Weekend Escape: Sawai Gandharv

No, before you start drawing any conclusions, I should state that I’m just an amateur classical music lover. I do carry some level of understanding of Sufi and Gazals. But when it’s comes to more classical forms of this art, I knowledge limits until knowing to some of the famous vocalist and instrumentalist or knowing some of the famous ragas (I can surely not recognize any of them).

Having said that, I shall now contradict myself saying that this year it was my forth sitting at Savai Gandharv Sangeet Mahotsav J.

For those who are born or turned Punekars, like me, this should not be a not known event. And in case you too, like me, take pride of deeming yourself an amateur classical music lover, I’m sure you must have heard of the same. For rest, Savai Gandharv Sangeet Mahotsav is an annual event held in Pune to celebrate classical form of Indian music. It has a legacy of sixty years and has the honor to witness some of the maestro of musical fraternity. Late Pt. Bheemsen Joshi was among the founder members of the event. He used to be a regular here till as late as 2006. That all for history.

I still remember my first sitting back in 2009, I was sited in between two older couples on both side. The average age of the room was almost double of me. Though I was able to find some of students like me there, but only to find later that they all were music student.

“Hei sastriya sanggetcha karyakram ahe, kutla rock show nahi” (This is a classical music show, not a rock show). The old man sitting next to me welcomed me this way.

“Mahit ahe” (I know), I replied. Before I could start giving it a thought if ‘m I placed at a right place considering my age, he again replied back “I’m happy that youngsters of your age also find interest in such things”. The initial jinx melted off soon and we started talking. I found that the couple is into their 30+ sitting here. They have listened to so many great voices here and have very vivid and depth knowledge of ragas, vadya, gahrana and stuff related.

Our brief introduction was hindered by Shankar Mahadevan who sang the famous Tukaram’s abhang “Majhe Maher Pandhari”. I was not able to understand the meaning of the song but as they say music needs no language. J The performance went on for some 2 hours and after that till date this song is a regular in my morning playlist.

It was my first introduction to Maharashtrian Devotional Music. In the years that followed I got chance to hear more of them from some of the best who do it. Today, I won’t be over doing if I say that I have experinced some of the best and gained an tasteful appetite for abhang. My personal favorite are “Tirth Vitthal Kshretra Vitthal” and of course “Majhe Maher Pandhari”, both sung by legendry Late Pt. Bheemsen Joshi.

This year I tried to attend a non-vocal (instrumental) performance. I was eager to attend Pt. Hari Prasad Chaurasia’s performance, but then my loyalty to my office didn’t allow me that (it was a Friday afternoon show). Anyhow next day I attended Ustad Amjad Ali Khan’s Sarod Vadan, yet another musically pacifying evening.

 If that was not enough, I managed a gate crash into Srinivas Joshi’s performance too. To my luck, he was singing the same old abhang which I heard here only some 3 years back. Throughout the performance I was trying to draw similarities between his version to his father’s iconic version of same.

     

I still cannot recognize any of Ragas nor have gained any expertise in appreciating any of these Gharana. But what Savai has given me is an out-of-the-box experience and I plan to take it for many more years to come.  

Paani Aur Dhoop

Remembering my childhood and also one of the greatest poetess of Hindi poetic history "Subhadra Kumari Chauhan". I still remember reciting "Yeh Kadam ka Ped" and "Khoob Ladi Mardani" along with my sister and jumping all around the house. Presenting the favorite of mine here.

