Two Sentiments

There is a certain optimism amongst average Sri Lankans about the current Government’s success in completely suppressing the LTTE insurgency. The tough stance taken by the President and the promise to solve the issue within a window of 3 months time is being appreciated by them. And a division of their country is absolutely unacceptable to them.

This was my take-out from a few conversations with people like Sunil, who runs a small resort on Mirissa; Reshad , a Tuk Tuk driver and Ajit, a DVD shop-owner. They all shared the above sentiment.

This is completely in contrast with the views of the Pub-going, English speaking, Corporate kinds of Colombo. They are critical and cynical about the Government’s stance and they are alright with LTTE being given a chance to run the North and East areas of the island for a time period.

I shall wait and keenly watch the way the situation goes. The island and its people are too good be continuously under the dark cloud of troubled times and for so long. Its highly unfortunate!

PS: That's Colombo City in the early morning hours.

When I'm 64

The green water of the Indian Ocean looks musical from the wooden balcony of this resort.

Young Reshad appeared at 10:30 with his grey BMW and a blank CD. The idea was to write some good music from my collection, so that we can play the ‘right kind of stuff’ in the car during the 3 hours drive. We were off to Mirissa, a little known beach in south and my new friend, Reshad was the guide.

There were a few jobs to be done. First things first, I got the music happening on the excellent sound system of the car. Then we stopped at a local Cargill to pick up a few essentials like half a pack of Lion pints, the local beer; toothpaste and toothbrush and some bottles of water. We were set.

Galle Road, which was taking us to the destination, is laced with the sea throughout, and its water keeps changing its colour as you go down south. The transition is from Blue to Blue-Green to finally Green.

At one of the many beaches that we kept hitting on our right hand side, we saw fishermen pulling the rope which brings the afternoon catch. We stopped over to watch. Lion gave me company. Young Reshad was happy with water. The colour was Blue-Green.

A quick lunch of very spicy Prawns at Hikkaduwa, a popular beach got our stomachs right. Lion was still giving me company. Another half an hour drive and we reached Mirissa Beach, our destination. The water had turned Green.

There are two interesting aspects about this shell-less beach. The sweet aspect is that it’s largely frequented by the geriatrics from all over the world...old men, women, couples are the sorts you will say your ‘Hellos’ to, while walking on the wet sand.

Then, there is this ‘adventure’ aspect...the water here is popular with the surfers! So, if you see young people on the beach, you can guess confidently that they are surfers.

A splash in the green water, a solitary walk along the coastline, making use of the camera, finishing off the J&B, conversing with Reshad about his life, climbing up a nearby mountain-island in the wee hours of the morning, continuously listening to Rhiannon, Sara, Gypsy & As Long as you Follow, giving yoga tips to back-ache troubled Reshad, and now, writing this post were a part of my stay at this resort.

The drive back was largely uneventful, except a very spicy Sri Lankan lunch and Reshad getting caught for over-speeding and then bribing his way to Colombo in his big vehicle.

ps: Thats what I meant by the description, 'GREEN' water...or, is it BLUE-GREEN...or, is it simply BLUE?

My colorful beach bag

As always, a lot has been happening ever since I’ve landed here in the Isle. I’ve been trying to explore certain professional challenges and seeking the usual personal pleasure and will be documenting it all, shortly. About Laphroig and Sweet Caroline, about Sea Spray and a fortress of an office, about a fishing town at the break of dawn and Sage Merlyn...all of it will be appearing here in good time. For now, I’m off to a beach resort located in the south of the island with a bottle of J&B, and Steinbeck tucked in my colourful beach bag.

About my friends here...well, they are the same sweet self. It was delightful meeting them again. Chaga has already given me some good coffee beans which I shall be sipping on when I’m back to India.

Magic Movie Moments

The unfortunate situation in Kenya continues unabated. Every morning I watch it from the screen of my TV and get disturbed. 600 people have died so far and another 250,000 rendered homeless. Being a romantic, I keep hoping that conditions will improve with proper mediation and talks between Kibaki and Odinga.

Closer home, the situation has once again become troubled in my favourite Island country. The ceasefire has been called off, officially and the terrorist attacks by the LTTE have increased in a big manner. Once again, it leaves me very disturbed. A country which is so beautiful, with its people, geography and culture is amidst a constant threat. I will be in Colombo for 10 days starting this Sunday and will try to fill you in with the sentiments.

Another neighbouring nation continues to be in its state of chaos. Let’s see what the so called democratic elections will bring to Pakistan.

On the aesthetic note, I’ve been keeping myself busy with a list of movies. Movies from past and present, from this part of the world and other parts of the world, on big screen and small screen. Movies which made me appreciate, criticize, love and live through their various moments. So, here is a documentation of such magic moments of loving, living, appreciation and goosebumps.

• The dance sequence at the restaurant between Franz, Odile and Arthur (Bande Apart , Godard, 1954)
• Alexander getting caned by his step-father while Fanny watches quietly...too afraid to express any emotion ( Fanny & Alexander, Bergman, 1982)
• Hitler’s angry outburst at his aides while his hands tremor behind his back and while Berlin burns (The Downfall, Oliver Hirschbiegel, 2004)
• Wiesler ‘s faint smile while listening to ‘The Sonata for a Good Man’ (Lives of Others, Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, 2006)
• Sanjouro’s cynical and ‘afraid of nothing’ look, always...( In both Sanjuro and Yojimbo , Kurosawa, 1963)
• Gondo’s change of stance when he hears that it’s his driver’s son who has been kidnapped and not his son (High and Low, Kurosawa, 1964)
• Avijit displaying his genius eye for colors and pictures (Born into Brothels, Zana Briski / Rauf Kauffman, 2004)
• Ego going back to his childhood after eating the Ratatouille made by Remy and then writing an honest review (Ratatouille, Brad Bird/Jan Pinkava, 2007)
• Prewitt and Warden having a drunken conversation late in the night, sitting in the middle of the road (From Here to Eternity, Fred Zinnemann, 1953)
• The various skirmishes between The Great Danton and The Professor (The Prestige, Chritopher Nolan, 2006)

These moments are from the cinema of the other world. Coming up next is the list from our world. Have a good weekend!

