spent a few great days in Switzerland on work. But I managed to see a fair bit.

The place is, of course, ridiculously clean! I liked the fact that this seemed to be a nation of dog lovers. But the people were not particularly friendly.

In Zurich I visited the downtown area and the lake - what do you think of the swan? A little shopping, dozens of photos.

I also went to Bern where I visited Einstein's museum. The whole matter was quite something and very absorbing. Its a great little city, entirely deserted on a Sunday.

Then Interlachen and Jungfrau - great train rides and astounding scenery.

Had a cool time!

At the Dhrupad Gurukul, Bhopal

2007-08-03T19:54:00.000+05:30

I spent a fantastic week at the Dhrupad Academy outside Bhopal with the Gundecha Brothers. It seems clear now that everything else is irrelevant compared to music.

These brothers have revived an ancient form and popularized it. Students of one pair of the Dagar brothers, they have innovated as well, using the poems of Tulsidas and others in new Dhrupad compositions.

Anyway, I had a great time - no phone, no email, no newspaper - only fresh air, silence and music. It became rapidly clear that my concepts of certain Raags - Jhinjhoti, Khamaj and Bihag were rather primitive. I now take greater care in musing over single notes rather than worry about the whole. Word has it that my violin sounds bearable now. I even ventured to learn some vocal music and exercised my rather rusted vocal cords. The human voice is certainly a better instrument than any man-made contrivance. This is best understood by listening to the Gundecha brothers glide seemingly endlessly between notes.

Music starts early in the morning with the boys singing low notes. The sounds of the Tanpura fill the building. Classes in the morning and a collective simple lunch. Many students from remote towns in India stay at the Academy on small scholarships, and - what is more gratifying - with the complete support of their families. The future of Music in India is bright.

I have to thank David for introducing me to the Gundecha Brothers.

My last day with them had Khamaj on the menu. I learnt many 'tricks' and understood a lot more. I thought I would leave extracts about Khamaj from a never-to-be-published book.
------------------------------------

My Dear Daughter,

You will read this letter only after I have gone, I know. Do not grieve. I am happy in the other world, which is full of music. If it had been otherwise, I would have returned! Of course, I shall miss you, my musical companion and most wonderful daughter. But you have your duties and must teach music to someone before you can join me so that we can be together forever, enjoying music in the place where it was created to begin with.

Have you seen the photograph of the two of us? It was in Benaras. I had always dreamed of taking you there with me where we could enjoy music. You were very young then and might have even forgotten by now. So I am going to write about it to remind you.

My greatest failing was that I never introduced you to the lovely Raaga Khamaj. I did not know it well enough and was perhaps temperamentally unsuited for it. But it seemed unfair that you should be deprived of some knowledge of this Raaga. I wanted you to hear it in Benaras, where Thumris, Tappas, Chaitis and other musical forms are almost invariably based on Khamaj.

And so, during a school vacation, I took you away. It was difficult as you will now understand. There was little money, and travel in those days was not easy. But I did it. Others did not like it but my mission was more important than the insults of others.

...
...
Then gradually, the mood shifted to music and an old man sang some old Thumris. The magic of Khamaj suddenly fell on all of us. Sinuous, winding, beautiful – the old man seemed capable of finding unexpected twists and turns in the Raaga. Just when we thought he could not possibly do anything new, he composed a new pattern, amazing himself and the audience! This was your first introduction to Khamaj, shorn of theory. He handled the Shuddha and Komal Nishads of the Raaga with a delicacy inconceivable. When you heard it first, you clutched my hand hard with your little fingers. Then I truly knew that music meant the same to you as it had meant to me!

....
....

He stopped dramatically. Then he continued in a whisper, Shadaj, extending it long and soft. Then with a jerk, he crept down, singing Komal Nishad, like the bending branch of a Mango tree! He approached the note and seemed to study it from all angles – literally! He bent this way and that, stood up and looked downwards, fingers still on the harmonium. He looked sideways and then forward. He looked backwards and lowered his voice! He was possessed by the magic of the Nishads, traversing all the millions of ways in which they could be reached.

