Geet Ramayan - A "happening"

That a radio program spanning 56 weekends should evolve into a full-length music concert and then capture the imagination of millions for six decades, seems like an impossible fairytale. But the story of Geet Ramayan is no less than such a tale.

Sixty years ago on Ramnavami, the voice of ‘Babuji’ Sudhir Phadke rang out in the morning on Aakshvaani Pune, carrying the words of Ga Di Madgulkar – स्वये श्रीरामप्रभू ऐकती, कुशलव रामायण गाती. Fifty-five songs followed over the next one year, and the rest is history. Much has been written and spoken about it in these last 60 years. It has also been translated into several other languages. People celebrated its silver jubilee, then its golden jubilee, and the celebrations are still continuing. What is the secret of its astounding success? 

Is it just a combination of classic lyrics and melody? Or is there more to it than meets the eye? Before we delve into this enquiry, a tribute to its creators is a must. I cannot find any better way than to just quote the co-creators here –

On "The Music Room" by Namita Devidayal

There are stages in how one reacts to Classical Music. I am not just referring to stages of casual listening, then liking, following, collecting and getting totally addicted.

Beyond an initial liking that develops, one starts understanding the nuances and technical parts. There is the joy of discovery when one is able to identify a certain raag, or follow a taal.

But there comes a stage when the technical aspects start looking too formidable to comprehend. Chalan-bhed, shruti-bhed, vakra swar…. it just keeps getting increasingly complicated. It is at such times that this book – The Music Room – By Namita Devidayal, comes as a saviour. No, it tells you nothing about these technicalities. It does something else, and does it very well indeed.

It tells us how Hindustani Classical Music is not just science or just art. It is a touching narrative of how the Guru-Shishya relationship between the author and her Guru, Dhondutai Kulkarni evolved over decades. But the book is not merely a report of events told nicely. It goes on to show us that Classical Music is actually what comes out of a melting pot of relationships. Gurus behaving strangely with disciples (and vice versa), an artist using one moment of public humiliation to trigger a fierce lifelong battle, battle of egos, love, hate, adulation, possessiveness, it is all there.

So the next time you wonder why the same raag sounds so different coming from two artists, remember that it is not only because of the technical equations and mathematics. It is also because it is expression coming from two different human beings.

A trash weekend

Whats the best way to spend a Sunday morning? There can be many answers to this, but I found a new one. Deal with garbage.

After hearing and reading various opinions, and also seeing many people actually take constructive steps) I finally motivated myself to start composting the biodegradable waste I generate. Initially I thought it was going to be a rather complicated affair, requiring much time and attention. Quite the opposite. It is absurdly simple.

We have got so used to doing this - fill up the bin for the whole day, then simply keep it outside the door the next morning and forget about it. Let the municipal machinery take care of it. If its not inside my home, its not my problem.

It IS, unfortunately.Many of us are not aware about what happens to the contents of our bin once it disappears from our sight. It travels to the city (gets spilt on the road in the process) and ends up in the municipal dumping ground. The ground now resembles a gigantic mountain of garbage. It can contain everything, from a staple pin to a car bumper. Of course, a large part of this montain is formed of PET bottles, shoes, electronic waste, and so much more.

People at the dump go through the painstaking process of segregating all this mess. Some pick only glass, others look only for leather goods, yet others have an eye only for PET bottles. Once they have taken these things away, the remaining bit (which hopefully is all biodegradable) should ideally get converted to compost.

The Artist

...














                                                                                           ...

A date with the Government

I believe I am an honest taxpayer. And I have enough papers to prove it. So in  due course of time, a day arrived when I had to go further and become an honest service-tax payer. I thus braced myself for a long-drawn battle with the system to get a service tax registration number. And since I have already made the claim to being an honest taxpayer, I did not wish to approach the matter through a tout/agent.

At the outset, I must admit that I was pleasantly surprised that the whole system of getting a registration is now online. Wow. One would be tempted to say. That it took me seven visits to the office in spite of the system being online (or rather, because of it) is another matter. Anyway, to come to the point, the procedure sounds deceptively simple.

1. Go the aces.gov.in homepage and create an account for yourself. You then get a login ID and a password - the customary stuff.

2. Then you login and fill up a form called ST-1 and click on 'Submit'. Then take a printout of the form... wait. Here's the first catch. If you have to really take a printout, you have to achieve quite above-average literacy in the world of computers, because there is NO straightforward method to either get a printout of ST-1 or getting a PDF version of it. But I managed that.

3. Then one has to go to the service tax office, wait in an interminably long queue (and it could takes several such visits - it took me three) and present the ST-1 with supporting documents (PAN, addr proof etc.) and submit it.