The picture above is the cover design of a great book on movies which I am a proud owner of...thanks to good ol' friend, whom I haven't met in a long long time.

ps: They are celebrating my birthday today, exactly the way it happened last year. To know more about what happened last year and today, read here.

You talkin' to me?

Travis Bickle is one of the most important characters from modern cinema. He represents the alienated urban angst (of course, in a very inflated manner) which a modern city life brings with it.

‘You talkin’ to me?’ remains one of the most famous movie lines ever. In fact, after seeing De Niro (playing Travis) practising the legendary line in front of the mirror, I went up to my mirror to do the same, sans the pistol and the contraption on my body. Later, I started dropping in that line in every interaction with my friends. It was the coolest line ever written. I was at an impressionable age. But, 30 years on, it remains one of the coolest line. Certain magazine rates it amongst Top 10 movie lines ever.

The creators of this movie history were Paul Schrader, the writer; Martin Scorsese, the director and Robert DeNiro, the great actor along with many others. They named it Taxi Driver and it was released in 1976, the year when my mother would’ve started driving me in a perambulator. I was born in the same year.

Apart from uttering these cool self-indulgent lines, Travis, a cabbie in New York maintains a Diary in which he documents his life and street life of NYC. He doesn’t like what he sees and feels and puts it across in frustrated words and apart from many other excellent aspects, this remains the best part of the movie, for me. Actually, his anger sums up the purpose of the movie and also explains the minor mental instability of the character. Paul Schrader has done wonders with the screenplay. An excerpt from Travis’s Diary:

"Thank God for the rain...which has helped wash away the garbage and trash off the sidewalks. I'm working long hours now: in the afternoon too : sometimes : in the morning. Six days a week, sometimes seven days a week. It's a long hustle, but it keeps me real busy. I can take in a week, sometimes more when I do if off the meter.

All the animals come out at night.Whores, skunks, pussies, buggers, queens, fairies, dopers, junkies. Sick, venal. Someday a real rain will come and wash this scum off the streets. I go all over. I take people to the Bronx, Brooklyn, to Harlem. I don't care. Don't make no difference to me."

Or , this:

"Twelve hours of work, and I still can't sleep. Damn! The days go on and on. They don't end. All my life needed was a sense of someplace to go. I don't believe that one should devote his life to morbid self-attention. I believe that someone should become a person like other people."

For the full screenplay, you can go over here.

Why am I writing on Taxi Driver is because the other day, a friend sent me a link to another movie. It’s a German porn flick trying to pass as an educational material or the other way around. I really don’t know as I haven’t seen it. It’s called Karlekens Sprak and it figures in Bickle's life.

So, Travis likes this girl called Betsy (played by Cybill Shepherd) and wants to take her to a movie and she agrees. So he takes her to this porno and she gets disgusted within 15 minutes to leave the theater and him. Travis is genuinely unable to understand her. The sequence is quiet funny and goes on another step to establish the mental set-up of the character. Apart from the gore and morbidity which it is famous for, the flick has some funny moments too.

Thanks for the link, Atish!

Paperback Revolution

While the year began on a very shameful note here in Mumbai, there in Kochi, Pune, Patna and other unreported places, I began it by reading a little story on the history of ‘Penguin Books’ and ‘paperbacks’. It’s charming, concerns books and deserves to be narrated here.

Penguin Books has this series called Pocket Penguins, 70 and on a recent visit to Landmark, the gigantic bookstore in a mega-gigantic mall, I picked up some good ones from the series. Scott Fitzgerald, Nabokov, Woolf, Steinbeck and Hunter Thompson. Wanting to read, the beautiful story called ‘The Breakfast’ by Steinbeck, I opened up the book to find this story on the first page.

In 1935 if you wanted to read a good book, you needed either a lot of money or a library card. Cheap paperbacks were available, but their poor production generally mirrored the quality between the covers. One weekend that year, Allen Lane, Managing Director of The Bodley Head, having spent the weekend visiting Agatha Christie, found himself on a platform at Exeter station trying to find something to read for his journey back to London. He was appalled by the quality of the material he had to choose from. Everything that Allen Lane achieved from that day until his death in 1970 was based on a passionate belief in the existence of ‘a vast reading public for intelligent books at a low price’.

The result of his momentous vision was the birth not only of Penguin, but of the ‘paperback revolution’. Quality writing became available for the price of a packet of cigarettes, literature became a mass medium for the first time, a nation of book borrowers became a nation of book-buyers – and the very concept of book publishing was changed forever. Those founding principles – of quality and value, with an overarching belief in the fundamental importance of reading – have guided everything the company has done since 1935. Sir Allen Lane’s pioneering spirit is still very much alive at Penguin in 2005. Here’s to the next 70 years!

As is evident from this tale, the great publishing house came out with this series to commemorate 70 years of publication, in 2005. The first 20 books published by Penguin included titles like ‘A Farewell to Arms’ by Hemingway and ‘The Informer’ by Liam O’Flaherty.

Thank you Mr. Lane!

Happy New Year

Here's wishing you all good, successful and most importantly, peaceful times in the coming year!

A few lines from Dylan's 'New Morning' from the album of the same name released in 1970.

Can't you hear that rooster crowin'?
Rabbit runnin' down across the road
Underneath the bridge where the water flowed through
So happy just to see you smile
Underneath the sky of blue
On this new morning, new morning
On this new morning with you.

Cheers!

A Discovery on a Cold Evening

Shankar Jaikishen was a duo of prolific and very talented music composers who composed for over 150 Hindi movies. At one point of time, they were the highest paid music directors in the circuit and a regular feature of all Raj Kapoor banner productions.

The small town evening was cold and dull with nothing much to do. Thinking that some good Shankar-Jaikishen melodies might just brighten things up, I pushed the music DVD of Raj Kapoor songs inside the player. Half an hour later, things did brighten up with an interesting discovery and the idea for this post started taking shape in my mind.

Raga Bhairavi belongs to the Bhairavi Thaat. It is a late morning Raga, and traditionally is the last raga performed at an Indian Classical session. Shuddh Bhairavi uses all the 6 full notes in the ascending and descending order with D & E and A & B being flat. Many Hindi film composers have used this evergreen Raga to make many beautiful songs.

Out of the 11 songs that played in that half an hour, 8 were based on Raga Bhairavi.