“Look”, he shouted, suddenly turning to us. “Have you seen a more exasperating and cunning Raaga? I have spent fifty years trying to master it and still it eludes me! Today I was sure I would finally learn. But it smiles and goes away! It is a whore, whom all can love and enjoy and none possess! It is a gift of the Gods!

Why do we avoid Shuddha Rishabh when so much of feeling is soaked in it? Hear the pleading, the desire, the appeal in it! Must I shed tears daily that I sing this note and no one cares?

...
...
Mother of so many Raagas, Khamaj vibrates with mysteries and beauty. Komal Nishad, shy and enchanting, never far away from its elder sister, Shuddha Nishad, much bolder and protective, with a radiant beauty that turns the head of the cows and calves nearby …. the gateway to higher octaves…ah! How I love this note! Have you not seen the animals sitting outside, unable to eat or sleep, tortured by the Nishads? Try to feed them and see them refuse…they want only the Nishads of Khamaj by which their plaintive pleas to God might be heard. Many of them have passed on, with God unmoved by their cries of agony. And, the dancing girls whose art is expressed through the pleading lyrics in Khamaj – what would their existence be like without the Nishads? The men who come to watch them dance and sing and then come to them – they have been seduced by the Nishads, hapless unknowing victims, guided by Khamaj, their souls laid bare, their pasts visible to all. The doors of their chambers close and the Raaga displays itself in the higher octave. Sing they might Shadaj, Shuddha Rishabh, Shuddha Gandhar, Shuddha Madhyam and Shuddha Gandhar (Sa Re Ga Ma Ga), but they turn and look at the sisters, who in turn look at each other and smile. And so the men seek them, but the enchanting Nishads turn away, pointing instead at the images of God on the walls.
...
...
We stood up and quietly left. It was true; a small collection of cows and dogs stood outside silently, listening, their eyes closed. We walked past them respectfully. We said not a word as we walked back to Mishraji’s home. And though we went to many other concerts over the next few days, this experience remained with us throughout.

We returned to our little town, with Khamaj following. And as you grew up and I watched you, it seemed that Khamaj had left a lasting impression, colouring everything you said or did. You became more sensitive, more mature, wiser, and more beautiful.

Music with David Israel

2007-06-16T18:06:00.000+05:30

My good friend David Israel is here with me these days. He's working on a Dhrupad
documentary while also practicing on his Sarangi. Now how many people do you know
who might give up everything and spend months at the Dhrupad Academy in Bhopal
learning Dhrupad from the Gundecha Brothers? Inspired by him, I plan to spend a MUCH
briefer period there, learning what little I can.

David and I have been enjoying extended music sessions for several days now. Both of us explore solitary notes together and find some nameless joy in getting a sequence right. Who will listen to us? God knows. I don't think we have any hopes of ever hitting the rock circuit and developing a crazed teenage following. But we enjoy the long and lonely CORRECT note and thats quite enough, thank you.

His Sarangi is most interesting and it responds well to his efforts. The placement of fingers is almost there, and I enjoy his discoveries of interesting movements between notes. Its fascinating. He amiably accepts tentative suggestions I make for corrections, and has not yet hurled his sarangi at me in frustration. We have explored Yaman, Bhairav, Bhupali, Bageshree, Tilak Kamod, Nand and Bhairavi, in small doses. I would certainly like to have a fraction of his open mind and intense curiosity about music and more. I have gained more from this series of musical encounters than he has, for sure.

2007-03-15T20:03:00.000+05:30

Yaman - The Infinite


Yaman is a very sweet and popular evening Raaga. It is very vast
and can be explored endlessly without getting bored. Many teachers
start off their students with this Raaga, though that is not true in
Carnatic music where the Raaga of choice is Mayamalawagowla.

Evening Raagas employ the Teevra (Sharp) Madhyam for good effect.
The beauty of Yaman is the invisible presence of this note without
it actually being played till much later, thus building up a climax
of sorts. The eventual playing of this note brings great relief
and relaxation as though heralding the close of a long day.

In Yaman Kalyan, we see the presence of both Madhyams. Another
popular Raaga is Yamani Bilawal. This is an evergreen Raaga easily
deployed in Ghazals, Light Music and more.

