Hello the multitude of eager squirells waiting for a post from me, I am back. And really, I am back from the abyss, and am currently soaring high. Tell you the truth, I never felt better than this for a long time during new years eve.
Not that something out of the ordinary happened. No, I haven't fallen in love yet. I'm the same ofd guy whose priorities are so out of place that, strangely, love doesn't figure in the list.
The last couple of months went wasted with me working at office. I was going down the abyss where I was getting more and more dependent on the daily activities at office. I suddenly felt that I'd start feeling better if I do something different. Splurging about 50 grand on a new computer triggered a flurry of interesting things in my life.
I'm currently fighting it out with installing Ubuntu on my system. Not that there's a probkem using the ubiquitous WinXP. Not that I hate products that seem to work straight out of the box. Its just that I wanted to take up a challenging task and complete it. A task that's obviously difficult, but a task that makes you feel that all your effort was worthwhile. Once everything is up and running, I will let you guys know.
Let me conclude by wishing all my fans spread out accross every nook and corner of the world, a happy, healthy, prosporous and fun-filled new year.
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Monday, October 31, 2005
A suggestion to terrorists
This is in response to a report in the newspapers that the terrorist group that blew up innocent people in New Delhi did whatever they did to prove that terrorists weren't buried in the recent earthquake and also to prove that the security cover on important cities isn't a match for their bombs.
Well here's a suggestion to them from me.
The point that you fail to note is that you are hurting people who really have no real grudge against you. You're killing people who do not care much what happens in Kashmir. Some of them might want to be up-to-date on current affairs and read newspapers a lot, but they actually don't do anything more than "reading" or "knowing".
By killing them, you will not see a "change of attitude" or a "change of opinion" in the crowd. They will still get back to their own business, and the survivors keep mourning their relatives who happened to fall victims to your bombs.
If they want to prove that the security is no match for them, do something like
Well here's a suggestion to them from me.
The point that you fail to note is that you are hurting people who really have no real grudge against you. You're killing people who do not care much what happens in Kashmir. Some of them might want to be up-to-date on current affairs and read newspapers a lot, but they actually don't do anything more than "reading" or "knowing".
By killing them, you will not see a "change of attitude" or a "change of opinion" in the crowd. They will still get back to their own business, and the survivors keep mourning their relatives who happened to fall victims to your bombs.
If they want to prove that the security is no match for them, do something like
- Releasing chemicals that smell like "dead rat" when the parliament is in session. Good way to prove that you could have released any other deadlier chemical.
- Spreading a lot of smelling filth on the speaker's table in the parliament (good way to prove that you can reach that place without security noticing it)
- Blowing up a diwali pataka right inside Rashtrapathi bhavan (you will see a dozen security officers suspended for their careless patrolling)
- Geting into a high-security area heavily armed, threaten to kill a VIP around, and escape without getting hurt and without hurting anyone.
There are ways to pull a good one against security. You get a lot of recognition by claiming that you did it, and people will have a good laugh and love you for it.
We're lacking people with a good sense of humour around here, and someone who can put national security to shame with a funny incident is the real terrorist we need.
You have another advantage. You don't have to live in the forests hiding away from civilization. If you are caught pulling a nasty pun over a VVIP, you mjght be imprisoned for a week or a month, but the security will let you go without blowing your head to pieces in a "false encounter".
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Kandisa
After spendning a long time listening to this music for about 50 times now, I am not bored. There's always something new in this music. There's always something more you can yearn for, there's always something more to look for.
Kandisa is this piece of incredible music created by a band called Indian Ocean. and I like every bit of it.
I've been ignoring stuff from these guys as I more or less avoid folkish music. But I first got pulled towards folk music after listening to Shubha Mudgal. She has such a magnificent voice, and she renders her notes in such a sonorous way that your heart yearns for more of it. Please note that there's a lot more to Shubha Mudgal than her pop albums, and that those little pop albums were some of her "forgettable" works.
When I was in such a mood, Indian Ocean performed in Hyderabad. I was listening to most of the songs for the first time, and any songs that I might have heard never registered in my mind. But their performance on stage replenished all my energy and left me feeling much beeter about myself. I should really thank Shamnu for talking me along on his awesome Avenger.
Now, don't start assuming that this is a folk-music band. The band is comprised of 4 self-taught musicians. Since they are all almost self-taught, the music is unconventional. It doesn't fit into any genre. Listeners need to approach it without a pre-conceived notion. For those who insist, I'd take liberty to classify them as a hindusthani classical folk group with rock overtones.
I especially liked the way Sushmit played his guitar. Now-a-days, I listen to Kandisa just for Sushmit's guitar. (For those who can't identify Sushmit's guitar, here are the steps - in a typical song of this band, you'll hear two guitars, one is the bass guitar, which will sound more or less like a western guitar with low-pitched sounds, and another guitar which feels more or less like a very indian instrument, like probably a modified veena or modified mandolin. I am talking about the guitar).
What's so good about the music? The sound. I like the way they sing and I like the way they play their instruments. There's peace and there's excitement. There's just plain expression of joy and deep thought. There's rock and there's hindusthani classical. And the instruments are different and they're played differently. And the way they play it is impeccable.
Where do you find indian classical drums on a 7 or 14 beat scale when great drummers are still exploring the good old 4 or 8 beat scales? Do you find him play rithm on a bass guitar? And do you see people manage all that while still singing with a voice that feels like the smells like the first rain of the season?
Where do you find a western drummer play flute and folk instruments?
Where do you find a bass guitarist sing hindustani classical while hitting chords to match the notes?
And finally, where do you find a guitarist who can churn out melodies after melodies in such a speed that you'll be gasping for your breath trying to follow his notes? (I find it increasingly difficult to describe Sushmit... heck! - throw my English to the dogs!)
Look no further.
Friday, October 28, 2005
US of A again
My friend asked me what my plans are for the weekend. I said that I pray for no P1s and laze around in the house.
He asked me "Don't you have any friends from college-days you'd want to catch up with?"
"Yeah, but most of them are all scattered around"
"Then, why don't you just arrange with them to meet up some nice place like Goa?"
"Well, most of them are on the other side of the hemisphere."
"Oh!!!..."
"Anywayz, I have a couple of friends coming to Hyderabad, I'll probably catch up with them."
"Hmm.. ok...".
"What are your plans for the weekend?"
"Not sure..."
Why do people fall silent when I talk about friends in the US?
By the way, here's a picture I had taken in SFO. The roof, seen in the picture, was good. The wall wasn't. So, I captured only the roof.
He asked me "Don't you have any friends from college-days you'd want to catch up with?"
"Yeah, but most of them are all scattered around"
"Then, why don't you just arrange with them to meet up some nice place like Goa?"
"Well, most of them are on the other side of the hemisphere."
"Oh!!!..."
"Anywayz, I have a couple of friends coming to Hyderabad, I'll probably catch up with them."
"Hmm.. ok...".
"What are your plans for the weekend?"
"Not sure..."
Why do people fall silent when I talk about friends in the US?
By the way, here's a picture I had taken in SFO. The roof, seen in the picture, was good. The wall wasn't. So, I captured only the roof.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Get a bang out of Bangalore
Here I present, to my esteemed readers, a write-up on my adventures at my recent Bangalore trip.