The 8 Bhairavi laced beautiful songs were:

Awaara Hoon (Mukesh, Awaara, 1951)
Mera Joota Hai Japaani (Mukesh, Shri 420, 1955)
Sab Kucch Seekha Hamne (Mukesh, Anari, 1959)
Ramaiyya Vasta Vaiya (Manna Dey, Shri 420, 1955)
Barsaat Mein Humse Mile Tum (Lata, Barsaat, 1955)
Hawa Mein Udta Jaaye (do)
Hoton Pe Sacchai Rehti Hai (Mukesh, Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai, 1960)
Raja Ki Aayegi Baraat (Lata, Aah, 1953)

The duo had a great penchant for the Raga and used it beautifully and differently in all the above songs. Later my father, an expert on the subject of Old Hindi Film music and Indian Classical music informed me that all the songs of the movie Barsaat(1955) are set on variations of Raga Bharavi. Astounding!

Why were the masters so much in love with one particular Raga? We will never be able to get their answer to this question. According to me, perhaps it’s the robustness of the Raga because of the usage of all seven notes. The last song in the DVD was ‘Jeena Yahaan, Marna Yahaan’ sung by Mukesh from the movie Mera Naam Joker (1970). Once again set to Raga Bhairavi!

In a similar manner, the great composer of yesteryears, Roshan (grandfather of Hrithik Roshan) had his muse in Yaman, another beautiful Raga.

Today, barring AR Rehman, no other musician has the sense or inclination to use Raga Bhairavi, in its pure form and beautifully. Try listening to the intense ‘Enge Enathu Kavithai’ sung by Chitra from the movie Kandukondein Kandukondein or the little known ‘Sabak Aisa’ sung by Saadhna Sargam from the movie, Tehzeeb or the popular ‘Jiya Jale na Jale’ sung by Lata from the movie, ‘Dil Se’.

ps: Im' not a fan of Raj Kapoor. Just felt like making that clear.

The 'not so mild' winter - 2

I’m’ back to the big city from a trip to my hometown with a visit to an ancient university thrown in. I shall try to give you taste of that experience in the coming posts. First, I have to present the 2nd edition of the Delhi Winter.

Narendra enthusiastic driving skills saw us entering the gates of Dilli Haat within twenty minutes of leaving Central Delhi, despite the rush hour. Haat is a word in Hindi for a weekly village market and true to the meaning; the place has the charm and feel of a village fair.

Having heard from many about the place, I was expecting it to be a mere marketplace selling articles and goods from the different parts of rural India. And, the first look suggested the same. Two hours later I walked out of the place with a sense of appreciation and a feeling of pride for our country’s rich and superbly diverse culture. The place isn’t a mere marketplace…it’s a showcase of the skills and craft of many small, unknown and unsung artistes and craftsmen from different corners of the country. It’s a nurturing ground for such talents, a great idea and a massive effort. I couldn’t have brought Farhan to a better place and he was almost euphoric. I shared this feeling with him.

Apart from the artifacts from the many parts of India, it has stalls carrying the distinct food from the different states. We chose the authentic filter coffee from the Tamil Nadu stall. The excellent coffee went very well with the rising chill of the evening.

Once again, Farhan picked up a few things for his family while I managed with much needed key rings, made from coconut wood, an EkTaara (a one string musical instrument) and a Damroo (a percussion instrument, supposed to be the favorite of Lord Shiva). The Ektaara player was an obscure talent, playing many popular Hindi tracks on a ONE-STRINGED instrument. The melodies of Mera Joota Hai Japaani, Reshmi Salwaar Kurta Jaalidaar, Ek Do Teen, just kept flowing from one string. It was a stunning performance!

Just near the exit, a puppet show was in full swing and it held us captive for the next 20 minutes. The kids and the puppeteer were the guys having most fun. The themes of a show varied between ‘a snake-charmer unsuccessfully trying to manage a cobra’ and ‘a gallant horse-rider displaying his skills on the horse’. The last time when I saw a puppet show, I was a kid. While watching this one, I became a kid again. Mesmerized and Charmed!

The evening ended with a delicious meal at Punjabi by Nature, a restaurant recommended by an old friend and a Delhi old timer who later joined us at the joint. The Reshami Kebab was of the size of a loaf of bread and we had to use a knife to cut slices of it. It was one of the finest Kebaabs, I’ve ever tasted and we thanked the ‘Delhi friend’ for his excellent recommendation.

The long day and a great meal had made the two of us amply sedate. We said our goodbyes to the ‘Delhi friend’ and headed towards the guesthouse with Narendra. A calm and satisfied look on Farhan’s face with sleep getting ready to take over suggested that he had a good time. I smiled inside my mind and looked outside the window of the moving car.

The picture above is from the puppet show. Can you catch a fleeting glimpse of the cobra and the snake-charmer?

Wish you all a very Happy Christmas!

An announced break

I'm taking a 2 week break from this space on the account of a visit to my home-town. My apologies for doing so between a series, but I shall try to post the second edition of Delhi Winter during this period.

From the cold evening of New Delhi railway station, I will be boarding a night-train to reach the land of Buddha's Nirvana in the morning.

The 'not so mild' winter - 1

This post should have appeared a week ago but certain situations and perhaps my ennui towards writing kept it away, somewhere in the pages of my mind. With a big meeting getting postponed one more time, I thought of pulling it out and putting it here.

My friend Farhan Shaffie from the ‘Emerald Isle’ was in India for professional reasons and we caught up with each other in the early winters of the Capital. Those who know Delhi would know that early winters here is not as mild as the one I mentioned in my last post.

Between the many business meetings we managed to steal some time, an office vehicle and Narendra, the enthusiastic driver for Farhan’s ‘Dilli Darshan’(which included Tourist shopping). Actually, the prospect of this venture was quite attractive to me too as ‘Dilli’ had become very faint in my memory. Some 10 years ago, I lived in this city for a while.

Narendra had everything fixed in his mind regarding the structure of this trip and interestingly, his structure tallied with the one in my mind. We set out after putting in some good north Indian food inside our system.

Our first stop was at the ‘seat of power’ and ‘shot of history’ with the Rashtrapati Bhavan, India Gate et al. The whole area with its grand and beautiful architectural achievements of Lutyen has the powers to fill everyone with awe and that’s exactly what it did to us. Farhan’s camera was working overtime.

