Friday, December 30, 2005

a note



Life is the only way
to get covered in leaves,
catch your breath on the sand,
rise on wings;

to be a dog,
or stroke its warm fur;

to tell pain
from everything it's not;

to squeeze inside events,
dawdle in views,
to seek the least of all possible mistakes.

An extraordinary chance
to remember for a moment
a conversation held
with the lamp switched off;

and if only once
to stumble upon a stone,
end up soaked in one downpour or another,
mislay your keys in the grass;

and to follow a spark on the wind with your eyes;
and to keep on not knowing something important. --

by Wislawa Szymborska (Translated from the Polish, by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh.)

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

for the oldies and the goldies

TO ALL THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED the 1930s '40s, '50s, '60s and '70s !!

First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they carried us.

They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can, and didn't get tested for diabetes.

Then after that trauma, our baby cribs were covered with bright- colored, lead-based paints. We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors, or cabinets, and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets, not to mention the risks we took hitchhiking.
As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags.

Riding in the back of a pick up on a warm day was always a special treat.
We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle.
We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle, and NO ONE actually died from this.

We ate cupcakes, white bread and real butter, and drank soda pop with sugar in it,
but we weren't overweight because WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.

No one was able to reach us all day. And we were okay.

We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes! After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.

We did not have Playstations, Nintendos, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 99 channels on cable, no video-tape movies, no surround sound, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet or Internet chat rooms..........
WE HAD FRIENDS, and we went outside and found them!
We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth, and there were no lawsuits from these accidents.

We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.
We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays, made up games with sticks and tennis balls, and although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes.

We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just walked in and talked to them!

Little League had tryouts, and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!!

The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law!

This generation has produced some of the best risk takers, problem solvers, and inventors ever!
The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas.
We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned HOW TO DEAL WITH IT ALL
!
And YOU are one of them!
CONGRATULATIONS!
You might want to share this with others who have had the luck to grow up as kids before the lawyers and the government regulated our lives for our "own" good And while you are at it, forward it to your kids so they will know how brave their parents were.
Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it?!

with special thanx to the 60s kid Ron Pirkey who contributed to this postin'


all india radio and western music





An old-fashioned RADIO



Let me dedicate this post to the announcers of State-owned radio stations the world over, especially those that play English music... or should I say English language music.

Ever since I can remember I have been listening to the radio: it was The Sri Lanka Broadcasting Corporation that helped me through the wonder years,

it was those songs of love that it would bring to me and I memorised each word...

and then during the summer holidays it was Calcutta All India Radio and the mandatory Musical bandbox that accompanied every lunch hour...

and then, somehow, televison crept in...

and schedules changed...

and then years of work in the Hindi heartland of Bihar had no access to western music over radio, except, of course the Beeb on short-wave now and again.

Over the years the airwaves have grown weaker... SLBC no longer broadcasts eight hours a day to India over the commercial services....

2005 has been a year of discovery for me... I had an extended stay in Delhi and discovered that Western music over All India Radio still existed in the form of broadcasts over AIR FM Rainbow.

At first, I listened in utter shock, as I tuned in to the late evening programmes and discovered that announcers -- I refuse to call them RJs-- RADIO JOCKEYS!!!???--- slurred their words, didn't seem to have proper scripts, and generally acted as though they were convinced that nobdy was listening to them.

However, I've changed my opinion somewhat... AIR FM Rainbow has improved drastically in the past four months, though it still does not reflect the cosmopolitan nature of a country capital. The Holiday Season is a case in point. Sadly, the announcers, or RJs who are directly responsible for programmes can't tell the difference between a carol and a song.

Compare Delhi to Calcutta AIR Western Music Section(WMS) and you'll realise what I'm talking about.

In Calcutta, the WMS reflects the SEASON of winter starting December with the first few decembery songs. By the second week, we all know that Santa Claus is coming to Town, the third week, is all Christmas and new-year cheer with jingle bell rocking around the clock.

In Delhi, what do we have... the brat pack still playing hip-hop nonsense and heavy metal on Christmas eve... with the announcer on Christmas morning's 8 am programme, talking about Christmas eve... for Chrissakes!!!

