tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57584691031137462202024-03-19T04:48:11.591-04:00......epilogueAnirban and Sujata's Corner in the WebAnirban and Sujatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17443007176123243191noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758469103113746220.post-55785430365236536682023-12-30T20:21:00.001-05:002024-01-07T15:08:51.257-05:00<p> <span style="font-size: x-large;">A Mensch at Cinchona Waterfalls</span></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGEDAtM6l2m1OKyRsOEe8_z9bQ0c-84AjNtLTa92EPdPIVw-AT1whYczhV6eUC-F316JdwXjj6GHHQd7ptyYpT94jHIDHZGkzH-EJMOqXN5VMbN-zuMaQvNYlVSpgrRBcEFvl_DfGkhP493MbihxA5l9pIYl6zx9BlzhGpFChhk_1TNNC4fqTfKO0OVdwe/s4000/20231224_162828.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGEDAtM6l2m1OKyRsOEe8_z9bQ0c-84AjNtLTa92EPdPIVw-AT1whYczhV6eUC-F316JdwXjj6GHHQd7ptyYpT94jHIDHZGkzH-EJMOqXN5VMbN-zuMaQvNYlVSpgrRBcEFvl_DfGkhP493MbihxA5l9pIYl6zx9BlzhGpFChhk_1TNNC4fqTfKO0OVdwe/s320/20231224_162828.jpeg" width="240" /></a></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">In life we need a mensch. They often are the known and the anticipated – a caring father, a kind colleague or a supportive supervisor. But occasionally, they show up at unexpected corners and sweep us off our feet. Our guide Alan at the Cinchona Waterfalls trail was one such mensch, the only one I have met at Costa Rica and for that matter, in a very long time. It was our second day in Costa Rica and my wife had clearly planned a meticulously detailed trip. As first-timers in the country, on our list was the not-to-be-missed La Paz waterfalls. For the two of us, this was a celebratory trip but even with her much less frugal standards of spending, particularly while travelling, she was not convinced that the $50/person cost for the hourlong trail to see La Paz up close, was really worth it. It was an overcast day and after our customary photo from the bridge in front of La Paz, it was quite a tug to come to a collective decision that we were not going to fall for that obvious tourist-trap of a trail. Cinchona was another choice - somewhat nearby, yet quite obviously not such a prized destination. By the time we drove past the sign board in front of Cinchona, it had started raining. My wife, who is always thrown to the front for such conversations, went up to Alan and found out that Cinchona would be cheaper - $20/person with an offer for the kids to go free because of the low turnout during the rain. Nevertheless, the rain proved to be too much of a deterrent and we decided to let it go as well. Even over the relatively short conversation, Sujata clearly had developed a connection to Alan, and we stopped to let him know that we would not be doing the trail. Yet, it was quite apparent that she really would have liked to do the Cinchona trail. Grudgingly, we turned back and started on our way back to our B&B and magically, as if almost in response to her yearnings, the moody tropical rain stopped abruptly. It was time for a call and I suggested very strongly, that we all go back and try Cinchona out.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">There was only one other car and Alan was clearly happy that we were back. This was an informal enough place that given the low turnaround, he was already planning to shut shop. So we were going to be the last customers. After the forms and the signatures, we were about to head down and Alan said, to my mild surprise, that he was going to come along with us for a bit to show us the trail. Right then, the older couple who went down before us came up and my wife asked them, as she almost always does , “So how was the trail ?” The question was clearly thrown not with the expectation of a critical analytical evaluation of the trail, but rather with a hope for some encouragement. The old man turned to us and said ´”Oh, it´s very hard ! There are parts where there is nothing on one side and if you fall, you could die”, and then moved casually by us. Alan clearly sensed the angst in us and when my wife asked him, “ Is it really all that challenging ? This man seemed to suggest so”, he had a smile of reassurance and brushed our concerns aside. It was not the air of someone who laughs at your worry because they couldn´t care less, but that of a comrade who lets you know that they have your back.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB9bVwm7VSPVf-7PbWetrKnOytqsOEZmYIWoRVx0nF7lagq4PtxIEKEMlB7Vhl020A737IW64bfAlGduIgOtUKroQKVDOPuIeCRr2Q8Il-oVfCaRrKXuyUel8e9CzxbHHlY0Pahfpf73JTbLB2SSU_aTo6x0lj5pHfBK6Hsx3h1NrKg1vS0NtVwc2qj3NU/s4000/20231224_162918.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB9bVwm7VSPVf-7PbWetrKnOytqsOEZmYIWoRVx0nF7lagq4PtxIEKEMlB7Vhl020A737IW64bfAlGduIgOtUKroQKVDOPuIeCRr2Q8Il-oVfCaRrKXuyUel8e9CzxbHHlY0Pahfpf73JTbLB2SSU_aTo6x0lj5pHfBK6Hsx3h1NrKg1vS0NtVwc2qj3NU/s320/20231224_162918.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I am no habitual hiker and Cinchona is definitely the most challenging hike I have ever done. It was more so because I was not prepared and it had rained before, making our steps, sometimes down steep slopes, less certain. Yet, the raw natural beauty around us, Alan´s obvious care and ownership for the ecosystem and his connection with it, and his deep knowledge that he shared with us freely, made it also the most memorable trail I have ever done in my life. The tropical forests in Costa Rica are called cloud forests , that distinguishes from rain forests, for a good reason. The low lying cloud constantly dispersing through the forest creates an environment that leaves a distinct footprint on the flora and fauna. Together with the rather quiet surroundings on this rainy day created an almost surreal mystique filled ambience around us.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">There were clearly parts where my wife or I would have given up, had Alan not been there with us, including a stretch where we had to use a rope and step backwards, effectively climbing down. He went ahead of us, did not need any support during most of the stretch and yet it never seemed that he was trying to show off his brawns or skills. He was amidst his natural habitat, a place where he is at his deepest level of comfort. He has a good native sense of humour – after showing an epiphyte which grows on branches of trees and looks like the top of a pineapple, and explaining its difference from a parasite, he smiled and said to me, “That is a very unsafe place to stand because they can break and fall down anytime and it can even kill you depending on how big they are”, and pointed to the branches right above where I was standing.</span></p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQFmgRpG4R66Xty8Ji_PYIm01Baok4gLMJwiqPCZ9EQMU7TDPZWYnyufCJMEtiRtTKYodC9dJtKHeTHbDD8gjxVJsS9FsvpLZzlH9P-nfR8bu7khbmBBOiTVuiRT3p3yuwRL_kSVdV7N3bJOPKS7X1mmRV24psutNoxRlBRVMiWtabWO4O2L9FCYYn0N63/s4000/20231224_142552.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQFmgRpG4R66Xty8Ji_PYIm01Baok4gLMJwiqPCZ9EQMU7TDPZWYnyufCJMEtiRtTKYodC9dJtKHeTHbDD8gjxVJsS9FsvpLZzlH9P-nfR8bu7khbmBBOiTVuiRT3p3yuwRL_kSVdV7N3bJOPKS7X1mmRV24psutNoxRlBRVMiWtabWO4O2L9FCYYn0N63/s320/20231224_142552.jpeg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-size: medium;">Menschs don´t stay with us all along. They gently support us when we need them the most and when we are ready, they let us go and be on our own. A time came inevitably when Alan had to leave us to continue the trail while he headed back up. This was way farther than what any other casual caretaker of the place would have come and by now, we had gotten used to his company, his wisdom and his fact-filled tidbits about the nature around us. Yet, we had to move on and so did he. But he left us at a time and place when we felt confident enough to trudge along. Our trail ended in a wondrous view of Cinchona Waterfalls and the best part was that we were all on our own, with no one else in sight. Good things don´t last long and the dreaded drizzle was back, prompting us to start our hike back. The upward trail was somewhat easier and with the nuggets of wisdom and advice from Alan, we soon found ourselves at a branching point where we could either make our way back to the starting point, or hike down another trail to see another waterfalls. Feeling empowered and emboldened by then, we proceeded down to the second waterfalls. My wife and I could not get to the closest point of approach but our sons did, and as a family, we could not have felt more triumphant at the end of the day. </span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Unsurprisingly, parting ways with Alan after we came back up was not easy. There were progressively shorter pieces of conversation, at the end of each of which we thought we were done but then quickly found a different topic to latch onto. The next day when we were leaving our first station in Costa Rica, we found an excuse to visit La Paz again and then my sons wanted to bid goodbye to Alan before heading out. He was clearly happy to see us again and despite a busier time, inferring from the number of cars parked in front of the entrance, graciously spent a few minutes chatting with us, although we were no more prospective customers by then. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">We are at the tail end of our Costa Rica trip and have had many discussions comparing all the trails we have done over the last several days, thanks to my older son, who is obsessed with ranking based prioritization of things in life. As we have travelled past volcanoes and cloud forests, the answers have kept evolving. Yet, when it gets to the trail component of the experience, Cinchona still reigns far and high above all the rest and we all agree that had it been not for our mensch who showed us the path, our answers might not have been so unanimous.