After a few circles around the big circular shopping arcade called the Connaught Place (popularly known as CeePee) we moved on to the famous tourist – shopping lane in the vicinity. It’s called ‘Janpath’ and is famous for fleecing the tourists. Thankfully, Farhan’s focused shopping agenda and my presence (with ‘Hindi’) saved him from getting fleeced. One walk down the lane and he was done with his shopping with an item each for all the important people back home. I picked up a pack of Darjeeling Tea for a Ceylon tea loving Chaga, another friend from the Isle. Farhan readily agreed to be the carrier.

Apples picked up from a roadside fruit-seller satiated our small evening hunger. An early darkness, typical of north Indian winters was descending on the city. Narendra was driving us to our next destination, Dilli Haat. More on that in the next post.

The picture above is of an X-Mas Greeting postcard sent to London from WAC Hostel, New Delhi in 1944.

The mild winter

Mornings are getting more and more sleep-conducive.

The onset of sun has become mild and day begins with a hazy and diffused light. Even my east-facing bedroom permits me to stay in the bed a little longer.

And when the golden blob becomes a little strong during the course of the day, it feels good in the bones to be underneath it.

Finally, when the evening comes with the leaves on the trees swaying in a calm joy, and the birds chirping ‘Homeward Bound’, you feel like going for a long walk.

The mild winter of Bombay is here.

ps: I miss the extreme winter of my hometown.

Morning Music

Like many others, I begin my day with a heavy shot of music. It plays in the background and forefront of my waking hours while I go about doing my routine activities. Yoga, Hindustan Times, Orange Pekoe, staring from my window at the newly built crows nest on the tree outside etc., while what I call as ‘Morning Music’ keeps playing in my world.

'Morning Music' because all music can’t be played at the beginning of the day, as there is a certain mood associated with mornings. Something which our very own Indian Classical gurus from the past understood clearly and composed Ragas suitable for different times of the day. I can’t imagine beginning my day with the Tom Waits album ‘Closing Time’ while I completely relish the ‘The White Album’ with its aircraft landing sound (Back in the USSR, the opening track) every time it becomes a part of my mornings.

Let me take you through the chain of melodies that I queued up for this morning.

It began with the delicate piano note of Satie’s 'First Gymnopédie'. Its gentle melody feels as if a mother is lovingly caressing a child’s head to wake her up from a good night’s slumber.

Then it moved into the brilliant three violin and a bass piece called ‘Canon in D Major’ by Pachelbel. I've already mentioned it in my earleir post and along with Gymnopédie, it has become a permanent fixture of my current being. Its slow beginning and full bodied yet gentle finale makes one ready for the day.

A change of genre happened here with Mr Neil Young coming in with songs from his brillaint early albums, ‘Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere’ (2nd album, 1969) and 'Harvest' (4th album, 1971). The master’s guitaring in ‘Down by the River’ and the honesty of poetry in ‘Heart of Gold’ is exceptional.

The old country crooner, Hank Williams came next with his melodious and simple ‘Lovesick Blues’ and ‘Cold Cold Heart’. The latter has been sung by so many other artistes including Dylan and Norah Jones but nothing beats the rawness of Hank Williams's voice.

The morning’s chain of melody ended with ‘I Feel Free’ from Fresh Cream, the fabulous debut album by Cream (1966).

I switched on BBC World to know whats happening in the chaotic state of Pakistan and the rest of the world. The channel also informed me that the first exibition of Bob Dylan’s many paintings has opened up at a museum in Chemnitz, Eastern Germany.

ps: I spent the Diwali weekend in the peaceful surroundings of Kerela. I had gone there for important personal reasons. The visit was nice and peaceful with a lot of good Malayali food (specially Fish Molly & Prawns Chilly), car rides and a boat ride thrown in. I enjoyed myself completely.

A well spent Day

While Phish wants me to write on ‘good writing’ and circumstances want me to write to my mother, I chose to write about today because I'm unable to sleep without doing so.

After seeing off my friend on a train headed towards Trivandrum from CST (popularly known as VeeTee), I thought of treating myself to my old neighborhood…the area known as ‘town’. This area was my first exposure to Bombay because of my stay at the YMCA, Colaba during the beautiful first two years in the island city.

So, I began with a walk inside the porticos of the old gothic buildings, which has a million DVD (pirated) and old books stalls. Between the many calls to buy porn DVDs from the Dhoni/John Abraham look-alikes, I ended up buying two books from these pavement people. 'Tales from Underground' (as my original copy was missing from my library) by Fyodor Dostoyevesky and a collection of funny writings by Woody Allen, called 'Without Feathers'.

Happy with the purchase and humming ‘The Wedding March (for some reason)’ by Mendelssohn, my next stop was at the institutional Tea Center next to the Curchgate Station. I sat there sipping on the excellent Darjeeling Flowery Orange Pekoe, First Flush along with some French toast, and funnies from Mr Allen’s book. ‘I wonder what happens after death. Will we be able to take showers after we die?’ he writes. The man is genuinely funny.

After relaxing for an hour at the place, I came out with a fresh mind and a pack of Apoorva Makaibari tea. My next destination was the great 'Gokul Restaurant & Bar' in Colaba to meet my brother in law, Shoaib. By now, the evening had started asking the night to replace her.

The cabdriver who gave me the ride from Churchgate to Regal was happily singing an Alaap in what felt like Raaga Bhimpalaasi (the excellent Bhajan, Allah Tero Naam, from the old movie, Hum Dono is based on this raga) to me. He was singing it very well. A quick conversation revealed that Dinkar, the cabbie has learnt Indian Classical, vocal for 5 years and loves practicing it while he is taking people here and there. When I asked him if he uses it for commercial purposes, he replied, ‘I just like doing it for my happiness and nothing else.’ I felt wonderful about meeting such a man.

The great and once again institutional Gokul was absolutely the same…guess it will always remain the same. It lives in a time warp. Smokey, No Nonsense, Quarter system, Mostly men bar (many say its a gay joint too). The gang of friends who are always there on their regular table had come. The first time I had seen them was some 8 years ago and ever since, they come there everyday. Once, even I used to go there everyday.

