Musical chair in a moving bus!

The pandemic has made us rusty. I realized it when I took the bus last week. I stood for the entire journey, incapable of finding a seat. It was like a lion that had lost its teeth and fretted, even as deer at arm’s length got away!

The public transport system bus is never empty. Once inside the packed bus, you need “controlled aggression” to find a seat. Too much aggression and you will be evicted from the bus! Too little of it, and you will keep standing.

The first step is to plan your strategy. You get to that vantage point on the aisle, that maximizes the probability to find a seat. Hanging around the last row is a good option. Unlike other rows, the last row is a full set of seats.

Next, you scrutinize the body language of the seated passengers. You move away from a row where someone is sleeping. He will wake up only at the last stop. You are better off edging closer to rows where students are seated. They are likely to be in the bus for the shortest ride.

It would be easy if you could ask each passenger where he is getting down. Unfortunately, it is considered discourteous. It is like questioning a person who has come home, on when he will exit! That leaves you with no choice but to play this game of musical chairs!

You have been standing for 45 minutes.  A person has just entered the bus and to his good luck, someone vacates, and he gets the seat! Several chances go begging. It is like being so close, and yet so far. Anger bubbles up!

Suddenly, a seated face looks agitated, peering this way and that. The expression is a giveaway. He is about to get up and you pounce at the opportunity. You bulldoze your way through the aisle, and are about to sit, only to be beaten by someone else! Worse, he gives you an ugly stare as you come this close to sitting on his lap! It is the survival of the quickest!

And finally, it rains like manna from heaven. Two seats free up at the same time. It is now a problem of plenty that requires a quick decision. You make your choice and sit down. The other seat is also taken.

The legs have never felt so tired. The relief is short-lived. At the next stop, an elderly lady gets into the bus. She points to the writing behind your seat. Swiveling back, you read the fine print- “for ladies only”!

Life is like a game of Snakes and Ladders. One false move and you are back to square one!

Companionship with ragas!

Companions come in various forms- as a spouse, a friend, or even a pet! I enjoy a unique companionship. It is a bond I share with the ragas of classical music! A raga is not just a musical scale with an abstract sound form. You can experience the raga as though it is a full-blown human, with a distinct persona. It speaks a language without words. It can coax and cajole and leave you with goosebumps!

A chance hearing of U Srinivas’s mandolin changed my life forever. I had stumbled upon a treasure-chest. Like Silas Marner, that incurable miser, who sifted through his gold coins day after day, I did the same with ragas. I was hooked to them, mesmerized by their guiles and charms.

“Hamsadhvani” was jovial and chatty. “Hindolam” was cheerful. “Bilahari” bubbled with energy. The day you felt sullen, you knew “Abheri” would pull you by the shoulder and take you for a brisk stroll. And then, there were ragas with a face so austere, you couldn’t help but gaze at them unblinkingly. The raga “Kambhoji” was such- with a personality that exuded majesty.

Some ragas chose to stay aloof. You hardly noticed them. Over time, they grew on you, revealing a new facet each time, till you were irresistibly drawn to them. Todi raga seemed an acquired taste until you fell head over heels!

It is easy to find a friend when the going is good. It is when the chips are down, that you need them most. Life throws you into situations where self-doubt and sadness stare at you in the face. Psychologists talk about “managing the emotion” through a catharsis of sorts. Shiva-ranjani raga falls in this category. You are moved by the raga’s palpable pathos. As tears roll down the face, the purgatory experience is total. At the end of it, you shake off the negativity and rise, all charged and refreshed.

An opposite approach works equally well- you deal with sadness using a counterweight- by cozying up to a raga that makes you instantly happy. Mohana Kalyani is happiness personified- spewing joy like a cascading waterfall. It sweeps you off your feet with its overflowing effervescence!

Carnatic classical music got a major boost through the composer Trinity of Tyagaraja, Shyama Sastry and Muthuswamy Dishitar. They were contemporaries who lived about 250 years ago composing kritis in Telugu and Sanskrit. The more you delve into their compositions, the more pearls you discover.

Tyagaraja’s masterpieces are many. In the kriti “chakkani raaja maarga”, set to the raga Kharaharapriya, through song, he has created an interesting imagery. Tyagaraja was a bhakta of Lord Rama. He wants to convey the superiority of Rama upasana to other forms of worship. In this kriti, he asks, “When we have a raaja-maarga, a royal path, like Rama upasana maarga, why do we need to use any other method?” To convey this point, Tyagaraja imbues the phrase chakkani-raaja-marga with the sound of a horse-chariot trotting on a paved highway. The “sangatis” of the raga Kharaharapriya create that illusion- as though the horse is trotting on the maarga- now slowly and now galloping at top speed!

To listen to the kriti “Amba Kamakshi” by the composer Shyama Sastry is an experience. Set to the raga Bhairavi, it is composed like a “gopuram”, a temple tower. Each line of the kriti begins with next ascending swara, as though you are climbing up the temple tower. And once you hit the line in the highest octave in Bhairavi, you are as though, at the top of the temple edifice. The song comes to a climactic finish. You can “see” and “feel” the Mother Goddess in all her finery. Such is the beauty in this composition and the grandeur of raga Bhairavi.