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">As we give up more and more information to statistics driven data mining that becomes better and better at “figuring” us out, we part ways with more and more of our private, personal self, which only we have access to. Many many years from now, there will likely be individualized guides at Cinchona, perhaps not human, that would draw information from us strewn all over the clouds and would present us with the mensch we have been looking for all our lives. By then, Allen will perhaps retire; or not, because his advice was to keep exercising the mind and body to stay fit, and away from ageing and he was clearly at the top of his game. But there may still be a few old customers who would come back to Cinchona and prefer a less perfect Alan than a bastardized, machine-improvised version of him. </span></p><div><br /></div>Anirban and Sujatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17443007176123243191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758469103113746220.post-29951084420584852942023-07-22T17:10:00.009-04:002024-01-07T15:20:04.422-05:00<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><u>Manzilat - in search of a destination</u></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;">I first visited Manzilat on a sultry summer afternoon. For many years now, my aspirations and my achievements during my trips back home have been at an eternal phase lag. This means that I first heard of Manzilat at least four "visit equivalents" back. As such, this would have been four years ago. However, the pandemic added a constant term to the phase lag - I had been waiting to go to Manzilat for a good six years by now. Nevertheless, these aspirations, a large part of which amount to visiting restaurants I have never been to, end up in two broadly different classes of outcomes - either the expectations are in more or less reasonable resonance with the experience, making me even more eager for the subsequent visit; or there is a destructive interference between the expectation and the reality, which Americans call a "Meh" ! Manzilat was an outlier in this landscape to begin with. Manzilat, even from the beginning, caused a rather sharp polarization of opinions - a large number of my friends and relatives clearly loved it and couldn´t wait to go back for a second and third time. A smaller number not only couldn´t care less, but they also went to a significant extent in elaborating why it was not such a big deal and why better experiences might have been had at other venues. This, in itself is not so uncommon but more recently, a number of fans had become disappointed from their latest culinary excursions at Manzilat. A trusted source alleged that earlier, the proprietor was able to engaged experienced cooks who made a difference. However, of late, particularly during the pandemic, many of these trusted comrades left, forcing her to fall back on local slum dwellers, who she had to train and the quality of the offering had to suffer as a consequence. My expectations about Manzilat thus<span> became a continuum, almost like the proverbial Schrodinger´s Cat - the encounter would define what the expectation was to begin with. </span>It is against this backdrop that I suddenly decided on a whim to give it a try for lunch, given that Manzilat´s is about a 15 minutes´ walk from my residence.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>No matter who you talk to, a convergent point of agreement about Manzilat is that you need to make a reservation. In apprehension of this, I had tried to establish a line of communication almost right after I landed at Kolkata, through WhatsApp, inquiring about how long ahead of time did we have to make the reservation. Fatimaji was surprisingly responsive, given that she runs a one-woman managerial show, assuring me that a couple of days´ notice would be sufficient. However, on this summer afternoon, when I decided well past noon that I was going to try my luck, I hadn´t made any reservations. Most of my culinary excursions in Kolkata these days are spent over worrying whether my kids would enjoy them, or not. On this day, they were away on a trip with the rest of my family and I was, after a very long time in Kolkata, a free bird - a feeling I hadn´t experienced in a rather long time. I tried my luck at sending a WhatsAppp message, inquiring if they would have a table for a lone diner for lunch but clearly, my expectations about the speed of response was over estimated. Nevertheless, being completely free on my own , I started walking towards the restaurant under the watchful eye of a summer sun, which was playing a cat and mouse game with the clouds, while I navigated</span><span> through the busy traffic and pedestrians around Ruby hospital. Just about five minutes away from my destination, I saw a message on my WhatsApp - "if it is for one person, we have space. Please mention your name" .</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Manzilat is on a the terrace of a three-storey building and from everything I had heard, I was expecting to be seated on the terrace. Surprisingly, as I made my way through the door, I realized that a space somewhere away from the open terrace was being readied for me. By this time, the sky was overcast and although there was evidently perceptible humidity in the air, there was no scorching sun shining directly on us. Moreover, Manzilat has sturdy overhead shades, offering protection from the direct heat of the summer sun. So, I asked my waitress, adorning a nose piercing and with a disarming smile, if I could sit outside and if she would mind turning the fan on. She was quite convinced, as I could see, that it was a temporary muse and that I would retire inside as soon as the space was ready. So, after a good ten minutes or so, when she returned and told me that the table was ready and when I requested to continue to sit outside, it took her by surprise and she kindly reminded that the heat might become bothersome. By this time, I had sensed the magic of a meal under the open skies of Kolkata where I could spread my eyes across the tops of the buildings, but where I was not so high as to seem disconnected from the pulse of the city. So, I insisted, borrowing a bit of my American "know it all" confidence, that I would like to sit outside for the entire meal. Although I don´t know for sure but I wonder if she chuckled within, betting an unknown bet that I would regret the decision by the end of the meal.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivdu0QT3ynOBoZWuH51fSQHUi8HdMaV6unzE0puAn0F-kI8NbjrJlMriaLuMt1rjnBm_tWu5YWolmExiALt81LdA_rkpjAOukjX1JOvQqUUE7VIexSOExA6wSggA8jO5ZJAjaLN-Q8EWNbEKXIb_gbyvCeQU4OKA-tdRtA4FjUIVT-38JSINACLVv9CXCF/s640/IMG_6290.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivdu0QT3ynOBoZWuH51fSQHUi8HdMaV6unzE0puAn0F-kI8NbjrJlMriaLuMt1rjnBm_tWu5YWolmExiALt81LdA_rkpjAOukjX1JOvQqUUE7VIexSOExA6wSggA8jO5ZJAjaLN-Q8EWNbEKXIb_gbyvCeQU4OKA-tdRtA4FjUIVT-38JSINACLVv9CXCF/s320/IMG_6290.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Very many reviewers have complained that the service at Manzilat is slow but I did not find it to be so. It will be hard for me to dissect whether that was because I was overprepared but in any case, when the complimentary "Khus ka Sharbat" appeared, I was still revelling in my view of the late afternoon Kolkata sky away from the skyscrapers. Contrary to what some of the reviewers had said, the Sharbat was not cloying and was rather refreshing, perhaps because I was quite hungry by this time. For some unknown reason, I had decided that the biryani, which would have been the only thing I could order, had I chose to do so, would not enable me to get a good sampling of all that Manzilat had to offer. Nevertheless, when the waitress asked me if I wanted anything other than their Ulta Paratha and Galauti Kabab, I</span><span> had to make a real effort not to add the biryani to the order. Anticipating a long wait, I let myself get lost in the solitary view of a summer Kolkata afternoon sky, by then stealthily changing shades under the layer of a cloud while the sounds of the streets underneath grew from a subdued mid afternoon laziness to the humming hustle bustle of the afternoon rush hour. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Halfway into folding the Galauti Kabab systematically with the two parathas that I ordered, I realized that I desperately needed to make more of the experience and to let my sensual experience linger, which by then was well fed by the gastronomic delight and reinforced by the visual sensations. So when the waitress appeared again, I ordered a Rezala and one more paratha. That it would be a Chicken Rezala rather than Mutton threw me off but it was decidedly delicious - full bodied in flavour, not overly spicy and the chicken literally melting in my mouth. But how do you expect a prediabetic Bong to stop at that ? So, I had to order what I consider to be an acid taste of all places that serve Mughlai cuisine - a Firni. The Firni at Manzilat is outstanding - not overly sweet, with the right proportion of garnishing and of a truly exquisite taste. In hindsight, given how few components go into making Firni, this is a rather nontrivial achievement !</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">So my dear friend, if you are bored with the air-conditioned, tailored, artificially lit and sometimes crowded dining experience in Kolkata, I suggest a departure. Go to Manzilat on a lazy summer afternoon when the heat may not be so piercing. Have a meal outside on the terrace and do ponder about the nawabs of Awadh who had to leave their dear abodes, that they held close to their hearts, and that they attempted to recreate while struggling to find new roots in our city. What might have gone through their minds as they lazed under the summer sky, munching a paratha with a serving of kabab, and thinking about all that they had left behind ? </span></p><p><em style="box-sizing: inherit;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Jab chhod chale Lucknow nagari, kahe haal ke hum par kya guzari</span></em></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">As I sat on the terrace of Manzilat that afternoon, my yearning for all that I had left as home twenty four years ago, were likely not so different from the forefathers of Fatimaji, who were desperately trying to settle down in Kolkata as the country roiled in a historical turmoil. So, when I left my table, bade goodbye to Fatimaji and my waitress, I knew one thing for sure - I would be back again to pick up the threads right where I left them as I cast a longing look at the Kolkata skies from the terrace before climbing down the stairs, to be onto the streets again.</span></p>Anirban and Sujatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17443007176123243191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758469103113746220.post-10405504791625588702022-04-30T11:35:00.001-04:002022-04-30T11:35:38.202-04:00<p><br /></p><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="5ff9" data-offset-key="3ehae-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(228, 230, 235); color: #e4e6eb; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="3ehae-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="3ehae-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">গোরো কি না কালো কি </span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="5ff9" data-offset-key="ai48s-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(228, 230, 235); color: #e4e6eb; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="ai48s-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="ai48s-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="5ff9" data-offset-key="f60q-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(228, 230, 235); color: #e4e6eb; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="f60q-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="f60q-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">বাপি লাহিড়ীর সংগীতজীবনে একটি সুদির্নিষ্ট বিভাজিকা ছিল। তার দ্বিতীয় অধ্যায়ের সঙ্গে আমাদের কৈশোরেরও শুরু। সেই সময়ের কলকাতায় গান শোনার অনুরণন ব্যক্তিগত হলেও গানের অধিকার ব্যক্তিসীমিত ছিল না। চায়ের দোকানের রেডিও, ক্যাসেটের দোকানের স্পিকার থেকে গান ভেসে এসে ছড়িয়ে যেত চারিদিকে, মিলে যেত শহরের আওয়াজের সঙ্গে। গান শোনা এখনকার মতো স্মার্টফোন, হেডফোন, স্পটিফাই নির্ভর ছিল না। সেই গানের মধ্যে যেমন অনুপ জলোটার ভজন থাকত, তেমন সন্ধ্যা মুখোর গানও থাকত। সে গান না শুনে উপায় ছিল না এবং কখনো রাসবিহারী এভিনিউ ধরে হাঁটবো কিন্তু আমার পছন্দের গান শুনবো, চারিদিকের শব্দ বাদ দিয়ে, এমন ভাবনা মাথায়ও আসে নি। জনপ্রিয়তার লড়াইয়ে প্রত্যেক বছরের