4. The officer promises you that the approval of ST-1 will happen in seven working days. Which means you have to wait for a week-and-a-half, and just hope that other meaningless holidays like Mahashivratri don't make the wait longer.

5. It comes as no surprise that nothing happens after seven (or many more) working days. I went after sixteen, and had to create a mild form of satyagrah in the office to get the officer to approve my application in front of me.

6. Once approved, one simply has to login again and take a printout of the much-desired and precious entity called Form ST-2. Child's play, one would imagine. But no.

7. When I eagerly logged in and, fingers quaking in anticipation, clicked on the link called 'View Latest ST-2', it asked for dates. From and To date.

Where do I belong, really?

Am back in this space after a long time, and it is no coincidence that the reason had to be music. And that too, music at its purest, primeval, uncluttered best. I was in Shantiniketan for three days and one evening, on the outskirts of a Santal village, I met this Baul singer singing all by himself in the middle of nowhere, totally unmindful of what was happening around him. I haven't managed to follow all the lyrics but basically the poet is telling someone (presumably a girl) to go back 'to where she really belongs.' Amazingly, the Baul manages three instruments - the 'Ektara' , a drum to hold the rhythm, and ghunghroo tieid to his legs to fill up the spaces between two 'matras' in the rhythm 1

I believe the Baul is singing to all of us, not just to some girl. Often I find myself having arrived (with great effort, mind you) in a certain place and then realize suddenly that I am in the wrong place. What's the option then, but to go back to where one belongs? 

Once upon a time....

This is the home of my grandparents. It would be more appropriate to say that this WAS their house. Neither of them are alive today, nor does the house now belong to any of their descendants. The house was sold off almost 20 years ago. Usually old buildings in Pune (or for that matter anywhere) have a standard fate, that of being razed to the ground and a new apartment complex coming up at that place. But this one has had to face a different twist of fate. For reasons outside the purpose of this note, the house (& adjoining Bhanuvilas movie theatre) have remained in a state of limbo for nearly twenty years.

This is the home where my grandparents lived, brought up their 11 children, witnessed the ups and downs of life together, saw people come and go for over 50 years. I have spent all my summer vacations here. Every wall, corner, window, broken door-frame - everything - is a living memory for me. Countless moments of joy, growing up with cousins, being doted over by aunts and uncles, and the omnipresent feeling of 'being at home' that my grandparents exuded.

I do not intend to go on a nostalgia trip here. That would be a never-ending venture. All I want to say is - I have paid attention to living beings - people, pets, plants. I have a habit of maintaining inanimate possessions very carefully - books, old pens, old pictures, my grandfather's pocket watch, and so on. But I don't think I have paid enough attention to structures which have sheltered me from the forces of the world. I may have taken them for granted, in fact. Seeing pictures of my family home has brought about this stark realisation, do I love my home enough when I am in it?

This wada at 343, Narayan Peth, Pune and the adjoining Bhanuvilas Talkies will also become a part of history sooner or later. They can't remain like this indefinitely. But I shall forever be grateful to this place for showing me what a home is all about. Most of all, this space provides me with the answer to the existential question - where do I belong? Yes, I belong to this soil, this is where I came from, this is who I am.

My grandpa must have sat in this very place when he dreamt of the countless business ventures that he started. And then seen many of them go bust, one after the other. Through all this, my grandma would have kept the home fires burning, often by selling one by one her family heirloom jewels, must have sat here and written those letters to him. The letter would reach him when he was in jail, where he spent half his working career, just because he decided to follow a path that Gandhi showed. Yes, this is where I have come from.

Every time a space beckons to us, tugs at our heart and asks us to stay back, we resort to saying the good old इदं न मम. (This is not mine.) But a day comes when you take a pause in the race, and say to yourself, "Yes, this IS mine."

Kabir must have realized that "this is not mine" when he said उड जाएगा हंस अकेला . Yes, a day will come when I too, will fly off. Like my grandpa, my grandma, my father, and now my mother has. This bird will fly away too, not knowing where its destination is, but surely knowing where its roots lie. And therein lies a surety that we often seek.

(Note - All photographs by Aniruddha Bhate. I am sure he doesn't mind me posting them here. His roots lie here too, after all.)

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.....

Mockery of justice once again.