For all those morons who haven’t the slightest idea why I ventured into such a morose place, please peep into this site. I strongly suggest you take a look at the trailer in ‘The making’ section. I have no idea which champion of Idiots talked Rahman into choosing Bangalore as the only site in India where he can have a concert. I’d like to send him a sandalwood coffin. Anyway, I get an opportunity to explore a new city, to understand the woes of its people, to spend a weekend and suffer what the people of the city have to go through day in and day out.
The picture of Bangalore I had in my mind is of a laid-back city built for retired army personnel with enough parks to keep their interests high when taking their morning and evening walk. An apt example when you describe how images are distorted with ageing.
Bangalore now happens to be a congested slum of glass buildings housing the richest of morons in India. Roads as narrow as the little streets of Hyderabad, but boasts of an opulent set of classy stores. Yet, from nowhere, traffic sense still canes people to order and the police is regarded with awe and dread. Resultantly, even the worst of roads allows for a smooth flow of traffic.
Sitting in an auto, you’d love to give anything to anyone who can tell you where the auto is going. But you end up giving everything to the autowallah once you reach your destination. Autowallahs don’t have mansions in Bangalore. They prefer having farm-houses in Switzerland instead. The software professionals of Bangalore relish feeding the autowallahs with whatever peanuts they earn, and the autowallahs make a major fortune out of it. I can bet every penny
If you ask me to choose between breathing in exhaust smoke and tobacco smoke, I’d definitely choose the exhaust. But unfortunately, I see the necessity to add a rider. “Applicable only in Hyderabad”. That’s because the exhaust of Bangalore kept giving me headaches. There’s something in the fuel that they use there that makes the vehicles, especially autos, more noisy and more smoky. The smoke makes you sulk, weep, yelp and cry out till people take you for mad.
People talk high about the climate of Bangalore. Maybe there’s some truth in that story. The weather was pretty welcoming when I stepped out of my Volvo. But as the day rolled on, things got hot and sultry. Sultry means just one mean thing. Rain just when you don’t want it.
The concert was at the Palace Grounds. I never got to see any palace, but this was a flat, huge ground. After we entered our Rs.500 ticket area, we could see the stage around half-a-kilometer away. I could see the stage, I couldn’t make out any more details. The show was supposed to start at 6:30pm. We reached there at around 5pm and waited patiently. Crowd slowly started trickling in. The clouds started to collect and they thundered greetings among themselves and waited for the right time.
At 6:15pm, the clouds got a signal that preparations are on to set the stage on fire and as a preventive action, opened up the hose-pipes and drenched the stage and the spectators. The rain stopped in 10 minutes. At around 6:35pm, there was an announcement saying that the show will start at 7pm.
Now, at around 6:50pm, the second spell set in. It drenched the spectators who managed to stay dry in the first spell, and soaked the rest of the spectators, down to the core (you know what I mean).
After 10 minutes of rain, a bit of silence prevailed. Then, a local singer sang out a very moving prayer song. The sky was more than ready to shower a blessing of rain when the song reached its culmination. This was a strong spell and spelled disaster.
After the rain stopped, Sivamani tried to keep the spectator’s spirits up. But unfortunately, he couldn’t elevate his own spirits. Then Kailash Kher tried his “Allah ke Bande”, but that didn’t help either.
Rahman spoke next. He said that a rain in the Ramzan evening is a blessing and that it would wash away all sins. The music that comes out of the heart of a singer after getting drenched in such a rain would be of the highest purity that it would touch every one’s heart in this world. He asked for some more time and disappeared.
It rained and it stopped. It rained harder when the organizers try to revive the stage and it stopped when they stop. This went on till around 8:15pm.
It stopped raining after that. At around 8:30pm the participants came out and started setting their things up and the performance began.
There’s nothing much to talk about the way the songs were sung or the way the instruments were played or whatever, since this is not something that can be written. All I can say is that it just makes you feel you’re the luckiest person in the world. This feeling is hard to get. Neither meditation, nor worship nor sex nor food nor success can give you such a feeling. The only little nagging feeling I had was that I wasn’t able to make out much of what was happening on stage.
It then happened that the gates to the costlier bays were opened. This was because the rains had dispersed part of the crowd, and now this thin stadium was thinly populated. We slowly moved up to the front. The rain had made the soft sand slippery and sticky at the same time, and you ambled along stepping gingerly. We slowly moved up front till we could get to the Rs.10000 ticket area. Here, at about 50 feet from the center of the stage, you have a control center, where they monitor the lighting, special effects and sound. There were big boxes in which they had brought in their equipment. These boxes were arranged one above the other on a high-set bench. I slowly stepped on to the bench, climbed onto the harded boxes, and stood up from there. From here, I got the occasional view of the stage. I enjoyed more music and relished the occasional chance of seeing the performers. The problem was that there were people in front, and I was generally able to see only the backs of those morons most of the time.
After some more time, I began to gather guts to climb further and to get a clear view of the entire stage from on top of the heads of people in front. I got a chance to sit on a soft box, which was almost collapsing. So, I put half of my weight on it, and supported the other half dangling from the steel frame that held the asbestos sheet to shelter to the controllers and their equipment.
Now, every note of sound was complemented by an unobstructed view of the entire stage and that was bliss.
Time flew by. I was in utopia. It was almost 12:30am when Rahan started to conclude by singing his “Maa Tujhe Salam”. As Rahman’s voice explored higher pitches taking the swaying crowd along, as if in a movie, it started pouring down again.
Rahman felt that this was a miracle, and asked us to find our ways home in the rain while he was escorted into his car that will take him safely to his hotel room.
We somehow reached home. The travails and tribulations we faced at this point of time are truly beyond my vocabulary. All I can say is that I lived to tell the tale.
As one of the friends who accompanied me rightly said, if ever I write my autobiography, this will certainly figure in it. It leaves such an indelible mark in your heart, that anytime in the future you think of Rahman, the experience at this concert strikes you like a nostalgic bomb.
This post is definitely a cribber. I promise you I'll avoid cribbing in the near future.
For all those morons who haven’t the slightest idea why I ventured into such a morose place, please peep into this site. I strongly suggest you take a look at the trailer in ‘The making’ section. I have no idea which champion of Idiots talked Rahman into choosing Bangalore as the only site in India where he can have a concert. I’d like to send him a sandalwood coffin. Anyway, I get an opportunity to explore a new city, to understand the woes of its people, to spend a weekend and suffer what the people of the city have to go through day in and day out.
The picture of Bangalore I had in my mind is of a laid-back city built for retired army personnel with enough parks to keep their interests high when taking their morning and evening walk. An apt example when you describe how images are distorted with ageing.
Bangalore now happens to be a congested slum of glass buildings housing the richest of morons in India. Roads as narrow as the little streets of Hyderabad, but boasts of an opulent set of classy stores. Yet, from nowhere, traffic sense still canes people to order and the police is regarded with awe and dread. Resultantly, even the worst of roads allows for a smooth flow of traffic.