अभी अभी थी धुप बरसती , लगा कहाँ से ये पानी

किसने फोड़े घड़े बादल के, की इतनी शैतानी |

सूरज ने क्यूँ बंद कर लिया, अपने घर का दरवाजा,

उसकी माँ ने भी क्या उसको, बुला लिया कह कर आजा |

जोर जोर से गरज रहें हैं, बादल हैं किस पे काका, 

किसको डांट रहे है किसने, कहना नहीं माना माँ का |

बिजली के आगन में माँ, चलती हैं किसकी तलवार,

कैसी चमक रही है फिर भी, क्यूँ खली जाते वार |

क्या अब तक तलवार चलाना, वो सीख नहीं पाए,

इस लिए क्या आज वो, असमान पे सीखने आए |

एक बार भी माँ यदि मुझको, बिजली के घर जाने दे,

उसके बच्चों को तलवार चलाना, सिखला आने दे |

खुश होकर तब बिजली देगी, मुझे चमकती सी तलवार,

तब माँ कोई न कर सकेगा, अपने ऊपर अत्याचार |

पुलिसमैन अपने काका को, फिर ना पकड़ने आएंगे,

देखेंगे तलवार दूर से ही, वे सब ही दर जाएंगे |

अगर चाहती हो माँ काका, जाएँ अब ना जेलखाना,

तो फिर बिजली के घर मुझको, तुम जल्दी से पहुँचाना |

काका जेल ना जाएंगे अब, तुझे दिलवा दूँगी तलवार,

पर बिजली के घर जाने का, अब मत करना कभी विचार |

Bahoot Samay Ki Baat Hai..

“Do you think before writing any blog?” someone asked my few days back.

And I started pondering so hard as if he asked me some astrophysics speculative idea. Do me? Well not exactly, the probable reason why writing comes so easy to me. They all are either travelogue or my experience with life, in both cases, no brain required.

The same happened today. I got my story from a place I least expected any.

It a junkyard far off from the city limits, and I’m prisoned here for if not atleast some 3-4 hours. Please don’t ask me on why, how or what, I might not be able to answer any. The place was lovely with all rusted scrap all around dotted by some green patch. The only other human sharing the space was a 50+ old keeper of the yard. He was like any other old man should be.

“Chai Peeyoge”, he offered and I couldn’t refuse. He moved into his room and came out in some 5 min saying “Ban rahi hai”. Thus started the conversation, and in next 20 min I knew that his name was Dhaniram, a resident of Chhattisgarh and was a Bheel (it’s a tribe which carries a very rich culture, for all those Indians who don’t know Bharat). In an hour or so, I knew of almost all of his family, his two wives, n numbers children and many more.

Well this is not what I want to know. There was a very interesting folk story, I got from him, which I want to share. Folk stories are always a treat to hear, especially when you can hear it from a sound story teller, which he was.       

“Bahoot samay ki baat hai…” and he started. Long before there were humans on earth, Sun too had many children same as Moon (stars). Both sun and moon along with their children used to live happily in the sky. But because of sun and his thousands of children, temperature of earth used to be so high that no one could live here. So one day mother earth went to moon and asked for help.

Moon made a plan. He invited sun and all his children for a dinner. He made all delicious and exotic cuisine for them. But just before sun and his children moves in for dinner, he hide all his children behind the cloud. The sun was really impressed with the dinner and asked moon for the recipe. The moon then replied that he cooked all his children, which made this food so delicious.

Next day sun also put all his children into a pot and put it on flame, but what cooked was not even editable. Sun was cheated. All his children were killed by he himself because of which the temperature on mother earth cooled down and human started living here. Since then till now, Sun is chasing Moon to kill his children, the reason why moon comes only in night and sun in day. Every night moon comes in different disguise (changing shape of moon). Sun gets hold of moon sometimes, but every time moon managed to escape (lunar eclipse). Sun however keeps bowing arrows at moon’s children hiding behind the mountain (shooting star).

This is not the first folk story I have heard but the way Dhaniram narrated the story, made me put up this here. It also gave me an insight to believe and culture of Bheel tribe. But what amazed me the most was how this story enveloped these many natural phenomenons (Lunar Eclipse, Life on earth, Day-Night phenomenon, Phases of moon, Shooting Star) and being logical acceptable.

By now, we have talked some good 2-3 hours, and prisoned time was over.

“Phir kabhi chai ke sath kahani sunni hui toh jaroor wapas aaunga…” I said and smiled.

“Jaroor aayiga” he smiled back. May be the context to my next blog is already set.       

Weekend Escape: Palasdhari

Probably a 3300 KM of travel in last week was not enough for so I’m hitting the roads again.

