I've been to Bangalore to watch the India vs New Zealand test match. Though it wasn't test cricket of supreme quality, thanks to some spirited performances by the Kiwis, I thoroughly enjoyed whatever keen contests that happened. From the pavilion stand, I watched Indians on the victory podium. And many more than that.
But the highlight of the last day was when Rahul Dravid quietly walked into our stand and sat couple of seats behind me. I was so engrossed in the game that I didn't really bother the hush behind me. When I finally did turn back, there he was! The gentleman! Or the highest compliment you can play to a man - he is "the complete man", going Raymond's way.
I almost had a minor heart attack watching my hero at a hand's distance. I could have chased him down to get an autograph, which he might have obliged without much fuss. I chose not to. An autograph might have helped boast about it in my circles. But no, that's not what I want. Having seen him up and close, I now wanna dream - openly and wildly - that I someday would catch up with him for coffee and over it, discuss tons and tons of books. Or may be, interview him for pustakam! Or may be loan from him the entire Cardus collection.(given he has them!)
Looking forward to that day, Rahul. Until then, thanks for everything!
My head's got so many things thinking about, it's gonna be real hard to stick to a topic in this post. The intention is however to be in and around cricket.
Day began with Dileep Premachandran's article on Sourav Ganguly. Having been his fan for this long, nothing from him comes as a surprise. So, when he says, "I don't see a point in playing cricket, now.", I support him with the usual fervour. Looking back, this guy has been such an inspiration in my life, in terms of doing what I wanna do and speaking my mind on it.. I sometimes wonder if he IS the key ingredient to the personal I'm today. Love you, Sourav Daa.. always!
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It is always good to know somebody else is also thinking on the same lines as you. At least, it surprises me when I see my mind in others' words. Two of cricinfo's articles almost stole the words from my mouth. Both relating to India in WC 2003.
For me the most remarkable of India's wins because of bowling performance are victories against england and NZ in WC'03. It's always such a rarity to see an Indian bowler being absolutely ruthless in his attack. If Nehra's performance was such a beauty, the aggression and accuracy of Zaheer against NZ had me floored. I precisely remember sitting on the top of the sofa.. I know that's weird way of sitting.. at the beginning of the match, and was on the ground by the time Zaheer completed his first spell. Man! Wasn't he a treat to watch in that match?!
While watching the repeating highlights of various WCs on star cricket, to my own surprise, I quipped: It might have been a different story, had Laxman featured in that WC final. It's too much of a thought, but over the years, Laxman has just grown in stature of being Australia's nemesis.
Gautam Ghambir's statement, "No one would die if India doesn't win the world cup.", shows the need to be realistic with our chances and the nature of the game itself. If India wins, it would inspire a million others to pick up bats and balls. If not, nothing is truly lost.. except another chance to be champions.
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When I talk, people tend to think that either I'm too ignorant or intellectual to be termed as sane.
For instance, when I theorized that sledging is a good idea and can reap rich benefits, out of my own limited ping-pong playing experiences, I got similar weird looks. Get ready to make your eyebrows dance, as I present my theory here.
Any player, according to me, has two layers - 1. skill 2. attitude. Individually, they don't need long drawn explanations. But the combination of both is petty interesting. Let's just take binary values of the two attributes to put the theory simple.
Assuming you're some one with right level of skill and attitude needed for the competition.
No skill. No attitude. : Can be dusted off soon. No skill. Loads of attitude: As a opponent, you should be ready for surprises. Skill. Right attitude: That's a deadly combination. Win or loss, you'd be in for some serious blows. Here's where your mental strength of performing under adverse conditions comes to your rescue.
Skill. No attitude. This is an interesting combination. This could be anyone's game. But if I'm the opponent and if I get the idea of the skills of opponent, I find it petty wise to start playing the mind's game. Playing to the best of your ability, surely rises the game's standard.. but if you can play on the guy's mind, it could get favourable to you. Also, I believe in utilizing correct skills at apt times. I don't think, trying too hard to get rid of a good batsmen with average temperament isn't that great an idea. If I'm a captain, I'd insist on bowler targeting batsmen's mind as well as his stumps, not just his stumps alone. That case, even a wide delivery can get him a wicket, needn't be an unplayable delivery.
