Vanquishing quagmires

Reflection

2011-12-11T17:33:00.001-08:00

The euphoria Iexperience

Captivated, at yourmoonlit visage

On a midsummer'snight surpasses

The pleasure oflooking at the moon

For the moonlightitself

Is a mere reflection

Glimmer on the lake

Rippled waters forma wake

Thy guiding lightsmultiply

In tandem theyreminisce, scintillate

Of folklore,mindsets and attitudes

Reflex, sentimentand emotion

Oft ideas,principles and social stigma

Off course convey central dogma

Arts, music andcinema prospect

Morbid thoughts ofintrospect

Crime, cynicism mobmentality ensue

Poetry, epiphany andphilosophy so true

Contrast, compare,symmetry exude

Chiral aromatics andvampires elude;

In Euclidean space,diffusion or specular

In perspective,history and astronomical nebulae

Reflection, oh!you're at play

Fire in Babylon

2011-12-08T23:18:00.000-08:00

It is the dawn of a free Caribbean. The islands Guyana, Trinidad, Jamaica and Antigua had just been granted independence. Cricket, was more than a game. It was a matter of honor - an aspect in which the West Indians could unite and prove to themselves of self-worth and instill a sense of revolution against prevalent white supremacy in all regards. Until now, they have been a people under suppression, withered and tired of racial hegemony and of bad governance. But now, under a new banner of a cricketing nation - they would soon emerge as a superpower.

1975

Australia

The West Indies cricket s team, akin to their lifestyle in the island have always been construed as a laidback people with a ' relax and recreate' approach to life. This facet of the lifestyle had crept into their cricket as well. They were branded 'Calypso Cricketers'; they would entertain and eventually lose. With remarks such as these and with the death bowling of the Australia's Jeff Thompson and Dennis Lilee, literally terrorized teams had pulverized the team's spirit and ability to hold up. And such aggression culminated in the West Indies test team losing 5-1 to Australia.

But this didn’t not suggest a full stop, indeed things tipped the other way. It triggered a new wave of West Indian approach to cricket - pace and aggression. Under the cap of Clive Lloyd and the massive inspiration of Viv Richards, emerged the pace duo of West Indies - Michael Holding and Andy Roberts. While Holding was a sheer pace machine, with deliveries that could pummel batsmen to being knocked out, Roberts was an mean bowler, a man often considered grumpy who could just hide his emotions, but deliver all he could with his ball. This kind of a spirit was unbelievable - a fresh new wave to the West Indian cricket team's morale. They were the rising underdogs.

1976

England

This was a rather emotional moment for the West Indies. They were taking on their proverbial (historical) masters and the inventors of cricket in their own game and field. This feeling of unsettlement was further infuriated by Tony Greig's rather unprofessional words on television: "I intend with the help of others to make them (West Indians) 'grovel'". They could take no more. This had struck the wrong nerve. To the West Indians, it was their chance to prove that they're equals and winning the game was of prime importance. England would even go to the extent of trying to ban bouncers and long run ups, to somehow stifle the aggression of the West Indies bowlers. But the West Indians wouldn't relent. They would go on to win the series, ultimately proving their worth as unparalleled equals. Subsequently, they would beat the homecoming Indians literally by sheer power and pace to the extent that India would surrender.

1977

The World Series

Cricket was assuming a new and different form now. The pristineness of Test match cricket was smudged a bit with the low financial benefit. There emerged the first twinge of commercialization of the game - The World Series Cricket. Australian TV mogul Kerry Packer was an enterprising man. He was instrumental in resurrecting the game, giving it a new form and appearance. Despite imminent threats of a ban from the national team, the West Indians stuck on. Kerry Packer gave the most wanted team the inspiration to keep alive the expectations of it's fans. And they lived up to it. West Indies had morally victory of the World Series Cricket. This gave them renewed confidence in themselves as a team.

1979

Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse

West Indies were now preparedly stocked with a set of bowlers. They had the intimidating pace quartet in their arsenal often called Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse - Michael "Whispering Death" Holding, Andy "Hitman" Roberts, Colin Croft and a young,strikingly lanky menacing bowler - Joel Garner. Their aggression was unimaginable and the wolves would hunt as a pack . This time, they were able to counter the Australians with a fitting reply to their harsh attitude towards the game. The Australians got a bitter taste of their own medicine. West Indians as a nation of peoples, as musicians and citizens joined alike to garner support to their team.