Shoaib and I had a good time with conversation on important and unimportant subjects. The conversations were laced with Teachers, Port and good old Gokul food. Later, we caught the cabs to our respective destinations.

Back at home, before sleeping I took a shower while Pete Dorge sang ‘Small Time Blues’ from the CD player. Contrary to the popular theory, it didn’t help me drift into a sweet slumber and here I am writing this piece.

That’s how Victoria Terminus (Vee Tee) used to look in 1908.

ps: I've started on the write-up, Phish.

Kill to Get Crimson

A week after I heard about the man’s new album, it was playing in my CD player and it has been there ever since, replacing the mesmerizing Canon in D major by Pachelbel. I’m referring to Mark Knopfler’s 5th solo album which is called ‘Kill to Get Crimson’. Just when I thought I’m ready and willing to write about it, I found this beautiful review from Rolling Stone and I had second thoughts. The magazine's review deserved a space here and so, I’m presenting it to you. It’s written by Anthony DeCurtis.

Along with occassional soundtracks and All the Roadrunning, his winning 2006 collaboration with Emmylou Harris, Kill to Get Crimson is Mark Knopfler's fifth solo album, and it's a gem. Since the 1995 breakup of Dire Straits, Knopfler has dedicated himself to making music that blends the deep resonance of traditional folk with the off-kilter edginess he brought to his former group's most trenchant songs. Knopfler is best at deftly drawn character studies -- the failed actor in "The Fizzy and the Still," the aging painter in "Let It All Go" whose passion for color gives the album its title. A recovering guitar god, Knopfler plays superbly -- check out his haunting solo on "The Scaffolder's Wife" -- but always with instinctive restraint. He's an ensemble player, nestling in among the likes of accordionist Ian Lowthian and fiddler John McCusker to summon sonic images that subtly reinforce the moods of his songs. Kill to Get Crimson, then, is at once egoless and supremely accomplished a testament to the rare talent that enables a master to say something simply and beautifully, and leave it exactly at that.

I just couldn’t help adding my bit.

The album begins with a very happy and sing-along, ‘True Love will Never Fade’ and ends with the melodious and melancholic ‘In the Sky’. I wonder why Mr DeCurtis missed out on appreciating Chris White’s haunting saxophone shadowing Mr Knopfler’s, almost wailing voice in this final track.

Thats how the album cover looks like. Its a 1958 painting by John Bratby called 'Four Lambrettas and Three Portraits of Janet Churchman'.

ps: I came up with this post despite being tagged to write something else...my apologies, Phish! It will happen one of these days.

Back to Fiction

As mentioned in the last page of the ‘The Emerald Diaries’, I’m back to reading fiction and it’s a great feeling. Despite the busy schedules of materialistic pursuits of life, I have managed to read works by three different writers in the last month and a half. All the three works gave me varying degrees of pleasure and I felt like sharing them with you.

‘No Exit and other Plays’ – Jean Paul Sartre
Having read and getting influenced by almost all the works by this master, this was the first time I was in presence of the man as a playwright. One page down the first play and once again I was marveling at the brilliance of this great thinker’s mind.

All philosophers try to address the basics of life and that’s what the 4 plays in this collection try to do. The first one, ‘No Exit’ is writer’s interpretation of hell and deals with issues like guilt, morality and suffering. Though I’d love to talk about it at length but that will work as a spoiler and so,I shall refrain from the temptation.

The other plays are about subjects like existence and need for God, differing political philosophies (with a focus on Communism) and racism. All of them expressed with the genius of Mr. Sartre’s style.

‘Reef’ – Romesh Gunasekara
I came upon this author of Sri Lankan origin, for academic purposes. His collection of short stories called ‘Monkfish Moon’ had impressed me with their simplicity of plots, eye for the detail and the easy narrative style and so I picked up this one during my recent trip to the island country.

Frankly, I had expected more from 'Reef' than what I got out of it. At a macro level it’s a tale of a country mired in political turmoil. It’s narrated from the viewpoint of an adolescent cook serving at a house with some amount of old money and one middle aged bachelor.

Once again, the simple and detailed narrative style is interesting but gets staid after a while. It was good when the writer was dealing with the short story format. One expects more substance out of a novel. But, I enjoyed the familiar sprinkling of the geographical context in the novel…a context, which has become much lovable after my recent trip to the place.

Please don’t go by my views, as the book got short listed the famous Booker awards. Pick it up and decide for yourself.

‘Disgrace’ – John Maxwell Coetzee
This one got a Booker and was one of the reasons why this South African author got the coveted Nobel Prize for Literature. Having read a collection of his essays, ‘Stranger Shores’, I knew that I was going to get immersed in some good writing and content. And this work of fiction did not disappoint me at all. Right from the first sentence onwards, the unique description in present tense gripped me completely. In spite of being a slow reader I finished the book in 3 days time. Allow me to give you it's backdrop briefly.

A Cape Town literature professor, Coetzee's central character believes that ''for a man of his age, 52, divorced, he has, to his mind, solved the problem of sex rather well.'' That's the novel's first sentence, and it tells us that David Lurie hasn't solved the problem at all. This is simply the status quo whose rupture produces a story. The commas are placed beautifully in the way that they parse out his situation, bracketing off ''to his mind'' in order to suggest the limits of his solution, his regular Thursday afternoons with Soraya of Discreet Escorts.

You should surely pick up this one to know why Mr Coetzee got a well-deserved Nobel.

But, can somebody explain why Al Gore of ‘The Inconvenient Truth’ got a Nobel for Peace…beats me!

A Good Journey

After writing my tribute to Lennon on his birthday, I realized that another entity must've completed one year of its existence. A quick check revealed that its well past the birthday. This blog, which gets its name from a Dylan track breathed life on September 22nd, 2006 with this post.

Its been a good journey so far, and the writer appreciates the attention that the blog keeps getting now and then. Many thanks!

Seashell Eyes, Windy Smile

It’s John Winston Ono Lennon’s birthday today. Had he been alive he would have been 67 years old and perhaps writing many more beautiful songs. One man’s lunacy resulted in a highly premature end to the music and poetry of one of the greatest artistes of all time.