Here is a description from an unknown book

"And so it refers to Pancham and begins again. Yaman floats within
and without. And like the pearl that Shuddha Nishad and Shuddha
Rishab hid, I see Teevra Madhyam! Present in its own absence, glittering
when invoked, I bow to this note. Tears have flown down from unseeing
eyes, ecstatic with happiness. My feet disappear, my legs grow numb,
and my hands waste away. I do not know what is above or below, left
or right. Nothing has meaning anymore, because everything now is
understood. I float in a pool of music. There is no thought of an end,
of the passage of time. God has mercy on me now and allows Pancham and
Shuddha Gandhar to veil this note again. And with a slow flourish,
the explanation for this act of mercy is given: Shuddha Nishad,
Shuddha Rishabh, Pancham, Shuddha Rishabh and Shadaj!

My daughter lies asleep in my bed, an unnatural glow radiating from her.
Her innocent heart has heard and understood Yaman better than I possibly
could. I look at her with loving pride.

The movement of life has altered my ability to understand music and where
I find references to reality in music and perhaps miss the point altogether,
she easily understands grander things without being awed!

Is there now a rhythm, a cadence? My heart mimics it in vain, hoping to
understand Yaman this way. My eyelids grow heavy; my ability to think has
been taken away. The notes of Yaman reduce everything to irrelevance.
Can I understand Shuddha Gandhar? Can I understand its twin, Shuddha Nishad?

My blood runs cold for a second as a fleeting understanding invades my
soul. Finding me unable to withstand its import, ignorance floods in again
and I feel only the peace that I can handle without any destruction. I
lift my numb arms to heaven, in hopelessness. Oh God! Why did you do this?

I see a smile on my sleeping daughter's face. Then she shifts in her sleep
and turns her face away from mine. God has spoken through her again and I
have been spared. The echoes of Yaman must diminish to a level I can
withstand."


Listen to Yaman

Shubra Guha - Yaman Kalyan

Rashid Khan

Girija Devi

Shujaat Hussain Khan (Sitar - very classy) Yaman Kalyan

Steve Gorn (yes!) Flute

Imdad Khan

Amir Khan

Bade Ghulam Ali Khan

Mohammad Hussain Sarahang

Aminuddin Dagar

Nasseruddin Sami

Ustad Halim Jaffar Khan - Yaman Kalyan

Malini Rajurkar

Pannalal Ghosh - the Definitive

D K Datar

Mehdi Hasan


Film Songs

One    Two   Three   Four

Five   Six   Seven   Eight



Cordially

VM

Drugged by Darbari

2007-02-12T08:29:00.000+05:30

Drugged by Darbari


One speculates on the hypnotic power of music to create
mirages in the mind. Times of the day, intangible emotions
like love, sorrow and romance, seasons ... sound does it
all. Indian Classical Music has gone deep into the matter
and produced theory and practice that is thrilling though
ultimately dissatisfying (because its never enough).

Darbari is a Raag that alludes to the court or  the Darbar.
Its expression should recreate the ambience of a Royal Court
with pomp and grandeur. And in fact it does. How?

Its root, oddly, is from the Asavary "Thaat". Odd because
Asavary hails from the morning while Darbari is a
distinctly night Raag. But those are the oddities of the
weaker Taxonomy of Hindustani Classical Music, as compared
to the uncompromisingly more rigorous and scientific Carnatic
system. I digress.











The story is that Tansen, the court musician of Emperor
Akbar, created the Raag. Sounds plausible. The key to this Raag
is  the undulating "Dhaivat" a note that should be slow and
leisurely, especially in the lower octave. That is, the
"slope" between the dhaivaths needs to be very very low. It
is this expression of the note that causes a sense of
ponderous weight and therefore creates the atmosphere of a
court. Other signature groups are Nishad-Pancham,
Gandhar-Madhyam-Rishab-Shadaj.

