Do you recognize who I am?

South Indian weddings serve as a get-together for the extended family. If you attend one after a long time, you must endure a peculiar pattern of interrogation.

Out of the blue, someone holds you hostage with a tricky question. “Do you recognize who I am? Guess!” he asks with a broad smile. His over-enthusiasm unnerves you as he grabs you by the hand. You scrutinize his face and feel like responding, “I have not seen you from Adam!” Such an answer would be blunt. Risking a wrong answer could lead to more embarrassment. It would mean you do not know two people in the family! You settle with a safe- “You look familiar, but I am not able to place you!” And blame the pandemic for eating away the memory cells.

You hope he will end the suspense. However, he obscures his identity even more. You try to narrow down the problem- “Are you related to my paternal side?” He answers no and smiles! “Then, my maternal side?” He smiles even more and says no! He then makes an admission, “I am related to both your paternal and maternal side! Guess!”

A mild irritation sets in. You have half a mind to say, “Either tell me who you are, or leave me alone!” He now goes on the offensive. “This is the problem with you IT folks. You are stuck in your own cocoon. Only if you step out, you will know, who is who in the family! Your generation itself is clueless about uncles and aunts, cousins and nephews. The next generation is totally lost!”

He drifts off on a personal spiel. “In those days, your grandfather’s home had 10 children under the same roof! You have inherited the same nose as your grandfather! That’s how I could easily spot you!”

After a point, you give up. “I still cannot recognize you! Please tell me!” The opponent licks his lips. You wonder from where he is going to start. After all, any family tree is like a giant banyan tree, tangled all over! He announces confidently, “Your paternal grandfather Nagarajan and I are first cousins. And that is not all! The strange thing is- your maternal grandmother Avayamba and I are also second cousins!”

It is now my turn. “But my paternal grandfather is not Nagarajan. And my maternal grandmother was Lakshmi!”

The overflowing cheer on the opposite face is replaced with complete confusion. He leaves my hand he had tightly clasped till then. His voice fumbles, “You are Ajay, aren’t you?”

“No! I am Shankar!”

My opponent’s face changed several shades of color. Wonder why he sheepishly excused himself and left in such a tearing hurry!

Vishakha Hari at Music Academy, Chennai- Dec 28, 2022 "Ramayana through Pasurams"

 Just back from Vishakha Hari's concert at the Music Academy. The topic was Ramayana as seen through the Pasurams of the Alwars. Though the narration was based on the Pasurams, the songs were mainly Tyagaraja's kritis. I will try and recall from memory the various songs presented and the context in which it was sung.

The devas implore Lord Vishnu in Vaikuntha to descend on the earth for "dharma samsthaapana". The kriti chosen was "O Rangashayee" in Kambhoji raga. The connect between this song and the context is the line "bhuloka vaikuntham" in the song. It is as if "this place", i.e. Srirangam is Vaikuntha itself.

Rama is born and is lulled to sleep. The kriti presented was "Uyyaalalooga vaiyya" in the raga Neelambari.

Rama "walks" with Vishwamitra to help him out in his austerities and later to Mithila. The kriti presented was "Nannu Palimpa" in raga Mohanam. In the kriti, Rama is presented as "walking" (towards Tyagaraja). The occasion for the kriti was Tyagaraja's daughter's (called Seeta) wedding. It is here that Tyagaraja's disciple Walajapet Venkataramana Bhagavathar presented a painting of Rama to Tyagaraja. And as the disciple walked towards Tyagaraja with the painting, it was as if Rama was walking towards Tyagaraja. Tyagaraja sang "Nannu Palimpa" at this point. This kriti was used to present Rama walking with Vishwamitra.

Jagadaananda kaaraka in Nattai raga- was used to denote "maadhurya bhaava" where the phrase "praana naayaka" comes (as though Seeta would use it for Rama).

Rama leaves his ornaments behind before going to the forest. But his beauty was more enhanced that way. The kriti presented was "kanakana-ruchira" in raga Varaali.

The anguish felt by Dasharatha and Bharata in Rama's absence. It is as if..."what started as vinayaka, ended as a monkey". This example comes in the kriti "evarito ne" in the vivaadi raga Maanavati.  The comparison is used to show how the coronation planned for Rama ended in his going to the forest. Apparently, Tyagaraja has chosen vivaadi ragas whenever he wants to convey sadness. This is one such example. (Baagaayanayya in Chandrajyoti raga was sited as another example).

Tyagaraja lost Rama's idol when it was thrown into the river by his brother. The kritis he sang in "viraha" were "Ennalu" (Shuba Pantuvarali raga) and "nee daya raada" (Vasanta bhairavi raga). The sadness in these ragas mirror's Tyagaraja's state of mind (and Dasharatha's too).