1982

South Africa

This was a moment of reckoning. While the national and ethnic pride of the West Indians was at the peak, the South Africa series was a tough choice. The West Indies, through music, cricket and political propaganda had developed a sense of brotherhood and cultural oneness for all the suppression that their African brothers underwent in their continent. While team South Africa had been banned from cricket for the practice of Apartheid, some considered the West Indies playing for a country that harbors such an injustice was preposterous. No amount of 'artificial honor' could be imposed on players like Viv Richards and Michael Holding. An interesting dichotomy arises here. Players like Colin Croft, who went on to play the tour were ultimately banned by the West Indies board forever. In his defense, Croft justifies saying that calling him a mercenary was very humiliating. For him the game remained a game, and if he was a mercenary now, so was he during the World series. Such a situation beckoned to reconsider the players approach to the game.

1984

The Indomitable

This was a period of continued domination. What started out as aggression and fiery bowling attack also paved way to a classy display of batting power by Viv Richards, Gordon Greenidge and Desmond Haynes. Richards could meet the bowlers eye to eye, and rip their deliveries past boundaries unseen. He was regarded as a new hero - a cultural icon, both at home and internationally. This team also saw emergence of youngster bowlers like Malcolm Marshall, who would go on to play several more years of cricket. The new balanced nature of the West Indian cricket team spread a new wave of friendliness and display of gamesmanship. They were now being patted on their backs and shoulders by the England team. What started out as a statement to prove as equals had been achieved. West Indies had won the series 5-0. Cultural exchange however had given some sort a universal brotherhood feeling. And a new form of love for the game was born.

1985-1995

Years of continued glory

Clive Lloyd would step down as captain. Viv Richards would take over. With a fresh approach to the game, well seasoned in all conditions, West Indies would go on to play test cricket the next ten years without have been defeated even in a single series. This was a world record, that no other sporting team had achieved.

Footnote: The only other team that stayed unbeaten for close to 3 decades was the Indian hockey team.

In the words of Venky : "The Indian hockey team, from 1928 to 1956 won 6 Gold medals in 6 Olympics. They never ever lost in 28 years (you may take off 6 years due to World War). And in my opinion, these 2 teams offer interesting studies. World beaters - at one point of time"

Aravindh Kamakshinadha

Life and my entangled poonal

2010-08-24T13:12:00.000-07:00

Life is often compared to various things. One such analogue would be the entangled poonal. If you are one of those who happen to sash the sacred thread on your shoulder, you’ll know this.

My case was a peculiar. What happened was:

1. The Poonal was in a complete disheveled state.

2. It was in an imbroglio with the earphone cable

3. The snarled thread was still on my shoulder

So what did I do:

1. Get Frustrated

2. Looked at it as an opportunity to provide a solution

3. Developed some perspective and decided to throw some philosophy on life

Comparing, the three stages -

1. Life’s sometime screws up

Being an aspirant Statistical Thermodynamicist, I’d like to sprinkle some scientific perspective on this. Nature always has a way of maximizing entropy. With respect to any string/chain/polymer, there are more configurations that it can assume in the coiled state rather than in the outstretched, or near outstretched state. The point: chaos is inevitable. What we need to do, is see order in chaos, and tackle chaos without causing further chaos.

2. Our life entangles in other’s issues – We are not alone

Living independent is again an impossible thing to do. The conglomeration of people is like a gossamer. Oftentimes, in sophisticated societies, there is an extent to which independence is existent, but this is at the price of isolation where plebian support is also negligible. The point – We need to leverage other people being around and work together towards detangling. The people, society and others must never be a liability to our progress.

3. Our ego still sticks on to our problems

When I was young and when my poonal used to entangle, Amma used to help detangle it. She always had a systematic approach to problem. And during the annual “avani avittam”, Appa used to detangle it. But in life, you can’t always expect others to look into and solve your problems. You need to work your way through.

We need to dissociate ourselves from our problem and approach it rationally and logically.

The modus operandi:

1. Dissociate yourself with your life, but don’t run away – unsash the poonal, don’t get rid of it.

2. Take a first glance at the problems, the poonal is intertwined like a labyrinth

3. Locate the problems, they are all over the place like the knots in the poonal

What we often do is getting too caught in our own problems that we continue to live in the rut. Else, there’s always somebody calling. Like Steve and Shrevats wanting me to play “Halo” with them a street away. They are waiting. But I didn’t relent. I wanted to prove to myself that I could solve this before I leave. Similarly in life, we ought to get distracted, but we mustn’t. We must endure.