My point is mind games work. Sledging is a part of it. It needn't get too abusive, involving mothers and wives. But well, ethics put apart, sledging of any kind works, reaping rich benefits.
There's this Telugu movie in which the lead complains about losing a day in the calendar. She lost it because she was on drugs. I didn't know what was sucking me into, but it looks like I've lost too many days in my calendar. I missed the world for about a month or so. I'm glad, I'm back. And though this post is a delayed celebration, I'm happy I woke up in the nick of the time.
If I tell you that the news of Hyderabad hosting a test match makes me ecstatic, you might raise your eyebrow or laugh at my stupidity. Even if you've been ardent cricket fan all your life, you might not understand my ecstasy. Especially if you're from those big metros like Delhi, Kolkata, Chennai or Bangalore. You wouldn't know what it is to be a metro and yet have occasional cricket matches happen in a multi-purpose stadium. You'd have no idea what it means for an ordinary cricket fan to have a cricket stadium. You'd have no idea how harsh it was on us, when IPL was taken away from Hyderabad because of agitations. You'd have no idea what its like dying to watch your heroes playing the highest form of cricket and yet can't even dream of it.
My ecstasy is two fold. One is that this city, which has been cricket loving all through and yet deprived of proper cricketing action, is getting its due, finally! This city will cheer, roar, celebrate and enjoy every single action involved when two Test teams are battling it out.
The other reason, and more important of the two, is Laxman! He made the Australian crowd to bow to him. He made Kolkata his home. He's shown a piece of wood can be a magic wand, too. In the days of slam bang cricket, he keeps showing what's called class. He'd be coming home. He'd be cheered for the first ever time, by his own people and the people would enjoy their fellow, perform at the level he's best at.
It would be pretentious to say that Laxman would be most sought out in Hyderabad's match. No! The God would take all the honours, as the ritual goes and no hint of doubt in it!
But Laxman needs this bit of it, for what he has given to Test cricket! Hyderabadi's aren't intelligent cricket lovers like Chennaites or sophisticated as the Bangaloreans. We don't go on to streets to fight for our heroes. We don't make fuss when Laxman is neglected or ill-treated. We can't make ourselves visible or heard like our counterparts from Bangalore or Kolkata keep demonstrating. Not that we're gauche. Not that we don't love. We've a unique way of doing it. When we love, we love! That's all! No further action gets kicked in. We're too laid back to tell how much we love. May be, not even that! We just don't see the need. The Australians might call us daft, but we're the way we're.
The authentic Hyderabadi would get a typical Hyderabadi reception.. for the first time ever is *the* reason for my ecstasy.
The whole of media is going bonkers over the topic of Laxman being the unsung hero. For having not got the mass popularity, for not having those huge endorsements, for never having been part of the glamorous world, for having been doubted despite best performances. Indian media has this knack of bringing controversy from just about anything.
Laxman can't be appreciated in normal ways, you see. He's way too special to the ordinary to observe.
When you come across a breathtakingly beautiful lady, you'd show your admiration by not dropping your eyelids even for a moment. But what if you come across a woman with strong character and mettle.. how would you appreciate?
If you join your friends for a bollywood / hollywood music show, you can simply sway your hands, following your friends or the crowd. What if that show was about classical music - Indian or Western? How much of it could you enjoy, without having strong base in appreciating it, in first place?
It's so bloody easy to talk about a Hollywood blockbuster? How many of us, calling ourselves movie buffs, can actually comment on the classics that stood out time?
The Sophie Kenslies, the Stephenie Meyers RULE the literary world. But does that leave a Orhan Pamuk or Marquez too tough to comprehend? Are they unsung?
Not everything can be acknowledged by everyone. It's only in this country, which suffers from for-the-mass syndrome.. it's only here that majority counts, a little too much.
Laxman belongs to a rare species of true performers.. if he doesn't have mass appeal, it's alright. It doesn't even count. For he is, too special for the ordinary. To adore him, you gotta have that extra bit of specialty to appreciate beauty.. beauty in the purest of forms.. otherwise, he seems too ordinary.