Bharata approaches Rama and implores him to return to Ayodhya. Bharata leaves with Rama's padukas. The kriti presented was "sandehamunu" in "Raamapriya" raga, as though the name of the raga goes with the context of Bharata (whom Rama loves). 

Rama also has a teasing sense of humor, though normally, we associate it with Krishna. The part chosen was "samayaaniki" (Sadhinchene in Arabhi raga) where all the stanzas are on Krishna (and his sense of timing, in everything, including humor).  Tyagaraja moves from Krishna to Rama (in the last stanza) in "Sadhinchene" (as though samayaaniki could apply to Rama too). This part comes when Rama deflects Shurpanakha to Lakshmana with a teasing sense of humor.

Rama meeting Shabari and the moving episode associated with it- "entani ne varnintunu shabari" in Mukhari raga.

Rama meets Sugreeva and has to prove his valor that he can vanquish Vali. Rama sends one arrow that pierces through 7 trees (saala vriksha). The portion used was from "Jagadaananda kaaraka" in Naattai raga where the phrase "saala vidana" comes.

Hanuman meets Seeta and when he comes back, Hanuman sings "kanden seetai" in Bageshri raga to Rama. This song is by Arunachala kavi.

Vibhishana is given protection by Rama though he is Ravana's brother. The kriti rendered was "evvare raamaiyya" in the rare raga "Gangeyabhushani". The Vibhishana episode is described in this song.

Rama pattabhishekam- "Maamava pattabhirama"- Dikshitar's kriti in Manirangu raga.

With this, the concert came to a close. It was enjoyable and informative. Vishakha Hari with her music and narration kept the audience in a spell! 

She was ably supported by the violinist, the mridangam vidwan and the ghatam vidwan. 

There was so much liveliness, humor and spontaneity in the narration as well as music that was rendered with such bhaava! 

The above write-up does not do any justice. It is an attempt to recall as much as I can, after the performance!

Evening with Trichur Brothers- Parathasarathy Sabha, Chennai, Dec-27, 2022

Just back from the concert by Trichur Brothers at Parthasarathy Sabha, Chennai. At the end of the concert, there was a spontaneous standing ovation! Such was the impact!

The concert started with Ganesha stuti "vakratunda mahakaya" in Nattakurinji raga. This was followed by a brisk varnam in Nattakurinji. That set the stage for the rest of the concert- a concert where the same momentum was maintained right through and not one moment of boredom or distraction!

The next piece was "Ninne Bhajana" in Naattai raga, that was rendered with enthusiasm. 

Shuddha Dhanyasi raga was well developed. The moment the Dikshitar kriti "Subramanyena" was started, there was a buzz in the audience. Shuddha Dhanyasi has many sibling ragas and the audience required this well known piece to confirm their answer!

Shyama Sastri's masterpiece "Amba Kamakshi" was sung beautifully. This piece is a veritable "shabda-avatara" of Kamakshi, as though, She is in front of us, in sound-form. The kriti is structured like a gopuram, with each line starting in succeeding swaras. It is here that the Brothers excelled. They embelished the piece with one vocalist singing in the lower octave and the other in the higher. The result was sheer magic!

"Sabhapatikku vera daivam samaanam aagumaa" in Abhogi raga was soulful. The way this song implores us- "It is enough to say Shiva's name even once!" (oru daram shiva-chidambaram endru sonnaal podumey) was touching. We were reminded of Shiva's majesty as the recluse "a-bhogi" and as a maha-grhastha "aa-bhogi" with Parvati and children! It is as though, through the choice of the raga, both aspects of Shiva are conveyed.

The tempo was further enhanced with a quick piece "Garuda Gamana" in the rare raga Naagaswaraali.

The main piece was a ragam-thanam-pallavi in Shubha-Pantuvarali. The raga conveys many moods- of pathos, of  sadness, of anguish. All these feelings poured forth, as the Brothers elaborated the raga. Shades of Hindustani Music, where this raga is called "Todi" could be discerned. The way the lower "shadja" was touched, brought an instant applause from the audience.

The thanam was brisk. The Pallavi had the line "Tirupati Venkataramanaa....sankata haranaa!" This was followed by ragamalika swaras in Saama, Behag, Kaanada and Revati. 

The thani-avartanam was enjoyable. The mridangam artiste (father of the Brothers) and ghatam artiste enthralled the audience and not one person stirred- so rapt was the attention!

The penultimate piece was Vande Mataram rendered in Desh. They egged the audience to sing along with them. The final piece was the famous "English Note".

The violinist excelled in the Shuddha Dhanyasi alapana and in the Shubha-Pantuvarali piece. The Kaanada in the ragamalika section was the violinist's choice and later picked up by the Brothers.

What is written above is a factual account. But words are terribly poor. They cannot convey feeling. It has to be experienced. How can I write about what I "felt" throughout the concert? At times, it was a thrill, at times, it was undiluted happiness, at times, goosebumps ran down my forearms, at times there was an involuntary shake of the head and at times, a spontaneous shout of "baley" escaped from the lips! 