So what comes next?

The brahmamudichu:

1. The brahmamudichu or the brahmagranthi is the master knot that holds the three strings of the poonal together. The three strings are said to represent unity of thought, word and deed. In life, the brahmamudichu is our spirit or the eternal life force, which holds us together.

2. We must use this ‘master knot’ as a pivot and approach the problems carefully, using it as reference ensuring that the master knot itself doesn’t get caught in the imbroglio.

3. Now the rest of the tangled parts of the poonal have different points where the “confusion” is.

The final solution

1. Once the brahmamudichu is pivoted, we must ensure that we locate our other problems carefully and disassociate one from another. This way we’ll have a better idea of how our problems look like and how big they are.

2. Work on the problems, one by one. Ensure that you do not get boggled by the big problems. Once the small ones are on the way, the big one seems easier.

3. Work on the big problem

The big problem:

Often the last step is the toughest. It’s tantalizing, playing a game with you. It forces you to give up at the same time, you know you don’t have much left before you get to the cheese. The most important thing is to NOT GIVE UP NOW.

Once you show enough commitment, dedication and focus, life will pave a way itself. And in the end, the last of knots will be detangled by a simple “legerdemain” of the wrist.

You get the cheese. Your life’s in your hands. Crystal clear. Now don it. And live life. King size.

Yagnopaveetham paramam pavithram
Prajapatheryasahajam purasthad
Aayushyamagryam prathimuncha shubram
Yagnopaveetham balamasthu thejah!!

I'll do Raine

2010-07-17T18:45:00.000-07:00

This is a video of my impression of Brad's Pitt character in the movie Inglourious Basterds. There is a distinctive Tennessee Mountain accent with the Southern drawl. The character is a brash American Lieutenant who, with 8 Jewish Americans under his command, embarks on a guerrilla operation on the Nazis. This scene depicts his "pep-talk" to the Jew crew known by the Germans as the Basterds.

Hues of thought...

2010-07-15T09:59:00.001-07:00

Colour and life. Nature and Beauty. These things somehow have a connection. A heartfelt one. The impact of colour is pretty significant in our lives. Colour is perceived at an emotional level. We attribute different moods to different colours.

In this rendering of "Pachai Nirame" from Mani Ratnam’s "Alaipayuthey”, Vairamuthu has churned out the to the best, a picturesque ode to color. Even in here, femininity and beauty seem to go hand in hand. But nevertheless, the real magnificence of the song lies in the awe striking cinematography by PC Sriram and a mellifluous tune by ARR, voiced appropriately by Hariharan and Clinton.

My earnest efforts lie in “translerpreting” in English what the lyricist conveyed in Tamil. A fairly simple job, I must confess, it however took quite a bit of analysis to appreciate the beauty at the same time trying to keep the poetic flow alive. Read on...
And see if you can relate to it...

You symbolize fortune, desire & penchant
Harmonize meadows, so lush and verdant
Green, you dwell in juvenile leaves
Mellow my nerves to peace
You assure, allure and you do please!

The parrot’s beak with the verbal squeak
The pouty lips of the damsel speak
Through the loveliest scarlet rose
And the newborn’s tender feet
Red, you justify the most righteous woes

Richly lining dusky skies
Emanating from feisty fires
Sparkle, you do on the golden pendant
Daffodils & tulips, oh, don’t they flaunt?
Yellow, you glow and do outline
The radiant full moon’s soft shine

The idyllic expanse of the wave-less ocean
The spotless azure sky with an endless horizon
Ah! The cobalt-naped prideful peacock
Thanks you for its copper-sulphate flock
From the romanticism of blaue blume
To the purple tinge on the Martin’s plume
Blue, you exude the lull in a melancholic tune

The pitch darkness of the midsummer night
The nimbus clouds of stormy might
The forlorn feather of the northern raven
Lining mascara’d eyelashes of pretty women
In the earnestly lilting springtime cuckoo
And in silky tresses, black, you rule!