Actually small correction, it’s not road but railroad. This will be my first outing of this wet season. IndraDev have already been late in his deliverables by if not at least a month. Anyhow it’s always better to be late than never. It’s 8:00 in the morning and I’m standing on Pune Railway Station, Platform No.1, Alone. Even after a numerous attempt with all of fancy and hype I could create, I was not able to convince even a single of my knowns to accompany me over the trek. So, pulling me up with the only Ravindra Sangeet I know “Jodi Tor Dak Shune Keu Na Ase Tobe Ekla Cholo Re”, I boarded the Lonavala local.  

One hour later, I’m standing on Lonavala Railways Station, Platform No. 2. I can easily see clouds drenching uphill. But that not my destination (maybe some other day). Meri manzil kahi aur hai. Some few minutes later I boarded an Express train to Karjat and yes, the very best of Shaydri was in front of me, Unadulterated, Untouched. And if to see this spectacular scenic beauty, a Sheikh Couple flies in here from UAE annually, no one should be surprised.

Anyhow, this too is not my destination. 40 Min later I was at Karjat Railway Platform and exactly 10 min later I was standing on Palasdhari Railway Station, soaking in typical anti-Asheesh rainfall (I mean the one which starts only when ‘m out and stops as soon as I find a shade).

My pre hand research offered me two options, either to scale up Palasdhari Fort which was visible from here and second one was to move to Palasdhari waterfall. I wanted to do the former but chose the later. But I have reasons to it. All that I could read about this place had one thing in common. They all have warned to beware of wild boars, and some even have heard leapord. Aur abhi toh meri shadi bhi nahi hui hai. So I opted to be amongs human rather than encountering someone I cannot handle.

As a rule of thumb or a nature's law, or an engineer’s law, whatever you call it says, "Waterfalls are always located on hills, and railway tracks are not”. So anywhere you go, the waterfall is always located away from railway station, so is this. You have to walk for 20 minutes from station to reach there. The walk passes through lush green surrounding, and that's enough to turn you on, even if you've been there tens of times. The first sight of waterfall was disheartening especially when you are obsessed to relative "big". Nevertheless, the crowd was minimal. And it was actually a private waterfall.

I moved up the waterfall and sat a rock stable enough to seat me. The gushing water from both side and water tripping off my sleeves, well this was my destination. I was able to simulate the same feeling what Indradev shall feel seeing from above. I might over exaggerate it, but then it was sort of the feeling of being the Lord of Waterfall.  

Moving a little up the water fall I could find a place lonely enough to do the thing which I like the most, SOUL SEARCHING (and was much required as the Review Process in office just ended). The whole of Shaydri was there to listen to me. Express Trains kept making their presence occasionally. The winds were in a hurry to be somewhere and have dried me by now. After having a good talk with “Better Me” on what, why, how, where and politely asked him what next. He said “Ghar chalte hain”.

It’s 9:00 in the night and I’m standing on Pune Railway Station, Platform No.1, Alone Again. J

From Left-Brain of a Right-Brained

I am a right brained person, according to the test I took.

It was a pretty useless test, if you ask me, because the test only checked what I liked to do, and not what I am good at. Those two are entirely different things although people often confuse them as similar. I like doing the right brained stuff but I am good at the left brained stuff. So what am I?

I owe a lot to the left part of my brain, and that is what actually made me graduate. And everything I am today - which is not much, I have to admit - is because of the left part of my brain.

In fact, the right part of my brain has always been responsible for my poor show everywhere. I could have probably done better of me if I really wanted to and allowed my left part of the brain to take over. But then again, it is the right part of the brain which really makes me happy- and there is nothing I can do about it.

So while I do have the potential to be a Rancho or a Chatur, my right brain and my quest for following my dreams has made me a Farhan - or a Hari - or whatever the name of those two losers in 3 Idiots was. But it has also made me happy, happy than I ever could be by being a topper or anything.

Down and low, I sailed over the net. And then I came across this Venn diagram representation of the ideal job (Courtesy: Bud Cadell).