A public interest litigation filed by one Mr. Ramesh Chand Tripathi in the Supreme Court has been decided in his favour. Apparently, Mr. Tripathi wants the Lucknow court to defer its verdict on Ayodhya because he feels that this might lead to communal riots. Where's the logic in this, Mr. Tripathi? All you have achieved is a delay in the final verdict on this festering matter.
It is a contempt of court according to me. I am no legal expert, even by the remotest stretch of imagination. But I still feel this way. Appealing to one court to stall another court is just a cheap trick, I am afraid to say. Why do I say it is contempt of court? Because stalling one judgement out of the fear of communal riots means not believing in the fact that law and justice are above everything else. EVERYTHING ELSE, mind you. I wish the Supreme Court had asked Tripathi to mind his own business than give him a patient hearing.
This has all gone into another endless loop, I am afraid. A loop that has extended over five decades already. Why can't we end this meaningless loop and get on with more important issues that face the country?

Just yesterday lakhs of Ganesh idols were immersed into rivers all across the country. As I understand, this is done to signal to the devotee that s/he should not get irrevocably attached to God in the form of an idol and rather look inwards for the existence of God. Exactly for this purpose, the idols are supposed to be made of clay. Earth, that is. That which is indestructible. And then we allow the whole country of over a billion people to be held ransom over one STRUCTURE?

Too much information - is it dangerous?

There is so much information on the net. Too much, I sometimes feel.
Its not just the sheer amount of information that bothers me. Its the accessibility and more, its usability that is causing me stress.
We have heard this before now - children can complete their school projects by clicking a few sites here and there and downloading the information that they want. Its a different matter that all projects from a class must be looking alike.
What you want to know? Whatever it is - just Google it. That's the way to go about gathering information now.
My stress has gone up a few notches since I came back from Shivpuri (near Rishikesh) having conducted a staff training program for the outdoor safety instructors from Snow Leopard Adventures, Delhi. Two instances stand out in my mind.
We were talking about safety aspects when dealing with adventure activities that involve ropes and mainly- HEIGHT. The topic veered around to the use of ascenders (commonly called Jumar) and then went on to using a prusik knot. I spent better part of one full day explaining the intricacies of a prusik knot and its do's and dont's to the group.
On another day, we had a session about snakes. I mean - safety aspects regarding snakes and snakebite on an outdoor site. I wished I could have shown them live examples and given them an opportunity to actually handle a snake but that was not possible. So I had to make do with a whiteboard (and the participants had to make do with my horrendous sketching skills!) Obviously, the key topic was identifying whether a snake is poisonous or not.
After I was back in Pune, I did some searching around on the net on these two topics and was swamped by some thousands of websites, blogs, e-forums etc. that provided every bit of useful and useless information on these critical topics.
What would happen if someone who has half-cooked knowledge reads all the information and makes a decision whether a snake is poisonous or not? I shudder to imagine the consequences. for example - here is the description of a Russel's Viper from the internet - (sourced from Wikipedia)

Corruption-wealth Games

Once again, the powers-that-be of my beloved country leave me surprised. The good part is, I am left pleasantly surprised.
Two top aides of the Corruption-in-Chief, Suresh Kalmadi, were sacked today post the findings of an investigation committee. This leads the already much-beleaguered Commonwealth Games further into a morass. Maybe not. After all the mess that these fellows have created, what worse could they have done? But no, thanks. They have been sacked.
Firstly, why am I surprised? Simply because while I have followed the media hollering about the malpractices going on in the preparations leading upto the CWG, I had always feared that all this will be pushed under the carpet. It is easy to play emotional blackmail with us Indians. All that one has to say is - "You see, the Games are just two months away. Why don't we all join hands (Ahem!) and make the Games successful. Our country's prestige and image depends on that. Once the Games are over, we will surely investigate all matters and all those guilty will be punished." In fact, they already had said something to the similar effect. It is another matter that some cynical Indians (me included, of course) never believe such lip service.
After all, the Commonwealth Youth Games held in Pune last year were a disaster. Did anyone get punished? No. The main road that is close to where I stay is STILL BEING BUILT AFTER THREE YEARS!!!!!!! The stadiums are still in a pathetic conditions. They WERE pathetic even when the Youth Games were on. So how do you expect anything different to happen in the BIG Commonwealth Games? All the more, when the man behind these two events is the same? Kalmadi, of course.
Now now now. There are some little glitches in the whole thing, isn't it? The so-called "investigation committee" was ordered by none other than Suresh Kalmadi himself. Which is like the robber cleaning up the safe, then borrowing the whistle from a cop and blowing it hard, yelling, "THIEVES, THIEVES, THIEVES. Help, Help, HEEEEEEELLLPPP!"
Anyways, now that someone has been sacked, what are the possible scenarios?

Octopus Paul becomes TV host

The mass hysteria that Octopus Paul has created amongst football fans worldwide has to be given due consideration. (Not to speak of the jealousy caused to millions of octopuses in the ocean). Keeping this, and viewers' interests in mind, it would be only appropriate if Paul also hosts the pre-match show tomorrow. Mayanti Langer can have a day off. Here's a sneak preview...