In flakes of snow, icicles and sleet
On the innocent dove and flag of peace
Through sclera in eyes of serenity
White, you signify honest thought and purity

Confessions of an ode-obsessed alliterator

2010-06-10T11:08:00.000-07:00

Planning purely to particularly put forth ponderously pertinent alliterations purported to primarily pound pathetic people peace-less
Conjuring Carefully confusing categorical collaboration of canto, cunningly concocted to confound credulous and close chums clueless
Alas! Accidentally all things avalanche alphabetically altogether to leave him aghast and awestruck although it alternately awfully annoys all
Duh! He's doggedly determined to diligently distance from the dusty dictionary and drive his diabolic delusions to disjointedly develop a didactic droll
Greatness of this garrulous gamut of grotesque, garish and a gawd grueling of gander-like gibberish is not a result of googling or any GRE guide
Sure shot such seamlessly sewn sentences seemingly make sense even when semantically sorted in some serial order to summon remarks that are snide
Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo Buffalo Buffalo buffalo being the best way to bundle buffalos but only fits too well the boisterous barrage of boo-worthy babble
To totally trick thousands, tried and tested tremendously is his truly technical though trashy intent to titillate by not truncating, thus giving too much trouble
Reiterating, it is a ridiculous repetition of resounding & reverberating repertoire of rhythm, resolute to recast a refined reader to a reproachable rakshasa
Juvenile Jester is what he is, just a joyous jumping jack; jokes apart, it's a jolly good justification of jargon, so the jealous, "Don't punch him in the jaw!"
Wow! What a wizardry with words, why not will the wondrous wisdom welcome wolf whistles to willingly woo women?
One four is obviously the onerous number of objective out-of-place one-liners occupying the rest of the ostentatious ornamental ode, so I guess it's good omen!

Venerated is "V for Vendetta" to 've vouched him to vivaciously voice vibrant views on voluble verbiage
Kudos! To the king, knighted by kith and kin, so let's kneel down to his keen knowledge!
Yahoo! Yearns his yucky yellow yolk-like youth yoyo-ing hither and yonder..
Mingling mostly monstrous monotones momentarily meet man's mental meander!
Xanadu X-Ray Xenophobia and Xylophone
Underline the ulterior ultimate urge of the unending undertone
Embarking on an extremely eloquent epilogue explicates exhaustion and ennui
His harangue hopes to hound hour-less to the horizon, for it's the hero's hearty hobby.
Quick as a quiver is his quest to quench his thirst, quoting a quixotic quire,
Zealously like the zebra zooms zig-zag through the zephyr wilderness of Zaire
Inking interesting, instinctive and intuitive interlude of inimitable innovation is indeed inevitable
For the free full flow of flamboyance to fit the flimsy fringes of this futile fortuitous fable
Neither you nor the nation can nimbly nullify or negate his nihilistic nocturnal nature
Let's be lured by this lovely lilting lullaby that lasts liberally long like lofty literature!

Aravindh Kamakshinadha

Vande Cricketum!

2009-12-15T16:51:00.000-08:00

I am a cricket lover. I am a die hard Indian supporter, no doubt. I simply love Sachin doing his magic and Sehwag pulverising the opposition. I get the feeling of adrenaline at every century hit, every boundary scored, every sixer hit and every crucial over and not to forget, every wicket taken.

All this apart, personally, for me, sport is more than just being patriotic. Although it has been that way and it will continue to be so, I have been having a deep thought of disassociating nationalism/patriotism from sport, especially cricket.

In fact, cricket is much beyond patriotism. It is an art. A science. A true cricket-lover would appreciate any team winning against any other. She would love any player do his job the best way(I used "she" as a syntax to please any feminist that would appreciate my article!). In fact, the very reason Sachin is successful is because he loves the game. Often interpreted as the love for the country, more often proved so than not, it essentially boils down to one fact. Sachin is in pursuit of excellence. Every other game he improves himself. He just loves to go down there, invent new shots, perfect the already invented ones and add total charm to the game. The sport evolves.

Even now, I must agree I am bordering on the lines of hypocrisy by unduly talking mostly, if not entirely about Sachin. See. Yet again. But human nature and tendency makes me so. But, I would like to share a thought. I have a feeling that commentators like Gavaskar and Shastri are doing a great job. They up the euphoria during every century hit, every boundary scored, every sixer hit and every crucial over and not to forget, every wicket taken**(In lack of a better expression, I settled for a copy-paste). But beyond a point it seems like much ado about nothing. By doing so, they often miss the finer nuances of the game. It gives undue (im)balance of perspective to one team alone. Instead, they could border(pun intended) more on technique. On strategy. On appreciating cricket as a pure art form. Or science. Or perhaps even engineering*(to please my fraternity) .And for this I would recommend (if I had the powers), to bring in commentators from other countries, more experienced ones like the Windies and South Africa. They don't necessarily need to have been int'l players, do they?(I am not requesting for Man-deera's, sorry feminists). However to cool you, Anjum Chopra could just be a perfect choice.