Sitting in an auto, you’d love to give anything to anyone who can tell you where the auto is going. But you end up giving everything to the autowallah once you reach your destination. Autowallahs don’t have mansions in Bangalore. They prefer having farm-houses in Switzerland instead. The software professionals of Bangalore relish feeding the autowallahs with whatever peanuts they earn, and the autowallahs make a major fortune out of it. I can bet every penny
If you ask me to choose between breathing in exhaust smoke and tobacco smoke, I’d definitely choose the exhaust. But unfortunately, I see the necessity to add a rider. “Applicable only in Hyderabad”. That’s because the exhaust of Bangalore kept giving me headaches. There’s something in the fuel that they use there that makes the vehicles, especially autos, more noisy and more smoky. The smoke makes you sulk, weep, yelp and cry out till people take you for mad.
People talk high about the climate of Bangalore. Maybe there’s some truth in that story. The weather was pretty welcoming when I stepped out of my Volvo. But as the day rolled on, things got hot and sultry. Sultry means just one mean thing. Rain just when you don’t want it.
The concert was at the Palace Grounds. I never got to see any palace, but this was a flat, huge ground. After we entered our Rs.500 ticket area, we could see the stage around half-a-kilometer away. I could see the stage, I couldn’t make out any more details. The show was supposed to start at 6:30pm. We reached there at around 5pm and waited patiently. Crowd slowly started trickling in. The clouds started to collect and they thundered greetings among themselves and waited for the right time.
At 6:15pm, the clouds got a signal that preparations are on to set the stage on fire and as a preventive action, opened up the hose-pipes and drenched the stage and the spectators. The rain stopped in 10 minutes. At around 6:35pm, there was an announcement saying that the show will start at 7pm.
Now, at around 6:50pm, the second spell set in. It drenched the spectators who managed to stay dry in the first spell, and soaked the rest of the spectators, down to the core (you know what I mean).
After 10 minutes of rain, a bit of silence prevailed. Then, a local singer sang out a very moving prayer song. The sky was more than ready to shower a blessing of rain when the song reached its culmination. This was a strong spell and spelled disaster.
After the rain stopped, Sivamani tried to keep the spectator’s spirits up. But unfortunately, he couldn’t elevate his own spirits. Then Kailash Kher tried his “Allah ke Bande”, but that didn’t help either.
Rahman spoke next. He said that a rain in the Ramzan evening is a blessing and that it would wash away all sins. The music that comes out of the heart of a singer after getting drenched in such a rain would be of the highest purity that it would touch every one’s heart in this world. He asked for some more time and disappeared.
It rained and it stopped. It rained harder when the organizers try to revive the stage and it stopped when they stop. This went on till around 8:15pm.
It stopped raining after that. At around 8:30pm the participants came out and started setting their things up and the performance began.
There’s nothing much to talk about the way the songs were sung or the way the instruments were played or whatever, since this is not something that can be written. All I can say is that it just makes you feel you’re the luckiest person in the world. This feeling is hard to get. Neither meditation, nor worship nor sex nor food nor success can give you such a feeling. The only little nagging feeling I had was that I wasn’t able to make out much of what was happening on stage.
It then happened that the gates to the costlier bays were opened. This was because the rains had dispersed part of the crowd, and now this thin stadium was thinly populated. We slowly moved up to the front. The rain had made the soft sand slippery and sticky at the same time, and you ambled along stepping gingerly. We slowly moved up front till we could get to the Rs.10000 ticket area. Here, at about 50 feet from the center of the stage, you have a control center, where they monitor the lighting, special effects and sound. There were big boxes in which they had brought in their equipment. These boxes were arranged one above the other on a high-set bench. I slowly stepped on to the bench, climbed onto the harded boxes, and stood up from there. From here, I got the occasional view of the stage. I enjoyed more music and relished the occasional chance of seeing the performers. The problem was that there were people in front, and I was generally able to see only the backs of those morons most of the time.
After some more time, I began to gather guts to climb further and to get a clear view of the entire stage from on top of the heads of people in front. I got a chance to sit on a soft box, which was almost collapsing. So, I put half of my weight on it, and supported the other half dangling from the steel frame that held the asbestos sheet to shelter to the controllers and their equipment.
Now, every note of sound was complemented by an unobstructed view of the entire stage and that was bliss.
Time flew by. I was in utopia. It was almost 12:30am when Rahan started to conclude by singing his “Maa Tujhe Salam”. As Rahman’s voice explored higher pitches taking the swaying crowd along, as if in a movie, it started pouring down again.
Rahman felt that this was a miracle, and asked us to find our ways home in the rain while he was escorted into his car that will take him safely to his hotel room.
We somehow reached home. The travails and tribulations we faced at this point of time are truly beyond my vocabulary. All I can say is that I lived to tell the tale.
As one of the friends who accompanied me rightly said, if ever I write my autobiography, this will certainly figure in it. It leaves such an indelible mark in your heart, that anytime in the future you think of Rahman, the experience at this concert strikes you like a nostalgic bomb.
This post is definitely a cribber. I promise you I'll avoid cribbing in the near future.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
An interview
OK. Had typed atleast a full-pager on my blues after listening to this song of Mukesh. Then I decided its not going to do any good and threw it out of the window. I picked up another topic instead, a self-invoked self-sustained interview of me, by me and for me. Something on the lines of Democrazy (well, the typo is intentional).
Current Crush
Music
Past Crush
Photography
Reason for the break-off with the past crush?
Spent enough time and money on her. We got very intimate at one point of time, but a long-term relationship with Photography doesn't seem to click.
Future Crush?
Waiting for her to descend from the sky, someone said her name's "Money"
How do you evaluate your relationship with the current crush?
Music has been a friend for a long time. I've tried advancing it to the next level but found myself unworthy of deserving more attention from her.
Spending time with her, listening to her makes me feel good. But I can't give her something in return. She's a miss-world and I'm a begger. Inspite of that, I consider it a God's gift to be able to appreciate the power of Music. It doesn't matter if you can't give something back, the relationship can keep going as long as you appreciate her and dwell in her surroundings.
Why do you anticipate a break-up in the current relationship?
I never said that I'm going to break-up with Music. Well, as long as you have the ability to bask in her glory and forget the travails of every-day life, you still love her. Though this relationship might end up being one-way all through, it's going to stay there till Music no longer helps me rejuvenate. Then its probably time to leave "crush"es to the wind and go in for a "long term relationship".
Then why did you name Money as your most likely crush down the line?
Life changes and priorities change. Certain aspects of life that used to infuse peace into my heart fail to continue to do so, as new thoughts come and take a seat. As someone said, thoughts play a "monkey-game" in your mind and that's exactly what's happening. But I hope this new thought is something for the better.
So you don't have strong reason?
Yes I do. I feel drained of energy at times looking at my current life, and I feel some Money can do a lot of good to it. So, my heart's pulling me towards this new attraction. L'et's see how I fair.
Is there something that you really hate?
One is smoking. The reason is not because its a bad habit. If someone smokes, let him smoke and die. If he's a friend, I'll try to disuade him from smoking. I can't do much beyond that. The problem is that they "trudge" on to the private space of people around them. It is a gross violation of the right of the neighbour's right to breathe. A violation grossy enough to "strangle" the violator to death.