Bad TV commercial

Some TV commercials bring a smile to your face. Others bring a question mark. Then there are yet others that bring a frown.
This one of a UPS is currently running on national channels. Anyone who knows what a UPS is already understands what it is supposed to deliver. It is not some big secret feature. Now there could have been a thousand ideas to show something that charges fast and provides non-stop power. Of all these possible ideas, these fellows could only think of - THIS ? Watch it for yourself.

I think it is crude and in rank bad taste. Awful. I am not even getting into the area of PG-rated stuff and all that. In any case, I am glad that I don't have little children who might ask me, "Dad, what did that advertisement mean?" (My friend's daughter once told her to buy 'that nice kind of blotting paper which they show on TV')
PG issues apart, I am quite aghast that this stupid advt could get clearance for screening. Do tell me if you agree with my views. Is there some way that such stuff can be forced to be taken off air?
It is also possible that I might just be getting too old for the current times and you are free to tell me that too.
I have distorted parts of the advt on purpose. Why should this brand get further mileage? If I post it as it is, I will simply be giving more publicity to what I find objectionable.

FIFA 2010 - a tournament of Humpty-Dumptys?

Football statisticians have a far easier job than their colleagues who keep track of cricket statistics. There is no end to cricket statistics. There are so many variable that you can just go on and on. In football matches, there are fewer variables - just the percentage possession, shots on target, corner kicks, fouls, and just about a few more. Hmmmm... is that all? No, there's more interesting stuff! Falling!!!

Source - Google/www.fifa.com

So I thought I must invent some new statistical variables for football. The inspiration for this brainless activity came from the just-concluded Spain-Chile match. The first half left an impression that players spent more time in falling down and getting up than trying to score goals. So during the second half, this is what I did.

Simplify life - watch TV after midnight

If you happen to have the genes of a bat or an owl (like me) and tend to watch TV in the wee hours of the night, then don't read this. Because you would already know what I am going to say. For others, read on and get enlightened.
Post midnight, there are the following categories of programs available for you.
1. Channels from a certain part of Indian geography (OK OK, I am just being politically correct. Like the news reporters who think they get away by saying "people of a certain community...") that show songs of only one type. And that type is called 'conjug... sorry, communal gymnastics in the rain'.
2. Then there are the omnipresent news channels who show nothing new. What's new in that, you may ask. DON'T ask!

That's all? Is that ALLLL ?? No my dear early-to-bed-early-to-rise friends, that's not all. Don't be disheartened. The third category is actually a VAST category. A category that cynics might write off in one phrase as 'online TV shopping'. But actually it is a mind-boggling cornucopia of products that promise to make your life simple. Here's a sample of what you can get. JUST a sample. This is by no means the complete list.

Vuvuzela - an overdose of culture

Life was simple during school days. There was only Olympics that happened once in four years. For all the hype around Indian medals in Asian Games, these games hardly attracted much attention till Delhi hosted them in 1982. As for Winter Olympics, I didn't even know that such a thing existed when I was in school. Commonwealth Games too passed without making much of a dent on my childhood memory.
Now there's Summer Olympics, Winter Olympics, Commonwealth, Asian, and as if these are not enough, there is Cricket World Cup, T20 World Cup, IPL, Champions League, Formula 1, Hockey World Cup and yes, FIFA world cup. So much to remember.... :-(
Each game promises to be bigger and better than the previous one. And the organizers pull out all stops in the opening and closing ceremony. Either they are getting repetitive and/or monotonous, or I am losing memory, but after all these years and all the ceremonies that have come and gone, only TWO instances remain etched on my memory.

About 'Anonymous' comments

Thanks to Pune rains and the ensuing power failure and resultant net failure, I was away from blogging for some time.
OK, that's an excuse that is valid only for the last nine days. Before that, I had stopped writing just because I couldn't think of what to write. The usual rampant infection - writers' block.
After returning to the internet, one of the first things that I did was look at comments 'pending approval' on my blog. Not surprisingly, there were only useless Anonymous comments just waiting for me to press 'delete'.
But that very thing has prompted this post.
I admit that I am a little naive in this area and am asking you all for some enlightenment. WHO writes all these anon comments? Who has so much time, I mean?
Earlier I had kept the setting for comments as unmoderated, so had to constantly watch and delete all the nonsensical stuff. (It has a collateral benefit. If, say, you have 10 comments, and 5 of them are fraud anon ones. You delete those five. Blogger still shows the footer as '10 comments' ! Haha!
Coming back to the point. Some months ago, I decided to change the setting to 'moderated' and set upon the noble task of preventing the senseless stuff appearing on my blog.