I am writing this article for three reasons.
3. To prove to myself that I can write.
2. To kick the laziness in me.
1. To want more people to 'like' this comment passively.
0. To spring up a thread where people can discuss more on the ideas put-up
-1.To criticize me.

So please go on, do item no. 0, and feel free to appreciate me on items 3 to negative 1.

Escape
Aravindh

Peace...
Or not

Posted on my facebook notes on December 4, 2009

The Smart Rasika

2009-12-15T16:38:00.000-08:00

Exam time begins, and my mind slips away into deep reverie on how I’m going to enjoy my holidays. And once done, my musical journey starts. On Friday I had been to Sanjay Subrahmanyam’s concert. It was at a half-past-six, but I saw no throngs of people, waiting to nudge their way through with a no-care-attitude as to whose toes are getting stamped. Surprisingly, the smart rasikas were already inside, listening to the earlier concert!

In the balcony, there were just steps, like the chepauk stadium B-Stand, where one is comfortable in the “chaplaankaal” posture. Quite contrastingly in the lower bays, chairs were haphazard for maamis wanting to socialize like in a wedding. My uncle, managed it into the VIP bay claiming “Enakku IG ya nalla theriyum”. Envying, I wanted to experiment. Luckily, I was wearing a Fab India Kurta. Maintaining a gait of an elite rasika, I walked towards the VIP gate. The security guy there, believing that I was a musical stalwart, saluted me with a customary “Namaskaram” and ushered me to a seat in the VIP bay! I was on cloud nine.

The kutcheri began. Junta were on “talaiyaattal” mode. I’m sure its a good exercise for spinal stenosis. Or would it worsen it? The heads rotate, gyrate, shake with all possible degrees of freedom with an oft repeated Aah..ah! or Sabaash…!! In identifying ragas, our people are the best. The man in the olive green shirt got it spot on as “Sahana”, whispered it carefully to his wife only being loud enough for the eavesdropping maama two rows away ready for an auditory catch. What comes next is predictable. The maama was boisterously exulting… “Sahana…aha”…. “Sahana…aha”.

Figuring out taalams? Hilarious! I saw not ONE but TWO maamis clad in exquisite “pattu” sarees, earnestly tapping “Adi Taalam” with their fingers swaying in air, for a song undoubtedly in “Rupaka Taalam” which Sanjay was tapping with all josh.

The attitude which Sanjay exuded was super-cool. His pronunciation was crystal-spashtam. His energy levels are unprecedented and he sure is as charismatic as he is referred to be. The theme - Dhandapani Desikar was an appropriate tribute on his centenary. Tamizh in its purest form reverberated through the hall and our minds. Profound philosophy emanated in golden words and undulating ragas.

The “Kelvi Neram” was the icing on the cake. All questions were given witty and thought provoking replies. Sanjay redefined music, being totally creative, making us truly enjoy music like never before. With rib-tickling ripostes and soul-stirring renditions, Sanjay “Splendid” Subrahmanyam took us all to seventh heaven with just seven beautiful swaras.

Aravindh Kamakshinadha

December 6, 2008

Bourgeois!

2008-05-01T23:32:00.000-07:00

This blog is just a reflection of what a majority of the Indian urban middle-class person will experiences. I might be just talking of a routine, a set of events, but in reality they represent the overall outlook and attitude of the bourgeoise.

It is today, the 2nd of May, a Wednesday, a decently hot day, comparitively not that humid, thanks to the weather. Getting up early in the morning say 630 is close to impossible considering the fact that my holidays have just begun. Hence, anywhere between 830 and 845 is the wake up time, the alarm being the humdrum of the washing machine, the startling roar of the mixie, or the cacophonic honk of the bus, a road away. Still struggling to wake up after the late night cricket match, I somehow push myself to consiousness, only to realise that I have a number of tasks to accomplish during the course of the day.

The moment my dad realises that I am somewhere close to waking up, he starts giving instructions to what the tasks are. A big list is dictated, my mind half-grasping it. Midway, I start thinking how to accomplish these, losing out to hear the rest of the list. Father, however does realise that I m lost and reiterates the list strongly only to startle me from my reverie.