He makes the Australian players and crowd respect him. What are you waiting for?
Stop the fuss! And bow to the man, who showed painting can be done on the canvas called cricket ground.
Freaking out has always been my pastime. I freak out if there's nothing to freak out. I freak out that I'm not freaking out enough. The actual point to be made in this post, has nothing to do with freaking out, but still..
Now, I freak out when people come up with life long deals. Say, if a salesman is trying to sell me something on the basis of "Life Long Guarantee.", I'd bombard him with questions like, "Whose life does that Life refer to?", "Mine?", "Yours?", "The product's?", "The manufacturer's?", "The re-seller's?", "Whose bloody life is it, anyway?" If he doesn't freak out listening to this, I freak out because I wasn't able to freak him out enough.
Similar episode happens when somebody comes up with the theory of "Friend for Life." I freak out, because it scares me to death.. yes, death. What if I'm dying? Am I not breaking the bond? If not, why do you wanna term it using the word Life?
I'm a person in hurry. See me eat, talk, walk, work, read, worry - you'd know, I'm hurry! When I've chosen to read a book, I'm in hurry to complete it. Not finishing it off, is my way of insulting it. For me everything is like an ice cream, I gotta relish, lest it melts.
I've been reading Catch 22 for the past few months, yet lingering in page 130 or so. For the first time ever, I don't feel like rushing through..I don't want to finish it, I don't want it to finish. I act like a kindergarten - alright, pre-primary 1- kid who worries about the chocolate getting over. Catch 22 is the book, which is mirroring the greed in me. And yes, I took a liking to that image of mine in the mirror.
For a 4-line content, I gave 4-para introduction. If you're the one to worry about e-waste, please freak out.
It's time that my online book racks have two new shelves: Books-that-read-me and Makes-me-greedy-books.
I miss Kafka, these days. As if none among the living is worth missing, I choose to miss the dead often. How often did your soul wanted to dance and your feet fail to stand up? How often did it want to dissipate into eternity and you couldn't even understand that? Kafka, in his engaging prose, kept complaining about a trampled soul trapped in a decent body. I've an exact opposite problem. Added to that, I can't express myself. Now, doesn't that justify me missing Kafka?
"pee loon, hai peene kaa mausam" - professes a song from Once Upon A Time in Mumbaai. I've been drunk too, drunk on happiness, drunk on life, so much so that it's hard not to stagger, not to stammer. Yet, I've decided to write something on the album that has swept me off.
I was introduced to this album through the song, "pee loon.." , which is truly an intoxicant.
Mujh mein samayi hai yun, Jis tarah ki koi ho nadi Tu mere seenay mein chupti hai, sagar tumhara main hoon
These are the lines that make this song an exhilaration, for me. Bollywood poets were always good at getting to heart of man-woman relationships; the above line, in its various forms, already part of numerous songs. But the amour prope shown by the man here - in being her saagar - amuses me.
The rest of the song is good too, passionately rendered and beautifully composed. Having listened to it many times, I conveniently skipped checking the album in full, until I came across the song "tum jo aaye" by Rahat Fateh Ali Khan. Listened to it. Got bowled over. I keep listening to it. And I enjoy getting myself bowled over again and again. This is one of the best songs that happened in Bollywood, recently. I can't talk much about the music, but I'm sure it has enough to sway anybody to its tune. The semi-classical base and Khan's voice make this song a beauty, especially the start of the song:
Paya maine, paya tumhe, rab ne milaya tumhe, Hontun pe sajaya tumhe, nag mein sagaya tumhe Paya maine, paya tumhe, sab se chupaya tumhe,Sapna banaya tumhe, neendun mein bulaya
Breathless rendition leaves you gasping with ecstasy. And the more I talk about the lyrics, the less, I feel I could express.
Zindagi bewafa hai yeh maana magar Chod kar raah mein jaoge tum agar Cheen launga main aasman se tumhe Soona hoga na yeh, do dilon ka nagar
Again! I-damn-the-death-when-it's-you attitude has been part of Bollywood for long, but the way these lines are rendered take it to a new height.