বাংলা হিন্দি সিনেমা, আধুনিক গান মায় রবীন্দ্রসংগীতের নানান ক্যাসেটের মধ্যে বিজেতা কে, তার অঘোষিত ফল অনিবার্য জানা যেত দুর্গাপুজো এলে। পুজো তখন শুরু হতো সপ্তমীর সকালেই। কিন্তু ষষ্ঠীর বিকেল থেকে প্যান্ডেল প্যান্ডেলে হাতেগোনা খানকয়েক ক্যাসেটের গানই শহর জুড়ে বাজত। আমার প্রত্যেক বছর পুজোর স্মৃতির সঙ্গে তাই এই গানগুলো ওতপ্রোত জড়িয়ে আছে। সেই রকমই এক পুজো জুড়ে ছিল বাপি লাহিড়ীর সংগীতজীবনের দ্বিতীয় অধ্যায়ের এক সিনেমার গান - ডিস্কো ড্যান্সার। </span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="5ff9" data-offset-key="7oem0-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(228, 230, 235); color: #e4e6eb; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="7oem0-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="7oem0-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="5ff9" data-offset-key="f60l2-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(228, 230, 235); color: #e4e6eb; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="f60l2-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="f60l2-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">পুজোর দিনগুলোতে সকাল বেলা নতুন ভাঁজভাঙা হাফ প্যান্ট আর কড়কড়ে জামা পড়ে ক্যাপ ফাটানো থেকে রাত্রিবেলা বাবা মার হাত ধরে ভিড় ঠেলে প্রতিমা দেখা, সব কিছুর মধ্যেই এই গানগুলো বাজত ক্লান্তিহীন। সব প্যান্ডেলের প্রতিমা বিজয়ার দিন বিসর্জন যেত না। তাই একাদশীর দিন থেকে গান কমে গেলেও একদম থেমে যেত না। পুজো শেষ হবার আগ্রাসী মনখারাপের ওপর এদিক ওদিক থেকে হঠাৎ ভেসে আসা গান প্রলেপ বিশেষ ছিল। বাপি লাহিড়ী চলে যাবার পর সেই গানগুলো বহুযুগ পর শুনতে শুনতে একটা গানের স্মৃতি বিশেষ করে চাড়া দিয়ে উঠলো - গোরো কি না কালো কি , দুনিয়া হ্যায় দিলওয়ালো কি। বাপি লাহিড়ী কি পুজোর পর চারতলার ঘরে বসে রাস্তার ম্লান আলো দেখতে দেখতে এই গানের সুর দিয়েছিলেন ?</span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="5ff9" data-offset-key="bfer-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(228, 230, 235); color: #e4e6eb; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="bfer-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="bfer-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="5ff9" data-offset-key="4etug-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(228, 230, 235); color: #e4e6eb; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="4etug-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="4etug-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">লতা মঙ্গেশকর চলে যাবার পর স্মৃতি রোমন্থন করতে গিয়ে আমাদের বাড়ির রেকর্ড চেঞ্জারের কথা লিখেছিলাম। কিন্তু রেকর্ড কেনবার ব্যাপারে আমার বাবা বেশ বিশুদ্ধবাদী ছিল। নিসার হোসেন খাঁর এল পি ছিল, বৈজু বাওরারও কিন্তু ৭০ দশকের হিন্দি সিনেমার গানের হাতে গোনা খানকয়েক রেকর্ড ছিল, তও ৪৫ আর পি এম। আর ডির পরিচয় সিনেমার এদিকে আর তা অগ্রসর হয় নি। তার মধ্যে হঠাৎ করে একদিন এসে পড়ল বাপির সুর দেওয়া আরমান সিনেমার একটা ৪৫ আর পি এম। আমাদের রেকর্ডের বাক্সের মধ্যে তার ঘন লাল রঙের মোড়ক আর তার ওপর নৃত্যরতার ছবি পুজোর নৈবেদ্যের ওপর মাছের আঁশের মতন শোভা পেত। প্রথম যেদিন সেই রেকর্ড চালিয়ে স্টাইলাসের পিন তার ওপর বসালাম, আর নীল রং এর মোটা কাপড়ে মোড়া স্পিকারের ওদিক থেকে ভেসে এলো রাম্বা হো হো, সেই ধৃষ্টতা যে আমার না সেই স্পিকারের আর সে ঘটনা বাস্তব না পরাবাস্তব তা বোঝবার জন্যে আমি নিজের গায়ে চিমটি কাটবো না স্পিকারের , সেই ধন্দ কাটতে গানটাই শেষ হয়ে গেছিল। গরমের ছুটিতে জামশেদপুর থেকে আমার পিসীরা যখন আসত, কিছুদিন আমাদের বাড়ীতে আর বাকিদিন আমার কাকার বাড়িতে থাকত। পিসতুতো ভাই আর দিদিদের মন মজানোর জন্যে বৈজু বাওরা বিশেষ কাজে আসত না। আমার হাতে তখন অস্ত্র বলতে ছিল একমাত্র সেই আরমান সিনেমার ৪৫ আর পি এম। </span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="5ff9" data-offset-key="2mp1j-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(228, 230, 235); color: #e4e6eb; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="2mp1j-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="2mp1j-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="5ff9" data-offset-key="67gsj-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(228, 230, 235); color: #e4e6eb; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="67gsj-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="67gsj-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">বাপি লাহিড়ীর প্রথম জীবনের সুর দেওয়া গান যখন পরে শুনেছি - চলতে চলতে , প্যার মাঙ্গা হ্যায় তুমহি সে , আর অকস্মাৎ সুরকারের নাম আবিষ্কার করে চমৎকৃত হয়েছি, বাপির সংগীতজীবনের এই বিভাজনের কথা বিশেষ করে মনে হয়েছে। আমি যেরকম আর ডির অনুরক্ত ভক্ত, বাপির তেমন অবশ্যই নই। কিন্তু তার হয়ত একটা কারণ জনজীবনে বাপি এই প্রথম পর্যায় ছেড়ে স্বচ্ছন্দে এগিয়ে গেছিলেন, সোনার গয়না আর কালো চশমা পরে। মঞ্চে অযাচিতে মোটা দাগের কৌতুকের শিকার হয়েছেন , নিজের নামের উচ্চারণ নিয়ে নিজেই মজা করেছেন, সাংগীতিক সমীহ আদায় করবার তোয়াক্কা করেন নি। কিন্তু এই সবের আড়ালে ব্যক্তি ব্যাপী হয়তো কোথাও হারিয়ে গেছেন। তাঁর দ্বিতীয় অধ্যায় বাজারে যত সফল হয়েছে , প্রথম জীবনের সুরের জালে ফেরবার তাগিদ অনুভব করেন নি। বাড়ি ফিরে চশমা আর গয়না খুলে হারমনিয়াম নিয়ে অগ্রজসম আর ডির ছবির সামনে বসে কি বাপি কখনো মন খারাপ করতেন ?</span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="5ff9" data-offset-key="6r1ce-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(228, 230, 235); color: #e4e6eb; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="6r1ce-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="6r1ce-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="5ff9" data-offset-key="4i3co-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(228, 230, 235); color: #e4e6eb; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="4i3co-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="4i3co-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">পুজোর স্মৃতি প্রসঙ্গে আর একটা সিনেমার গানের কথা না বলে কথা শেষ করা যাবে না - বাকি সব অ্যালবাম এক পুজোর বেশি স্থায়ী হত না, নতুন প্রেম এসে পুরোনোকে ঠেলা মেরে সরিয়ে দেয়, তেমনই নতুন পুজোয় নতুন গান শোনা যেত। ব্যতিক্রম, এবং বোধ হয় একমাত্র, বাপি লাহিড়ীর সুরে অমর সঙ্গী সিনেমার গান। পর পর দুই পুজো জুড়ে কলকাতা শহরে ছিল অমর সঙ্গীর গান। লক্ষ্মীপুজো তখন পাড়ায় বেশ টিমটিম করেই হত। আমাদের পাড়াতে দুর্গাপুজোর প্যান্ডেলেই লক্ষ্মী অধিষ্ঠিতা হতেন কিন্তু পুজোর গান আর একবার পাড়াতে পাড়াতে এক সন্ধ্যার জন্যে হলেও শোনা যেত। আবার তা মিলিয়ে যেত লক্ষ্মীপুজোর শেষে। পুজোর ছুটিতে খেলা সাঙ্গ করে সন্ধ্যেবেলা পড়তে বসে আচম্বিতে রাস্তার ল্যাম্প পোষ্টের ম্লান আলো আঁধারির মধ্যে দূরে কোথাও থেকে গান ভেসে এসে মনে করিয়ে দিত যে কালীপুজো এখনো বাকি। কালীপুজোতেই শেষ বার পুজোর গান দপ করে জ্বলে উঠতো নিভে যাবার আগে, পুজোর বাজির মতন। স্কুল শুরু হয়ে যেত অনতিপরেই, জীবন এগিয়ে চলতো আপন গতিতে। কিন্তু নতুন বছরে হঠাৎ কখনো বাসে যেতে যেতে যখন শুনেছি অমর সঙ্গীর গান, মন চলে গেছে বিগত পুজোর আনন্দ বিষাদে। বাপি লাহিড়ীর খবর স্বতঃপ্রণোদিত হয়ে রাখিনি অনেক দিনই, গানও আলাদা করে চালিয়ে শোনা হয় ন্নি। কিন্তু তাঁর চলে যাবার খবর ঠিক সেই বিগত বছরের পুজোর গানের মতন ফিরে নিয়ে গেল কোথায়। আপনাকে আলভিদা বলব কেমন করে, বাপি ?</span></div></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> <img alt="No photo description available." class="ji94ytn4 d2edcug0 r9f5tntg r0294ipz" data-visualcompletion="media-vc-image" elementtiming="1" referrerpolicy="origin-when-cross-origin" src="https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.30808-6/274145837_10159671861503540_663576213193350929_n.jpg?_nc_cat=101&ccb=1-5&_nc_sid=730e14&_nc_ohc=LSWf-4hilbgAX9Civ3i&tn=HFiX5xH-6K0baPO9&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&oh=00_AT-93Bom3z63yMaaRq5KiGSkpg4xzXMHM5whWDmrZGjZYw&oe=6272E50E" /></p>Anirban and Sujatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17443007176123243191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758469103113746220.post-3135465007248187262022-02-07T13:33:00.001-05:002022-02-07T13:33:26.313-05:00<p> <span style="font-size: medium;">নিউয়র্ক - স্মৃতি রোমন্থন, সন ২০১১</span></p><p><br /></p><p>একদিন ভোরে বসন্তের ঘুম ভেঙে যায়। সকালে উঠে জানলার দুপাটি ঠেলে দেখি আলতো ঠান্ডা হাওয়া গা ছুঁয়ে চলে গেলো, গায়ে তেমন লাগলো না। ঈশান এখনো ঘুমন্ত। জানলার বাইরে দেখি কুইন্সবোরো ব্রিজের মাথায় বসে খানসাহেব মেজাজে সিন্ধি ভৈরবী ধরেছেন। পাশে জাকির সাহেব, মুখে আলতো হাসি। খানসাহেবের মেজাজটা ধরেছেন। ম্যানহাটানের রাস্তায় গাড়ির ভিড় তেমন নেই. খানসাহেবের সেতার ছড়িয়ে যাচ্ছে দূরে, দিগন্তের ওপারে। এক দমকায় মনটা হালকা হয়ে ওঠে। চোখ তুলে দেখি দেশপ্রিয় পার্কের ওপারে আলো ফুটছে আকাশে। "ফেব্রুয়ারী কি চলে এল ?" আপনমনে শুধোই নিজেকে। এলিয়ট সাহেব বলেছিলেন "April is the cruellest month "। আমার তো মনে হয়, ফেব্রুয়ারীর মতন নিষ্ঠুর মাস আর হয় না - কখন আসে, কখন যায়, বুঝতেই পারা যায় না। ঈশানের কান্নায় চটক কাটে। এই বার পরবাসীর দিনের দমকল চলতে শুরু করবে। </p><p><br /></p><p>ঈশানের সারা দিনের দায়িত্ত্বের মধ্যে শুধু সকাল আর গভীর রাত্রিটাই আমার। বসন্তের ঠাহর যে তার খুব একটা কিছু হয়েছে বোঝা গেলো না। সকালের দুধ আর সিরিয়াল খেতে ঠিক তেমনটি ৪৫ মিনিট লাগলো। ভীরু মধ্যবিত্ত বাঙালি বাপের মতন আমি এই সকালেও তার গায়ে মোটা একটা জ্যাকেট চাপিয়ে দিলুম। সুজাতার তুলনায় আমার সকালটা অনেক সরল। রাস্তা পার হয়ে ক্যাম্পাস এর মধ্যে ডে কেয়ার। সেখানে তাকে অর্পণ করেই আমার দায়িত্ব থেকে মুক্তি। রাস্তায় যেতে যেতে ঈশান এর ইতালীয় বান্ধবী র সঙ্গে দেখা। তার মনেও বসন্তের ছোঁয়াচ লেগেছে। শুধুমাত্র গোলাপি স্কার্ট আর টি-শার্ট পরিহিতা বান্ধবী কে দেখে আমার পুত্রের মনেও রং লাগে। সে জ্যাকেট টেনে ছুঁড়ে ফেলে তার সঙ্গে দৌড় লাগায়। দুরু দুরু বক্ষে আমি তার পেছন পেছন নিউইয়র্কের রাস্তা পার হই - ফুল ফুটুক কি না ফুটুক, আজ বসন্ত। </p><p><br /></p><p>ল্যাবের মধ্যে ঢুকে বসন্ত প্রমাদ গোনে। বিজ্ঞান এর জগতে বসন্তের স্থান নেই. সব দিনই কঠিন কঠোর শীত. ল্যাবে ঢোকবার মুখে হঠাৎ অনেক পুরোনো একটা গন্ধ নাকে এসে ধাক্কা মারে। এদিক ওদিক তাকিয়ে ঠাহর হয় যে আমার নোবেলজয়ী অভিবাবক এর এর কমলালেবু গাছে মুকুল এসেছে। ঠান্ডার জন্যে ল্যাবের ঠিক বাইরে , বিল্ডিং এর মধ্যে রাখা ছিল, কিন্তু তাতে কি ? ঠান্ডার পর্দা ভেদ করে যেমন বসন্তের আগমন, ঠিক তেমনি প্রকৃতির নিয়মে ম্যানহাটানের ওপর তার মনমাতানো গন্ধ নিয়ে কমলালেবুর মুকুল হাজির হয়েছে আমার ছোটবেলার স্মৃতির সম্ভার নিয়ে, দরজায় টোকা মেরে। কমললেবুর ফুলের গন্ধের সঙ্গে কলকাতার কোন গন্ধের মিল ভাবতে ভাবতে আমি ল্যাব এ ঢুকে পড়ি - শীত গ্রীষ্ম বসন্ত মিশে যায় দৈনন্দিন কাজের টানাপোড়েনে। </p><p><br /></p><p>দুপুরবেলায় খেতে যাবার জন্যে বাড়ির দিক এ পা বাড়িয়ে দিয়ে খেয়াল হয় যে শীতবুড়োর যাবার পালা আগতপ্রায়। এখন আর ঠান্ডা প্রায় নেই বললেই চলে. রাস্তায় পা বাড়িয়ে খেয়াল হয় যে হাতে বিন্দু বিন্দু ঘাম জমেছে। গরমের মধ্যে মাথার প্রান্ত থেকে আঙ্গুল অবধি বওয়া ঘাম নয় , শীত এর সকাল এ শিশির বিন্দু র মতন জমা ঘাম, যা দেশে বইমেলা যাবার সময় বাস এ উঠে প্রথম টের পেতুম। আচ্ছা, আজকে বইমেলা র শেষ দিন না কলকাতায় ? পৃথিবীর সব জায়গায় কি একই সঙ্গে বসন্ত আসে ? গেট খুলে রাস্তায় বার হবার সময় হঠাৎ মনে হয় -" এমন দিনে তারে বলা যায় ", কিন্তু বলেছিলুম কি ? </p><p><br /></p><p>বাড়িতে ফিরে স্যান্ডউইচ বানাতে বানাতে শুনি খোলা জানালার বাইরে থেকে ভেসে আসছে ভীমপলাশ্রী। উঁকি মেরে দেখি খানসাহেব রাগত মুখ করে বাজাচ্ছেন। আমাকে দেখে জিজ্ঞেস করেন - গত সংখ্যার দেশে নীলাক্ষ লিখেছিল না, যে আমার দিন শেষ ? ডাক দেখি কাকে ডেকে আনবি। "ম্যায় বিলায়েত খান বোল রাহা হুঁ, হ্যায় কোই সামনে আনেওয়ালা ?" মন চায় খানসাহেবের পিঠে হাত বুলিয়ে দিয়ে ওঁকে আশ্বস্ত করতে কিন্তু সে ধৃষ্টতা এ অধমের সাহসে কুলোয় না। আনমনে খোলা জানলার সামনে বসে খানসাহেবের বাজনা শুনি আর ভাবি এমন একটা দিনের জন্যে কলকাতাবাসী কি না করতে পারতো। ঠিক এমন একটা দিনের জন্যে অপেক্ষা করে থাকে কলকাতাবাসী সারা বছর, ঠিক এমন একটা দুপুরে ব্রাহ্মমুহূর্তে বইমেলা প্রাঙ্গনে ফিশ ফ্রাই খেতে খেতে সঙ্গিনীর চোখে বিশ্বব্রহ্মাণ্ড ধরা দেয়, ভিড়ের ধাক্কা খেতে খেতে বসন্তের নির্ভুল অস্ত্র সানায় বুকের ভেতর - ফুল ফুটুক কি না ফুটুক, আজ বসন্ত। </p><p><br /></p><p>পরবাসী জীবনের ভার ছাড়ানো বড়ো দায় - আজকে যেতে হবে জ্যাকসন হাইটস এ বাজার করতে। সময়ের তাল ভুলে আজ যাবার সময় বাস ধরি, মেট্রো রেলের বদলে। কুইন্সবোরো