Pu La Deshpande Remembers Vasantrao
naniwadekar
of a Marathi article by Pu La Deshpande, written in memory of
his friend, Vasantrao Deshpande (no relation), who must be
counted among the towering personalities who enriched Indian
music in the 20th century. Before we move on to the article, a
few words about the two titans : Vasantrao and PuLa.
If the respect a musician gets from his peers be the true
measure of achievement, as it should be, then Vasantrao
Deshpande was certainly given his due handsomely by the giants
of Hindustani music. Public acclaim also came his way, albeit
somewhat later than it should have, and accompanied by whispers
from some jealous souls, who didn't have the tenth of his
ability, that he was a good light-music singer who also dabbled
in classical music. There was never any truth in such whisper
campaigns. I think even AIR, in its infinite wisdom, did not
grant status of A-grade artiste to him but had no qualms about
playing his superb LP releases of pure classical music and his
natya-sangeet. Vasantrao could not have cared less. The public
really sat up and took notice of his phenomenal talent around
1970 after he started performing the role of Khansaheb in
Purushottam Darvekar's sangeet-natak 'kaTyaar kaaLazaat
ghusalii' (the dagger pierced the heart), singing with his
customary ease and mercurial brilliance some of the most
beautiful natyageets composed by Jitendra Abhisheki.
Thence, though, recognition came his way in oodles and made up
for the years of relative obscurity. Vasantrao wore his fame
lightly, too.
He was listed as just 'Vasant Deshpande' for the Marathi film
songs he sang under Pu La Deshpande's music direction in early
1950s. After Vasantrao made the role of Khansaheb in 'Katyar
...' famous, PuLa wrote an appreciation of Vasantrao's talents
in early 1970s, titled 'Pandit Vasant-khan Deshpande', which has
been included in his book 'guN gaa_ii_n aavaDii'. But when I
heard his last few concerts in Nagpur before his relatively
early death in his early sixties in 1983, he was introduced as
just 'Vasantrao Deshpande', which of course was only right and
proper. Today even half-baked musicians like Rashid Khan and the
bong tabalchi-brigade are introduced as Ustads and Pandits. But
when just one component of your name is enough to identify you,
think Mogubai - Vilayat - Vasantrao - Lata, and when mere
mention of your name can induce a holy glow in real rasikas, who
needs the prop of honorifics? Unheedful of petty criticism, free
from jealousy and craving for publicity, supremely confident in
his own ability, and equally adept at both clasical and lighter
forms of Hindustani music, Vasantrao blazed his trail,
delighting a couple of generations of rasikas. He was an
eclectic and had many gurus, prominent among them Dinanath,
Sureshbabu Mane and Bhendi-bazaarwale Aman Ali. Though he
received very little direct training from Dinanath, it was to
Dinanath's no-holds-barred, aakramak gaayaki that he was, and
remained, fatally attracted. To quote Neville Cardus, he and he
alone of moden (post-1950) natyageet singers had inherited
Dinanath's flashing sword.
It was in early 1940s that Vasantrao first met P L Deshpande in
Pune. Pu La Deshpande was destined to become one of the greatest
Marathi writers of the last century. But when they first met,
PuLa was not yet keenly aware of his writing talents and wanted
to make a career in music himself. PuLa's musical
accomplishments are quite substantial. He was a sweet and
sureela singer (for proof, listen to his heavenly natyageet
'lalanaa kusum komalaa' from the natak 'Vahinii'), an ace
harmonium player and a gifted composer. PuLa knew well giants
like Mansur, Bhimsen and Kumar Gandharva; he accompanied them
all on harmonium . The husband and wife team of PuLa and Suneeta
Deshpande enjoyed personal friendship with all these and many
other musicians. Suneeta-bai used to take such good care of
Mansur when he stayed in her house during his Pune visits that
Mansur would say - 'This sister of mine is more like my mother.'