The lines that I like most in this song are, the following:
Mere dil ki jeet meri baat ban gayi Hoo tum jo aaye zindagi mein baat ban gayi
Fall in love. That's the ticket to stay put a visit in both hell and heaven. You keep swinging between dreams and practicalities, between spring and autumn, between life and death, between excruciating pain and exhilaration. If I can tweak those wordings a little, "mere dil ki jeet meri maat ban gayi.. tum jo aaye zindagi mein baat ban gayi" capturing the irony of love.
The re-use of the old song "parda.." isn't very great, though the original has such a magic that it can easily live next 100 years, with or without remixes. And that leaves just two others songs in this album. "babu rao.." song is a funky, for-the-masses song, however is good enough to catch one's attention. The big plus of this album is that the songs have captured the soul of each character very well, be it the 'can't help being love' souls in above and soon to be followed song or the typical i-me-myself character in this song. The lyrics catch the mood well, and liked the song a lot - especially the lines: babu rao mast hai, mast hai, mast mast hai - makes me mast!
Final song of the album is a usual, listen-i'm-in-love song. The lyrics, though, are refreshingly beautiful.
Baadal pe chalta hoon main, girta sambhalta hoon main Khwaishein karta hoon main, khone se darta hoon main Jaaga na soya hoon main, musafir khoya hoon main Kuch sarfira sa hoon main, budhu zara sa hoon main
A typical Indian male for you! The dreamer, the fighter, the yearner, the lover, the traveler all rolled into one - what a combination, delightful and frightful at the same time. Alas, if only the characterization in films could reflect what the songs convey. The directors either aren't poetic enough or can't translate that onto celluloid. I'm not pinning any hopes on this movie, despite such lovely songs.
Monsoon suits both: fall in love and fail in love cases. However, when such music comes to your rescue, you can fall in love, all over again. Just as the raindrops falling onto you titillate you, let the music grow on you.
Get drunk. Stay drunk. On music. On life. On love.
It's been almost 3 weeks that I've ordered the book, "Too loud a solitude", in Landmark. "It would be surely available. It would take little time." was an assuring answer with a temporary effect. Today, from nowhere, I've started thinking about the book and digging all information about it. I was introduced to this book through this blog, the elegant way of introducing the book had its mark on me.
While I still await the book, here's another wonderful article about the author Bohumil Hrabal.
I've hardly come out of the magic of Milan Kundera. Seems like, I'm all set to have a great with this author too. Every single time, I think its time to move to complete non-fiction reading, I happen to stumble upon a mesmerizer. Hmmm.. for now the news is, I'm waiting!
I've always liked being in the company of books. Many a people who are eye witness to my passion for books, keep asking the very old tiring question, "Why do you read so much?" and the "so much" part of the question doesn't actually highlight the quantity of my reading, it is their mere disgust.
"Why do you read?" - is a question that irks me to the core. "Why?" is possibly the simplest ever question to put and the toughest to answer, the tougher when its about something you love. When the answer doesn't seem to match the fervor we know we have, we tend to give exaggerated answers, "I can't live without them", "I can't imagine my life without them", "I'm nothing without them". Not questioning the enormous benefits of book reading, I still dare to suggest that books are always secondary. No matter what kind of subject and what beauty the prose has, the basic needs of human body can't be satisfied by book reading. (All the folks who put up their hands and interrupt, "Hey, I do forgo food and sleep to complete a book, you know?"- my answer would be, "You can afford that. There is a huge difference when you can forgo something and when there is nothing to forgo.")
"Why do I read?" - Well, I was trying to find out an answer to this for a while now. The immediate advantage of reading lot of books,that the language improves has always abandoned me. Irrespective of the language, reading has hardly helped me in bettering my vocabulary. I don't read to write! I'm not one of those lucky souls who in worse of moods, open a book and get lost in a new magical fictional world and conveniently and comfortably forget the real world.
For me, reading books can be metamorphical only two acts. When it is fiction, the act is that of sleeping. When it is non-fiction, the act is that of listening to another soul, completely engrossed. All fictional books I'd read thus far, left with the taste of sleeping experiences, say, a profound sleep, a nightmare, a disturbed sleep, incredibly beautiful dream and so on. And when it comes to non-fiction, it is like meeting a stranger on a train and listening to him with undivided attention. I don't know the person and would never have a chance again. Whatever has to happen, happens in that little window of time and then all I have is his memories. I read books for the exclusive bliss of dreaming without sleeping and listening without the compulsion to talk back.