In my opinion, Lennon recorded some of his best music during his solo career starting with the phenomenal album, 'John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band' (1970). But for the occasion, I’m going to talk about a song which he wrote and sang on the landmark double disc album by The Beatles, referred to as The White Album (1968). The song is called 'Julia'.

No other Beatle sings or plays on the recording and this is the only time that Lennon played and sang unaccompanied on a Beatles track. It was written for his mother Julia (who also died in an accident) and his wife, Yoko Ono (Yoko in Japanese means ‘child of the sea’…you will see the significance of this when you read the lyrics below)). He also drew inspiration from Kahlil Gibran’s poem ‘Sand and Foam’ for this brilliantlly soft track painting a totally surreal imagery. Travis picking (a style of picking of the guitar strings) and his dreamy, lullaby sort of voice goes on to complete the picture.

The usage, ‘Seashell eyes, Windy smile’ is one of the finest I’ve come across in popular music.

Julia
Half of what I say is meaningless

But I say it just to reach you, Julia

Julia, Julia, oceanchild, calls me

So I sing a song of love, Julia

Julia, seashell eyes, windy smile, calls me

So I sing a song of love, Julia

Her hair of floating sky is shimmering, glimmering,

In the sun

Julia, Julia, morning moon, touch me

So I sing a song of love, Julia

When I cannot sing my heart

I can only speak my mind, Julia

Julia, sleeping sand, silent cloud, touch me

So I sing a song of love, Julia

Hum hum hum...calls me

So I sing a song of love for Julia, Julia, Julia

Dave Grohl, ex-Nirvana drummer and singer/guitarist of the Foo Fighters, once said that his life would be complete if he could write a song like "Julia." For me, just listening to the song is enough.

So, at midnight I did a small celebration by playing ‘Julia’, before dozing off to golden slumbers and wanting to dream of sleeping sand and silent clouds.

The Emerald Isle Diaries - 10

While Burma continues to remain in unfortunate and shameful circumstances, I move on to the last page of the Diaries. It’s been 10 days since I flew out of the small, green island to reach the crazy and somehow lovable city of Bombay but every now and then I keep flying back to the Emerald Isle.

I arrived here with many DVDs, new clothes, tea-tins, a coffee-table book on Sri Lanka, a beautiful ‘Thank-you plaque’ of the shape of the island and a strange numbness of leaving behind a world which had almost become home...a good home. In fact, I had the chance of making this world a proper home but I denied it for reasons known to me and perhaps to the unhappiness of my friends at the Isle. The numbness stayed with me till the familiar quarters of my home and meeting the people I missed cured it.

Numbness aside, I have returned a happier man from the Isle. The visit to the country was perhaps like a visit to a counsellor. I talked about myself to new people without any inhibition because they showed genuine interest in knowing me. When they asked, ‘Did you sleep well last night?’ you knew from their expression and the tone of voice that they are really interested in knowing about my comfort levels. And, I had just met them. Today, they have become good friends and will always remain so.

I also saw myself going back to reading fiction despite not being in that ‘Holiday State of Mind’…I was in Sri Lanka on work. Perhaps it’s got to do with the ‘Peaceful State of Mind’, which the country gave me. I finished reading ‘No Exit and Other Plays’ by one of my favorites, Sartre. I hadn’t read any of his plays before and I enjoyed them completely.

I may have to go back to the Isle in a while but till then, as I mentioned in the first paragraph, I shall keep going there every now and then between the sips of Ceylon Tea sieved through Chaga’s thoughtful gift.

The photograph above is of the good friends I made at The Emerald Isle. From left to right: Farhan, Thiyagi and Chaga.

A pagebreak in protest

I'm breaking the flow of my Diaries to show my disgust at whats happening in Myanmar. Peaceful demonstration by the Buddhist monks in favour of democracy is being curbed by the ruling military junta in a violent fashion. 3 monks have been killed, 100s put behind bars and now the military is storming the monastries.

Its shameful!

The Emerald Isle Diaries - 9

It’s my last evening at the Isle and this is the last post from the Isle. But this isn’t the last page from the diary. I have to write a few more pages on it and that will happen from India.

The good friend arrived much later than the expected time due to some technical snag with the aircraft. And, as usual, much has happened since then. Planned, unplanned and foiled plans. Let me tell you about a couple of them.

Friday evening brought in a major experience of the ‘Rock’ side of Sri Lanka. Chaga took us to meet some of her friends who are into ‘real rock’ music and the two of us were delighted way beyond our expectations. She had mentioned about it earlier and I had thought it will be a bunch of guys having some fun together. What we experienced was a bunch of highly professional and accomplished musicians inside a dark and great sounding studio, having some fun together.

The band is called ‘Sage Merlyn’ and it consists of 3 fat and happy brothers. One with his awesome throaty (Louis Armstrongish) vocals, another at the lead guitar with extremely some extremely taut guitaring and the third one at the keyboards. When we waked in, they had just started playing a solid rock rendition of ‘Sandman’ (America), which is originally on the softer side. As the evening unfurled, guys kept joining them on different instruments and it became one long trip for everyone who was present there, including us. The famous Sri Lankan Arrack in the red color case kept going down our throats as the atmosphere kept going high.

They sang their renditions of some great tracks but what bowled me over completely was how they turned a sentimental number like ‘Diamonds and Rust’ (Joan Baez) in a powerful rock number. I’ve never been to a better night-club in my life. A couple of hours later, I had joined them on vocals for a few numbers by Cat Stevans and the personal favorite ‘Dust in the Wind’ (Kansas).

The early morning trip to Sigiriya Fort and Minnariya Tank (a natural reservoir) forced us to leave the music and those three happy and high brothers.

The long awaited trip to Sigiriya / Minnariya Tank began at 7:45 am from the hotel lobby. Sigiriya is an ancient fortress built by an insecure King on the top of a mountain and Minnariya Tank is a natural reservoir famous for its elephants. Both these places are close to each other and the plan was to cover them both with one night’s stay at the guest house near the fortress.

The trip ended in the hotel lobby at 10 am of the same day and the stupidity of the driver assigned to us by the car-hire company was responsible for it. I don’t want to get into the frustrations of those 2 hours over here. I had to cancel the trip to get some peace of mind for the two of us.

Since then, it has largely been a shopping based weekend with a dip in the pool. Magical Laphroig, purchse of some good DVDs and India’s smashing victory over Australia has been the high points.