Another aspect is one's indifference to little things that cause an inconvenience to others. One example is being late or making someone wait beyond the appointed time. Let me tell you. If someone does this to me, it hurts! Another exaple is parking a bike such that it becomes impossible for someone else to take his bike out. This "don't care" attitude is what I hate.
What do you like in other people?
Probably honesty comes first. I like people who speak out and speak the truth. When I ask someone for an advice, I'll like it a lot if the advice is unbiased. I know people around whose opinions are based. They are framed to be advantageous for the advisor and not to the seeker. I like it when people appreciate something good even if he internally turns green with envy.
I like people who sing well.
I like people who have a good sense of humor. Little jokes, however stinky they are, makes this world a better place to live in. You should also have the temperament to appreciate them.
What do you find lacking in your life?
I seem to be a "dabbler". I go about exploring every interesting aspect of life with the determination of an archer. Once I get somewhere within the vicinity of getting close, I loose all interest and start to wander. The interesting aspects all seem to come under the head of hobbies or "non mission-critical" - like painting, photography, music, reading etc. "Mission-critical" aspects don't seem to be attractive. By that I mean that the interest on what I do for a living it ebbing.
I lack a "vision". When I ask people how they deal with it, they say that its the same with them too and is actually "not a problem". I have no freaking idea what I want to settle in. I'll probably spend a major part of my life contributing to somethig, and I just don't know what it is, I'm right now floating on the stream of life, going with the wind and the waves. There's absolutely no sense of direction.
Well, I seem to be getting back into the blues and should be stopping aound here. Moreover, some people call this hour "ungodly". Its definitely not "ungodly" for the people in the US! So, maybe the God of the US is different from the God in India. Hmm.. looks like its true. The God of the US gives people more money and the God of India gives you mroe culture and tradition. Hmm.. The US God seems to be giving more "mission-critical" blessings to their people. I'm going nuts....
Current Crush
Music
Past Crush
Photography
Reason for the break-off with the past crush?
Spent enough time and money on her. We got very intimate at one point of time, but a long-term relationship with Photography doesn't seem to click.
Future Crush?
Waiting for her to descend from the sky, someone said her name's "Money"
How do you evaluate your relationship with the current crush?
Music has been a friend for a long time. I've tried advancing it to the next level but found myself unworthy of deserving more attention from her.
Spending time with her, listening to her makes me feel good. But I can't give her something in return. She's a miss-world and I'm a begger. Inspite of that, I consider it a God's gift to be able to appreciate the power of Music. It doesn't matter if you can't give something back, the relationship can keep going as long as you appreciate her and dwell in her surroundings.
Why do you anticipate a break-up in the current relationship?
I never said that I'm going to break-up with Music. Well, as long as you have the ability to bask in her glory and forget the travails of every-day life, you still love her. Though this relationship might end up being one-way all through, it's going to stay there till Music no longer helps me rejuvenate. Then its probably time to leave "crush"es to the wind and go in for a "long term relationship".
Then why did you name Money as your most likely crush down the line?
Life changes and priorities change. Certain aspects of life that used to infuse peace into my heart fail to continue to do so, as new thoughts come and take a seat. As someone said, thoughts play a "monkey-game" in your mind and that's exactly what's happening. But I hope this new thought is something for the better.
So you don't have strong reason?
Yes I do. I feel drained of energy at times looking at my current life, and I feel some Money can do a lot of good to it. So, my heart's pulling me towards this new attraction. L'et's see how I fair.
Is there something that you really hate?
One is smoking. The reason is not because its a bad habit. If someone smokes, let him smoke and die. If he's a friend, I'll try to disuade him from smoking. I can't do much beyond that. The problem is that they "trudge" on to the private space of people around them. It is a gross violation of the right of the neighbour's right to breathe. A violation grossy enough to "strangle" the violator to death.
Another aspect is one's indifference to little things that cause an inconvenience to others. One example is being late or making someone wait beyond the appointed time. Let me tell you. If someone does this to me, it hurts! Another exaple is parking a bike such that it becomes impossible for someone else to take his bike out. This "don't care" attitude is what I hate.
What do you like in other people?
Probably honesty comes first. I like people who speak out and speak the truth. When I ask someone for an advice, I'll like it a lot if the advice is unbiased. I know people around whose opinions are based. They are framed to be advantageous for the advisor and not to the seeker. I like it when people appreciate something good even if he internally turns green with envy.
I like people who sing well.
I like people who have a good sense of humor. Little jokes, however stinky they are, makes this world a better place to live in. You should also have the temperament to appreciate them.
What do you find lacking in your life?
I seem to be a "dabbler". I go about exploring every interesting aspect of life with the determination of an archer. Once I get somewhere within the vicinity of getting close, I loose all interest and start to wander. The interesting aspects all seem to come under the head of hobbies or "non mission-critical" - like painting, photography, music, reading etc. "Mission-critical" aspects don't seem to be attractive. By that I mean that the interest on what I do for a living it ebbing.
I lack a "vision". When I ask people how they deal with it, they say that its the same with them too and is actually "not a problem". I have no freaking idea what I want to settle in. I'll probably spend a major part of my life contributing to somethig, and I just don't know what it is, I'm right now floating on the stream of life, going with the wind and the waves. There's absolutely no sense of direction.
Well, I seem to be getting back into the blues and should be stopping aound here. Moreover, some people call this hour "ungodly". Its definitely not "ungodly" for the people in the US! So, maybe the God of the US is different from the God in India. Hmm.. looks like its true. The God of the US gives people more money and the God of India gives you mroe culture and tradition. Hmm.. The US God seems to be giving more "mission-critical" blessings to their people. I'm going nuts....
Saturday, August 20, 2005
Albert Einstein
This photo deserves to be here.
Fortunately, I wasn't around when he was alive.
If Einstein looked straight into my eyes, I would core dump.
Monday, August 15, 2005
What's the point?
Shanmu’s recent blog touched me. Touched a hot, inflammated, infected and dreadfully painful spot in me. My heart.
For the past 2 years, my life has been a mess. No, not the mess you might be thinking of. It has actually been good. Tasty food, air-conditioned office, a nice activa that takes me around the city, good money, and as a top up, a US trip. Cool. But now that I have booked a house, I was diverted from my blissful journey to this treacherous dump. On introspection, I should say my life has been perfect, but perfect only from a blissfully ignorant buffalo’s stand-point.
Didn’t get it? Let me explain. What all ambitions does a hyderabadi buffalo have? Eat a lot of junk, laze in the middle of the highway, enrage a few people like my old boss, f*** someone nice, give birth to a little one, and die under the wheels of a Hyderabad MMTS train on its inauguration run. See, this is “not” a typical buffalo’s life. Its life had a little color in it. It’s not commonplace for a buffalo to succeed in slowing down a speeding car driven by a very special person. It’s a unique blessing bestowed by God, like my US trip. Secondly, not all buffalos get mowed by Hyderabad MMTS trains on their inauguration ceremony. It’s gotta be a special occasion, like the way I’ll one day die.
If you have been reading the above paragraph carefully, you should have noticed the point I’ve been trying to drive home. If it makes no sense, please press Ctrl-F4 and get out.