Darbari is also referred to as "Darbari Kanada". Thats
because it also possesses a particular movement of the
Gandhars that is specific to what is the called the Kanada-
'ang'. Thats what you'll find common between Kausi Kanada, Abhogi
Kanada, Bageshri Kanada, Gara Kanada and Nayaki Kanada.

Nayaki Kanada is Darbari Kanada minus the Dhaivath, a
mystifying matter, but pretty effective. Its cadence is faster
and its exposition is in the middle octave.

Across the octave, transcending space and time, is Raag Adana,
popularized by Vani Jairam in this song.

So sit back and be the Emperor of all you survey. Listen to
Raag Darbari Kanada.


1. (Faster than I might have liked, but who am I to
  challenge this genius?) Faiyaz Khan
2. (The right tempo) Mashkoor Ali Khan
3. Ajay Chakrabarty
4. Adana by Mashkoor Ali Khan
5. Shakoor Khan
6. Alla Rakha - Sarangi
7. Adana by Amanat Ali and Fateh Ali
8. Darbari by the same
9. Sarod by Amjad Ali Khan
10. The MOST wonderful Darbari Flute you can ever hope to
hear. Pannalal Ghosh.
11. An odd mixture of the South and the North
12. A version by Jagjit Singh (not bad at all)
13. Salamat and Nazakat - consider death. Its a good idea.
14. John Higgins via the Carnatic angle.

Notice that women hardly ever sing this Raag. It does need
a deep and low voice for better effect. But Adana works well
for women artistes.

Regards

VM

ps: I know nothing about Classical Music. You can write
whatever you see above if you have the patience and desire to.

Malkauns - The King of Raagas

2006-12-29T07:45:00.000+05:30

Music: Malkauns, the King of Raagas


There are some Raagas of such great depth that mere lifetimes
reveal next to nothing. Bhairavi is one such and so are Marwa,
Shree and Darbari.

But Malkauns....if honey were to be distilled into music,
it would result in Malkauns. Such is the spectacular greatness
of this Raaga, such is its haunting addictive quality that
the body and mind writhe in agony, unable to tolerate
sheer wonder of such magnitude.

Here is Malkauns.

Why so? There are so many Pentatonic Raags. None produce
the narcotic effect as pronounced as Malkauns. A nearby Raaga,
Chandrakauns, is a mere half note away and cannot reach as
soul-plumbing depths, though it is brilliant. The sustained
genius of Raaga Malkauns may perhaps reside in the flattened
Gandhar, Madhyam, Dhaivat and Nishad. But of what use is
such analysis? If music goads the spirit towards spiritual
release, then listen only to this Raaga.

A performance can analyze the approach to each note from
countless directions, revealing new roads and new wonders.
I recall the lovely sight of the late Pandit Shymal Bose
demonstrating a fascinating composition in Malkauns to me
many years ago in his flat in Kolkata. Mathematics,
melody...how wonderful it was. His right hand waved gently
in the air as he followed notes as they emerged.
There was no Tanpura, no tabla. And how fantastic it was.

Only Kumar Gandharva made the bold attempt to introduce
the note Pancham in Malkauns but it is not possible for
most musicians to do so and get away with it.

Here is an extract from an my book, describing Malkauns

I rule over the emotions. I cause the deepest and gravest
feelings to swirl slowly around you, just as the Milky
Way with millions of stars moves imperceptibly around a
central point.

Komal Dhaivat gives peace, calm and order to the troubled
turbulent mind. The movement between notes is slow and
gradual, like an elephant bearing me as I survey my
Kingdom of lesser Raags. Each note blends into the next
without breaking. All that I do must show reason.
Nothing capricious can exist when I am sung.

Sing every note slowly and peacefully. All manner
of existence come to me with their own tale of sorrow
or joy and all are consumed within me. And so to one
I can appear to describe the flowers in a garden. To
another I seem to describe Nataraj performing his
shattering Tandav Nritya. To yet another, I describe
the beauty of the night. I am mature, all knowing,
suffused in wisdom from aeons past.

  Listen to more Malkauns compositions

Here's one

A Sarangi piece

Another one

Another One.

The Ultimate

My best wishes to all of you in 2007. May Malkauns be with you.

