Tribute to Pandit Bhimsen Joshi

As a child, I still recall the first time I heard the Shuddha Kalyan by Panditji - बतिया तोरा, on a 78 RPM record. 40 years have passed but its magic has not worn off even a wee bit. Later in college days, his three evergreen compositions - सोहे लरा री in Kedar, धन धन मंगल गावो in Kalashree and तू रस का in Durga triggered off an everlasting addiction of classical music.

Then one late night on top of Fort Rajmachi, one of us was fiddling with the transistor, which caught on unknown station and started playing 'सखी मंद झाल्या तारका'. For a moment we relaxed back into our sleeping bags and then suddenly sat up dazed. The voice was Bhimsenji's, not Sudhir Phadke! We could not quite believe our ears that the same powerful voice which had sung रम्य ही स्वर्गाहुनी लंका could bring out such soulful rendering of 'ते प्रेमगाणे छेडणारा सूर तू होशील का'. (If you still haven't heard this, you can do so now on esnips).

And the several early mornings of the concluding recital in Sawai - Ramkali, Jogiya or an Ahir Bhairav, and his ending it with a Bhairavi. How can anyone ever forget his बाबुल मोरा नैहर छूटो जाय?

Then, at the end as everyone stood up to pay homage to Sawai Gandharva and his Bhairavi record was being played, one could see Panditji standing with his head bowed down, humility and respect personified.

I will forever remain indebted to him for showing this huge treasure to me. I am sure there are millions of others with whom I share these sentiments today.

What can one say about the greatness of a person who has enthralled millions of fans for over seven decades with his singing?

All I can do is post a clip from an recording, from way back in 1954. (God bless the soul who thought of recording it then.) Its an captivating rendering of Yaman lasting for nearly an hour (कैसन की - विलंबित एकताल, शाम बजाये आज मुरलिया - द्रुत तीनताल and then a तराणा in द्रुत एकताल.)

I am no expert on Pt. Bhimsen Joshi (I still cannot bring myself to writing 'Late' before his name) but I think he rarely sang a tarana. Am posting only the last bit of the recording here. The photographs are from Google, thanks to all the photographers. I think they won't mind me using these pictures here.

It is only appropriate that I should pay homage to him by posting a tarana in Yaman, a raag that is often sung in the beginning of a concert. Kumarji once said that when words fall short of expressing emotions, a Tarana takes over.

With this, I can start a new phase of devoted listening to his voice.

Whither non-violence? Or Wither non-violence?

While in Bhubaneshwar, I was curious to go and see the 'Shanti Stupa', a memorial to commemorate Emperor Ashok's 'change of heart' after witnessing the carnage of the Kalinga Battle. The visit was eminently disappointing, to say the least.
The Kalinga battle has been taught to every Indian child in history classes and portrayed as an event that shaped Indian culture and its ethos of non-violence. Ashok himself has been immortalized by his 'Chakra' on our flag and his Lion capital being our national emblem. Given the importance of this event and Ashok's contribution to India, I expected a lot from this monument. The reality turned out to be quite different.
A stark white stupa stands atop a small hillock at Dhauli, about 20 km. from Bhubaneshwar. It has four statues of Buddha, each in a different pose on the sides. Eight lions stand watching outward, towards the vast plains that witnessed  the grim battle of Kalinga.

   

That's it. There is not a single plaque, not a word written anywhere in the premises stating the importance of this place. I later found out that the stupa was actually built by the Japanese Kalinga Nipppon Buddha Sangh as recently as 1971.
Steps leading up to the stupa are flanked by the usual shops selling odd assortment of objects, the kind of shops that one sees outside any Indian temple. The place appears to be a popular picnic spot for people. While returning I couldn't hold on to my disappointment and feigning enough ignorance, I asked the taxi driver whether this place had any significance or whether the stupa was built here 'just like that'. He said he didn't know. Then as an afterthought, he said "you know Ashok, the King? It has some connection with him". Some saving grace, at least.

Be a sport....

The curtain has just come down on CWG 2010 and the media has been overflowing with medal-news, and for very good reason. India has put up a great performance, and the efforts of all athletes, who have or not have won a medal, must be applauded. It was a great show. The grit of Saina, the tenacity of Jwala and Ashwini, or the sheer dogged persistence of Harminder (bronze medal in 20 km walk, in case you missed him.) The medal sweep in women's discus, or the gold in women's 4x400 relay. Many more. Not to forget the unheralded heroes of swimming and gymnastics.

 Picture Courtesy - Google

I was watching an NDTV debate focusing on the future of Indian sports, and whether the medal bonanza will give a much-needed boost to Indian sports. While watching the debate, this question popped in my head.
What place does spectator involvement hold in a sport getting promoted?

Ayodhya - the one without war...

Long long ago, when I was a little boy, I asked my Dad,
What exactly was this thing called partition, was it really bad?
He answered with a heavy voice, just imagine son
If the line was between Pune and Mumbai, wouldn't that be sad?
I was horrified. Coz Pune was where my grandma stayed
and Mumbai was where we changed trains every summer
I had wondered, could someone be so stupid?
To draw a line between two cities? So bad?
But then.... somebody had.

Many years later, when I still believed, naively,
that famous people just kind of passed away
I mean, just peacefully, you know, just like that

Till that one day when I saw
a Prime Minister become a crumpled heap of blood and guts
I couldn't believe that someone could be so mad
But then..... somebody had.

More years passed, and I thought
I was grown up to understand it enough
I believed that only capability mattered, not caste
And that stupid rules were a thing of the past
But then, I saw a student
must have been just about my age then
Who set himself ablaze, and
the frenzied mob did little to save him
I still thought, how could others be so bad?
But then... sombody had.

Some more years passed, and I thought all was OK.
For there was this young man who said to the world
"India is an old country and a young nation
and I am young, and I have a dream."
He seemed to set all things right,
when one day,
I saw him too being blown to small bits
So much that all they could find of him were his shoes
I had ALWAYS wondered, could anyone be so mad?
But then.... somebody had.

Even more years passed, at least by now I should have learnt
For my entire childhood was spent quite close to a mosque
That it didn't matter which God you bowed to
As long as you were humane to one and all
But I then saw a mindless mob tear down a mosque
Did they gain anything from it at all?
I wished nobody had
But then.... somebody had.

By then, i was sure I was old enough to understand
That night in a chowk in Pune
I was in that frenzied mob, all wide-eyed
Watching on a screen a horde climb those domes
Armed with crude weapons, deadly nevertheless
Shouting hoarse a name which I thought stood for integrity
But they showed none, were just proud to exhibit brutality
I still looked askance, how could anyone be so mad?
But then.... someone had.

Not too far back, some men simply sailed across the sea
And happily went around shooting anyone they could see
They went to those very places, where I had made friends
Some of my friends lay dead as I watched horrified
All I did was howled and cried
Yes, I too lit a candle, but
That wouldn't have brought my friends back
Really, how could someone be so mad?
But then ... someone had.

Many years have passed, and I have greyed now
Have long since stopped asking the question
How can anybody be so mad?
I was afraid I would have to ask it again today.
But then.....