I understand that it is important to introspect one’s life and to analyze how one has led it so far. That’s generally used to improve upon the next introspection period. But just imagine the plight of a person who sees a grinning buffalo when he tries to visualize his life!
After two years of living a buffalo’s life, with some silly success under the arm-pits, the future looks bleak. I have learnt nothing in the past two years and I am totally unsure what to do. I have no interest in anything and I have no passion of any sort. I am just a floating twig in a pond. Riding the waves when there’s some wind and sitting still when there’s no wind.
According to Vivekananda and Gita, two epics in Indian history and culture, one has to aim high and yet, have no attachment to success. That’s another way of asking you not to get depressed if you don’t reach it. What’s the point fighting to reach your aim, when you are not passionate about reaching it? Like in the matrix, what the Oracle says is just what you ought to know, and might not be the whole truth. Like wise, looks like the philosophers who have been endeavoring to spread the meaning of life to the masses, actually manipulated the truth and told us what we ought to know, so that we don’t get depressed at the end. But the actual truth could as well be, that life is pointless.
For the past 2 years, my life has been a mess. No, not the mess you might be thinking of. It has actually been good. Tasty food, air-conditioned office, a nice activa that takes me around the city, good money, and as a top up, a US trip. Cool. But now that I have booked a house, I was diverted from my blissful journey to this treacherous dump. On introspection, I should say my life has been perfect, but perfect only from a blissfully ignorant buffalo’s stand-point.
Didn’t get it? Let me explain. What all ambitions does a hyderabadi buffalo have? Eat a lot of junk, laze in the middle of the highway, enrage a few people like my old boss, f*** someone nice, give birth to a little one, and die under the wheels of a Hyderabad MMTS train on its inauguration run. See, this is “not” a typical buffalo’s life. Its life had a little color in it. It’s not commonplace for a buffalo to succeed in slowing down a speeding car driven by a very special person. It’s a unique blessing bestowed by God, like my US trip. Secondly, not all buffalos get mowed by Hyderabad MMTS trains on their inauguration ceremony. It’s gotta be a special occasion, like the way I’ll one day die.
If you have been reading the above paragraph carefully, you should have noticed the point I’ve been trying to drive home. If it makes no sense, please press Ctrl-F4 and get out.
I understand that it is important to introspect one’s life and to analyze how one has led it so far. That’s generally used to improve upon the next introspection period. But just imagine the plight of a person who sees a grinning buffalo when he tries to visualize his life!
After two years of living a buffalo’s life, with some silly success under the arm-pits, the future looks bleak. I have learnt nothing in the past two years and I am totally unsure what to do. I have no interest in anything and I have no passion of any sort. I am just a floating twig in a pond. Riding the waves when there’s some wind and sitting still when there’s no wind.
According to Vivekananda and Gita, two epics in Indian history and culture, one has to aim high and yet, have no attachment to success. That’s another way of asking you not to get depressed if you don’t reach it. What’s the point fighting to reach your aim, when you are not passionate about reaching it? Like in the matrix, what the Oracle says is just what you ought to know, and might not be the whole truth. Like wise, looks like the philosophers who have been endeavoring to spread the meaning of life to the masses, actually manipulated the truth and told us what we ought to know, so that we don’t get depressed at the end. But the actual truth could as well be, that life is pointless.
Saturday, July 30, 2005
Bottles and Chimney
This was supposed to be my first official entry into the pub-scene. I had a mixed feeling about pubs for a long time and finally decided I'd give it a try some fine day. One of two of my dear friends found an occasion and finally me and 11 friends of mine hit the 'Bottles and Chimney" yesterday. And here I make a note of my experience.
The guy who lets people in let me in and the first thing I get to feel is a strong smell of tobacco. People who know me know very well how much I hate smokers. They make sure I don't have a loaded gun when smokers are around. When I see that the entire ambiance turned "tobaccoey", I wanted to be a suicide bomber.
Well that's a good feeling to get when you want your friday go bang for the next couple of hours. The next feeling I get, almost simultaneously with the smoke, but was underplayed as the smoke was the most revolting, is the rhythmic thump. I figured it was the dance floor and expected to see young guys and gals go nuts over a wicked DJ playing whatever DJs play.But there was nothing much of that sort - what I see are people on bar-stools and lounges with half-opened eyes savouring their favourite drink.
After a couple of shuffles, we were directed to our very own "corner". I'd prefer it to be a quiet cornor where I can sip my drink and reflect on life, but that turned out to be right next to a big speaker which was handing out a boom every second. I settled in a nice corner in the corner provided to us. Wanted to strike a conversation with friends sitting around me, but when I started trying to talk, people around started to look at my as if I had too much of drink.
The menu had a lot of stuff in it. Fascinating combinations really. My eye fell on this drink "espresso martini". Espresso because I like "good" coffee a lot and martini because I was asked to try that by one of my friends. My other friend tried to direct my attention to better martinis around, but I stuck to this one.
Sat there listening to what the DJ was playing and looked at my friends seriously surveying the menu for their favourite cocktail. A long wait bore fruits - we had some starters coming in. The starters were not really good, but I was hungry and I gobbled whatever came to my reach. A kebab that came my way was good.
Then came the drinks, each in a glass of its own shape, draped in its own colours and wierd shaped straws jutting out of the poisons. Then came my espresso martini. Wowee... zappo... that was served in a very wide and shallow conical glass, strawless, and looked really punchy. Actually, it looked very professional. Had a sip and there was some sort of fire flowing through my oesophagus and collecting in my stomach. I was having my part of the pan-galactic-gargle-blaster and immediately remembered Zaphod. I started wondering where he was and started looking out for Zaphods around. Most of them had only one head, if at all.
After some time and effort, I finished my drink and started looking around again. The place started getting smokey and for a second I thought that the gargle-blaster had started acting. The system parameters seemsed to have changed a bit and I suddenly started noticing some good-looking girls with guys around, dressed to their own taste. My thoughts wandered around the money they spend, the cars they drive and the work they do. Then my mind wandered about the work I do and I had to crush the thought like you crush an insect. Then I realized that the smoke was not because of the drink, it was some sort of smoke that they blew about to create an ambiance.
Friends invited me to check out the dance floor and shake a leg or two or three. I went there and saw a pretty "exotic" crowd. Not the usual crowd I get to see. They are dancing around to the hackneyed music the silly DJ was playing. Well, I was intoxicated and felt it would be good to shake a little. I started dancing to the best of my ability hoping that the DJ will notice me, feel touched about my enthusiasm for his music and play a better song. But maybe he didn't like the way I danced, he started playing very morose music. Yes, it was some mix of someone, and it had drums in it, but that doesn't mean that he can make me dance for any crappy song he plays. I quit and came back to my corner.
People started to have more drinks. I started chewing on some french fries and swaying my head to the music. Don't think that I was swaying my head in appreciation for the music. Swaying my head makes me feel that the world is going round and round and that was what I wanted the world to do when I have a drink.
The DJ announced his final song of the list of revolting tracks he played. I thought it was worthwhile to end this party in style and I patiently moved my hands around. After that, he goes to play another last one. This was "woh lamhey" which was kinda better and my body swayed involuntarily for the first time this evening. After that song, I decided to forgive the DJ. A friend of mine was terribly disappointed that the DJ was retiring for the day. Anyways, we started to disperse.