However, there was still an element of formality, I think, in
the friendship the Deshpandes had with Mansur, Bhimsen and
Kumar. But Vasantrao and PuLa became very very close friends;
the relationship transcended factors like their public standing
and they would visit each other almost every day. When PuLa
moved from Mumbai to Pune for good in early 1970s, he bought a
house near Vasantrao's, whom he called Vasanta (pronounced
Vasantaa) or just Vashyaa. The friends put their propinquity to
good use and started spending hours in each other's company.
Anand NaaraL_kar (called Nandaa) was another very close, mutual
friend.
Vasantrao died on 30 July 1983 of heart ailment. PuLa was
heartbroken. For Vasantrao's first death anniversary, the
Marathi daily 'Maharashtra Times' had published an article by
Suneetabai, titled 'aamachaa Vasantaa' (Our Vasanta). It has
been included in a collection of her articles and published in
book-form since. I did not know that PuLa had also written an
article for Vasantrao's first punyatithi. It was published in
the issue dated 4 August 1984 of a Marathi
periodical - SWARAAJYA. It was titled 'abd abd manii yete'.
The tribute was included in one of the many anthologies of
PuLa's articles, titled 'aapulakii'. The book 'aapulakii' was
first published in 1998 by the prestigious publishers 'Mauj
Prakashan'. PuLa's books sell in great numbers and third edition
of this fairly unremarkable book had to be issued by year-2000,
a few weeks before PuLa's death in June that year. I read the
article a few months ago, liked it very much and thought it
would be a good idea to translate it for rmic/m music forums.
The first difficulty in translating it was presented by the
title of the article itself - 'abd abd manii yete'. This line is
a quotation from Mardhekar's poem. What, in the name of heavens,
did the word 'abd' mean? I asked my poetry-mad friends Abhay
Patil and Chinmoy Bhagwat. Chinmoy, who is a Mardhekar
afficionado, guessed that the line might mean : 'I am moved by
memories to speechlessness'. I was guessing on similar lines and
it did fit in the context of this tribute. But it was all mere
guesswork. Abhay met Suneetabai in Pune and asked her. She, too,
didn't know the meaning of 'abd', but offerred her guess. She
speculated that 'abd' is a neologism coined by poet Mardhekar.
abd = abj shabd. (billion words / memories).
(1 abj = 100 crores = 1 billion). This meaning also fits the
context of PuLa's tribute. After I got hold of the complete
quotation, it became clear that only Suneetabai's guess fits
properly. The 'speechlessness' guess won't do. Vijaya
Rajadhyaksha has published a study of Kavi Mardhekar's poems.
Chinmoy found out that Rajadhyaksha-bai has stated she could not
decipher that line because of the word 'abd'. Shri Sachin Saraf
also consulted Rajadhyaksha's book which does not help us in
understanding the line for sure. The only option left right now
is to go along with Suneetabai's interpretation. PuLa and
Suneetabai had devised a programme of reading Mardhekar's poems.
PuLa was brilliant at kavya-vachan. Suneetabai assisted him as a
good foil and had made deeper study of poetry.
I hope forum readers are still with me and have not bypassed my
introduction to jump straight to the translation. My comments
are in bracket [... - dn]. To give readers an idea of the length
of PL's article, it appears on pp. 64 - 72 of the book,
'aapulakii'. I did take few liberties while translating. But
care has been taken to ensure that the translation is quite
faithful to the original. On to the main article, then, without
further ado.
- dhananjay naniwadekar
=========================================
"abd abd manii yete" - by Pu La Deshpande
(billions of memories crowd in upon me)
Translation by Dhananjay Naniwadekar
November 2001
=========================================
While singing praises of the God, Kavi Mardhekar has said
in one poem -
kitii paayii.n laaguu.n tujhyaa
kitii aaThavuu gaa tuu.nte ;
kitii shabd banavuu gaa
abd abd manii yete.
(I feel like prostrating at your feet repeatedly
And how often do I remember you!!
How many words shall I coin in your praise?
billions of words (memories) crowd in upon me.)
Every time I remember Vasanta (pronounced Vasantaa), billions of
memories similarly crowd in upon me. Vasanta's public image was
one of a dashing singer who would dazzle the listeners, or an
actor who completely submerged his identity under the role. But
he had an even more endearing facet; that of a friend who
captured your heart whilst developing a close relationship.