Cordially

VM

Pandit Jog this Diwali

2006-10-20T19:48:00.000+05:30

  
Today, for some reason, my thoughts have been full of my late
Guru, Pandit V G Jog. And someone dropped by out of the blue
after several years and handed me a CD of a couple of his All
India Radio recordings.

In articles about Gurus and other legendary figures, I have
observed that the writer often hints of himself or herself
as the Chosen One. Since I wasn't the Chosen One, that should
not be a problem. But bear with me if I mention myself a
couple of times if its relevant to the tale.

Pandit Jog was a wonderful man. He was born on February 14
1922 in Bombay. His mother was the first musical influence
on him, if I recall right. Thereafter, after learning vocal,
tabla and harmonium, he gravitated towards the violin and
made it big. I'll skip information you can easily find on
the net. Let me focus on the man and the Guru.

The difficulty with this man was that he could not turn away
students. His tiny music room in Kolkata was always full of
admirers and students and unknown drifters. The image that
remains is of a short, stout man sitting on a sofa, guiding
a student (or two) or writing sequences of notes endlessly.
A talkative and social man, you could always expect a joke
or amusing anecdote from him. He suffered fools (like me)
and lived a life immersed in an ocean of music not available
to us.

He would take students on stage and actually give lessons
in real time. There was no possibility of making errors.
That tenuous link of student and guru was possibly invisible
to everyone else; something ethereal marked the moment. A
communique via notes, via silence, a deliberately missed beat
...how can one explain that? Such magical moments are beyond
private - they are divine. Needless to say, the times I
played with him in public remain cherished memories, not so
much because I played in public but that he had faith in me.
I am sure my other fellow students had the same thoughts
when he called upon them.

Sometimes its tiresome to read endless praises about
someone. On the other hand, its easy to write endlessly
about someone one really loved and admired. I loved him
very much and he loved me in turn, as he loved all his
students. His brilliance as a teacher was mindblowing.
A gesture, an inflection in voice, a sudden digression
to explain an analog elsewhere; it was easy to be conned
into believing it was purely logical and simple. Such were
his subtle hints about Gara and Jaijaiwanti, the links between
Maru Bihag, Hamir, Alhaiya Bilawal, Gaur Sarang and more,
Bilaskhani Todi and Bhairavi. It does not matter that he
has gone, everything is vivid and will go when I do. The
foulest student could be polished into a maestro by such
a teacher.

I have avoided saying anything personal to which I was
privy. But I cannot help recalling with deep sorrow his
last painful years. It happened that I was in Kolkata as
he was sinking (though not at the end). Much was exchanged
as he drifted in and out of consciousness. His bright eyes
smiled for him as nature went ahead with her plans.

I was very lucky, of that I have no doubt. Guru, musician,
gentleman all rolled in one. That was Pandit Jog, whose
violin's sweet notes still remain in my heart. I wish
everyone the same fortune this Diwali.

I leave you with his Bhairavi.

Cordially

VM

The Colours of Jhinjhoti

2006-10-20T09:40:00.000+05:30

The Colours of Jhinjhoti

I borrowed that title from a mind-blowing album of the same
name by the late Ustad Vilayat Khan.

I often hear deeply wrenching Raagas that leave me baffled.
Simple scales, a complex seeding of emotions in its patterns,
an infuriating dead-end in its analysis…well, you've got to
be there to really understand, otherwise I probably seem to
be talking nonsense.

Jhinjhoti is a fantastic Raaga that can cause a lot of
distress. Two other Raagas that do the same to me are
Charukesi and
Bhairavi but that's not for now.

Here is Jhinjhoti by Shubra Guha. Notice how the composition
is "off-beat" and also ends on the Shuddha Gandhar, talked
about below.

Nevertheless, let's move on. Jhinjhoti belongs to the
Khamaj root. Saying so implies the existence of Komal Nishaad,
which is certainly the case. Shuddha Nishaad is rare,
though it can show up. But the pivot is Shuddha Gandhar.
Like a powerful magnet, it attracts all patterns a musician
might want to create such that the emphasis is on that
note again and again. You just can't get away from it.
Many Raags have this 'annoying' problem and some mistake
it for a weary repetitiveness, which is far from the case.
Shuddha Gandhar has a powerful magic in many Raagas that
causes it seem almost primordial. It happens to be my
favourite note. You'll find its beauty in Charukesi too.
In Jhinjhoti, the note's beautiful counterpoint is the
drooping Komal Nishaad, though some would argue its the
Shuddha Dhaivat.