One of my other friends was really happy that I liked the party. He offered to **** everyone in present there as a token of thanks to my decision of liking this party. I restrained him and suggested that we will thimk it over tomorrow.
A waiter came in and producedthe bill. My friend stared at it for some considerable time. Well, everyone was rather sure that we're going to have holes in our pockets very soon.
People didn't want to go. But the police wanted. Well, obviously, the police wanted the place to be cleared so that they can sit and enjoy their drinks. We thought that was a decent request and moved out.
I had a great time driving back home. Driving at mid-night in the hyderabad roads always seemed to make me really happy. Came home and shut down my system anticipating some sort of hang-over the next morning.
Today morning, I got up earlier than usual, and as fresh as the morning air.
To conclude, Bottles and Chimney is in some sort of ways a "wicked" place. Best place to go if you 1) earn a lot 2) had a tough week at office and 3) trying to go mad.
The guy who lets people in let me in and the first thing I get to feel is a strong smell of tobacco. People who know me know very well how much I hate smokers. They make sure I don't have a loaded gun when smokers are around. When I see that the entire ambiance turned "tobaccoey", I wanted to be a suicide bomber.
Well that's a good feeling to get when you want your friday go bang for the next couple of hours. The next feeling I get, almost simultaneously with the smoke, but was underplayed as the smoke was the most revolting, is the rhythmic thump. I figured it was the dance floor and expected to see young guys and gals go nuts over a wicked DJ playing whatever DJs play.But there was nothing much of that sort - what I see are people on bar-stools and lounges with half-opened eyes savouring their favourite drink.
After a couple of shuffles, we were directed to our very own "corner". I'd prefer it to be a quiet cornor where I can sip my drink and reflect on life, but that turned out to be right next to a big speaker which was handing out a boom every second. I settled in a nice corner in the corner provided to us. Wanted to strike a conversation with friends sitting around me, but when I started trying to talk, people around started to look at my as if I had too much of drink.
The menu had a lot of stuff in it. Fascinating combinations really. My eye fell on this drink "espresso martini". Espresso because I like "good" coffee a lot and martini because I was asked to try that by one of my friends. My other friend tried to direct my attention to better martinis around, but I stuck to this one.
Sat there listening to what the DJ was playing and looked at my friends seriously surveying the menu for their favourite cocktail. A long wait bore fruits - we had some starters coming in. The starters were not really good, but I was hungry and I gobbled whatever came to my reach. A kebab that came my way was good.
Then came the drinks, each in a glass of its own shape, draped in its own colours and wierd shaped straws jutting out of the poisons. Then came my espresso martini. Wowee... zappo... that was served in a very wide and shallow conical glass, strawless, and looked really punchy. Actually, it looked very professional. Had a sip and there was some sort of fire flowing through my oesophagus and collecting in my stomach. I was having my part of the pan-galactic-gargle-blaster and immediately remembered Zaphod. I started wondering where he was and started looking out for Zaphods around. Most of them had only one head, if at all.
After some time and effort, I finished my drink and started looking around again. The place started getting smokey and for a second I thought that the gargle-blaster had started acting. The system parameters seemsed to have changed a bit and I suddenly started noticing some good-looking girls with guys around, dressed to their own taste. My thoughts wandered around the money they spend, the cars they drive and the work they do. Then my mind wandered about the work I do and I had to crush the thought like you crush an insect. Then I realized that the smoke was not because of the drink, it was some sort of smoke that they blew about to create an ambiance.
Friends invited me to check out the dance floor and shake a leg or two or three. I went there and saw a pretty "exotic" crowd. Not the usual crowd I get to see. They are dancing around to the hackneyed music the silly DJ was playing. Well, I was intoxicated and felt it would be good to shake a little. I started dancing to the best of my ability hoping that the DJ will notice me, feel touched about my enthusiasm for his music and play a better song. But maybe he didn't like the way I danced, he started playing very morose music. Yes, it was some mix of someone, and it had drums in it, but that doesn't mean that he can make me dance for any crappy song he plays. I quit and came back to my corner.
People started to have more drinks. I started chewing on some french fries and swaying my head to the music. Don't think that I was swaying my head in appreciation for the music. Swaying my head makes me feel that the world is going round and round and that was what I wanted the world to do when I have a drink.
The DJ announced his final song of the list of revolting tracks he played. I thought it was worthwhile to end this party in style and I patiently moved my hands around. After that, he goes to play another last one. This was "woh lamhey" which was kinda better and my body swayed involuntarily for the first time this evening. After that song, I decided to forgive the DJ. A friend of mine was terribly disappointed that the DJ was retiring for the day. Anyways, we started to disperse.
One of my other friends was really happy that I liked the party. He offered to **** everyone in present there as a token of thanks to my decision of liking this party. I restrained him and suggested that we will thimk it over tomorrow.
A waiter came in and producedthe bill. My friend stared at it for some considerable time. Well, everyone was rather sure that we're going to have holes in our pockets very soon.
People didn't want to go. But the police wanted. Well, obviously, the police wanted the place to be cleared so that they can sit and enjoy their drinks. We thought that was a decent request and moved out.
I had a great time driving back home. Driving at mid-night in the hyderabad roads always seemed to make me really happy. Came home and shut down my system anticipating some sort of hang-over the next morning.
Today morning, I got up earlier than usual, and as fresh as the morning air.
To conclude, Bottles and Chimney is in some sort of ways a "wicked" place. Best place to go if you 1) earn a lot 2) had a tough week at office and 3) trying to go mad.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Quotes
After reading this quote, I've decided that I'm going to collect some of them that strike you straight on the face. You read them, you realize the profoundness of the quote and you go on. The rest of the day will always be brighter.
…trying to be on a diet is this incredible level of guilt that you suffer from whenever you eat anything worthwhile - Vishy.
How damn true! Attach rockets to diets and send them to mars. I happened to read this right after enjoying one of the most satisfyingly relishingly deliciously yummy pizza from dominos. And I won't even bother to give a damn if my weight goes up by a kilo.
I will keep adding quotes to this blog whenever I come across one that touches me right there.
…trying to be on a diet is this incredible level of guilt that you suffer from whenever you eat anything worthwhile - Vishy.
How damn true! Attach rockets to diets and send them to mars. I happened to read this right after enjoying one of the most satisfyingly relishingly deliciously yummy pizza from dominos. And I won't even bother to give a damn if my weight goes up by a kilo.
I will keep adding quotes to this blog whenever I come across one that touches me right there.
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Traffic on the golden gate
If someone asks me to pick one photo out of all the hundreds of photos I have taken in the US, so that it best represents the brighter side of the US, I would pick this one up with closed eyes.
A massive bridge, called the golden gate. A classy suspension bridge represents the engineering spirit of this nation. The six-lane motor-way represents the infrastructural superiority of the nation. Cars and trucks going in a straight line behind each other in each lane represent the orderliness. The speed limit sign-board represents the discipline of the nation.
Now, I haven't ventured the darker side of the nation. If I could've taken this snap from a little-height, you would have noticed the toll-booth. Even though the toll charges are high, I am not complaining about that. A few minutes after we payed the toll and rode away, a guy came in a stolen car and shot at a toll-collector because she tried to stop him.