Having said that, there are a few RJs who go that extra mile to make their programmes matter, one such person is Vandana vadhera, aka Wendy the witch, who is fun to listen to... and i found mself writing in to her programme.
 Another lady is Kiran, whose Matchless Music Hour plays wonderful oldies, however, I wish she wouldn't overdo the 'information' and 'inspiration' part.

 A guy with a nice sense of music and radio presence is called Supradeep who makes the music programmes appealing to all ages. There is a lady called Rosamma who should be told that we do listen to her shows, and so she shouldn't seem so folorn.


In the coming new year... more power to radio... now that satellite radio is in... I'm gonna rock to that retro piece that goes.... RADIO someone still loves you!!!!!!!!!








Tuesday, December 27, 2005

a south indian idli

Rough food tastes nicest when you're hungry
I sat in the Karnataka Sangam in New Delhi
I sat there contemplating
a pair of white, fluffy, light
round cakes of rice-flour
accompanied by a bowl of pale creamy coconut-and-lentil chutney
and a piping hot offering of fiery golden-red sambhar

the idli....
I don't know when I fell in love with this simple South Indian dish
these steamed rice cakes

probably way back when I was knee high to a grasshopper
in St Xavier's School, Doranda
Class two
Jostling along with the other lads
fighting to get to the window of the 'canteen'
to receive a cold steamed idli floating in thin watery dal-chutney
nestling in a makeshift bowl made with a twist of green leaf
held together by a toothpick for the princely price of ten paise.

Today my dish of two idlis at karnataka Bhawan
costs me twenty rupees.....
they're delicious
but I doubt if they'll ever match
the taste of those coarse white rice-cakes
nestling in that ecologically friendly bowl
a feast for an ever hungry seven year old......

Monday, December 26, 2005

the morning' after

The twentysixth of December
Boxing day
Last year around ten in the morning I was in Patna
catching up with some old friends whom I had last seen in Shillong
And around that time, Dominic said that he had planned to go with his family
to Vailinkanni... a pilgrimage spot by the Tamil coast
to light a candle at teh feet of the Virgin... and he also spoke of the many memorials to
those who had gone to visit the Virgin in the hope of recovery... but died there
about that time... a huge tidal wave had hit
the shores of Vailinkanni.... and several pilgrims must have lost their lives...

The tsunami... as the media called it...
a huge tidal wave that obliterated everything...
even the very identities of the people who survived...
bank records... gone
ration cards... gone
School leaving certificates... washed away
Photo-identity cards... swallowed by the sea....
and so... I become nameless...
who am I? Do I exist? How can I tell you that I do exist?
Money in the bank... but how do i prove that I am me???

That's what the Tsunami did to so many thousand people
and all we good meaning middle class folk did
was to send in truckloads of used garments...
as though an old castaway pair of trousers
could compensate for a lifetime washed away...

This 26th of December
All I can do is remember
and salute those many people
who had the courage to survive
Those who rose above their personal grief and loss
to help others .

Starry starry night......

Friday, December 23, 2005

white christmas

I'm dreaming of a White Christmas filled with the sound of silver bells
And the memory of an old Christmas card in the mellow voice of Gentleman Jim Reeves...

It's strange being in this city of Delhi... biting cold alright
It's filled up with white fog... so how much whiter can it get...
But the city is brash, brass and tinpot
Trying to keep up with the Joneses
a very plastic kind of Christmas

Christmas in Calcutta.. that's what my memories are made of
Tall trees in the New market
Cakes from Nahoums, Flury's and Kathleens... and cookies from cookie jar
The beautiful choir at midnight mass in St Paul's
Carols playing from mid- December....
Home made Wine and Bandel Cheese
Warmth and good cheer... certainly not cold... and not white
but Christmastime in Calcutta is a joyous, jolly time

Or give me the Christmas of Shillong...
Boisterous and beautiful
Gangs of kids, youngsters and crusty old men and gals
rushing around with guitars , harmonicas...
belting out Joy to the World
Hark! the Herals angels sing in Khasi, Garo, Jaintia... dialects of the Seven Sisters
Beautiful voices... delicious pork roast flavoured with the local moonshine

But most of all... give me a Christmas season
among friends.. some quite moments... the glow of a log fire
the smell of genuine pine coming from my small living room
warm lemonade, lots of laughter
fruit cake and walnuts
salt pork, cheeses, home made ginger wine
opening presents after Midnight mass
the joy of giving presents
the joy of receiving friends...