Vasantrao Deshpande the singer was an extraordinary artiste who
extended frontiers using his creative genius. He could unleash a
torrent of aakramak gaayaki without having to exert himself. His
voice simply wouldn't countenance any obstacles. Both his
swara-rachanaa and the delivery thereof would amaze the
listeners. Because of these qualities, the artiste in him
overpowered his audience. These qualities tended to elevate him
to a pedestal and put him at some respectful distance from his
fans. But for those fortunate enough to have made friends with
him, he had a knack of developing an intimacy and dissolving the
distance between two hearts. No wonder his friends feel like
talking about him all the time in superlatives with affection.
Whenever I answered the door-bell to find Vasanta expansively
saying 'aahes kaa?' (oh, so you ARE around), I used to feel that
Happiness itself was occupying the door-step. Vastu-devataa et
al could just be tricks of our own feeble minds or mere poetic
concepts. But I feel visit of some friends surely cheers up this
vastu-devataa. [PuLa always claimed to be an atheist, and kept
on contradicting himself by invoking God and his luck at His
hands. A very endearing quality of his. - dn] You are never
sorry to have these special friends visit you. If they come in
the morning, it is like a beautiful sunrise. Be it evening, and
it is like moon rising on Full Moon's Day. Vasanta's visit was a
harbinger of peace, laughter and serenity. Next 2-3-4-5 hours
would be a riot of happiness. There was nary an exception to
this rule during our association of 40-42 years. [So was it 40
years or 42 years? PuLa was so lazy and casual about figures
(though not THAT lax about facts) that we should count ourselves
lucky that he did not write "our association over 30-40 years".
- dn] We never allowed complaints, whines, frustrations et al
petty spoilers of life's treasures intrude in our mehfil.
Raveendranath [Tagore, to remove any doubt - dn] has described
unadulterated happiness thus :
" tab aanand diinataa chuurNa karii
phuuTe uThe pheTe aamaar sakal kaaje "
(Loose translation - Your contagious happiness has dispelled all
worries and has suffused all my being. Correction by
Bongs welcome. - dn)
Everything would flower around you when Vasanta visited. It
wasn't always gaanaa-bajaanaa between us. We would mimic people,
pull one another's leg, pass comments. But jealousy and sour
criticism were varjya swaras (omitted notes) in our talk. For
one thing, he never laboured under misgivings on the lines of
'The world has never given me my due'. I was also free of such
feelings. We both valued laughing heartily and seeing others
laugh. If Vasanta hadn't become a singer he would have become a
good writer with a gift for humour. He was an astute observer of
the inconsistencies which mark human behaviour.
If parody / mimicry were a recognised branch of music as it is
of literature, he would have achieved Acharya Atre's eminence at
it. [Atre's book of parodied poems 'JhenDuchii phule.n' is in a
class by itself. PuLa himself was a master of parody and an
excellent mimic. - dn] Vasanta's voice could perform any damn
miracle he wished. [One has to hear him mimic Asha Bhosle's
natyageet singing. - dn] Like picture-cartoons, he painted
song-cartoons of many a singer's style. This is not at all easy
to achieve. To do competent parody of a poem, one needs to
understand for oneself what good poetry is. One also needs
creative faculty. When you parody singing styles, you must
assess those styles minutely and have good grasp over them.
Vasanta had mastered both taal and swara. He could divine the
creative impulses behind all the various styles. Which is why
when someone carelessly remarked that 'Vasantrao copied Dinanath
very well', Thirakawa sahab snapped back : "You fool! Don't talk
about copying!! Vasantraoji presents Dinanath's gaayaki."
As such Dinanath had never given him taaliim on a regular basis.