There were several places where the Brothers sang either in different octaves or created the Western music effect of "harmony", when their individual singing merged to form a composite whole. How do you write about this effect in words?

Recorded music cannot create this magic. Online concerts cannot create this magic. You have to be present "live" in a concert atmosphere to experience this. 

It was almost 3 hours of happiness- where the entire work-a-day world vanished and we were transported to some "gandharva nagari"! 

We owe a standing ovation and so much more to the Trichur Brothers!

 

Saving human extinction is right in your hands!

The dress code changes with time. A notable absentee nowadays is the handkerchief! Somehow, it has completely gone out of circulation! Back then, the handkerchief was your versatile Swiss-Army Knife- it served all purposes.

These days, after washing your hands, you can be in a real soup. Hands dripping with water, you look for a tissue paper and there is none! What do you do? You glance here and there and stealthily dry your palms by rubbing against your trousers! If you have a runny nose, the situation is worse. Lack of a handkerchief means using your fingers for relief and wiping the stain off on the lamppost! Despite such embarrassing situations, still, the handkerchief is not in vogue.

At school, the handkerchief came handy during the recess breaks. You divided the boys into two raucous groups to play the most engaging game of the “dog and the bone”. The handkerchief served as the bone. The spritely boy dodged his opponent, pocketed the bone, and ran off to safer shores!

There was a gender divide when it came to handkerchief designs. Girls carried kerchiefs that had floral patterns. Kerchiefs for boys were in plain color. If your kerchief was in the wash, you stoutly protested carrying a different kerchief, “I cannot carry my sister’s kerchief to school! I will be the laughingstock for everyone!”

A prominent Indian Cricketer stuffed a red handkerchief in his back pocket! It was his lucky charm, and he attributed the World-Cup victory to his kerchief! Roadside Romeos made better use of the kerchief. When Juliet was in tears, Romeo pacified her by offering his kerchief! It was the surest way into Juliet’s heart! And when it came to the street rowdy, you recognized him from a distance- the kerchief was tied around his neck.

Policemen had an easier time when it came to nabbing robbers. Invariably, these goons masked their face with a kerchief and the disguise was a giveaway!

If you had a bruise, the kerchief doubled up as a torniquet. If you ran a high temperature, ice-cubes wrapped in a kerchief kept the fever down! A steam engine driver looked smart- his head wrapped in a kerchief and knotted at the back! It kept the coal and the flying embers out of hair’s way!

How could the kerchief that served so many purposes disappear into oblivion? The domino effect is devastating. Saying no to handkerchiefs means saying yes to tissue paper. Saying yes to tissue paper means cutting down trees. Cutting down trees means rising temperatures. Rising temperatures means melting glaciers. Melting glaciers means rising ocean levels. Rising ocean levels means coastal cities getting submerged!

Please carry a handkerchief and save humankind from extinction!

Football with grandma!

 “What are you watching on TV so late in the night, sitting all by yourself?” grandma asked. “I am watching world-cup football grandma. Morocco is playing against Portugal!” I answered. Grandma was aghast. Knitting her eyebrows she asked, “If Portuguese people are playing, why are you wasting your time? When is India’s match?”

It was tough to explain to grandma. “India is not playing in the world-cup. They have not taken India!” Grandmother found it difficult to swallow. Rolling her eyes and peering through her spectacles, she questioned, “Why have they not taken India? How can they play a world-cup without India? Isn’t India part of the world?”

As far as grandmother was concerned, this was exactly like the matches in the neighborhood. Invariably, the big boys in the neighborhood were bullies who regularly outcast the most docile child! Many times, she had to step in and put a firm word, “Next time, you don’t include this poor child in your game, wait and watch what I do!”

She felt the same bullying tactics were meted out to India! We were just too nice for the world. I had to tell grandma the truth. “We do not run fast. You must run fast to play football!” Grandma was more confused, “Why cannot we run fast? Kapil Dev, Gavaskar and Tendulkar used to run, isn’t it?”

I was stumped by grandma’s question. There were two problems to tackle. One was the confusion regarding the sport. The second was a problem in chronology. The world had moved on, but Grandma’s players still belonged to a prehistoric time.

Grandma lived in a different universe. Clad in the traditional 9 yards sari since the age of 8, her days revolved around kitchen, prayer and temple visits. I took a shot at the answer, “Grandma, we run fast, but not so fast. Tendulkar played Cricket. But this is football. Here, we have to run and kick also!” Grandma had a different question now. “I know Portuguese. Who is this murukku? It sounds like our eatables- “murukku” and “seedai”!” “Grandma, it is not murukku! It is Morocco…Morocco. It is a country in Africa!”