The moment after I place my toothbrush back, the coffee reminder is done. On the way I go to grab my cuppa, I am requested to urgently iron dads shirt and to sort out the clothes to wash.

I find my coffee, thank god still hot. I sit relishing the coffee, perfectly made, albeit the extra sugar and strong decoction. Two sips, and the bell rings, in an irritating high-pitched tone, purposely held long to indicate urgency. "Isthree" he calls out, the iron-man, both literally and metaphorically, who seems to have absolutely no idea of what patience means. Seriously reluctant to attend to the call, I stop having my coffee, I immediately start packing to to-be-ironed-clothes. Mom, dad and granny, sympathise with me and ask me to finish my cuppa before I pack. Gobbling the decently warm coffee at a breakneck speed, I finally pack the clothes and give it to the stone-faced iron-man. Before even I say "Anna 16 Clothes", he usurps it from me and is already fleeing down the stairs. If it had been the month-end, I m sure he would have been a way more courteous, for his salary being due.

Chapter two, I jump in for a freshening bath, but not without instructions from mother I barely understand or even hear clearly. Thinking that its just some Yes/No question I keep saying the customary "Mmm..."s and "Mmm..hmmm"s. Then mom starts banging the door, I close the tap and listen to her intently, realising that she had actually asked for the soap water filled bucket for soaking clothes. With soap all over my body, I carefully, open the door ajar, place the bucket out. The bath continues after two more such disturbances- brother asking for his watch and father for his mobile-phone. I finish my bath, wipe myself half wet, dress up, get to the pooja room, apply vibhooti and start chanting, simultaneously listening to the breakfast call and some more instructions.

Breakfast, I have been accustomed to doing this rapidly fast, right from my schooldays when I had to avoid being late. My record for the quickest breakfast had been 38 seconds. Father leaves to office, mother resumes to cooking and brother runs away to the neighbour kids house.

I sit, relaxing with the newspaper, but before I could finish the 22 odd pages, I m disturbed 5 times, once for attending a desperate salesman, once to help the housemaid make a phone call, once for the courier, once to attend dads phonecall, where he asks for some phone number, or to read out a grocery list, and the most irritating part, when the Exnora garbage man comes, everytime only after I have a bath, I pick up the trash can and place it back. Usually, there is also a phone call or two, which is invariably a wrong number (predominantly asking for "Shanti Optics") or an unknown relative, or someone for who our maid servant works for.

Finally finishing the newspaper, I am asked to hang the clothes for drying. The next job is to get the "PAAL CARDU" (the monthly milk card) from the booth, with a low, rusty metal ceiling/sunshade which ensures a bruise or a scratch, howmuchever I try to avoid it. Waiting in line, I see senior citizens extremely meticulous, handing the exact change to the officer, often outsmarting him in calculating the bill, when the officer is still fumbling with the calculator. After this I am to pay the Electricity bill, where I find close to a dozen counters with five to ten people at each counter. As expected, my queue is the slowest to move. Here I see a different scene. Quite contrary to the "Thaatha" at the milk booth, the elderly woman here, miscalculates the amount, but is very confident of her calculation. There is quite a quarrel between the officer and the woman, finally the woman succumbs and reluctantly accepts her mistake.

The bill being paid, I walk back home, where I see Babloo or Ramya or some old buddy, who I start to share memories or daily cribbing with. Most of the time it is also gossip. Half an hour is gone, and thanks to the mobile phone, my mom traces me and immediately asks me to be back home.

Once back home, I m already hearing my granny giving her vitriolic and sarcastic comments to the poor servant maid often terming her to be a pachyderm. Some more household chores follow and I come and sit on the comp. Now the blaring starts, the TV serial that granny watches at close to infinite volume. To shun that sound, I competitively put some music on and start browsing or working, in todays case writing this blog.

The afternoon passes by and I hit the beach in the evening. When I come back late, I realise that I have not even done half the assigned duties. The look on my dads face makes me feel guilty. He never scolds, but it makes sure that I have been irresponsible after all. I resort to being more responsible and get back to the comp or the cricket match, only waiting for a similar day ahead.

Patience, perseverence, duty-boundedness, workaholism, ability to control ones feelings, sacrifice, helping tendency, self-work-accomplishment have become an integral part of the bourgeois way of living. Whatever happens, it sure is not going to change.

