SONG OF INSPIRATION

Extract from THE TIMES OF INDIA, Sunday, July 26, 2009 :

Column : SOUL CURRY

Title : SING ME A SONG

Subject : After years of domesticity, Ishwar Pati's dream comes true as his wife fills the home with the sound of music :

"The songs are blossoming again, struggling to come out of their vocal pods after a long, dry hibernation. My wife's singing is somewhat scratchy, with her lyrical chords gathering rust all these years.

Time was, during the days of our courtship, her beautiful, captivating voice flowered from her lips like a splendid orchid before large gatherings . But her singing could never attain full bloom, wilting under the pressure of marriage and consequent relocation . In the domestic cacophony that followed, her musical notes withered and then fell silent. So keen she was to fulfil her role of a dutiful daughter-in-law , and then a responsible mother, that she was left with no time for music.

I did make an occasional effort to persuade her to sing, at least in small friendly get-togethers . But my request fell on deaf ears. You think singing is so easy, do you- she would snap at me. A lot of devotion and concentration goes into it, you know. Can you ensure me that ?

I was silenced. I knew my transferable job and our growing kids were hardly conducive to furthering her musical aspirations. Though she never spoke of it, I could sense that in her heart of hearts she held our marriage and especially me guilty of strangulating her budding melodious career. I swallowed her unspoken indictment , though I still nurtured the hope that some day after the children had grown up and left our nest, the ember of singing lying dormant in her soul would be rekindled.

But when the thaw came, it was so unexpected that I was literally blown off my feet. In one of the cultural evenings taking place in our colony, my wife was somehow cajoled into singing. She joined the voices and soon she was intoxicated with the flow of songs. When the game ended, she was swamped with compliments. After the party, there was a palpable restlessness in her steps as we made our way home. She started humming to herself too! I smiled and let her be. Next morning I was not surprised when she told me that she missed her old harmonium. It had been abandoned at her parents house along with her musical muse after our marriage. But I detected in her remark something more than mere nostalgia for an heirloom. I could discern the spark of revival in her heart, that overwhelming urge to sing. Under the circumstances, I indulged her whim and instead of opting to buy a new harmonium locally, I went all the way to my in-laws place by train to fetch her favourite one. She is still tuning her harmonium and taking her time about it. No reason to hurry, she says. All the dust gathered by the instrument will take time to be brushed off after such a long period of idleness. Her voice too will need to break out of its self-imposed confinement. So I am waiting, patiently. But I can feel the breeze that has started blowing from her newfound buoyancy. Her lilting voice suddenly wafts from the kitchen, humming odd bits of ragas or a mix of old songs. It starts slowly like a cuckoos , unsure of itself, then rises sharply to soar over mountains and flow into rivers before plunging down to earth as her breath gives way from lack of practice. But she doesn't give up. She breathes in again before launching her voice once again on its tuneful plane into the skies. The barrenness of our home is now pregnant with a melody reborn. Yes, after all these years the song blossoms are flowering again and the air is filling up with their fragrant decibels. "

Photo : Courtesy TOI

LUCK (2009)

I'm really looking forward to Luck (2009). Of course, it may prove to be quite a dud, after all. But it doesn't hurt to be optimistic. And then, there's Imraan Khan, who makes my heart flip with ecstasy every time I spot him. Aamir was quite the chocolate hero at this time of his own career, but Imraan is quite the package, I feel. The looks, the intensity, the voice, the understated acting, the vulnerability, the physique...well, I could go on all day. But in short, I'm really hoping 'Luck' proves lucky for him !

And then, there's debutante Shruti Haasan, Kamal Haasan's eldest daughter. Quite a headturner, if we go by her photos, having inherited her father's angular face structure and dark good looks. Looks like she's got potential, combined with her soft, vulnerable features and refined, subtle expressions (judging from the promos, of course). Well, no harm in having expectations, I suppose, being born of such illustrious parents. Also a trained music artiste, from what the net news articles claim. Her sister Akshara, looks equally if not more promising, from the several photos I've chanced upon. Vasundhara Das-ish looks with Sarika's eyes and face. Reminds me of the teenage Kareena. No idea whether she'll be walking the film road too but yes, in the photos there is a certain poise and keen-ness about her that struck me. An interesting prospect.