ব্রিজ পার হবার সময় শুনি খানসাহেব সাঁজ সারাবালী ধরেছেন খোশ মেজাজে। দুপুরের রাগত মেজাজ উধাও, ধীর লয়ে আলাপ শুরু করেছেন, এখন বাজনা চলবে অনেকক্ষণ। আজ নিউয়র্কবাসীর মনেও রং লেগেছে, বাস ড্রাইভার হালকা মেজাজে চালিযে নিয়ে যায় জ্যাকসন হাইটস এর পানে। বাস থেকে নেমে দেখি গোটা জ্যাকসন হাইটসে উপমহাদেশের লোক বসন্ত উদযাপনে নেমে পড়েছে - জ্যাকেট নেই কারুর গায়ে। রেস্তোরাঁতে, দোকানপাটে, পানের দোকানে, মায়ে মুদিখানার দোকানে লোকের মনে রং লেগেছে আজ। বয়স্ক সর্দারজী হালকা গানের কলি ভাঁজতে ভাঁজতে ক্রেডিট কার্ড চালিয়ে দেন যন্ত্রের মধ্যে - "সব কুছ ঠিক তো হয় বেটা ?" আমি ঘাড় নাড়ি , তাড়াতাড়ি ফিরতে হবে, ঈশানের রাত্রের ঘুম এর দায় আমার ঘাড়ে ! </p><p><br /></p><p>ফেরবার সময় খানসাহেব এর দেখা মেলে না, বাজনা বোধ হয় অনেকক্ষন শেষ হয়েছে, নির্ঘাত রাত্রের মতন ঘুমোতে গেছেন। আমি বাজার রেখে রাত্রের খাওয়া শেষ করে আবার ল্যাবের দিকেও রওনা হই. দিনের হালকা কবোষ্ণ ভাব উধাও, শীতবুড়ো আবার কামড় বসাবে কি না ঠাহর করতে পারছে না। ম্যানহাটানের রাস্তা আস্তে আস্তে হালকা হবার দিকে - ল্যাবে এখনো অনেক কাজ পড়ে, বিজ্ঞান কি আর বসন্তের কদর করে ? </p><p><br /></p><p>রাত্রিবেলা ল্যাবের মেজাজ পাল্টে যায়, সবাই থাকে না, দিনের খোলস ভেদ করে হঠাৎ সহকর্মীর মনের কথা বাইরে চলে আসে। অনেক অনেক দিন আগে উচ্চাকাঙ্ক্ষাতে ভর করে চলে এসেছিলাম আমরা সবাই সাগরপারে, বসন্ত সে কথা মনে করিয়ে দেয় সবাইকে। জানলার বাইরে অন্ধকার ভেদ করে কুইন্সবোরো ব্রিজের বাতিস্তম্ভের আলো দেখতে দেখতে আমি ভাবি আমার চীনে সহকর্মীর শহরেও বইমেলা হয় কি না। বসন্ত বোধ হয় বিজ্ঞানের গায়েও ছোঁওয়া লাগিয়েছে দিনের শেষে, তাই সব শ্রমই বিফলে যায় না, পরিশ্রান্ত দিনের শেষে পড়ে পাওয়া চোদ্দ আনা কিছু বাকি থাকে, তাই নিয়েই ল্যাব বন্ধ করে পাড়ি দি, রাস্তা পার হয়ে বাড়ির দিকে। </p><p><br /></p><p>বাড়ির চারিদিক স্তব্ধ চুপচাপ, ঘুমন্ত ঈশানের মুখে রাস্তার আলো পড়ে পিছলে যাচ্ছে। শেষ বারের মতন জানলার কাছে এসে বন্ধ করার আগে হঠাৎ শুনি সেই আওয়াজ। মুখ বাড়িয়ে দেখি খানসাহেব এসে বসেছেন ব্রিজের মাথায়, ঠিক ছোটবেলায় দেখা এলপি রেকর্ডের ছবির মতন, পিঠে আলতো করে ফেলা একটা কালো শাল, দৃষ্টি আকাশ আর সেতারের মাঝে কোথায় নিবদ্ধ, খানসাহেব দরবারী তে আলাপ ধরেছেন। একটু দূরে শঙ্কর ঘোষ এসে বসেছেন, চুপ করে বসে শুনছেন খানসাহেব এর আলাপ। ম্যানহাটানের রাস্তায় সোনালী আলো ছড়িয়ে যাচ্ছে, মাঝে মাঝে দু একটা গাড়ি শেষ রাতের সফর সেরে ফিরছে কুলায় আর দৃশ্য থেকে দৃশ্যান্তরে ছড়িয়ে যাচ্ছে খানসাহেবের বাজনা। ঠিক ঠাহর হয় না দূরে শাহজাহান আর মুমতাজমহল এসে বসেছেন কি না। আমার খুব ইচ্ছে হয় একবার খানসাহেবকে জিজ্ঞেস করি - "এতো দুঃখ কোথায় রাখেন খানসাহেব ? খালি কি বাজনার সময়তেই বার হয় ?" কিন্তু এখন কথা বলবার সময় নয় - খানসাহেবের বাজনা শুনে ঈশান ঘুমের মধ্যে খিলখিলিয়ে হেসে পাশ ফেরে। তা দেখতে দেখতে শ্ৰান্ত আমি ঘুমিয়ে পড়ি - কাল বসন্তের দ্বিতীয় দিন !</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnmVArn9aQc-YkNGKrbZ3IQza2kGxq9cddqcqLgfaXR4P_067Qx1VWcE0xYyuv_Z6AVbDFgR1rq4vFisyFDO9YNyoviRkwnfi7SiDH048Erhp0XZfb0R9F2Qm5ntt5K-P8GzZ9gXkPj_9lF7rzz1wFZH3Ekjn4lwM1zA-enAocw9S7Ov0a_2xyeUIM3g=s599" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="591" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnmVArn9aQc-YkNGKrbZ3IQza2kGxq9cddqcqLgfaXR4P_067Qx1VWcE0xYyuv_Z6AVbDFgR1rq4vFisyFDO9YNyoviRkwnfi7SiDH048Erhp0XZfb0R9F2Qm5ntt5K-P8GzZ9gXkPj_9lF7rzz1wFZH3Ekjn4lwM1zA-enAocw9S7Ov0a_2xyeUIM3g=s320" width="316" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Anirban and Sujatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17443007176123243191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758469103113746220.post-77922472384581761542022-02-07T09:40:00.003-05:002022-02-07T09:43:52.337-05:00<div class="kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: #242526; color: #e4e6eb; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-variant-ligatures: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-thickness: initial; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">লতা মঙ্গেশকরের সঙ্গে দিনগুলো </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">
ভাবলে অবাক লাগে যে এমন একটা সময় ছিল যখন আমি লতা মঙ্গেশকরের গলা শুনলে দুকানে আঙ্গুল দিতাম। তখন আমি সদ্য আই আই টি কানপুরে ফেরত গেছি, M.Sc. পড়তে। কলকাতা বিচ্ছেদের বেদনা তখন দগদগে, তায় আবার নতুন পরিবেশে পড়ার চাপ, পটল মনে করে টিন্ডা খাবার স্বপ্নভঙ্গ - এই সবের মাঝে হঠাৎ উপদ্রব পেছনের নানকারী গ্রাম থেকে সন্ধ্যে হলেই দিল তো পাগল হ্যায় সিনেমার গান মাইক থেকে সজোরে মাঠ উজিয়ে একদম জানান দিয়ে কর্ণকুহরে প্রবেশ। আর প্রবেশ বলে প্রবেশ, তার সঙ্গে শাদীর সানাই, বর কনে সব পক্ষের চেঁচানি - সে এক সাংঘাতিক পাঁচন। কিন্তু মুশকিল হল যে এই গানগুলো যখন লতা গেয়েছিলেন, গলার অবস্থা শুধু পড়ন্ত নয়, একেবারে ডুবন্ত। এক ভয়ানক মেটালিক আন্ডারটোন গলার মধ্যে আর সেই গান এক সন্ধেতে একবার নয়, বার বার শুনে আমার বিবমিষা ওঠবার জোগাড়।</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">
সমগ্র দেশের সঙ্গীতের সঙ্গে যিনি নকশী কাঁথার মতন জড়িয়ে গেছেন, আমাদের প্রত্যেকের সঙ্গে তাঁর পরিচয় এক একটা অনন্য গল্প, তা আমাদের প্রত্যেকের নিজস্ব। সত্যি কথা বলতে কি, আমি কখনো লতার অনুরক্ত ভক্ত ছিলাম না। এখন পেছন ফিরে দেখলে মনে হয় তার কারণ হয় তো এই যে তাঁর গান রেডিও, টিভি, রেকর্ড, পাশের বাড়ির জানলা, এত জায়গা থেকে এসে আমার সত্তার অংশ হয়ে গেছিল যে আলাদা করে খেয়াল করবার অবকাশ হয় নি। আজ সারাদিন আমার খুব কাছের বন্ধুদের অনেককেই বলতে শুনেছি তাদের প্রিয় লতার গান, তাতে হিন্দি সিনেমার গানই বেশি, দেশভক্তির গানও রয়েছে কিন্তু তাও হিন্দিতেই। আমার কিন্তু গান শোনবার সুদূরতম স্মৃতি মশারির মধ্যে আধো ঘুমে জানলা থেকে বাইরে চেয়ে রয়েছি, বাইরে এক ফালি চাঁদ দেখা দিয়েছে আর কোথা থেকে ভেসে আসছে "আকাশ প্রদীপ জ্বলে দূরে তারার পানে চেয়ে, আমার নয়ন দুটি শুধুই তোমারে চাহে, ব্যাথার বাদলে যায় ছেয়ে"। গানের অন্তর্নিহিত বিষাদের ভাব বোধগম্য হত না একদমই, তবে ঘুমের চাদর অব্যর্থ নেমে আসতো রাতের অন্ধকারে। </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">
আবার বাবা ছিল ক্লাসিক মধ্যবিত্ত। গান শোনবার ব্যাপারে উন্নাসিক। তাই আমাদের বাড়িতে ছিল বিলেতের Garrard কোম্পানির এক রেকর্ড চেঞ্জার। কিন্তু লতা মঙ্গেশকরের রেকর্ড ছিল সব বাংলা এবং তাও সব ৭৮ আরপিএম। তার মধ্যে একটা ছিল সাত ভাই চম্পা সিনেমার দুটি গান, এপিঠ ওপিঠ। আমাদের বাড়িতে টেপ শোনবার চল ছিল না। জাপানি এক টেপ রেকর্ডার বাক্সবন্দি হয়ে পরে থাকতো আলমারীর মাথায়। কিন্তু কখনো সখনো নামানো হলে শোনা যেত লতার লাইভ ইন রয়্যাল আলবার্ট হল এর রেকর্ড করা ক্যাসেট। সেই বোধ হয় প্রথম লতার গাওয়া হিন্দী গানের অনুপ্রবেশ আমার জীবনে। তার আরও পরে ভেবেছি বৈজু বাউরা সিনেমার ৩৩১/৩ রেকর্ড দেখে যে দোলের আগে চিত্রহারে শোলে সিনেমাতে যাঁর গান দেখবার জন্যে প্রাণ আঁকুপাঁকু করে, তিনিই আবার আমীর খান, ডি ভি পালুসকার এর মতন গায়কদের সঙ্গে একই ক্ষেত্রে জায়গা করে নিতে পারেন কেমন করে। </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">
সময়ের নিয়মেই আমার খোঁজা গান সরে গেছে লতার কাছ থেকে, কখনো অজানায় পাশ কাটিয়ে। বন্ধু বান্ধব দাদা কাকা মামাদের সঙ্গে আলোচনায় মেনে নিয়েছি যে লতা মঙ্গেশকর এক নক্ষত্র কিন্তু তাঁকে জানবার চার অনুভব করিনি কখনো। কিন্তু আমার অজান্তেই পাশের ঘরে সমস্ত ধর্মাচরণ থেকে সরে থাকা আমার বড়মামু রেকর্ডে বাজিয়ে চলেছে "রামনাম কা গুন্ গান করিয়ে ", রাতের শেষ প্রহরে আমি বাজিয়েছি "বিতি না বিতায়ি রয়না" আর শিহরিত হয়েছি আর ডি বর্মণের সুরের জাল বুননের নিপুণতায় কিন্তু তাও আলাদা করে গায়িকার প্রত্যেক বাঁকে নির্ভুল স্বরক্ষেপণ নজরে আসে নি। লজ্জার মাথা খেয়ে বলতে হয় যে সেই অজ্ঞান ভাঙে শেষমেশ কলেজে ঢুকে।
তখন খান কয়েক টিউশনি করে সামান্য অর্থনৈতিক স্বনির্ভরতা গজিয়েছে,সব সময় বড়মামু নির্ভরতার আপাতঃ প্রস্থান ঘটেছে, এমন সময় একদিন নজরে পড়ল এইচ এম ভি কোম্পানীর চারটে ক্যাসেটের আর ডি বর্মন গোল্ডেন কালেকশন। ১৮০ টাকা দাম, এক একটা ৪৫ টাকা। হিন্দি গানের ক্যাসেটের তুলনায় সেই সময়ও বেশ বেশি। গরুর জাবর কাটবার মতন বার ছয়েক দোকানে গিয়ে এপিঠ ওপিঠ দেখবার পর দোকানের মালিকের বন্ধুত্বপূর্ণ চাহনি যখন কড়া হতে শুরু করেছে তখন কড়কড়ে টাকা দিয়ে কিনতে বাধ্য হলাম। এক গ্রীষ্মের রাতে জানলা খুলে হু হু হওয়ার মধ্যে তার একটা চালিয়ে সেই প্রথম শুনলাম "সিলি হাওয়া ছুঁ গ্যায়ি "। তখনো অবধি আর ডির সিনেমার গান মানেই আশা বা অন্য কেউ কিন্তু সে কেউ যে কে তা তলিয়ে ভাবার প্রয়োজন বোধ হয় নি। এই প্রথম মনে হল যে এই গান পৃথিবীর আর কারুর পক্ষেই বোধ হয় গাওয়া সম্ভব নয়, আদি অনন্ত কোনো কালেই নয় । সেই প্রথম আমার লতা মঙ্গেশকরের অন্বেষনের শুরু , তা চলছে এখনো। এক বন্ধুবর অংশুমান চক্রবর্তীর সঙ্গে যাদবপুর ইউনিভার্সিটিতে পরিচয়ের দিন কয়েকের মধ্যেই আবিষ্কার করেছিলাম যে , একে অন্যের অজান্তেই আমরা প্রায় একই সময় ওই একই গোল্ডেন কালেকশন কিনেছিলাম আর ওই একই গান আবিষ্কার করেছিলাম জীবনের একই সন্ধিক্ষণে। </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">
এক রবিবার আনন্দবাজার রবিবাসরীয়তে অপর্ণা সেনের "নির্জন দ্বীপের ছবি" লেখা পড়ে চমকিত হয়েছিলাম। তার অনেক পরে আমার পোস্টডক উপদেষ্টা শিখিয়েছিলেন সিদ্ধান্ত নেবার ব্যাপারে এই বলে যে "ইফ সামওয়ান হেল্ড এ গান টু ইওর হেড , হোয়াট উড ইউ সে "। বাঙালি মধ্যবিত্ত অনুশাসনে বহুপ্রেমের স্থান বিশেষ নেই, তাই মাঝে মধ্যেই নিজেকে আর কাছের বন্ধুদের এই বলে জ্বালাই যে "অমুকের যদি একটা গান /বাজনা desert island নিয়ে যেতে হয়, কোনটা নিবি ?" লতা মঙ্গেশকর জনজীবন থেকে সরে যাবার পর মাঝে মধ্যেই যখন ভয় হত যে খবরটা বোধ হয় হয় এই এল বলে, নিজেকে শুধোতুম, "কোন গানটা নেবে ?" উত্তর আসতো "কেশরীয়া বালমা"। অনেকবার জিজ্ঞেস করেছি, রাশিবিজ্ঞান বলছে এটাই আমার উত্তর। পড়ন্ত বেলায় গাওয়া এই গান যে কেন আমার এতো কাছের তার নির্ভুল উত্তর দেবার কাছেপিঠেও বিজ্ঞান এখনো অগ্রসর হয় নি। এই গান শুনলেই আমার মাথার মধ্যে ভেসে ওঠে পড়ন্ত সন্ধ্যের আলোয় রাজস্থানের মরুভূমি তে উস্কোখুস্কো চুলে বিরহিনী রাধা নিরলস খুঁজছেন প্রেমিকের আবছায়া। সেই রাধার মুখ আমি দেখি নি, সে চেষ্টা করলেই সে মুখ লতা মঙ্গেশকর না ডিম্পল কাপাডিয়ার না ক্যালেন্ডারে দেখা রাধার , তার সন্ধান পাওয়া দুষ্কর হয়ে পড়ে। বিরহিনী দূরে চলে যান। আমার সম্বল গানই শেষমেশ পড়ে থাকে। </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">
আমার প্রেমের লতা তাই "আয়েগা আনেওয়ালা" র লতা নন, "লাগে যা গালে" র অধরদংশিনী লতাও নন, আমার প্রেমের লতা পড়ন্ত বেলার লতা যিনি গেয়েছেন "ফির কিশি শাখ নে" আর "ইস দিল মে বসকর দেখো তো " আমার প্রেমের লতা শরীরী নয় , cerebral . কিন্তু সে তো একান্ত আমার , আর আমাদের প্রত্যেকের লতা মঙ্গেশকরই তাই অনন্যা। লতার চলে যাওয়া তাই শুধু তাঁর যাওয়া নয়, একটা সময়ের চলে যাওয়া। সেই সময়ের সঙ্গে মিশে আছে আমার বাবার টেপ রেকর্ডার থেকে ভেসে আসা আলবার্ট হলের লাইভ রেকর্ডিংয়ের গান, আমার বড়মামুর ফিলিপ্স HiQ International থেকে লতার ভজন। এঁরা চলে গেছেন আগেই , শেষ সুবাসটুকুও লতা নিয়ে চলে গেলেন।