But Vasanta had perfectly grasped that gaayaki's soul. To
internalise any gharana's style is not to be confused with
copying some guru from that gharana. You have to learn that
guru's musical thought process about raag-vistaar. I think
this 'nazar' must be in-born. Those who lack it miss out on the
essence. Less gifted students may learn broad mannerisms of a
gharana. They may achieve technical competence. But these less
important tools allow for only mechanical reproduction of a
gharana's gaayaki. Mechanical singing lacks substance and is
condemned to traverse within a limited space. But Vasanta was
born both with a perceptive nazar and an ability to retain and
recall what he had assimilated. It is true that music was the
most important thing in his life. But he also knew myriad
ayurvedic, homoeopathic and alopathic medicines and how they are
best used. Though he was born in Vidarbha, his knowledge about
fish from 'humaN' to 'kismori' and the culinary treatment the
various types of fish demand would have been envied even by
Goans. He knew so many avenues leading towards this world's
delights and he had such an unerring feel about their
subtleties, pros, and cons, and such a capacity for enjoying
them that he could never allow slings and arrows of outrageous
fortune to sour his enjoyment of life. Vasantrao would sometimes
provide impeccable lehra on harmonium to a tabla-expert like
Ahmadjaan Thirakwa without slipping up by so much as hundreth of
a maatraa for every night of the week. Hardened music critics
were very impressed with his mastery over taal and laya. But
Vasantrao never allowed himself to indulge in self-praise. On
the other hand, he would unselfconsciously keep repeating Khan
sahab's [Thirakwa's] kaayadaas in his talk and marvel at his
skill. This dear friend of ours was so taken up by the beauty of
swara and taal that he had no time to worry over whether or not
he was being given due publicity. And the irony of it is that
for whatever reasons but most of our famous Marathi music
critics have omitted mention of Vasanta in the tomes they have
written. Many critics who have blindly adhered to tradition in
assessing music have never understood the throb of splendid life
in Vasanta's masterful play in the game of swara and laya. We
friends were often angered by the cold shoulder he was given by
many big names. 'Vasantrao' always changed tack when discussion
veered towards the unfair treatment he was receiving from
powers-that-be. Occasionally he delivered a sharp blow, though.
He was once singing in Goregaon (a susburb of Mumbai). I was on
the harmonium for this evening concert. Vasanta sang Marwa with
his exceptional mastery of this raag. In the front row sat one
famous, curmudgeonly buwa. He sat throughout the recital with a
mournful expression as if he had come to the mehfil straight
from his father's funeral. When the cheez was over there was a
shower of applause. In the interval this buwa said to Vasanta in
front of everybody who was lingering around - "Vasantrao, of
late you have started singing quite well." And Vasanta shot
back - "Buwa, it is just that YOU have started understanding
only recently what good music is all about. I have been singing
thus right from the beginning."
For the first 40 years of his life, he had to face many
hardships. He must have had to face the insults that are the lot
of financially disadvantaged in this world. But he never
wallowed in self-pity and referred to such unpleasant memories
even once during our close association over many decades. He
shrugged them off by making light-hearted references to them. He
suffered from poverty. But never allowed himself to become
bitter on account of it. His first house in Pune was a one-room
set-up. [Often the same room served as drawing room, bed-room
AND kitchen; not an uncommon middle-class experience until quite
recently before prosperity allowed middle class Indians to move
to more spacious homes. It also allowed them to buy video
cassettes of films starring Mr Bachchan and Ms Dixit, audio
cassettes by R D Burman and A R Rehman and TV set to watch those
innumerable, silly one-day cricket internationals. This is the
mighty tripod which supports modern Indian life, allowing
Indians to sprout noble opinions like - "We support peace. What
does it matter which structure stands at the place where Prabhu
Ramchandra was born? Anyway there is no proof that he was born
there." Some of them also believe that Bachchan really dies in
his films and is raised back to life by some elixir. For proof,
they point to events transpiring on the screen. - dn. Anyway ...