I tried putting my own perspective on the Venn diagram and the results were not positive. These were the results:
a) My current job was probably outside the Venn diagram. I am not very good at it, I definitely don't like it much and it does not pay good money. Well, okay, okay, it pays but not good money. 
b) The work I was good at was mostly left brained things like number crunching, quantitative analysis, qualitative analysis etc. While the things I liked doing were creative writing, chattering aimlessly, playing sports and the likes. Almost a certain mismatch between the two except probably for solving few analytical puzzles. Thinking of best about my jobs is that it pays. So my Venn diagram became the following. 

And now I am totally confused. My left brained skills and my right brained passions have left me little choice, about what to do. The Venn diagram leaves me with only the following options then: 
a) Open a Sports Analytics Company
b) Go around Philosophizing
c) Become a Creative Writer

 However, being a left brained person, I also try being practical. And that practical aspect of me is afraid to take the next big step. A step towards being happier.

-Back to work.

Gulmohar Ki Sabzi

NO, this is no cookery blog. Neither I have any plans to introduce any cuisine related flavor to it. It just because I came across something and I’m writing about it.

I’m not a foodie. My plate is not my test bed. I like only trusted thing to be in it. I could be only among very few Indian who don’t like their dishes to be spicy and red hot. For the same reason, I rarely enjoy any change in my menu. But this Saturday, it was some different.

For probably first time in couple of months, The Columbus in me, got a chance to come out. Driving at snailing speed of 30-35 kmph over NH-50 (that my favorite road to drive along) on a Saturday morning is one of the best thing you can do on earth. When you see Trucks, Buses and Cabs gushing beside you at a killing speed, you understand and appreciate the time you have in your kitty. And I need not to explain how priceless this feeling can be for those who keep on patting their keyboards all day long pegged into their cubes. You start to believe that you are not the last person on the earth, who will die without having time to do what you want to do. There are many more, who are running faster than you, to an extent for endangering their life. It might sound a really weird way to do it, but that’s one of my stress buster techniques.

Coming back to the where we had derailed, it’s around 11:00 AM in the morning. I dropped down around a motel, to feed myself. Things around where pretty similar to what one should expect in a highway side motel. I was looking for someone to make an order and a board hooked my attention. It says “Aaj ka Menu- Gulmohar ki Sabzi”. I was not there for lunch, so didn’t give it much a thought.

An old couple sitting just beside seemed very exciting about it. I remember to have overheard the lady saying that she used have it every time they visit their ancestral place. I was still stiff not to go for it, but the moment that couple was severed, I knew what I have to order. The aroma of the sabzi had just filled the place and it was too hard to avoid.

Without giving and more time to my mind to counter my heart, I placed my order. One plate sabzi and 2 Chapaati. After some 15 minute, my pie of taste was on my plate and it looked awesome. It was a dry base of ginger garlic with chopped tomato in it. Red gulmohar petals along with green coriander leaves and golden brown fried onions were making the sabzi more colourful.  And the fragrances of hot smoking spices were making my secretion system work overtime.

In goes the first bite, which soon followed a full glass of water. It was spicy and hot. The gulmohar was giving a pinch of sweet to it and tomato was making it a pinch sour. Everything were put in almost picture perfect amount.  I ordered 2 more chapatti. Just after taking my last bite, I thanked that old couple for such an unique dish which I could have never tasted otherwise.

I moved out and asked for the bill. “pachas rupiya” (50 Rupees) came the response. And all those heavy bills I paid in so called best dine place in the city came in front of my eyes. Rightly they say, best things in the world are found only where they are least searched for.

P.S.- now wherever I’m seeing a gulmohar tree loaded with flowers, I want to eat them all J

Who Am I ?

I am always torn between choices whether to seek the light or sink into the darkness. I tend to swim in different directions and many a times both ways.

Being well liked for my kind and sympathetic nature, my charm of manner and carefree nature has impressed many. I am compassionate, and unless pushed to the wall, will rarely hurt anyone. I will rarely hurt anyone even when pushed to the wall, because I’m not exactly the kind with big muscles. I apparently am very caustic, but the sarcasm is not always direct, so it generally goes unnoticed. However, it lands me in a spot every once in a while.