গতকাল থেকে লতার ছবিতে ফেসবুক ছেয়ে গেছে। তাই ওঁর ছবি আর দিলাম না এই লেখাটার সঙ্গে। আমার বড়মামুর কাছে একটা এল পি ছিল "লতা মঙ্গেশকর সিঙস ফর গালিব", তার ছবিটা খুঁজে দিলাম। তাঁর অগ্রজ উপমহাদেশের আর এক দিশারীর মতন মর্ত্যের বাঁধন চুকিয়ে লতাও এখন চলেছেন সঙ্গীতের বাতি হাতে। স্বর্গের দরকার কি ? যেখানে থেমে তিনি গান জুড়বেন , স্বর্গের দোর তো সেখানেই।</div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="background-color: #242526; color: #e4e6eb; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-variant-ligatures: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-thickness: initial; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg7O3Fj1jV3Mc3K4Qc8ilFa13TD9HNkUq3qCTpN_LqItZJiLXsflgRLMmP03ZDgJJVXo96floHO1c5l1XTsB7vG2Gs8yHPbUxWZBCwzCyRiwcsvEp_9doyYL9VBk4Re7dUqf9d4_Q58zKdCF7ozNRqDBIabf-6FiE2uFGd-broesJyBe1_pajEpNDb6WQ=s1600" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1594" data-original-width="1600" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg7O3Fj1jV3Mc3K4Qc8ilFa13TD9HNkUq3qCTpN_LqItZJiLXsflgRLMmP03ZDgJJVXo96floHO1c5l1XTsB7vG2Gs8yHPbUxWZBCwzCyRiwcsvEp_9doyYL9VBk4Re7dUqf9d4_Q58zKdCF7ozNRqDBIabf-6FiE2uFGd-broesJyBe1_pajEpNDb6WQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div></div>Anirban and Sujatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17443007176123243191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758469103113746220.post-67935883592354367922017-04-16T22:21:00.000-04:002017-04-16T23:43:36.456-04:00Of Kishori Amonkar, BoRomamu and Pujo (or "From in Delirium")<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was a nondescript morning in many ways. I got up early, made lunch for the kids, set up IB's breakfast and had a few minutes to glance over the BBC News website. It took me a few minutes to catch the news headline that Kishore Amonkar was no more. I am not sure why I was deeply moved by the news. I am an ardent fan of North Indian Classical Music but only when played on instruments and had not been listening to Kishoritai at all in the recent past. Restlessly I went on to youtube to find the documentary on her made by Amol Palekar that opens with her Bhoop. As I stared at the screen and watched the relatively dark opening shots of her in a temple, with her Bhoop playing the background, it took me to a different phase of my life - a different time, a different place and amongst different people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My boRomamu had a Philips Hi-Q International model of turntable, widely popular in its days and one of the few material possessions that he held onto dearly. He was a lifelong bachelor and a teacher by profession and his days were usually filled with giving private tuitions to students or being at his school right next door. However the Pujo days were different because he would not teach on those four days and of course, the school was closed. On every Shaptami morning, or so as my blurry memory suggests to me, he would play a Meera Bhajan Vinyl by Kishori Amonkar that he had; my memories of Pujo mornings in my boyhood and youth were that of hearing the notes of "Mhaaro Pranam" trickling through to my ear drums and (pleasantly) reminding me that Pujo was finally there at the doorsteps. Of course, those were not the days of earphones and smartpods - so the sound came gushing from all around - it got out of his windows, only to bounce off boRdida's house, got through my windows, door cracks, to reverberate more and announce that a celebration was awaiting. The delicious expectations of what lay in the day ahead was in a way announced by Kishoiriji in the morning. Interestingly, I don't think my boRomamu was a ever a big fan of Kishoriji because I don't remember him playing this record often. However, he played it enough number of times right around this time of the year that I have a hardwired association between the two in my mind. In hindsight, I think that this was his way of doing something different on a Puja morning, that set the day apart. Musically speaking, I always got intrigued by Mhaaro Pranam because of the way it starts but the latter bhajans never etched my mind because either I was already up by then, which scattered my attention or I was back under the pillow trying to catch the last few minutes of post-sleep leisure.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It also reminded me of one of my boRomamu's favorite books by one of his favorite authors - Mohabharoter Kotha by Buddhadeb Bose. If memory serves me right, in Mohabhatoter Kotha Buddhadev Bose goes on to show how Judhisthir, otherwise often maligned as weak and indecisive, was the true hero of Mahabharat. One of the sections dwell on his conversation with Dharmabak and as I grow older, the simple yet profound answers Judhishthir offered to Dharma's questions seem increasingly wise, across space, time and culture. To Dharma's question -"what travels the fastest", Judhishthir replies, "the mind". I haven often been struck how fast my mind migrates, at the appropriate impulse, which is often only a sound or a smell.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As someone who is ignorant of the grammars of music, often when I listen to familiar music, incapable of being led by the technical nuances, my mind often strays and conjures up imageries of other times I had heard them, and the persons and places around me at those times contribute to the emotional whirlwind that my mind goes through in the process. A few weeks ago, I was struck by how the taste of English Toffees reminded me of the Sohan Halwa that my father used to get from Ghantewala's in Old Delhi. And Judhishthir knew about all of that; amazing, isn't it ?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">At least two things happened on that fateful morning. Prior to that, I had been, for a good thirteen years, solely been listening to North Indian Classical Music but only played on instruments and only by a handful of artistes. I have written elsewhere about another <a href="http://tasuzie.blogspot.com/2007/07/darbari.html" target="_blank">night</a> that led to my relatively sustained interest in that medium. However, since then I have started listening to vocalists with a more engaged attention. I have been listening to Kishoriji's Bhoop on and off but haven't quite been able to bring myself to listen to Mhaaro Pranam. I suppose that would hurt too much !</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But I think the more profound effect it had on me was that I started slowly succumbing to the realization that boRomamu is not around any more. His vinyl player is not in his room any more although the LP might still be there. Not having visited Kolkata since his demise, I have not had to face a closure and I am not quite sure that merely not seeing him in his room will bring it about; after all, he might have just gone downstairs to teach or to have lunch. However, as the persons, both the physical and the vicarious, around him who formed part of my precious days of adolescence and youth slowly fade into oblivion, I surmise that I will be able to wrap it up, only to be reopened another time and another place.</span><br />
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Anirban and Sujatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17443007176123243191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758469103113746220.post-92154377173580802672016-01-20T03:52:00.000-05:002017-09-28T03:56:23.132-04:00Where is home ?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>Scene 1<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As the aircraft started hovering over the city and started
moving close to it, from down below the clouds the unmistakable skyline showed
up. In the afternoon sun, it looked magical even to a seasoned non-New Yorker
like me. I looked at the man sitting next to me and asked him – “ Now that you
have lived in New York for so long, do you find yourself at home here ?” He
looked away, uncharacteristically, at the now prominent skyline and said slowly
– “Well, you know Anirban, I grew up in the suburbs of Boston but I have left
it and my parents now live in Florida. But I don’t quite feel like a New Yorker
yet although I enjoy being here.” He stopped for a second before he said ,
almost hesitatingly, “ I have this feeling of homelessness now - I don’t quite
know where my home is anymore. “ After an even longer pause, he added , “ I am
not sure I like it but its not that I can change it”.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Scene 2<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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A sudden wave of sleeplessness gave me a jolt. I looked at my
phone. It was 3:30 am. I was back in India after almost three long years and
was sleeping in the room where I spent my high school and college years before
I left Kolkata. I knew I couldn’t go back to sleep any more. I got down from my
old bed and unsure of what to do, started connecting my computer to the power
socket. A few moments of electrical
lapse of reason and the light turned up. I looked around. Almost nothing in the
room looked like the way it used to be. I sat down on the lonely sofa and
started opening my e-mail. Almost like a long-lost reflex action coming back to
me, I had a sudden yearning to listen to Gulzar’s Fursat Ke Raat Din. I did not
have the cassette anymore with me and my portable stereo system that had kept
me company on many such late nights was several miles away in another home. I
turned to my friend MusicIndiaOnline.com that had rescued me abroad on many
such occasions. A quick search, a few moments of nervousness and then it showed up. Like a
friend who never betrays you, Fursat Ke Rat Din was indeed online at mio. I
clicked on the “play” icon desperately hoping that it would work one last time.
Gulzar’s unmistakable voice came ringing through – “Ek mood, ek kaifyat, geet
ka chehra hota hai. Kuch shahi se ……..”. I opened up all the windows. It was
dark outside and almost everyone around was asleep. A mild wintry chill came
gushing into the room. Suddenly something clicked into place. I sat down in
front of my computer and started working on my e-mail. I was at home again.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Scene 3<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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On the morning of the day before my flight back from India,
I boarded a bus from Rabindra Sadan and asked the bus conductor – “ Will this
get me to Purna cinema ?” He nodded and looked at me with slight disregard –
anything that moved in this direction, by necessity, had to go by Purna. When
he finally signaled me to get down, after managing the act of getting off from
a slightly moving bus, I gathered myself and looked around. Suddenly I got a tremendous
jolt ! What I had expected to see right across the street was a stripped down
version of the Purna that I had in my mind - with large hoardings and posters
of movies, mainly Bollywood, occasionally Bengali. It had been an unmistakable landmark
and even from within a crowded bus, you could figure out that you had reached
there. Nothing remained anymore. The cleaned-up front face of the building
looked scarily naked. It seemed like even the political parties were reeling
from a hangover before taking over the space with their agenda.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Scene 4<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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As I walked towards school with my elder son, he complained
“It is really cold”. I reassured, “ Well, you have been in a warmer climate for
three whole weeks. That is why it feels cold. I am sure it won’t feel so cold
tomorrow”. I added, with hesitation, “Well you know Ishaan, that you have
missed school for two weeks”. He didn’t look at me when he replied , “Yes, I
know that”. I responded, like my typical self, worrying about his progress in
school, but in a low voice since I could not anticipate his reaction, “Well,
you must try to catch up”. He said, “Yes, I know”. Unlike other mornings we
were not walking to school with his friends since they had decided to go by
car. The windchill, after all, really bit into the skin. We chatted more about
his trip back to India as we approached the school and I became yet more unsure
of how well he would connect back. This was the first time he had been away for
such a long time. As we got down the final flight of stairs, he said, “Well,
you know that you have to stop here”. Right at the beginning of the school
parking lot, we had a mutually-agreed-upon, unmarked line, beyond which he had
to be on his own. As I watched him walking away, head slightly down, my worries
grew. Suddenly there was a shout and he sprang towards a group of three kids.