I haven’t given up on the plans climbing up the fort and going to the reservoir. It shall happen in my next trip to the island, which will be soon.

The photograph above is of the vocalist of Sage Merlyn.

The Emerald Isle Diaries - 8

My experience with the famous Ceylon tea began as a let down and I mentioned it in one of my earlier pages. Taj Samudra has Orange Pekoe in their menu but it’s absent from their kitchen. Chaga, my colleague came to my rescue with a pack of BOP (Broken Orange Pekoe) belonging to the famous Mlesna (pronounced Melesna) Tea Estate and more importantly a small metallic sieve. Now, I brew my own tea inside the comforts of my room and the mornings have become beautiful. Sipping on orange pekoe while staring aimlessly at the sea with ‘Pet Sounds’ as the background score is a great way to begin the day.

Sri Lankans consume a lot of sugar in their cuppa and it can become very frustrating at times, especially when you are used to half a teaspoon of sugar. After the first couple of days, the woman who is responsible for tea / coffee, in my office had to be asked to give sugar separately. Her name is Shakuntala and she is always ready with three questions, whenever she sees me. They are, Tea? Coffee? or Water? She lost everyone she had in the Tsunami of 2004 and she is always full of smile and service.

What we call as ‘black tea’ is referred to as ‘plain tea’ over here and it’s more popular than the one with milk. One can expect the quality of this tea to be usually good (if you can discount the amount of sugar in it) even in the cheapest looking joint.

The hill station of Nuwara Eliya, near Kandy is one of the major tea producing zones. History suggests that the production of tea in Ceylon began after a deadly fungus destroyed most of the coffee crop on the island. The coffee plantation owners realized that they needed to diversify. This was around 1860s.

Though its of fine quality, I’m yet to taste anything close to the Darjeeling variety of Orange Pekoe. But, Shakuntala’s smile and readiness to serve makes up for it.

I will be getting samples of the Ceylon Tea for some of you and then you can give me your opinions. For now, a good friend from India is expected any moment. Charmed by the Diaries, he is flying down to be here for the weekend.

The photograph above is of Chagas gift. The kettle belongs to the Hotel.

The Emerald Isle Diaries - 7

Arnold is the name of an excellent singer in Colombo. His rendition of ‘Wind beneath my wings’ at the popular Karaoke Bar called ‘Sopranos’ keeps ringing in my ears. But, Arnold is tired…tired and bored of Sri Lanka. He says that nothing ever happens in Sri Lanka….everybody just goes to the nightclubs on Wednesdays and Weekends like a ritual…that’s all that they do and will keep doing. With my 3 weeks of stay in the Isle, I can see some truth in his statement. That night, while leaving the Karaoke bar, I felt a little sad for Arnold. I still do.

The musical landscape of Sri Lanka has different types. Type one is what they call as ‘Baaila’ and has its origins in Portugul, hence it has similar melodies, rhythm and structure as the Goan music. Happy, dance-worthy and easy! This sort of music is equally popular at the up-market night-clubs as well as a street side shop in the upcountry.

Type two is the film songs from old Sri Lankan movies and interestingly, most of them are set on the tunes of old and popular Hindi film songs. If you are into old hindi film songs, you can hear the familiar melody of a ‘Teri Aankhon Ke Siva Duniya Mein’ or a ‘Koi Saaghar Dil Ko Behlaata Nahin’ to the unfamiliar Sinhalese lyrics. In fact, when I started humming the Hindi lyrics of the song playing at a local restaurant, my Sri Lankan colleagues got very fascinated.

Type three is what plays in the cool night-clubs of Colombo. Mostly English and can be a mix of retro as well as contemporary. Due to Thiyagi’s connections, I managed to witness a local band selection competition and I heard some talented guys. Of course they were playing the harder stuff.

Type four is of the Classical variety and is a mix of North Indian and Carnatic style of classical music. Frankly, I'm yet to hear anything from this genre anywhere in Sri Lanka, but I’m told that its there.

Type five would be the current songs from Bollywood. SRK, Aishwarya Rai, Hrithik Roshan are popular and young kids download this material on their mobile phones. These kids, usually aren’t the western night-clubs sorts.

The Japanese muse, Karaoke is big in Colombo and almost everybody who visits a Karaoke Bar is a decent singer. But, to my extreme discomfort they all invariably end up singing the great MUSH tracks. MLTR, Air Supply, Elton John etc are some of the frequently attempted artistes. AS one 'Neil Diamond' loving (to my happiness) Sri Lankan explained, ‘Sri Lankans are a mushy race.’

More on the famous Ceylon tea in the coming pages of the Diaries.

The photograph here is from the insides of Sopranos. The singers shown here are Menuka and Sasha. Good singers but once again, they sing MUSH!

The Emerald Isle Diaries - 6

It began with serendipity and ended with an empty town.

The road from Colombo to Galle (pronounced “Gaul”) is sea-laced and worth a few photographs. Chaga, my cool colleague and friend was my companion for this work-cum-pleasure trip. Work for her and pleasure, for me. As we began to approach the outskirts of the region, the signs of the terrible Tsunami of 2004 started showing in the ruins of skeletal houses. Galle was one of the worst hit regions.

The village where we had work was about 40 km away from Galle and reaching there was like serendipity. We had no idea that it will be tucked in one of the tea valleys of the southern Sri Lanka…the Watawala tea estate which produces the famous brand Zesta. The weather, with its light drizzle was giving perfect accompaniment to the place. After dropping Chaga at the place where she had to be along with the people from the research agency, I did a trip of the ‘Village Green’ and the tea estates. The charming number by 'The Kinks' was running in my system while the drizzle continued. My love for tea added to the pleasure.

The journey from Village Green to ‘many many years back in time’ took me an hour. The drizzle had stopped by then.

History suggests that Galle is the Biblical city of Tarshish from where King Solomon drew Ivory, Peacock and other valuables. The modern history of Galle started in 1505, when the first Portuguese ship was driven here by a storm. In the course of time the port city saw three different rules….Portuguese, Dutch and finally the British. It was the Dutch who constructed the present and 90 acre Fort of Galle in the year 1663, and this fort was my reason to visit Galle.