Muthuswamy Dikshitar’s “navaavarana” kritis have a unique construct. The “shri-chakra” is a diagram, a geometric representation of Devi, made up of triangles and circles. The “nava-aavarana kritis” -9 of them in 9 different ragas, take you progressively through the nine corridors till you reach the center of the geometric pattern called the “bindu”, where Devi is manifest. The lyrics and the ragas are captivating. As you listen to them with rapt attention, you are transported to that Divine presence.

These are but little examples to show how music can be used as “maanasa puja”- a form of meditation. You listen to the songs, travel with them, and experience both the feeling and the divine form that these composers wish to convey.

And the day, you just wanted to simply unwind with something “light”, you listened to “magudi” set to the raga Punnaaga-varaali. The raga is soaked with the mesmeric tune that the snake charmer uses to stoke the snake. You can feel the swerve and wave of the snake, in each phrase of “magudi”!

When the mind is assailed with worry, what therapy can be better than this? You submit yourself to music and allow its magic to work through you.

I am glad these ragas found me, walked with me, and we became companions for life!

 

 

The almirah

A standout feature in older homes was the almirah. It was gigantic, a veritable Empire State Building that loomed large and filled an entire wall. A behemoth, it was tough to imagine that it was transported into the room. It was as if the rooms were built around this monolith.

We do not know where it originated- but in South India, the almirah was better known as the “bureau”. The French pronunciation had to be altered in keeping with the local tongue as “beerow”. There was no South Indian home without its row of “beerows”.

The almirah had no place for ornamentation. It was a plain, rectangular block with a natural, rusty shade. Anything that was deemed important was stashed away in it. The almirah had a locker with a separate security lock. When there was a wedding in the family, out came jewelry handed down from a distant past. The action was always behind closed doors and away from prying eyes, as though an immense treasure lay within!

Secrecy was tough especially when the almirah made so much noise to open and close it. You shuffled with the bunch of keys, till you eventually found one that worked. The almirah creaked and protested as though woken from deep slumber. Once open, an aroma wafted from its interiors. Silk sarees, all perfumed with sandalwood dust, lay neatly stacked in one shelf. Another shelf was filled with silverware that gleamed like cut-diamonds. A third shelf was the odd man out. It was cluttered with files and papers dating back to time immemorial. Frayed at the edges and yellowed with age, the files had a prehistoric look. You could not throw a single paper away, for the fear that it may be the most important one you would need later.

Some almirahs were short and stout, and their tops doubled up as a shelf. An entire family grew over time- medicine strips well past their expiry, pen-stands with age-old stationery and assorted items that can be generalized as “trash”. No one knew what lay behind the almirahs. Like the dark side of the moon, it stayed unknown. When chased around, lizards and spiders disappeared behind the almirah. You were certain that the blackhole swallowed them whole!

Modern homes have no almirahs. Maligned now as an eyesore, almirahs are replaced with dainty wooden closets. Much like the present world, the new closets are pretty, but their utility is questionable! Almirahs were like “alamaras”, giant banyan trees. They stood as silent sentinels and oversaw generations that grew under their immense shade. The golden days of childhood were played out under their caring eyes. We wonder where those almirahs are now standing, if at all!

What should I read?

I have not read a book for decades! I made sincere attempts, but some obstacle made me drop it! Several books fell by the wayside- I barely got past the first chapter!

Opinions are varied when it comes to the choice of books. If I picked a book on fiction, someone commented, “Why would you read fiction? It is not even real! If you must read, read the classics! Have you read Shakespeare and Milton? When will you read them?” He said it with such urgency, as though I had wasted my entire life!  And now, like catching a runaway train, there was not one moment to lose!

I bought the complete works of the Master- a hardbound edition. But let’s face it. Archaic English is not easy- Thy and Thine holdeth thou hostage. Barely two pages into the book, I was yawning uncontrollably. It was no disrespect to the Master- rather, it was my incompetence, both in language and comprehension.

With the classics cast away, I turned to History. Comments were quick- “Objective History is an oxymoron! The same character from one viewpoint is a hero, and from another standpoint, supremely controversial! That you must read History so that it does not repeat, does not hold water! Our current times are ample proof!”

I moved on to Cosmology- a whole universe filled with wonder. All the galaxies out there, the blackholes and nebulae, the supernovas and what not. The problem with this genre is that there is no number less than a billion anywhere. Everything is in billions and trillions and lightyears! I was racked with enormous doubt- how did they even count all this?

Books on sports seemed a great choice. Who doesn’t like a Dravid versus Goliath story? Just when I got to the chapter on the World Cup finals, Mr. Dampener came along- “These sportsmen have some skill in the game. But how does it help you? Buddy, read something that will build your personality!”

Self-Help books are littered everywhere. As I was about to purchase, the man on the aisle commented wryly, “Don’t know if the book helped anyone! It helped the author! He made millions- and surely stopped worrying and started living, a king-sized life!”

I got the best advice from my dear friend. He asked me, “Aren’t you a writer? Then, you must never read! If you read, you will be influenced by other writers! How will you develop your style?” With his fist, he tapped my heart repeatedly- “What does it say? You write what it says! Then, the words will have life!”

I followed his sage advice and stayed unlettered, and free from all guilt!