There are lot more indignations that I feel to write about...They might perhaps appear in my next blog.

Interesting and happy to know...

2007-10-23T21:18:00.000-07:00

The recent surrender of arms by a few ULFA militant youths is commendable. I am sure we will all be very happy to know that terrorism at last is showing signs of retrieval in some form. I am always a believer of one basic fact, which anyone with rational thinking would appreciate. A child born to a terrorist and brought up in a terrorist community and environment will have a totally different mindset, outlook and attitude towards life. The child wouldnt know to discern right from wrong and would absorb and do whatever his elders and family seem to follow. Right from a young age it is instilled in him to be radical, instigated that those people are his enemies and those are the things he has to strive for. It will be etched in his mind that that his aim in life is to bring terror to mankind. When such a thing happens to an entire generation of individuals the situation becomes worse leading to radicalism, without any endearing value. It becomes very difficult to change the mindset of these people, until they realise themselves that pain brings misery. Interestingly such a thing has happened in Assam. Youths themselves have given up terrorism and surrendered. And the best of things is that the government is channeling them the right way providing them with voluntary occupational training and giving them a decent stipend. I hope this act of embracing and forgivingness should enlighten more of those young, misled minds to give up this devilsing terrorism, which would enable mankind to flourish.

The maestros

2007-05-30T00:35:00.000-07:00

It has been so many times when I wanted to write about this topic. Its been bothering me for so long, its been pushing me to vent my views about this …finally the blogsite came to rescue. Here, I deliver my first blog on Ilayaraja and A R Rahman.

Both, musicians, have mesmerized millions, perhaps billions with their divine sense of captivating music - a wonderful way of delivering it to us.

The former reigned in the eighties and the latter in the nineties. I clearly dont want to draw a comparative analysis, which will create a barrage to free flowing thoughts and will not create an actual representation of what my mind has envisaged- after all blogs are supposed to justify this.

Ilayaraja in his own sense was a prince. A ‘young king’ as his name translates; indeed he has been the king, but only after undergoing stressful days, months and years. The reason was endurance, sincerity, relentlessness and of course sheer talent! Each of the aforesaid characteristics have reinforced each other to have made him succeed and still remains the backbone of his long lasting career.

A R Rahman, similar to Ilayaraja, was an embodiment of those characteristics. But wait, I am not trying to bring out their lives… I am going to write on how their music has affected me….how it has impressed me…and what I find so lovable and enjoyable in their music…

Ilayaraja’s talent and music knowledge is transcendental. He is a genius. The ragas he uses are splendid, raga combos- simply mind-blowing. (Nilave Vaa of Mouna Raagam/ Kalyana Thenila of Mounam Sammadham) This shows how much of Carnatic Music was inside him, without which such compositions would have not been possible at all. The greatest avantage of Ilayaraja was that he made hits, he made music reach so much into the common man, and yet made it complex in its own way. The charanams (stanzas) are too good… and the best fact is that in most of his songs both the charanams are not identical…

Added to this, the complexities lie in the fact that the music bits between the pallavi (start and repetitive part of song)and charanam and between the charanams are incredible. (Believe me they are impossible to reproduce even with latest equipment). This part of Ilayaraja’s music impresses me the most. Listen to Kalyana Maalai of Puthu Puthu Arthangal and Rakkamma kaiyathattu of Thalapathi. I am giving you these to relate to what I am saying, but there are umpteen more songs which I could exemplify, the problem is that the list is unending!

His strength and génre are predominantly lite melody, which he incorporates in his songs in a multitude of ways. His music has always suited the situation in the films so much that there couldn’t have been better way the director could have tried to express and bring impact. He has brought an exquisite touch be it village & folk (Raasave Varuthama of Muthal Mariyathai & Manguyile of Karagaattakaran) or urban, youthful and peppy numbers (In Agninatchathram and Punnagai Mannan).

I strongly assure one thing, but Ilayaraja’s sense of music has derived styles from Western Rock numbers. Some of his songs actually have strong influences from Deep Purple. He has been very careful and has executed it to perfection that it seems to have been our own music. The way he uses the acoustic guitar in Ilayanila Pozhigirathu of Moodu Pani is fantastic. Coupled with beautiful lyrics this song is a les classique.

Trivia: Ilayaraja started playing the guitar so well the first time he handled it, that it made the onlookers spellbound.
Even non-Tamil speaking guitarists in Malaysia were moved to give glowing tributes to Ilayaraja for what they considered a masterpiece. This song made them lookout and dig the background of Ilayaraja.