Think about it...
A massive bridge, called the golden gate. A classy suspension bridge represents the engineering spirit of this nation. The six-lane motor-way represents the infrastructural superiority of the nation. Cars and trucks going in a straight line behind each other in each lane represent the orderliness. The speed limit sign-board represents the discipline of the nation.
Now, I haven't ventured the darker side of the nation. If I could've taken this snap from a little-height, you would have noticed the toll-booth. Even though the toll charges are high, I am not complaining about that. A few minutes after we payed the toll and rode away, a guy came in a stolen car and shot at a toll-collector because she tried to stop him.
Think about it...
Friday, May 13, 2005
Yippie... here's my Digicam
Am I proud of it... Trying my first blog after taking an account at Flickr. Let's see how this goes. As you know friends, the activity on the blog is inversely proportional to the amount of work I have. So, please pray to God that I get some free time everyday atleast to upload photos online!
Friday, February 18, 2005
Creativity and its tools
I saw the following signature in some photo forum
"Great poem... which pen did you use?
Great curry... which pan did you use?
Great photo... which camera did you use?"
Well... in essense, all the three statements go totally together... three creative products and the tools used to make them.
There... don't hastily conclude that the camera is the most unimportant part of the creative process of photography. My question is, if you have a leaking pen or a pen that's snaggy, will the poem come out great? Do you make a good curry if your pan is too shallow or if a coat of the pan gets mixed into the curry?
So, to correct, the camera is also quite important. It should have the features to actually help you in the creative process. I like macro photography and unfortunately, the camera I currently use is extremely bad at macro. Actually, the lens doesn't have a macro facility at all! I also like to have a good telephoto feature and my lens goes to a measly 80mm.
So, to quench my creative thrust, I will atleast need a Tamron 70-300mm LD 1:2 Macro. I will be glad if someone out there gifts that to me. But then, it costs a damn Rs.7500. I wonder what I should do.
Gawd. please help me.
"Great poem... which pen did you use?
Great curry... which pan did you use?
Great photo... which camera did you use?"
Well... in essense, all the three statements go totally together... three creative products and the tools used to make them.
There... don't hastily conclude that the camera is the most unimportant part of the creative process of photography. My question is, if you have a leaking pen or a pen that's snaggy, will the poem come out great? Do you make a good curry if your pan is too shallow or if a coat of the pan gets mixed into the curry?
So, to correct, the camera is also quite important. It should have the features to actually help you in the creative process. I like macro photography and unfortunately, the camera I currently use is extremely bad at macro. Actually, the lens doesn't have a macro facility at all! I also like to have a good telephoto feature and my lens goes to a measly 80mm.
So, to quench my creative thrust, I will atleast need a Tamron 70-300mm LD 1:2 Macro. I will be glad if someone out there gifts that to me. But then, it costs a damn Rs.7500. I wonder what I should do.
Gawd. please help me.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
There they go
Some of my fans ;) wanted me to talk about my photography. So, here they are, a series of snaps I wanted to talk about. Well, I should have just talked about them, but I seem to have "reviewed" them unintentionally. I should have just left them there for people to see.
Self portait
Me
I felt it would be worth it to add a snap of my own. The clinching point is obvious here... it's me who's taking the snap. The shutter was at probably half-a-second and observers will see a bit of a camera shake. The objective of this snap was not to shoot myself, but to record the ambience I was in, when I stayed at this Hotel in Delhi. Yes, the room has an AC and it works, but boy! Was Delhi simmering! That takes me back to the initial photo I had posted in the blog. The question is, what is the photographer's role in human life? I have three options I can see now
- To record the facts the way they are and to put in evry effort to get the observer feel the picture in its true sense
- Glorify the world around us using techniques in photography and to project the beautiful part of life, blissfully ignoring the pain and suffering
- Project the photographic knowledge and skill the photographer has acquired and put in efforts to make his photos a piece of art, regardless of what is being shown and how it is being shown
It is left to whoever reads this to suggest me the path I am supposed to take.
A sunrise at Shirdi
Aah... see the fog on the bottom left corner? This was the shot from our hotel window at Shirdi. Was it an amazing sunrise... I just love pictures like these. Now, there's another point why I placed both sunrise and sunset shots next to each other in the blog. That's because I wanted to note that sunsets are a bit warmer than sunrises, and that the sky generally remains clear at sunrise and you generally see more cloud activity during sunsets.
A sunset at Kurnool
A sunset at Kurnool
There's nothing much I'd want to say about this snap, except that I had hoped the camera woud expose the Tungabhadra river a bit better. Please look carefully at the bottom-left corner of the photo. Do you see a streak of yellow light going almost through the photo? That's the tungabhadra.
The moon
The moon
This is one of my older attempts. The exposure was for some 2 seconds and it was taken at 80mm, the telephoto end of my lens, all hand-held. The picture is of-course cropped. There's nothing much I can talk about this snap, expect that I metered on one of those clouds that is right next to the moon, to the right. As you can see, the clouds are almost at 50% grey, the moon quite over-exposed and well, the ambience, coming out pretty well. What could I do better with this snap? Well, I need a 400mm telephoto lens and a tripod. Then I will have a chance to show you how beautiful the moon looks like from the top of our apartment.
Saibaba temple at Kurnool
Saibaba temple at Kurnool.
]Now, in contrast, this is technically a better image. The sky looks good, there's enough light on the subject and the coolest thing is that there is some detail on the gopura too. Frankly, I didn't know what settings to use, since the subject is not flat. Also, in reference to the previous shot, time was precious here since the sky was getting darker every second. I put it on auto-landscape, requested a parapet wall to act as a tripod and shot it. I really love the way the camera really analyses the scene and tries its best to keep as many things as possible well exposed. And so, here it is!
One of my initial night-shots
Here's a photo I had taken when I initially bought my new SLR.
OK. So, I had taken this snap from the shabby roof-top of a hotel in Lakdi Ka Pul. I had taken my new SLR and started to experiment with it. When I see a snap, I immediately ask what could have been done better with this. The first thing is to note down the damn shutter and aperture so that I can analyse it better. But the way things have it, I never do it and the camera doesn't help me store them either.
After the lament, I'd say I like this snap quite a lot. I initially thought that the temple itself was terribly over-exposed. But then, if I meter for the temple, I wouldn't really get any ambience. Initially, I didn't have the experience to make sure that the subject and background should not have a brightness difference more than 2 f-stops. But I waited longer than I should have. Resultantly, the camera, in its good sense, felt that the ambience was quite important in this picture and eventually over-exposed the temple. Doesn't matter.
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
Shakti - Set the stage on Fire
To start with, Shakti is a fusion team which has been in and out of existance from the 1970s, undergoing nothing less than metamorphoses (the plural). The current Shakti team comprised out Zakir Hussain, Srinivas (better known as Mandolin Srinivas), Shankar Mahadevan, John McLaughlin and Selva Ganesh. They're touring India and on Sunday, 23rd Jan, they performed in Lalitha Kala Thoranam, Public Gardens.
The show started around 45 minutes late, which was attributed to the delay in frisking the artists from Mumbai to Hyderabad. They performed for around 2.5 hours, and the performance, simply put, was extra-ordinary.