I find it difficult to conform and follow rules or to cope with discipline. When the going gets really tough, I don’t get going. Instead I may try to flee down river and hide amongst the vast schools of fish swimming lazily around. However I’m not weak-willed enough to indulge in alcohol and drugs to escape. Alternatively, I pour out my emotions in creative arts. I put my emotions in music, short stories, idiotic writeups, some unnoticed blogs, or ridiculous ramblings and sometime poetry. None of them stands to any standards to artistic proclaims, but I don’t care.

I find myself in knowledge of almost everything in the world, but strangely stand dumb on what I should know. I have my values to life and none but me only can alter and play with them. People find me introvert, but I find me rebellion.

I seldom open up to those around me on a personal basis. My world is very secretive and confined for anyone to peep in. Although I might be impractical and somewhat uneasy with the real world, I’m brave and prefer a lot of independence. I like to delve in spiritual matters and I’m fascinated by the occult, especially the connections it has with Quantum concepts like entanglement and teleportation. I can argue lengths over any of them. I tend to think that I’m psychic, because my dreams can be strange and portentous.

I always remember one thing even if I get amnesia and forget everything else: I am the culmination of all that has gone before, I’m the symbol of death and eternity, I am the distillation of all the other signs. I am the best there is, the best there was, and the best there ever will be. Yet I’m not Bret “The Hitman” Hart.

I nicked it from Astroyogi(reasons that you might encounter unbelievable raise in vocabulary standards) and added liberal amounts of masala to it.

Weekend Escape :Aga Khan Palace

I have grown LAZY.

And probably for the same reasons I have neither being neither traveling nor writing for long. Probably this lazy IT culture is taking a toll over me. Today, fortunately I have some time and mood to write. So here it goes.

Aga Khan Palace, though being is the heart of the city, is hardly visited. Off the busy Pune-Ahmednagar Highway, as you move into the compound, you will feel like being taken back good 50-60 years in history. Strangely the entry gate of the palace is locked and you will be entering from the Exit. It is a beautiful sunny Sunday afternoon and the place is occupied by few lovebirds, a family out on a picnic and me.

As you move close to the palace and you carry some sense of architecture, you will surely be scratching your head as to under which architecture to place it. The pillars are typical English-Roman type, the roofs have dooms giving it an Islamic touch. As you walk a little closer around and look around, you might spot a Rajputana style fountain, making you more confused. Anyhow I and my confused mind moved into the palace and were greeted with this information that Aga Khan Palace was an act of charity by the Sultan Muhammed Shah who wanted to help the poor in the neighboring areas of Pune who were drastically hit by the famine.

I smile spread over my face appreciating the fact that the city which today feed people from almost all part of India, didn’t had enough to feed its own people some 120 years back. Well this is life for you. There are only three rooms made to display for public. Rest all are out of bound for commoners. The first two rooms stations some of the poorly managed photographs and hand scripts of Gandhiji. The frames were missing, there were whitewash stains over the photos. It was a total mess here. Arguably it is a national heritage structure. Thankfully there was a photo exhibition by Maharashtra Tourism Board which saved the day for me.

The third room had some of the personal belongings of Gandhiji and Ba. One thing that kept with me was a hand weaved saree of Ba. The amount of dedication, hard work and believe that must gone into it was so very clearly visible in every thread of the saree. I actually stood for a good 5 min just looking at it. This was the best part of my visit to this place.

Leaving all this aside I moved toward the Samadhi Sthal and paid my homage to Ba and Mahadev Desai who breathed their last here. The campus today holds a Khadi Gram Udyoug Kerndra and a play school, all to help poor and needful women around the city.

The campus has some really spacious and well maintained lawns (a good place for a family outing). It’s been more than 3 hours around, and I’m seating on a wooden bench outside stupidly staring at the building. The sun will soon call it a day and streetlights will take over. It seems like I have moved into a third world, where life still runs at a pace it should. Allow me to take one last deep breathe of this world before I move back to my “World”.