Percussion is again something that provided a strong base to most of his numbers. Ranging from tabla, mridangam, ghatam to drums and pads it has suited his songs to yield an ultimate output. The examples are innumerable…(Raja of Agninatchathram is undoubtedly the best)

To sum up in simple words:

1. Ilayaraja is great.
2. You are missing something in life if you don’t listen to his songs.
3. Listen to his songs, and you will want to write a blog similar to mine.
4. If you have listened to his songs, you will appreciate my blog and also my first three points.

Folks, I have summed up only the first part of my blog. Well, the second starts here:

When people say ‘thalaivar’ here in Chennai, we associate it to only three people.

A. Rajni Kanth
B. Sachin Tendulkar
C. A R Rahman

Agreed?
We are totally Rajni crazy and his on-screen charisma is matchless and that’s why his is the SUPERSTAR.
We are totally Sachin crazy that when you say Cricket, the first thing that comes to our mind is him. His on-field charisma is matchless.
We are totally Rahman crazy that when you say music, AR Rahman flashes and needless to say his charisma is matchless.

He has redefined music. It is perceived by the heart, not by the brain. It resonates with the very rhythm of life!

Some people say ARR is God. Indeed he is. He has been the creator.
A genius in his own way, A R Rahman’s music has enthralled zillions all round the globe.

When an album of his releases, so much buzz and frenzy is created. The albums a hit, raising the hype and expectations about the film. Some of the films have become huge hits merely because of his music.

His strength is that his ragas are so simple. Still the song is complex. He makes use of technology so beautifully that singers feel that whatever they actually record constitute only 5% of the song. The rest… he does the magic.

The range of instruments he uses goes from flute to saxophone, Veena to santoor, again Bongo & Tok tok, to Sivamani’s contraption.

Again each of his songs of an album is unique. Each one has a separate genre. Take Kadhalan: Urvasi is youthful and peppy, makes you dance;
Ennavale: definition of melody; Pettai Rap: Superb combo of Rap and Gana; Gopala: Ultimate folk; Muqqabla: Another legend…which however made audiences gape with the Wild west set up and SplFX.
Kadhalikkum: Beautiful blend of Carnatic and pop.
A similar combination exists in Indian, Mudhalvan, Muthu etc.

Just look at this, most of his songs have a great start that make you listen to. That’s what attracts you to the song. This is what I’ ve found. See in Humma Humma of Bombay or Maya Machindra of Indian. Both have literally trumpeting starts that make you drop jaws.

Complexity: Another point worth reckoning. I listen to a song once.
I don’t like it. Then I listen again…I find something. Thrice…I find something more. Kept listening and now I cant stop. The music grows into you. You start liking and appreciating some part of that song and then the song consumes you. It becomes utterly irresistible.

You tend to love the nuances. There will be a mridangam bit, a veena bit or a chime that lasts only for merely few seconds in the whole song somewhere in the middle. At one point I started listening to the whole song just for that miniscule bit. (Veena in Chinna Chinna Aasa of Roja, Mridangam in Ennavale Adi Ennavale of Kadhalan)

Another strongpoint is the importance he gives to the style and authenticity. Music directors generally incorporate popular pieces of an instrument from some music into their composition…example the Irish pipe or the Sax.

This genius does it the other way…Say Belly dance and he composes an Arabic song with so much realism and originality and the hindi/tamil lyrics just fit into it. (Mayya Mayya of Guru, Kuluvalile of Muthu, and an entire album..Warriors of Heaven and Earth)

Vande Mataram: A milestone.
This made people of all ages love him. He seriously instilled back the once lacking patriotic sense in all of us. National Integration, unity, brotherhood, love for the nation definitely was impacted…if not greatly but atleast in the minds of most.

Hitherto, I feel that his Vande Mataram would be a better choice than Jana Gana Mana for our National Anthem. Dont you??

Summarzing:

1.A R Rahman is great
2.Vande Mataram should become National Anthem
3. He is the ‘thalaivar’
4.Everyone is vulnerable to fall in love with his music

This is my opinion. This is what I felt, what my mind says. And some of those points, I realized when my friends told me. It’s a bricolage of my thoughts. I finally feel alleviated from the unending botheration to pour out what I feel. More to come…

Till then…bye bye…