Mithun and Sanjay Dutt seem to be getting typecast, however. The 'bhai' or 'don' or 'villain' or 'evildoer' or 'antihero' or 'bluff big brother' or 'bitter-not-so-young-man', you are welcome to your choice of term. I mean, you might love or hate them, but then you are also comfortable in their doing those roles, simply because you know you've seen them being there, doing that. Nothing very original or promising, I suppose, but goes down well with the filmgoing crowd, who are sure to cheer or whistle at their respective entries on screen. A pity, though. They are fine actors and need to land better deals than they are getting meted out at present. I'm not too sure about Ravi Kissen though. Big Boss made me sick of his general coarseness and in-your-face body hair and I'd have preferred someone else, although anyone as a rapist could seem equally revolting, I suppose, after all. Danny is always welcome and Chitrashi Rawat sure to prove refreshing, post Chak-De.

The action scenes in the film had better live upto the hype. All those sharks, blind shots and train/helicopter jumps do sound exciting, but we're so used to rip-offs from originals that the Bollywood remakes always seem considerably bland and dilute versions, after all. And there are so many reality shows out there anyway that a film premised on that doesn't sound too promising, in any case. Of course, you never know when an underdog vindictively turns up trumps all of a sudden, but I'm not too sure that's going to happen soon.

Here are a couple of promos of the film : have a look. The second one is a novelty.





And don't forget to check out 'Khudaya Ve', it's the best song of the lot.

RANDOM LIFE

The newspaper is getting increasingly interesting by the day. Take the TOI, for instance. It is finally reducing sensationalism to the span of its city supplements and producing some 'real' news. Check out a random selection of news items here :

1 ) Effect of Mamata's annual rally on the routine of the citizens

2) The sorry side of the above story

3) How greed might prove to be one's undoing

4) The actual, insidious effects of increasing pollution

5) How airlines are trying to be indiscriminately careful

6) Making a mountain out of a molehill

7) How the needs of women are currently being capitalised on

Whew, quite some variety, I must say. Makes one regret that one can't really somehow manage the time to read the newspaper from cover to cover on a daily basis. It would evidently prove be both informative and entertaining. Of course, a lot of people don't like to read real news, just the relevant gist. But I find the whole rigmarole as absorbing as that of a good crime thriller : a lot is said, a lot is left unsaid. It's upto you to fit the bits and pieces together to decipher what the current state of the nation is like. Often it's painful, cutting you yourself to bits and pieces before you manage to desensitise yourself to emotions and indignations and just watch and wait. For the reality that is more a solution than a problem in itself. Which might mean waiting for a long long time, really.

On a lighter and more random note, you might, like me, prefer to watch other people wait for irresponsible others who leave them locked out of their own home. My lunch was interrupted yesterday by the most awful hammering and shouting possible, almost precipitating a heart failure. It turns out that a couple opposite were unable to enter their own house, since a certain 'Henry' was not answering the door. They screamed the whole neighbourhood down in his name, peeped through the animal entry/exit slit lower down on the main door, banged their fists against the former (it's a wonder it didn't collapse under the assault), went down the back stairs into the parking lot only to return in a moment or so (just when I had been about to feel relieved and jubilant at their departure) ; in short, they did everything to arouse the curiosity and annoyance of the entire residential complex.

Pre-Henry :

I just didn't get it : was it a child they were calling out to and who might have fallen asleep or who was ill and who therefore they shouldn't have left alone at home in the first place or a guest or family member who was taking a shower perhaps and therefore simply couldn't hear them ? I mean, why couldn't they just sit down on the steps and wait for for a little while for the person in question ? By the time the two were done, exhausted, I was too. My audibility limits had been severely challenged and to top it all, it had worsened a migraine attack which had started that morning. By the time the said Henry turned up on the scene - a 30 something hefty young man with a very red face, an unassuming, cheerful voice and a receding hairline - wiggling his way fast to the source of all the chaos with a huge soda in his hand, I was ready to beat the hell out of him for making all our lives collectively miserable by his unexpected and untimely disappearance from the scene.

Post-Henry :

In fact, I wonder what we'll do back in Kolkata, after all the tranquility we've become habituated to here now. This place is definitely a quiet, picturesque residential locale, and we often speak in whispers or at least hushed voices in our bedroom or over the phone or lower the volume of the TV at night, fearing that even the normal pitch of our voices or the latter might sound loud to neighbours because of the extreme quietude of the neighbourhood. Although this is much more peaceful than what I myself have been used to all my life in my own locality at Salt Lake, it's not half as cacophonic as our current home, post-marriage, at Kalikapur, where rickshaws, autos, taxis and whimsical microphones seem to own the place, rendering us residents an intimidated and even apologetic (!) lot. Add to that my extreme edginess and irritability after facing all the honking, hooting and hawking on the busy intersections of Gariahat and Ruby General and there you have a very jittery me, contemplating the distinct possibility of not being able to pen a single line of poetry for the rest of my life. Talk about stark contrasts and bleak prospects. I'm beginning to feel quite sorry for myself, after all.


Our neighbourhood (photo : courtesy K-Factor)