I quite seriously intend to make notes of my readings on a regular basis in this blog. So, all you bookworms out there can take the pain to visit this blog. You'll find something or the other. The others, don't worry! There are many other things to share apart from books. :)
Have you ever been in love? Have you ever been rejected, hated or left in despair by somebody? Have you ever felt the need of somebody for your own existence? Do you even have the faintest of ideas as to what it means to have a broken heart?
Do you want to wander about in the kingdom of a broken heart, without ever experiencing personally? Welcome to the world of Abhinandana.
Abhinandana is a musical romantic Telugu film released in early nineties. The story line is too simple: it's all about a gal and guy madly in love with each other when destiny scares them away that it seems that they gonna lose each other forever. But as they say, good happens to good souls. Its kind of happy ending that they both get back together. That's all! The beauty of the movie is actually how this simple story is turned into a masterpiece on the celluloid. I'm no expert to discuss the nuances of cinematic skills, so I'll leave that part right here.
As with any typical Indian flick, music and songs become such a crucial part of the movie that it mandates the gal and guy run around trees or drench in the rain or whatever that supposedly entertaining to the audience. Again, I'm not connoisseur of music, but still, that is what this post would contain. I'm terribly gonna fail at that, yet I'll be doing that.
The songs of this movie are a creation of three masters in their respective fields. None needs introduction. Or to the matter of fact, any introduction, however good, makes them look small, ordinary and one-among-us. Whereas they create magic that could overwhelm anyone - ANYONE!
First Illayaraja - he's called maestro - thankfully, I can stop here. Any given day and every single time I happen to hear the music of this movie, I'm taken into a different world. All of a sudden the real world diffuses itself into the magic called Illayaraja, leaving me swinging to the tunes of pain, hurt, hopelessness, melancholy, desire and many others which I can't even name.
Then there is the one who renders these songs so heartrendingly well - S.P. Bala Subhramaniam. It takes a certain age and most importantly a certain set of experiences to actually empathize with the fall-in-love and after-love effects. But not when you have someone who can bring ever single emotion of heart into the vocal chords. I was equally fond of these songs during my childhood, so much so that whenever I heard this song over radio - end of it, I wanted to give SPB a glass of water, make him sit beside me, pat him on his back and tell him, "Don't cry! Good boys shouldn't cry!" If you wanna hear a heart's beat, listen to SPB!
And the third and my most favourite is the lyricist of these songs - Aatreya. People call him 'manasu kavi" - poet of heart - and that is because he actually speaks heart's language. I can never understand when people say, 'heart is dumb' (మనసు మూగది). Heart has found its mouth piece in form of this man, who can so eloquently speak any of its pain in simplest of words and ways.
మరుపే తెలియని నా హృదయం తెలిసీ వలచుట తొలి నేరం అందుకే ఈ గాయం (despite the fact that my heart can't forget, it has loved you and that's the wound)
గాయాన్ని అయినా మాననీవు హృదయాన్ని అయినా వీడిపోవు కాలం నాకు సాయం రాదు మరణం నన్ను చేరనీదు (You don't let the wound heal - You don't desert my heart - time doesn't help me - death doesn't let me associate)
కలలకి భయడిపోయాను నిదురకి దూరం అయ్యాను వేదన పడ్డాను (Scared of dreams - distancing sleep - I grieve)
All you insomniacs out there, this is your problem, which no doctor on earth can cure, unless you help your self.
ప్రేమకింత బలం ఉందా? (Love is this potent?) Brings a smile on my face. Yes, it is more potent that the strongest of "I"s wither away. But words can equally pierce your soul and chisel your heart. Words are potent enough to let us experience without being there. They let us live someone's feelings and emotions, though momentarily.
This song, at the moment, has completely taken me into it. More songs will be talked later.
On an ending note, music, vocals and words are equally potent. Better put, anything that has the heart as focus is always potent!