Like other Raags that sound good in a particular octave,
Jhinjhoti is beautiful in the middle one, that which comes
naturally.

This seems a particular favourite of the Vilayat Khan clan,
I think. I have heard pieces by Imrat Khan and others too.

I have a wonderful delicate Jhinjhoti piece of the late
Pandit Jog and Zakir Hussain which never fails to bring
tears to my eyes.

Here are examples

N. Rajam

Hari Prasad Chaurasia

Roshanara Begum

Abdul Karim Khan

A nice intro

A Jhinjhoti mix from Mere Mehboob - click on the first one

Something from Kishore Kumar - click on the last one

Mehdi Hasan

I do speak of Jhinjhoti in the penultimate chapter of my
book "What the Raags told me" where I try to describe it
is the Raaga of Memories. That's why the title "Colours
of Jhinjhoti" also made perfect sense. There is truly a
huge variety of emotions that Jhinjhoti describes well;
you'll see it in plenty of Thumris, for example. For
that reason, a lot of people feels it's a 'light' Raaga,
though I personally do not think so. Maybe it just shows
how versatile it is.

Enjoy Jhinjhoti, the Raaga of Memories!

VM

I won my case against Valley School

2006-08-15T10:13:00.000+05:30

Fourth Additional District Consumers Disputes Redressal Forum
Bangalore Urban District
Sahakara Bhavan
Cunningham Road
Bangalore 560052

31-May-2006

Sri Siddanagoud, President and C. Ramachandrappa, Member allowed complaint 1648/2005
by Vasudev Murthy against the Valley School, KFI, Haridvanam, Thatguni, Bangalore 560062 for recovery of Rs. 25,000 with costs.

Contact me if you want to know more.

Music Literature Weird Stuff

Short Stories on Facebook

The past month

Auroville Recording

Barbarians at Thiruvaiyaru

Nemo passes away

European Pictures - October and November

Trips & More Trips

The Saatchi Gallery

Workshops and Exercise

Nemo's illness

My Dogs

The Collapse of Education

Music in London

The Runaway Puppy

Dog Rescue

Utterly Ghastly cruelty to animals

South Africa's SPCA

Nathaniel's Nutmeg

Voltaire's Philosophical Dictionary - about Animals

The Path: Autobiography of an American Yogi

Some great music

Nemo & Scotty

Nikhil Bannerjee

Twitter http://twitter.com/dracula99

A Life Event

Kalavati by Malini Rajurkar

When I look into these eyes

Geeta Dutt

Youtube Tabla wonders

Rupak Taal

Basant

The beauty of impermanence

Basant - Mallika Pukhraj and Tahira Syed

swimming in the cauvery

Water & Fire

Pups & the House

Finally, a Great Concert

Points to ponder

When the violin sings

Who are my visitors?

Throw them into Jail for Negligence and Dereliction of Duty

The great country of Israel

Patil, Patil & Patil

More pictures of house construction

Some fine Gentlemen

Weird Stuff At a time of crisis

Allahabad and Pune

P D James again

The mystery of dogs

Rani passes on

Goa & construction

House construction updates

House Building!

something i read

more pictures - Abby Falls & house under construction

Chamundi - Bylekuppe - Coorg

Dream House underway

Links to ITC SRA

Some links

Articles in the Deccan Herald

Articles in Vijay Times

Other Articles

The Music of Mali - Segu Blue

Nemo at the Dog Show

USA here I come!

Thomas Hardy

Old Friends

Samuel Butler

Preview - Our offbeat House being constructed

Travel

Soul Food - a short story

P D James

A short story - will it scare you?

On Dogs

Vegas Boston London

Battersea Dogs Home

London on my Birthday

A simple beautiful poem

A New Blog