They jumped up and started running together towards the school. Ishaan became a
red running spot getting away from me, into the doors of his school. In the soft
winter morning light, I knew that at least my son was back at home.<o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
Anirban and Sujatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17443007176123243191noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758469103113746220.post-65792904063748564842013-01-28T01:43:00.001-05:002013-01-28T01:45:09.007-05:00My favourite 15 RD songs (for today!)Today was Pancham's ! I had half-written this post after reading my good friend's <a href="http://diptakirti.blogspot.com/2013/01/13-burman-mera-burman.html" target="_blank">post</a> on his favourite Pancham songs. What prompted finishing it today were two things - listening to a collection of songs from RD that one of my maternal uncles had recorded for me on one of my trips back to India. The way he recorded it had the Bengali song and the corresponding Hindi version next to each other. The other driving force was watching <a href="http://www.flipkart.com/pancham-unmixed-mujhe-chalte-jaana-hai/p/itmdehs6umhkf4me" target="_blank">Pancham Unmixed</a> that the same friend of mine had sent me as a gift, most likely, on the same trip to India. Diptakirti, I owe you a big one for this.<br />
<br />
I remember that there was a distinct phase lag in my humming Pancham's tunes in shower and the realization that they all were creations of one genius of a music director. Sometime in college, I bought one of the first Golden Collection 4 cassette series that HMV published. I was surprised how hard it is to find the cover image of that collection now, even with the help of the mighty Google but this may be it<br />
<br />
<br />
<img alt="" height="320" 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" width="273" /><br />
<br />
In any case, this 4 cassette (yes, CD's were expensive those days) series introduced me to some of the gems of RD's compositions. It will be a fun exercise to repeat choosing 15 favourite songs some other day and see how many common ones pop up. The amazing thing about RD is that there are almost an infinite number of 15-tuples that can be chosen with complete mutual exclusivity.<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-VYVL0mEGY" target="_blank">kahin na jaa</a><br />
<br />
I first heard this song coming from the other side of the building in Hall 5 at IIT K and wondered where on earth had I been living that I had missed it till then. Although I have switched from my old two-in-one to listening to songs mostly on youtube these days, I still find it impossible to stop this song midway, ever.<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ggXZa7e-5k4" target="_blank">katra katra</a><br />
<br />
Mera Kuchh Saman was a close contender from Ijaazat but musically Katra Katra is completely engulfing including the musical interludes, in a way that is hard to even begin to describe.<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ih68T3iU2SU" target="_blank">rishte bante hain</a><br />
<br />
It was hard, yet again, to pick a single song from Dil Padosi Hain but that was a constraint I made for myself - no more than one song per album or movie. <br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M8s4Mb1sgN0" target="_blank">dil dhoondta hai</a><br />
<br />
I had a hard time deciding whether to chose the sad version or the happy one and ended up with the solo by Bhupinder. On second thoughts, isn't it completely amazing how the same song can be tuned so well, yet in two completely different moods ?<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFRAFHtU-PE" target="_blank">aanewala pal</a><br />
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The one song from Dipta's list that is here as well and will find its way to most RD favourite lists, I suspect. Kishore in completely sublime form - completely sublime !<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DhAcDuBiyaY" target="_blank">roz roz aankhon tale</a><br />
<br />
I often wonder how RD decided between Asha and Lata when it came to choose his lead female vocalist. For this one, I often wonder what it would have been like if Kishore sang it. Nevertheless, the Amit-Asha combination worked wonders !<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waeAGdCvJd8" target="_blank">do lafzon ki hi dil ki kahani</a><br />
<br />
Vintage Asha-RD cocktail. <br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A1bpfaFeP5U" target="_blank">yeh sham mastani</a><br />
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This is, in some ways, a predictable choice but who is to say that it is not a worthwhile one ? I am equally in love with the Bengali version - "akaash kyano daake" by Kishore. <br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WUV7SDwjxik" target="_blank">biti na bitai raina</a><br />
<br />
A lot has been said about the Asha-RD combination and how it worked wonders. I think it is somewhat understated the many magical moments that RD created with the venerable elder sister, may be because she had created many other such magical moments with other music directors as well. This song from Parichay has Bhupinder joining in the later parts, making for a stunning duet.<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5d66H2sEqK4" target="_blank">raina beeti jaaye</a><br />
<br />
In the middle of this song, Sharmila Tagore stops in the movie and Rajesh Khanna urges, almost begs - "gaiye na, aap ruk kyon gaye ?" The pathos in that request does completely judgement to this song and what happens to the listener when it stops so abruptly ! <br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SM7Aob7-FQ4" target="_blank">naam gum jayega</a><br />
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I hope no one ever dares to make a remix of this. I will personally go pee on his/her head. <br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7WAhfLYiJQQ" target="_blank">tu tu hai wahi</a><br />
<br />
Once again, a personal favourite. This song seems to flow so easily, creating almost a web of notes around you that I always have to play it twice, at least. <br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vWaJh50aqJI" target="_blank">rah pe rehte hain</a><br />
<br />
Okay, I was trying to decide between this and Musafir Hoon Yaaron and this one won. I suspect the words have something to do with that choice. "jo guzar jaati hai bas, us pe guzar karte hain" - Gulzar, oh Gulzar, did I ever tell you I love you so ?<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hdxeNxyXgno" target="_blank">sawan ki jhole pade</a><br />
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Monsoon is such an integral part of life in the subcontinent and is central to so much music, including that of RD, that it was hard to choose only one "rain song". But this song, in my mind, completely evokes the mood of the first monsoon, that comes only after a long wait. <br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gF2wadF4Z8A" target="_blank">phir kisi shaakh ne</a><br />
<br />
Silli Hawa was a close contender but then I asked myself that if someone held a gun to my head and asked me to choose only one before I died, which one I would choose and here is the answer ! Anirban and Sujatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17443007176123243191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758469103113746220.post-3459558480963789062012-07-23T02:09:00.001-04:002012-07-23T02:09:21.015-04:00Dil Dhoondta Hai<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A <a href="http://diptakirti.blogspot.com/">very good friend</a> reminded me of these lines -<br />
<br />
<i>Aao tumko utha loon kandhon par<br />Tum uchak kar shareer hothon se<br />Choom lena ye chand ka matha...<br /><br />Aaj ki raat dekha na tumne <br />Kaise jhuk jhuk ke koniyon ke bal<br />Chand itna kareeb aaya hai...</i><br />
<br />
Can you recognize which <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VTz9CzqNg28&feature=watch-now-button&wide=1">film</a> these lines are from ? <i> </i>I must say I was struck by how "<i>shareer hothon</i>" hits you in the middle of the poetry !! This is, but yet another example of the genius of Gulzar where he picks known words but weaves them together to create a completely unknown effect, at least to someone like me who is largely ignorant of the world of Hindi and Urdu poetry beyond Hindi film songs.<br />
<br />
Me and my friend went back and forth as to whether it is "<i>chand sa matha</i>" or "<i>chand ka matha</i>". Both would make sense in isolation but in the context of the verse, "<i>chand ka matha</i>" made a little more sense. I had an audio cassette from the days of yore that had the songs of <i>Aandhi</i> with the dialogues interspersed and I know that I have it somewhere in our apartment. However, the fact that I couldn't find it or didn't even <i>bother to try</i> might tell you something about the high entropy content of our apartment, possibly not that uncommon in academic families living in Manhattan with a toddler ! In any case this was not easy to verify and none of the songs on youtube had the dialogue. So 1:10:50 into <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VTz9CzqNg28&feature=watch-now-button&wide=1">this</a>, I could eventually verify that.<br />
<br />
"<i>koniyon ke bal" </i>is another spot in the verse that hits your mind. Again, being literally ignorant in Hindi and Urdu, I first thought that it would be "<i>koniyon ke pal"</i>. On reflection, that did not make much sense and listening to the lines again (thanks youtube !) and again confirmed that it was indeed <i>"koniyon ke bal". What in the world does that mean ?</i> Today, at a gathering of scientists, two good friends, Kamlesh and Simanshu clarified that "koniyon" meant elbow, i.e. "konui" in Bengali and <i>"koniyon ke bal" </i>likely implied struggling motion, akin to that of a handicapped person<i>. </i>What a beautiful analogy ! This is not the first time it has dawned on me that the poetry of Gulzar, like a vintage wine or an exotic perfume has multiple, yet richer layers of "under taste" that are revealed long after you have listened to the lines for the first time. But that being said, I couldn't help falling in love with this seventy-something year old man, one more time !<br />
<br />
I got my friend's message in the morning and the lines stayed in my head till they turned into this by the end of the day, before I could be enlightened by Kamlesh and Simanshu. This is a bit too personalized to be considered a translation and it is a rather horrible one at that - <br />
<br />
<i>The kids have been to sleep,<br />
Far and deep.</i><br />
<br />
<i>The night is young still,</i>
<i><br />
For ours to keep.<br /><br />
None but the luscious moon in sight,</i>
<i><br />
I'll hold you up, you hold me tight.<br /><br />
A kiss from your cherry lips, my love,</i>
<i><br />
And one for the moon tonight.</i><br />
<br />
I have always wondered whether a bit of ignorance can be bliss or a really bad thing when it comes to appreciating Hindi/Urdu poetry and I don't quite know yet.<br />
<br />
My friend, who is on his way to becoming a <a href="http://diptakirti.blogspot.com/p/bollywood-book.html">hot property</a> has written a few <a href="http://diptakirti.blogspot.com/search?q=gulzar">blog posts on Gulzar</a> that are worth checking out if you have read thus far into this post. Although he has pampered me with my previous writings, I gather he did not like this translation at all because he was uncharacteristically silent.</div>Anirban and Sujatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17443007176123243191noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758469103113746220.post-7241657275020021812012-07-04T01:06:00.000-04:002012-07-04T09:39:50.549-04:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">SIDDHARTHA </span></h2>
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Siddhartha's figure looked like a black silhouette in the window frame. "The difference between the views is abrupt", he thought. Although he had the other view from a few feet below, many times, he had never mustered the courage to step onto the window sill, till today. He thought it was curious that the vertigo didn't feel as bad as he had apprehended. Down below, Manhattan seemed like a narrow gorge. It was a fairly windy night. He sensed the cold air brushing past his hair to meet the East River right next door, and it almost reached his spine. He shivered slightly although he didn't let go of his grip, yet. "How funny it is that Manhattan never sleeps", he thought. Even slightly past three, one could spot the occasional cab running by, almost jumping the red lights, that tried hard to choke their mad rush to reach their destinations. He wondered if he would be spotted from below if it were in broad daylight. "Nah, it is unlikely that anyone would look up", he softly uttered to himself. No one ever looks up in Manhattan - they are always moving forward or trying to convince themselves that they are. As he quickly stole a look behind him, his son and wife were still fast asleep, cuddling each other mildly as their bodies moved rhythmically with the rise and fall of their breath.<br />
<br />
Siddhartha's mind drifted away to events in the recent and not so recent past. He met a few good friends the past weekend, after a long long time. A few others he longed to meet but he knew that would be too late. The time wouldn't be right anymore. "Is there ever a right time, the perfect time ?", he thought. His mind strayed yet farther in past to search for the answer. "Why not ?", he thought. He had, time and again, wondered if the academic pursuit was worthwhile but he had no doubts anymore. The wounds of long hours, fruitless months, toiling nights at the bench were all but "<a href="http://www.online-literature.com/poe/180/">wounds of Love</a>". But the fruits were, intense moments of joy, ones that he hardly imagined any other profession that he might have pursued, could ever present to him. He had finished his final experiments today and everything made perfect sense. He knew that he had all the data he needed to finish the manuscript that he had started working on. And merely a couple of months later, he was going to start his dream job. "Is this <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_End_%28The_Doors_song%29">the end</a>, my only friend ?", his voice sounded hoarse to himself, the tune barely recognizable in his own ears. <br />
<br />
They had installed the child-lock on the living room window when his son was born. He had sometimes woken up from his sleep in deep shivers imagining his son falling through an open window from their apartment. Thankfully though, they left the bedroom window to itself. He had often wondered what the final moment would be like. Was it going to be over midway in the air ? Or was he going to land with a thud, with his skull bones breaking into pieces and jutting into the flesh ? Or was he going to land on his feet, merely breaking his knees and reduced to a laughing stock ? He could not dwell on it for too long - his mind was feverishly trying to weave a tapestry of the life that he had lived. He knew he had lived the best month of his life. He did not quite know if it would be all downhill from now, but he knew that if it did, he could not bear it. His limbs were starting to pain from standing still for so long - it was close to four now. He knew that it was getting close to the time when his son's sleep cycle would reach a nadir and he had to act fast. Siddhartha's hand started to sweat as he felt the window frame slipping away from his grip.<br />
<br />