By now, grandma had left the room. I could hear her trailing words- “Murukku can kick, Portuguese can kick, but India cannot? What adharma is this! It is Kaliyuga only!”

The above conversation never took place. It is entirely a figment of my imagination. Grandma passed away a few years ago. I am reminded of her child-like innocence and her probing questions. As memory, she lives on. One part of the mind becomes grandma, and the other part is me. The conversation continues, some hilarious, some absurd, much like earlier times!

 

Escalator escapades!

These days, you cannot miss the escalator. If you have nothing better to do, head off to the mall and choose a vantage point next to the escalator!  First-time users will provide you with ample entertainment.

 “Never get on or off a moving bus” is a mental conditioning you have grown up with. And now, faced with a moving escalator, the brain refuses to give marching orders to the foot. The foot stays upraised- frozen in the act.

But then, the escalator is a narrow space. If you wait for an eternity, you will block several others who are impatient to get going. They elbow their way around you, give you an ugly stare, making you feel helpless and marooned.

Sometimes, you have a companion to assist you. “Two is company”, but not when both members are equally tentative. They hold hands and get onto the escalator at the same time! It is now like a three-legged race, each one stumbling over the other, the probability of a fall increased many times over.

A good Samaritan shows how easy it is. “You just get on, like this!”- he eggs you. Gingerly, you raise your foot. This time, even the footwear gives up and slips off! You watch your slipper riding to the top on its own, leaving you hobbling on one foot at basecamp!

Eventually, many factors come together- some helping hands and a lot of bravado. You are now on the escalator. You want to hold onto something static. There is none. Even the side-rail is on the move.

If getting on the escalator is tough, getting off is equally complicated. It is like jumping off a bicycle at top speed. The step disappears below your feet and what’s worse, it takes with it, any loose garment ends! Free-flowing dresses like dhotis and saris are fraught with extreme danger! You may find yourself without them!

Some escalators appear static.  They move once you step on them. Sometimes, they continue to stay stubborn like a recalcitrant child. You understand the escalator is switched off. You climb the steep escalator steps the hard way. Midway through it, the escalator suddenly switches on! You lurch this way and that, somehow, balancing yourself like a ballerina!

You may not be so lucky. The escalator springs to action but starts moving the opposite way! You desperately flap your hands and feet, like the proverbial rat on the wheel, but it is useless! You are back to square one.

For a simple lift, you have an attendant. He sits inside the lift the entire day and presses the floor-button for you.

Why then, you beg to ask, is there no attendant for this blessed escalator?

 

Guntakal Junction !

Back then, Guntakal in Andhra Pradesh was no ordinary station. It was the “heart” of the southern railway network. Tracks crisscrossed the Indian peninsula like arteries, veins, and capillaries. But they had to pass through Guntakal Junction. It pumped fresh blood into the entire railway anatomy!

The Madras Mail from erstwhile Bombay ambled its way at eventide. The setting sun lit up a terrain pocked with grotesque and gigantic boulders. It had to be Guntakal!  As the train anchored, there was an electric buzz at the station.

Guntakal’s station vendors appeared to have been trained like classical musicians! Decades of “riyaz” in selling their wares had bestowed them a sonorous voice. The coffee vendor went- “coffee-coffee-coffee” in a deep baritone. The “vada” vendor’s voice crackled like a serial firecracker. He let loose a string of “vada-vada-vada-vada”, with incredible lungpower, not once pausing for breath!

A co-passenger lamented, “The train is late by 1 hour!” On this neighboring seat, Mr. Know-all comforted him, “Don’t worry! The train has enough “running time” at night! He will easily make it up!”

The adjoining platform bustled with activity as another train rolled in. Mr. Know-all gushed, “That is the train coming from Madras and going to Bombay!” In a month from now, the holidays will be over, and we will be on that train, on the way back. It was as if, that train was a mirror image of ours and if we looked closer, we would spot our reflected self, albeit a month older!

In the distance, a lonesome diesel engine passed by.  Mr. Know-all remarked, “That was our engine!” The engine looked battle-bruised and scarred. He had done his job and will now pass the baton to a new engine.

Immediately, father and I got down and hurried to the end of the train. Indeed, our train was decapitated- it had no engine. In the distance was a gleaming diesel engine. It backed up towards our train rumbling like a giant monster. The platform beneath our feet shook. The buffer of the engine softly kissed the buffer of the carriage. The rail attendant coupled the hooks of the engine and carriage with two strikes of the hammer.

The new engine bristled with enthusiasm. It sounded its booming horn to alert everyone. The engine driver was seated high up by the window. I waved at him. He smiled and waved back! A thrill ran down my spine. The world’s greatest celebrity had responded!

I asked my father excitedly, “Can I be an engine driver when I grow up?” Father said, “Of course!”  That was my dream- to drive a diesel engine from Guntakal, over hills and dales, all the way to distant Madras!