And all this happens
because the world is waiting for a Child
a child who will grow up... and bring peace to this world

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

baby it's cold out there


H'm... being driven through the streets of Delhi in one of those bone-shakers: the ageing ole autorickshaw on a windy winter evening with not much woolies on the carcass is a challenging proposition.... until a small underfed hand thrusts a two-rupee tabloid under your nose at one of the interminable red traffic lights and two large eyes stare out cheerfully from a mop of soot-black hair ... and then you're thinking of this smllish lad dodging the traffic, inhaling the traffic fumes and smog trying hard to peddle his two-bit angrezi newspaper... and you know he'll hardly make enough to get some warm broth inside him... and suddenly you can't help feeling like old Scrooge in Dicken's timeless classic...

so your blue mood disappears, you ruffle the black mop and hand the kid a five rupee note and how the heart warms up at the look of glee and utter disbelief that greets you.... yes, it's Christmas once again...

and the glow that you get from paying trubute to the kid that knows he's not gonna stop the rain by compainin'... the glow is so warm... that you can take on Delhi, the smog, the utter chaos that masquerades as traffic...

and suddenly, the cold winter nite has lost its bite........

Monday, December 12, 2005

round the block


that's the colour of my mood today.
blue.
not just the chill that comes from riding a rickety auto-rickshaw through the smog-filled streets of the capital shitty- i mean city of India on a bleak december morning.
or listening to the eight o'clock instrumental programme on AIR fm rainbow in which a rather cantakerous woman goes on about how morbid she's feeling... i mean, what's happening to radio... there were times when you tuned in and could expect to hear a nice bright voice and listen to some refreshing music... but all india radio sems to have some strange 'radio jockeys' who seem to be running their own private little on-air chat rooms... this one's a wierdo.

anyhow, there's one thing that makes me perk up like your morning wake up cup of refreshing brew and that's a good photograph ...
and this one, sent in by friend of mine is really nice
there's nothing like a tall dark hot guy to keep you warm on a murky december night

and boy... i'd like this baby to comwe and light my fire
wouldn't you???

Saturday, December 10, 2005

An Ulster Twilight

The bare bulb, a scatter of nails,
Shelved timber, glinting chisels:
In a shed of corrugated iron
Eric Dawson stoops to his plane
At five o'clock on a Christmas Eve.

Carpenter's pencil next, the spoke-shave,
Fretsaw, auger, rasp and awl,
A rub with a rag of linseed oil.
A mile away it was taking shape,
The hulk of a toy battleship,
As waterbuckets iced and frost
Hardened the quiet on roof and post.

Where is he now?
There were fifteen years between us two
That night I strained to hear the bells
Of a sleigh of the mind and heard him pedal
Into our lane, get off at the gable,
Steady his Raleigh bicycle
Against the whitewash, stand to make sure
The house was quiet, knock at the door
And hand his parcel to a peering woman:
`I suppose you thought I was never coming.'

Eric, tonight I saw it all
Like shadows on your workshop wall,
Smelled wood shavings under the bench,
Weighed the cold steel monkey-wrench
In my soft hand, then stood at the road
To watch your wavering tail-light fade

And knew that if we met again
In an Ulster twilight we would begin
And end whatever we might say
In a speech all toys and carpentry,
A doorstep courtesy to shun
Your father's uniform and gun,
But -- now that I have said it out --
Maybe none the worse for that.


-- Seamus Heaney

Saturday, December 03, 2005

supercaliflagillisticexpiallidocious

mmmmmmmmmm...ahhh

that's what went through my brain
the moment i set my peepers on this one

some people are just poems
in flesh and blood

and this one
is a sight for sore eyes

now its guys like this one
which make me wish i'd been a good little kid
so santa can
put him into a stocking and send him down
the chimney just for me.....