"Baaba, agua......", came a shrill, unmistakable cry. Siddhartha looked back. He had left the table lamp on. His son was up, awake on the bed, looking at him directly in the soft light with a somewhat agitated look. "Baaba, agua", he repeated, demanding action. "Agua" was the gift of a Hispanic teacher in his son's daycare. He could not remember if he had ever heard his son uttering the word "water". His wife moved slightly in her sleep, half irritated by the sudden jolt. A few moments of indecision and that would be the end of it all, he knew. Siddhartha closed his eyes and stepped forward. Two thousand five hundred years ago, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gautama_Buddha">another man</a> by the same name stepped in the other direction. "What a fool", Siddhartha thought to himself !</div>Anirban and Sujatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17443007176123243191noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758469103113746220.post-6328062546356418422008-07-04T00:36:00.007-04:002010-10-20T21:17:27.326-04:00Homeward bound on AI140 ... and a little drunk !<span style="font-style: italic;">I started writing on my way from JFK to Mumbai on the night of the 12th December, 2007. I finished it on the night of 30th June, 2008 sitting in a cottage in a godforsaken part of New York State, in the middle of a state park where people go mostly for their vacations in summer. See if you can make out the disjoint! - Anirban </span><br /><br /><br />As I break the barrier across the thin invisible line on the masses of water that divide Asia and Europe forever, dawn breaks through and time becomes a discontinuous jutted function and so does everything else. The time on my laptop reads 3:03 am. On any other night, I would be sitting in the lab in front of the bilayer waiting for the channels to appear, not tonight however. A few minutes ago, I was happily listening to a late night raga collection – I become a little unsure what to do now. Not that I am not used to seeing the night break into dawn but never this fast! Earlier I had fallen into the spell of <a href="http://www.geocities.com/swarna_khuntia/nrajam.htm">Vidushi N. Rajam's</a> violin, for the first time in my life. Unbelievable, isn’t it? Thousands of miles away from the culture that gave birth to the music and the musician, I hear her for the first time – in spite of growing up amidst it for tens of years. Moulded in the cast of Hindustani Classical Music, violin, the quintessential western instrument, takes on such a lonesome form. It almost sounds like the longing moan of a forlorn soul sitting by the sea shore, yet so deliciously sweet. She plays a 14:30 minute rendition of Darbari but in it she packs an eternity. I look all around me – there is a stealthy silence all around except the necessary background noise that accompanies the mechanics of a midair transatlantic flight. The air hostess has switched off all the overhead lights and the aircraft is but dimly lit now. Almost everyone is asleep; strewn around here and there in the darkish interior of the aircraft are a few compulsive nocturnals like me staying awake and catching up with the latest bollywood release, or even tollywood release, for that matter. With only the occasional laptop or entertainment unit lighting up the few faces, the aircraft seems like a ghost town.<br /><br />I hesitate somewhat before playing the Darbari for the sixth time. Because thousands of miles above the ground, with the billowing clouds passing below me, the first ray of dawn breaks through. Unsure, I switch to a morning raga collection. We are flying back home after a long two and a half year break and at the worst possible time in terms of ticket pricing - the second week of December. However my wife’s strict annual allotment of vacation days coupled with my own post-doctoral obligations in lab meant that this was the only option left to us. Consequently we had to settle for an Air India flight, at a price higher than either of us had ever paid for a trip back home. In spite of numerous warnings against flying with Air India and almost the mythical rumours about their ugly service, we decided to give their JFK-Mumbai flight a go. Till now, I have not regretted – the food has been fabulous, service quite good and the seating way more comfortable than other airlines I have flown by. But above all, I have discovered something today. Every time I have boarded a transatlantic flight, be it British Airways, Al Italia or KLM, I have always sensed discriminatory attitudes from the in-flight service personnel. Over the years my complaints have wearied even some of my more patient friends and they have warned me that I am becoming overly sensitive and to speak the language of the experimental scientist, am picking up signal where one cannot distinguish it from noise. Well, today my friends, I have done the control experiment, as the biologists say. Cause not for a single time, did I feel any racy attitude from any of the air-hostesses. Not that I was not looking out for it. As a matter of fact, I was ever more ready to catch an untoward comment or even a nasty glance at the request for the odd drink. To my relief, the ladies have been supremely gracious, well-behaved and kind - in an almost, at the risk of sounding clichéd, Indian way.<br /><br />The sunlight slowly begins filling in the space around me and <a href="http://www.hariprasadchaurasia.com/">HPC's</a> Basant Mukhari falls perfectly into place. I look at the screen of my entertainment unit. Outside, the temperature is -68°C. Inside the flight, it is a motley crew. Most look like expats returning home for the perennial imperceptibly short visit. But life hasn’t yet made the complete switchover yet to the other side. Just for the sake of example, my last dinner consisted of Gosht Hyderabadi accompanied by bread rolls, unsalted butter and a salad that had, amongst other things, black olives! My entertainment unit offers an interesting blend where Chinese films are ranked as part of the “western film collection" and there is a BBC world documentary on the <a href="http://saptak.org/saptak/index.htm">Saptak</a> festival. We all are, or at least most of us are eagerly awaiting the end of the journey when all of the discontinuities will come to an end –where butter will be salted and gosht will be served with paratha and where dawn will not break out in the middle of a Darbari. However, specks of doubt loom large - it has been a long time in exile. And at least as far as anything about home is concerned, time had stopped for us since we left for the last time. So as we wait in unison, the question hovers around – what lies at the end of the road?Anirban and Sujatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17443007176123243191noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758469103113746220.post-39955926659589332472007-12-19T08:42:00.000-05:002007-12-21T01:59:53.729-05:00An Ode to New York - My Trip to Calcutta part 2<em>Dear reader, I am surprised if you have returned to this blog – but pleasantly so. This is the second of my posts about my Calcutta trip. This one was inspired while trudging along the streets of New York City right before I left but the writing was finished in the flight from JFK to Mumbai. <br />I must admit upfront that although this looks like a poem, you will soon realize that it is nothing close to that. My linguistic skills would not permit me to write a poem even if a gun was held to my head. However these are fragmented thoughts and it occurred to me that it might be worthwhile to arrange it the way I have done here rather than make it into a long paragraph. Your comments, criticisms, and of course warnings against attempting any such thing in the future in the blog are very very welcome.</em><br /><br />An Ode to New York<br /><br />If I ever fell in love with you<br />‘Tis cause you remind me of the wrinkled, aged face <br />I once had in my mind, sharp and clear.<br /><br />She begged me to go away<br />And never come back in a long long time.<br />I wonder if she ever wept secretly<br />She always seemed such a deceiver.<br /><br />On an autumn evening I descend on <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greenwich_Village">Greenwich Village</a><br />And I get her smell here and there<br />Amongst hookah joints and cheap Mexican jewelry shops,<br />They beat her, molested her, raped her, disfigured her<br />But in a rustic long dimly lit Tibetan shop<br />I found the ring that once adorned her fingers<br />It cost only fifteen dollars !<br /><br />In the deep still of the night <br />The Christmas lit trees on streets and alleys <br />Are all but a soft murmur<br />And the odd late-night couple walks along <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/York_Avenue">York Avenue</a> hand in hand<br />I see her with barren pandals and empty cartons on Dashami night<br />After all had gone to the ghats.<br /><br />Standing in the middle of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Times_square">Times Square </a>,<br />The all familiar feeling of emptiness returns to me<br />Like it once did at <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gariahat_Road">Gariahat Mor</a>,<br />Drowned in the chaos all around me -<br />Cold, lonely and starkly alien - like the Boston winter<br /><br />On a still slate grey Sunday morning,<br />As I jump out of the twenty-fifth floor window<br />Flying low on the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/East_river">East River</a>,<br />The grey engulfs everything around me -<br />The dull metallic cluster of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queensboro_bridge"> Queensboro Bridge</a>, the tall towers, the steel colored water<br />It could almost be her waiting for the first rain of the monsoon,<br />The wind carries me away like the first leaves blown away before the first storm of the year<br /><br />Yet right before my head crashes thud against the cold cement of the pavement,<br />And the bones of my neck jut out like an irregular sculpture<br />I sense a drop of tear against my cheeks<br />Is it you crying, or is it her ?Anirban and Sujatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17443007176123243191noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758469103113746220.post-67236841867720414932007-11-27T01:14:00.000-05:002007-12-08T23:58:04.616-05:00It All happened One Night<span style="font-style:italic;">This is one of a few (if I get time) posts that I wanted to write about my oncoming India trip. Living away from home for almost a decade now, the 2.5 years sinusoidal reappearance of homecoming is something I haven't exactly gotten used to. So every time, the frenzy builds up from almost a year ago when the nostalgia starts kicking in and the mild queries from friends and relatives turn to emphatic assertion that I have all but forgotten them. Then comes the mad search for the impossible ticket at the lowest price, with the least number of stops and at the most convenient hours - so that you could work in lab, leave in the evening for the flight to exclude the day of departure from your leave, and finally come back by the last flight on Sunday and get out of the terminal right before the airport shuts down for the night. Alas ! the best thing about going home is the anticipation, the expectation and the thoughts about being there. Time shrinks to a mathematical point between the times I land at and leave Kolkata and no matter how hard I try to do a careful accounting later on as to how and where I spent my vacation, I can never successfully do so. So here goes, in anticipation .........</span><br /><br />I lay my cheeks on the square-inch of area at Gariahat Mor that none had touched since <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Job_Charnock">Job Charnok</a> fell into the lures of three nondescript <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_Kolkata">villages</a> by the side of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ganges">Ganges</a>. It was lying await for me all this while and today I impregnated her. The night was cold from the continuous drizzle that had kept the air heavy since mid-evening. The busy junction was almost quiet now, except the scarce last buses dashing by and lifting up the odd passengers, while in motion. Of course, the auto rickshaws were always there, hovering here and there around nooks and corners like flies around dead meat - waiting in wait lest a late-nocturnal showed up. It was a cold night by Kolkata standards and the wet pavement felt stone-cold against my cheeks. Surprisingly, I didn't smell anything particularly putrid. Instead, there was a choking smell of burnt diesel combined with that unmistakable smell of raindrops hanging in the dust of my beloved city. I looked up - my <a href="http://wikimapia.org/253147/">high-school</a> and <a href="http://www.jadavpur.edu">college</a> skies were now molested by a purposeful, necessary construction of a monstrous over-bridge that seemed to eat up everything around it by its metallic, clustural structure - I have been on it several times in the past three weeks, and thanking for the relief from the horrible, dusty, smoky automobile jungle below. But now, all was quiet; its job being done for the day, the bridge slept tired like a half-dead coal-miner trying to get some respite after the day's work. At any other time of the day, I would have created a stir around me - in spite of being entropically one of the highest points in the metropolis, its not often that a well-fed guy in jeans, t-shirt and sneakers is seen lying flat on the pavements of Gariahat. But now it did not matter much. My raised hip-pocket did draw the attention of a not-so-innocent passer by who attempted closer inspections but on seeing that I was quite aware of my surroundings, fled. Some others must have thought that I was drunk to my lips and still some, a mere possibility of a lot of potential harassment, walked quickly by. <br /><br />Tonight was the last night. Tomorrow, at exactly the same hour, I will be miles away, sitting inside a flight at Mumbai International Airport that would take me, in a moment, miles away from being actually physically connected to this piece of land that I was lying on now - I would no more be on the sovereign piece of land known as India but dangling in free space ! In spite of being a member of the generation X, or X' for that matter, it still betrays my perception, how we can disconnect ourselves from things so fast - or can we really ? The past three weeks had been exactly what I had imagined it would be like - my coming back to Calcutta (not Kolkata, mind you generation Y's !), thinking I would revive my last days before I left the city and realising that everyone and everything in the meantime had moved on - so that was not practically possible anymore - to the extent that even the room that I had lived in as a college student has been renovated and has gotten a new look since! <br /><br />I raised my head a little bit - within a mile of radius around me were the houses of friends to whom I had bidden good-bye in the past one hour - I would not see them for years again even if I wanted to, even if I physically felt like being choked without seeing them, life would have to go on - functionally, physically, effectively and it would not matter much to anyone, not even to me after I would have been done with the journey looming large in front of my eyes. All of my college life, I had fantasized about being drunk and all alone in the middle of the streets right in front of <a href="http://wikimapia.org/92388/">Jadavpur P.S.</a>, controlling the streets all by myself. However,thanks to the supreme vigilance of my boRomamu, that never happened. And on every occasion I wanted to enact that in the past three weeks, I had failed. Friends who had once seemed very keen on the idea had families now and gave out wry smiles when I proposed the same to them. "Have you gone crazy ?" - is what they would say and dismiss my carefully constructed imageries in a second.<br /><br />So here I was, all by myself, doing what I had fantasized all my life - lying flat on the pavements of Calcutta on a rainy night. I know that this piece of land was lying virgin all along. Of the billions of footsteps that had marched the faces of the city over the past two hundred years, not a single footstep had ever fallen on this little piece of land and now I was all upon her. But what would you do if you were in the embraces of your lover for the last time in your life ? It somehow felt like I would never come back again ! Would you make violent physical love to her ? Or would you just lie silently side by side trying to pick up the notes that you have failed to, all this while? Bengalees, being lifelong romantics, would probably do the latter and I was no exception. So I planted a kiss upon her wet cheeks - I could taste the salty mud on my tongue and the slimy love in my throat. At that moment, my cellphone rang ad I instantly knew that the old man was still awake with probably my wife by his side worrying about what had befell me . I quickly took a look at my watch - it was way beyond the old man's waking hours - I should have known better, he always had done this all my life I was living in Calcutta. I quickly shook my boozed emotions off - I had to move on, to more serious human emotions and to greener pastures after that - my clothes were all muddy and myself all dirty. I would have to do a good job of explaining myself to the old man and my young lady :-) As I got off, I took a last look at the square inch of land that I was making love to, around the closed shutters of the shops around me, around the rain-wet, brightly lit streets around Gariahat Mor and quickly boarded the next auto that was heading towards Deshapriya Park.Anirban and Sujatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17443007176123243191noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758469103113746220.post-92166939720971054702007-10-28T20:03:00.000-04:002007-12-02T04:27:21.187-05:00Piloo aka "A Friday Evening in New York City"Piloo is but a magically haunting raag. It has the feel of casting a longing look around for something that you know you have lost and that can never come back - yet you go on yearning for the lost times in the vain hope that you will catch a scent or two. As Ustadji makes the odd initial contacts with the strings, I travel back in time centuries ago, in the minds of an aged and forlorn Krishna who has come back to Gokul looking for his ladylove but cannot find her. Gokul has become a ghostly forsaken town; all that remains are the ruins of its past self and no one lives there anymore but the lord wouldn't accept it. As he goes to and fro between the couple's favourite old haunts, his eyes roam over dilapidated buildings, deserted cow-huts and broken "jhulas" lest he might catch a glance of some material remnants of "the times of love".