Once inside the fort, I was transposed into another world. The city inside is one of the world’s best-preserved colonial landscape with its understated, sleepy charm. Its low-rise streets are lined with old churches and Dutch colonial villas, many of which retain original street-facing verandahs, their white plaster now stripped by sea breezes and weathered to a peeling grey and yellow. Interestingly, the city was left unharmed by the Tsunami.

Amongst the many churches inside, stands the very atmospheric Dutch Reformed Church. Built in 1755, its one of the finest Christian architecture that I’ve seen. With its enormous canopy over the pulpit and the attractive, ancient organ, the place saw me spending an hour inside it. The floor is covered in ornately carved memorials to the city’s Dutch settlers in English as well as Dutch, illustrating the brief life expectancy of the island’s early colonists. Although I’m a non-believer, I found calmness inside the ancient structure. Perhaps, it’s my love for all things old.

The day ended with me witnessing a town becoming absolutely empty in less than 10 minutes…an experience which will remain with me for the rest of my life.

Powerful earthquakes had hit Indonesia, resulting in a Tsunami scare. Having a disastrous prior experience, the people of Galle started running for their dear lives. Seeing them, the scare crept in within me too. Language problems with the driver of my vehicle and inability to get in touch with Chaga (phone networks had stopped working) who was still at the Village Green, just added to the confusion. Thankfully, I had the presence of mind to ask the driver to put on the radio and the guys at the station were doing a good job. They were repeatedly announcing that it’s just an scare and there isn’t going to be Tsunami and my driver kept repeating 'NO TSUNAMI'. Guess it was more to calm himself than me.

Rest of the evening was about the drive back to Colombo and nestling inside the hot bath-tub. Chaga managed to come back with the people from research agency in their vehicle. Being part of a Tsunami scare in the Galle region of Sri Lanka isn't an everyday affair.

The first photograph is of the beautiful dutch church from inside and the second one is of a street in the fort city.

The Emerald Isle Diaries - 5

Largely immersed in work for the last few days, I’ve been neglecting the Diaries. So, woke up early today to make up for it. The morning ocean looks calm and easy, as if it has had a good night’s rest. BBC informs that Nawaz Sharif has been bundled off to Jeddah from Islamabad airport. That nation will always be in a state of chaos, I guess…pretty bad for the common citizens!

A week before coming to the Isle, I quit smoking…something which I’ve never attempted in the last 15 years of my smoking career. And, barring two occasions of temptations, I’ve been easily successful from staying away from the stick. One of them was the evening at Anuradhapura, mentioned in previous post. The next one happened at one of the restaurants of Taj Samudra.

I usually take my evening meals inside the comfort and convenience of my room, but this particular evening I decided to step out and check the eateries of the hotel. ‘Navaratna’, the popular Indian restaurant looked awfully crowded, driving me to the place next door, The Steak & Grill House. In a dramatic contrast, the place had nobody inside except a lady sitting on the pianoforte and softly playing ‘Lara’s theme’ while a couple of waiters watched her. The lady was playing quiet well. I had found my place!

In the course of the evening, she played a lot of my requests, and except for the extremely difficult ‘Moonlight Sonata’ they were all rendered very well, the best one being the peaceful ‘Air on the G String’ by Bach with its intertwining harmony and melody. Bordeux was great, as usual and the food perfectly went along with it. I text messaged to my friend in India,

“She has music in her fingers
While, I have a fork in mine.”

And suddenly, the evening felt incomplete without the white stick between my fingers. I asked the waiter for one and he replied that I will have to pick up a complete pack.

So, I remain a non-smoker. And you know what…it feels nice and healthy.

I left the pleasure-filled evening by thanking the lady who had made it so. I was humming the difficult sonata in my mind, trying to get it right.

With tomorrows dawn, I shall be headed towards the ancient port city of Galle in the southern part of the Isle. Its famous for its time-warped streets lined with historic Dutch villas. More on that in the next page of the Diaries.

The Emerald Isle Diaries - 4

In their day to day living, Sri Lankans follow the principles of Zen Buddhism. No matter what religion they have in their surnames and faith, they follow the art of Zen. Zen teaches you to be mindful and aware of your surroundings and that’s how the people of the Isle are.

They will always keep the door open for the next person, they will always ask you if you slept well, they will try to sense every expression on your face to assess what you want; they will listen to whatever you are saying and then they also listen to the unsaid. That is Zen!

The Sri Lankan hospitality is astounding, almost magical and motherly. Back home in the city of Mumbai this kind of experience is unheard of. The last time I felt like this was with my parents as a child and with certain good friends.

With frequent halts for conversations along with some extremely sweet Ceylon tea, we reached the UNESCO heritage city of Anuraadhapura by the evening. It’s a town full of Buddhist history and ruins from the 4th century BC. Legend has it that it was the fabled capital of the Asura King Ravana in the Ramayana.

Smirnoff, bought at the local Cargill superstore gave us company for the night at a local resort called Nuwarawera Rest House. Sitting next to a lit pool and a 'witchy looking' tree, we did full justice to the famous brand of Vodka and the evening. A black cat kept walking around our feet. We talked about various superstitions, clients, marriages, love and personal philosophies.

The next morning saw us turning into tourists. Sri Lanka's largest Stupa called the Jetavanaramaya belittled me with its size and grandeur. At a height of over 400 feet (120m), it is the tallest stupa in the world, largest brick building ever built, and 3rd largest structure in the ancient world, after the two largest of the Great Pyramids of Giza. Next stop was at the Mahabodhi tree, which is said to be the sapling from the original Bodhi tree from Bodh Gaya, a town in Bihar. Interestingly, Bodh Gaya happens to be the city of my origins too. Sadly, this important temple is very ill-maintained. Some more ruins from the BC era, around the city and we were on our way back to Colombo. A little halt at a charming, seaside village of fishermen was beautiful. Because of the paucity of time, we excluded the famous Sigiriya Fort and Elephant Sanctuary for another day.

By the time, I reached the hotel, I was extremely exhausted. A couple of drinks from the Red Label gifted by my friend Mr Shaffie proved to be of great help. It put me to a sweet and dreamless sleep.

Today was pretty critical and successful in the context of work.

And thats how the world's tallest Stupa, completely made of bricks, looks like. Notice that its top is broken. It was discovered in that state in early 1900s.