I should say I was exhausted after the two-hour show because of the strenuous clapping at the end of each song. But I have no idea how Zakir Hussain could keep up hitting the tabla for almost the entire two-hour show. And man, he doesn't play it as slow as you would think. He's amazingly fast, and once in a while, the quality of the speakers wasn't good enough to match the speed. The bits merged together in a frenzy driving us mad. Zakir is also famous for the improvizations he does, playing notes with his tabla perfoming a jugal bandi with the mandolin and guitar.
Though I missed the violin of Shankar, we had our own Srinivas with his mandolin. The mandolin is like a guitar, the difference being that the sound is a bit more sonorous and sustains longer. Initially, I was not very impressed with the sound of this instrument, and had a lump in my throat for missing the violin. But Srinivas unleashed his provess in one particular song with a little help from Zakir and the crowd started swaying. From a slow strum to frenzied very high-pitch notes, each bit was impeccable. We were amazed at the control he showed when playing at blazing speeds.
I have no idea if Shankar Mahadevan is a part of the team or if he was invited to fill a vacant position. But to me, it looked like Shankar Mahadevan spent quite some time practicing with the other members of the team. Shankar merged his voice with the mandolin and guitar and the blended sound was a real melody. Me and many of my friends have a misconception that for melody, you need to have the song paced moderately low. But Shankar Mahadevan plays with the swaras really fast and keeps each sound distint from the other. Shankar walked out of the show midway to let the instrumentalists take over and returned back towards the end, releasing another torrent of swaras, stimulating our senses and throwing us wild. But I felt that Shankar didn't perform to the very best of his abilities in this show.
"Pundit" John McLaughlin, as Zakir Hussain introduced him, is a world renowned Guitarist, with several solo hit albums to his name. He took special intrerest in Indian Classical and really moves the crowd with his guitar playing karnatic and hindustani classical. Out of all the members, I felt John preferred slow and swaying music with some special effects from his electric guitar. The way he played "Lotus feet" was so mesmerising that you would close your eyes and float about in a green landscape filled with lots of colourful flowers. Yes, you can say I am imagining things, but if a music can induce such imagination, then this world seriously needs such music.
Selva Ganesh is famous for his Kanjira, but he played more of his Ghatam and Mridangam today. He was accompanying Zakir most of the time, and we didn't have an opportunity to appreciate his abilities as it was hard for us to distunguish the sounds of tabla and mridangam. But Selva Ganesh took some time and granted a solo performance, which was totally out-standing. His rather loud-mridangam kept on going throwing the crowd into waves of applause.
Another major disappointment was the absence of Pundit Hariprasad Chaurasia with his flute (or since he plays a lot of hindustani classical - bansuri). He's another great musician this team has as an asset, but couldn't accompany the team due to reasons best known to the team.
For more than two hours, the best musicians India has taken a modest crowd for a ride over beautiful landscapes and mercilessly threw us back in the mundane world we belonged to. For two hours, we were in extacy and it finally has to come to an end. One marked quality of this team is the speed. They play it so fast that you keep swaying. It is not the usual musical concert where the performers play it at normal speeds, but display perfection in what they play. The Shakti team has crossed all these little goals and have grown much beyond the basic classical music.
The way they have created this fusion music with title "Shakti" really sets the stage on fire and the crowd is picked up by the resulting hurricane. I really wished the performance could last longer, as it landed us back into our mundane world with a visible "thump".
Ipromised myself that If there are more shows of this kind and I get to know of it, I wouldn't miss it for anything in this world.
The show started around 45 minutes late, which was attributed to the delay in frisking the artists from Mumbai to Hyderabad. They performed for around 2.5 hours, and the performance, simply put, was extra-ordinary.
I should say I was exhausted after the two-hour show because of the strenuous clapping at the end of each song. But I have no idea how Zakir Hussain could keep up hitting the tabla for almost the entire two-hour show. And man, he doesn't play it as slow as you would think. He's amazingly fast, and once in a while, the quality of the speakers wasn't good enough to match the speed. The bits merged together in a frenzy driving us mad. Zakir is also famous for the improvizations he does, playing notes with his tabla perfoming a jugal bandi with the mandolin and guitar.
Though I missed the violin of Shankar, we had our own Srinivas with his mandolin. The mandolin is like a guitar, the difference being that the sound is a bit more sonorous and sustains longer. Initially, I was not very impressed with the sound of this instrument, and had a lump in my throat for missing the violin. But Srinivas unleashed his provess in one particular song with a little help from Zakir and the crowd started swaying. From a slow strum to frenzied very high-pitch notes, each bit was impeccable. We were amazed at the control he showed when playing at blazing speeds.
I have no idea if Shankar Mahadevan is a part of the team or if he was invited to fill a vacant position. But to me, it looked like Shankar Mahadevan spent quite some time practicing with the other members of the team. Shankar merged his voice with the mandolin and guitar and the blended sound was a real melody. Me and many of my friends have a misconception that for melody, you need to have the song paced moderately low. But Shankar Mahadevan plays with the swaras really fast and keeps each sound distint from the other. Shankar walked out of the show midway to let the instrumentalists take over and returned back towards the end, releasing another torrent of swaras, stimulating our senses and throwing us wild. But I felt that Shankar didn't perform to the very best of his abilities in this show.
"Pundit" John McLaughlin, as Zakir Hussain introduced him, is a world renowned Guitarist, with several solo hit albums to his name. He took special intrerest in Indian Classical and really moves the crowd with his guitar playing karnatic and hindustani classical. Out of all the members, I felt John preferred slow and swaying music with some special effects from his electric guitar. The way he played "Lotus feet" was so mesmerising that you would close your eyes and float about in a green landscape filled with lots of colourful flowers. Yes, you can say I am imagining things, but if a music can induce such imagination, then this world seriously needs such music.
Selva Ganesh is famous for his Kanjira, but he played more of his Ghatam and Mridangam today. He was accompanying Zakir most of the time, and we didn't have an opportunity to appreciate his abilities as it was hard for us to distunguish the sounds of tabla and mridangam. But Selva Ganesh took some time and granted a solo performance, which was totally out-standing. His rather loud-mridangam kept on going throwing the crowd into waves of applause.
Another major disappointment was the absence of Pundit Hariprasad Chaurasia with his flute (or since he plays a lot of hindustani classical - bansuri). He's another great musician this team has as an asset, but couldn't accompany the team due to reasons best known to the team.
For more than two hours, the best musicians India has taken a modest crowd for a ride over beautiful landscapes and mercilessly threw us back in the mundane world we belonged to. For two hours, we were in extacy and it finally has to come to an end. One marked quality of this team is the speed. They play it so fast that you keep swaying. It is not the usual musical concert where the performers play it at normal speeds, but display perfection in what they play. The Shakti team has crossed all these little goals and have grown much beyond the basic classical music.
The way they have created this fusion music with title "Shakti" really sets the stage on fire and the crowd is picked up by the resulting hurricane. I really wished the performance could last longer, as it landed us back into our mundane world with a visible "thump".
Ipromised myself that If there are more shows of this kind and I get to know of it, I wouldn't miss it for anything in this world.
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