<br /><br />Or I become a middle-aged nawab walking in the middle of the day through the dense "music-alleyways" of old Lucknow thick with the smell of stale garlands, in search of a prostitute that I fell in love with before the lures of the throne took over everything. All that is in sight are a few stray street-dogs and the odd beggar or two; and all that can be heard are a few notes let loose through the crevices of the windows where the ladies are practicing for the oncoming night. Piloo might well be a night raag but I have a feeling that if you listened to it sitting all by yourself in a mid-summer Indian afternoon with nothing but the scorched landscape around, you might like it equally well. <br /><br />And all this happens in the auditorium of a small school right in the middle of the Friday night frenzy of the "hippy"iest part of New York City, moistened by a daylong drizzle. People speak of the power of music being able to break barriers all the time but here I witness it all around me. I am part of a small audience gathered at a concert organized by Virsa Pakistan, a cultural foundation dedicated to promote the art and culture of Pakistan in the US. Right beside us is an Italian couple - the guy sporting a rudraksh garland and the lady primly dressed like you would expect any "proper" Manhattaner to. In front of us are a Pakistani couple and their friend and to their right is an obvious American. But he is no "hippy on a high"; rather, from his erudite nods and properly placed "wah"'s, even with my seasoned ignorance I can tell that he has more than merely a superficial interest in Hindustani Classical Music - he seems to be a trained musician. The center of our attention are the duo, the two pairs of hands to be more precise, who without doubt, are two of the most accomplished living practitioners of music. <br /><br />I have left home for more than eight years now and as the hope of an imminent end to the journey that began on a September evening in 1999 recedes farther and farther, I find myself grabbing every occasion to replenish the once brimming glass of colours and sounds of India, now partially faded away, with a few drops from here and there. Living in even the most cosmopolitan city of the world, it is quite a treat to be attending a concert of Shahid Parvez. When one adds Anindo Chatterjee to that, it surely adds a few more notches to the levels of expectation and boy, do they adequately make it up ! <br /><br />Earlier, after what seemed to be a long tuning process, Ustadji took a deep breath, a musical breath, before he started the alaap in Rageshwari. It was right at that very moment, sitting there seeing him bringing all of his focus to almost a mathematical point that I realised the immense barrier that an artiste faces before he takes the first stroke of a composition - it almost seems unsurmountable. In Hindustani Classical Music, a raga only provides a framework, a few descriptors for an ambience - the rest is all left to the artist for improvisation. It occurred to me that the situation has close parallels to the kinetic theory of gases. A raga only defines the mean property of an ensemble of molecules, well .... compositions in case of music. However, the individual path taken by a molecule is random and can fall within a spectrum of possibilities. Same is the case with every individual composition that comes out from a true artiste - each is different in its own merit.<br /><br />I have not heard Rageshwari too many times before but was spellbound nevertheless. Shahidji's control over the pace of his fingers moving almost imperceptibly fast over his strings is all too well known. But what continues to amaze me is his ability to bend the string, the "meend" as it is called, and sustain variations therefrom in almost any way he chooses to. Anindo Chatterjee and he looked and sounded like old pals on stage - naturally comfortable with each other but aptly respectful and duly lowering the tone of the instrument when the other took the leading role in the composition. The concert had started with an introductory piece by Shagird Parvez and Anubrato Chatterjee. Their rendition of Yaman was more than I had anticipated - Anubrato is indeed quite astounding and Shagird though has some ways to go, has all the promise of a talented and skillful young artist. The host, Ishrat Ansari is a wonderfully amicable person and is a gracious host. In spite of being the owner of a very successful venture, Caffe Vivaldi, it is quite gratifying that he and his family find time to organize these delicious nuggets of musical events for us. <br /><br />However the pinnacle of the evening was the Piloo in the second half. It was close to 11 in the night when Ustadji started and right before he did, someone boldly announced to her friend next to her - " no matter what, I am leaving this place at 12" ! It is quite an irony that Ustadji finished right around midnight but I wonder if the lady could have stuck to her word had he continued to elaborate the composition a little more. As I have mentioned in the beginning, Piloo is a poignant but immensely sweet raga, probably best described by these words from "Ode to a Skylark" -<br /><br /> We look before and after,<br /> And pine for what is not:<br /> Our sincerest laughter<br /> With some pain is fraught;<br /> Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.<br /><br />I have always admired Shahidji's fast playing and immense precision but listening to the Piloo that evening, I'd dare say that he has transcended through the final layers of maturity as an artist where speed does not dazzle alone, something else does ! The Piloo that he played had remnants of Ali Akbar Khan and Ravi Shankar's legendary live performance and of course part of it was borrowed from Vilayat Khan's composition dediacted to Inayat Khan. However, in true reflection of the whole being greater than the parts, Shahidji's Piloo that evening was a masterpiece in its own right.<br /><br />One of my friends once mentioned to me about the two different musical philosophies of the two main gharanas of Sitar in Hindustani Classical Music. "Baba" Alauddin Khan's words of advice were "jontro dhorbe ondhe r josthi r moton" - hold thy instrument as a beggar holds his stick dear to him. Ustad Inayaat Khan had very different words altogether, "jontro dhorbe joddha r osthi r moton" - hold it like a warrior lays his hands firm on his sword. While listening to musicians from these two gharanas, many a times I have found myself pondering over these two philosophies which have probably been "mythicized" to some extent anyway ! However I always ended up with the realisation that in the end, these two philosophies are not so different at all. That is exactly what music, in its purest and unadulterated form can make happen - when the warrior becomes the beggar and the beggar becomes the warrior. Sitting amongst a group of friends who I met for the first time that evening that was what Shahid Parvez and Anindo Chatterjee did to me - the divides between New York and Kolkata, India and Pakistan, here and there, then and now, reality and imagination all became blurred - what kept coming though were the poignant notes from the sitar riding on the waves of strokes from the tabla.Anirban and Sujatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17443007176123243191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758469103113746220.post-47714530806086811072007-07-05T00:22:00.000-04:002007-07-15T18:54:29.034-04:00The Darbari"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiTrCpHUhJhTv7x3nzpiJ9tb6WZ8gbVL9OquhFDPuESda9isUJpX1nQClaZMqq-aWl2zkuiTmTAXFR4RSA_NLO8ln3OHnyeDxXKLPUDO65Xl6Ls7FDixLj2kqsJAS91t1-guRxu6woGWTr/s1600-h/uvk.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiTrCpHUhJhTv7x3nzpiJ9tb6WZ8gbVL9OquhFDPuESda9isUJpX1nQClaZMqq-aWl2zkuiTmTAXFR4RSA_NLO8ln3OHnyeDxXKLPUDO65Xl6Ls7FDixLj2kqsJAS91t1-guRxu6woGWTr/s400/uvk.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5085059966125046050" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >At the very first stroke of the sitar,<a href="http://musicalnirvana.com/hindustani/vilayat_khan.html">Vilayat Khan</a> begins to draw me away from my surroundings, deep into the abyss of my childhood memories. From where I am sitting, it's a billionaire's view that I get. From below me, the FDR drive is carrying the small but erratically steady stream of late-night traffic to and from Manhattan. What makes the billions however, is the hundred and forty degrees' view of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/East_River">East River</a> that I enjoy sitting at my desk. On top of it, the sparsely lit <a href="http://www.reppep.com/%7Epepper/album/ru/ru-20070307/Images/13.jpg"> Queensboro Bridge</a> hangs loose like a garland. As the Sitar-Nawaz slowly builds the mood of the alaap, my mind starts straying haywards and he lures it thousands of miles away to another city, another place and possibly a very similar view, although I must admit that I never quite had it from this perspective - it only exists in my imagination. Silently I begin empathizing with <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0433416/"> Ashima Ganguli</a> and cannot but appreciate Mira Nair's insights in drawing parallels between the two images - one from a Calcutta window and the other from Manhattan.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >I grew up in an almost perfectly middle-class Bengali family with even more perfected Bengali middle-class values. We didn't have a television set in the house - my father had almost no doubt in his mind about the power of the "idiot-box" to sway his sons' minds away from studies and telephone was still an item of luxury in those days. However, even amidst the typically frugal settings, Bengalees in those days had a few avenues of indulgence where they didn't stint on spending - for some it was travel, for others the performing arts. In our case one of our more cherished possessions, or so I thought, was our record player; a record changer to be more accurate. As you opened the wooden box, the white stylus greeted you, shining in its majestic glory. It was a <a href="http://www.garrard501.com/history.html"> Garrard</a>, a pukkah Londoner till it found its way across the sinful seas to the small corner in our house sometimes in the 60's. There was only one technician in all of Calcutta that my father ever trusted for repairs, when the need arose; and whenever in my tiny little colourful world, the occasional smell of feuds between siblings spilt over, mostly from watching films, I could not help but ponder who amongst me and my elder brother would my father entrust this priceless piece of property with.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >In my mind, it was like Alibaba's hidden cave. All you needed to do was to find out the right record and out came the magic notes ! We had records strewn everywhere around the house. Some of them old 78 rpm's, packed up in dusty boxes, some them tiny 45 rpm's, short and crisp in their content. For me, the most attractive however were the 33<span style="font-size:85%;">1/3</span> rpms. Most of these had some kind of album-art on their covers that you would forever associate the record and the piece of music with. These were mostly photos or portraits of the artists in either jovial or musically engaged moods and of course there were the few occasional ones with vague artwork - the connection with the music a matter of zero or infinity, depending on how extrapolative your imagination could be.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >As Khansaheb reaches the climax of the alaap, my mind goes back to my early childhood days. My father picked up his love for Hindustani Classical Music during his college days at <a href="http://www.bhu.ac.in/"> BHU</a> in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Benares"> Benares</a>, then quite the haven for North Indian Classical Music. He must have been a rather devout fan of Vilayat Khan because I can recall numerous Vilayat Khan LP's in our collection - one titled "The Genius of Vilayat Khan" and the other one bore the simple and utterly nondescript title "Ustad Vilayat Khan". This latter LP had a rather princely picture of Vilayat on the cover. It was shot from the side - Vilayat must have been in his early heydays since he had a crop of hair combed backwards, sitting straight, eyes on his sitar, gaze lost somewhere beyond it and a black shawl thrown carelessly on his back. Though I did not have any understanding of the technicalities of the ragas (and do not till this day), one thing I was always keen on was knowing what time of the day a raga was meant to be played. I can still vividly recall that after pointing out that Darbari Kanada was a night raga, to be played in the late evening, my father also added that the essential mood of the raga was one of pathos. Funny enough that this particular LP did not have Vilayat's Darbari but for some reason, whenever I heard Vilayat playing Darbari, I thought of him sitting in that exact same posture, oblivious of the world around him.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >One of my teachers had once pointed out that unless you have imagination, you cannot appreciate <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Statistical_thermodynamics"> statistical thermodynamics</a>. One has to imagine ensembles of molecules running here and there to appreciate the random and essentially statistical character of nature itself. I think the same holds true for almost all art forms. A true work of art builds its own imagery in the mind of the audience - every person's image being very special to him/her but quite different than the others'. Once formed, the images become associated with the work of art itself and adds a visual dimension to its interpretation - well, something like that ! Knowing the little that I knew about Darbari and the fact that it originally used to be played in the courts of the emperors, I created a little imagery of my own. In my mind, Vilayat Khan playing Darbari became the unrequited lover - the court musician. He was playing the last time in the court before the princess who would be married away the next day to her suitor to a distant land. He was playing for the last time, not for fame, not for splendour and not for the much sought after expression of appreciation from the emperor. He was just playing with his lover in his mind - the last music that he would play for her and the one that she would carry forever wherever she went and that would tie them - beyond the realm of space and time. With that imagery in my mind, the Darbari became perfectly suited. Even now, decades later as I listen to that music, the remnants come back and haunt me. One of my wildest fantasies that alas, cannot ever happen physically, even within the realms of theoretical possibilities, has been to hear Vilayat Khan play Darbari in the Taj on a moonlit night.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >Sadly enough, I left classical music in latter school days. </span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >Like most kids from upwardly mobile middle-class families, my fancies were caught over the years by the predictable lot - western pop of the 80's slowly shifting to 70's and 60's rock, Bollywood music of the RD era and ghazals - almost in that order. I started listening to Hindustani Classical Music again only recently and to be honest, part of it was propelled by the willingness of the generous communities on the internet to share hard-to-find music with each other. However, I have been a listener on and off and whenever I have stumbled on this Darbari Kanada, somewhere deep within, something stirred profoundly. Within seconds, my mind would leave the forlorn lab of the late-evenings and drift elsewhere - be it Boston or NYC. Occasionally I find myself musing that I must have a deeper connection with this Darbari. Midway through the jhalla as Khansaheb's fingers finish casting the last few turns of the divine net around me, in my mind's eye I see my father, a student in Benares Hindu University, having a rare December night free when he could steal a few hours outside a concert to catch up with the late night maestros. As was the norm in those days for students and other enthusiasts who often did not have enough money to buy tickets, he must have had to settle for a place outside the enclosure and fight the bitter December cold while the ustads and the pandits played on. Could Vilayat have rescued my father on one such night with his Darbari ? To rid himself of the chill, as he embraced the Darbari a little more tightly while the notes crept out of the crevices of the pandal, did a few notes made their way into him and got locked up deep within his physical self ? And did they live long enough till 1974 to see the lights of the day, ... and the darkness of the night ?</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >Research on various different stages of sleep has shown that there is a period of sleep called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rapid_eye_movement"> REM sleep</a> during which our brain is almost as active as normal and this phase becomes longer and longer during the later parts of our sleep. In the wee hours of the night, when the last cab in Manhattan has departed and the sifting arrays of lights from the streets falling on the walls through the shades in my apartment become almost a constant pattern, I enter this phase of my sleep. Slowly stepping through the gates in the dark, I enter the premises of a rather familiar looking building. As my eyes get adjusted to the soft shine of the moonlit night, I recognize the most talked after <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taj_Mahal"> monument</a> in history in front of me. There is no one else in sight and I slowly begin taking unsure steps towards the entrance. Gradually the outlines of a figure sitting at the iwan takes shape - a rather familiar figure. My pace becomes a little more deliberate and right at that moment, my ears catch a note or two. As I approach nearer and the music unravels itself, familiarity intervenes. He is sitting sideways, straight, with the shawl on his back and with no one else in sight. He knows that I am there but does not look up - he never does. A light smile shows up on his lips as he strikes a perfect chord; he somehow gestures me to sit down although I'm not quite sure how. I had thought that there were only the two of us but is there a third person too ? In the distance across the river, do I catch a glimpse of a figurette covered in white muslin adorning the frame of a window in Agra Fort ? Is she listening too ? As I surrender myself to the engulfing emotions, the Darbari plays on ...</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >At my age, I don't ponder very frequently about death and the end of it all and what it all means. But I hope that when it does come, one of these sessions never come to an end.</span><br /></div>Anirban and Sujatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17443007176123243191noreply@blogger.com7