let us get back to Vasantrao's one-room house.] Because Vasanta
never allowed poverty of spirit to be occasioned by financial
poverty, he could sit on the charpai in that room with an
emperor's insouciant air. With largeness and cheerfulness of his
heart, he made that khatiyaa look like a throne. This clerk in
Military Accounts Office who earned a salary of Rs 80-90 per
month would sit on the khatiyaa like a Mughal Emperor on his
throne and hold court. The only thing lacking from the picture
was a parrot on his arm. But his house boasted a cage with
Kusuku in it. [Apparently 'kusuku' is an African species of
parrot. - dn] At school-going age, Vasanta would earn two aanaa
on some nights by providing tabla accompaniment for kirtans in
nearby temples. He would hand over that money to his mother as
his contribution to household expenditure. Was it enough to keep
fires burning in the kitchen? He never complained about this
aspect of his sorry childhood. But the memory of those kirtans
set him off recounting singing style and narrative devices used
by old kirtan-kaars. Many successful artistes make big capital
out of their humble beginnings and the odds they had to oversome
to make it big. Though Vasanta was born in a rich, land-owning
(zamindar) family, he was not destined to enjoy the riches.
[I think his father died when he was very young, and his mother
moved out of her in-laws' house. - dn] But Vasanta had the knack
of eating peanut as if he was enjoying almond. What could his
horoscope and stars do before this gift of savouring whatever
came his way? Though he never bemoaned the zamindari riches that
were denied him, he did tell with verve and vigour stories about
the idiocy, arrogance and vices of that class. How the extremely
strict seniors suddenly turned meek after dinner and quietly and
guiltily escaped to their keeps' houses; how other family
members colluded and tried to behave as if nothing was amiss;
and so on. [As Alistair Cooke often hints, the favourite ditty
from 1880s, inspired by the US president Grover Cleveland's
confession just before the polls that he had fathered an
illegitimate son, was frequently repeated by Hillary Clinton and
daughter Chelsea during Lewinsky years whenever Bill slipped
away to the Oval Office :
"Ma, Ma, where is Pa?"
"Gone to the White House. Ha ha ha!!!"
PuLa was too ill to enjoy Lewinsky scandal when the story broke
in early 1998. When Jacqueline Kennedy married Onassis, PuLa had
joked : "When JFK died, I had sent her a cloth-piece for a choli
as a mark of codolence. She used it to stitch a skirt for
herself. And then she used the surplus cloth to make a
handkerchief as matching item." - dn]
Vasanta's stories about zamindari indulgence never carried any
trace of regret that he and his mother were denied their share
in the family fortune for no fault of theirs. With the same
even-handed approach to whatever life had in store for him, he
got up the morning after giving stirring recitals lasting late
till small hours, got on his bicycle and pedalled his way to his
clerk's job in the Military Office. All this after presenting
Kausi Kanada or Gaud Malhar with such high level of skill that
it rang in listeners' ears for days and would have required many
a boastful singer to take taleem from him. We felt very sorry
that he should have to work as a clerk to earn his bread despite
his phenomenal musical ability. But Vasantrao simply joined his
circle of friends in the evening with a demonstration of how
some Madraasii head-clerk sang 'Pantuvarali' or 'Hamsdhwani' for
him during lunch-time. As if the government was paying Vasanta
his salary to amuse himself by observing his fellow workers. But
he did his job with his customary efficiency, too. If he slipped
into clerk's lingo to discuss office matters with colleagues,
the onlooker was tricked into believing that he had given his
all to Military Accounts dept with no time left for anything
else.
What Vasanta loved above everything else was "peoples". He mixed
with people of all types and had many such favourite groups. Not
every group was interested in music. Here some discussion about
ayurvedic medicines... there some friends immersed in the study
of medieval history... in yet another place a circle who got
together to chant mantras in rudra. Anon with waar_kari people
singing bhajans of their favourite God Vithoba... some times
'visiting' kothewali bai to provide theka for her ghazal-thumri
or providing her harmonium support. If he started discussing
growing roses, he gave the impression that his family was in the
rose business for generations. Occasionally he visited
race-course. He called it ashwamedh. His real interest lay in
looking at horses. Parrots, horses and dogs of various breeds
were as dear to him as dhrupad, dhamar and khayal. Of course,
people in all these circles were desparate for his company.
Among them, he was as completely at ease as he was between two
tanpuras. There was even more to him than all this!!! He had
mastery over various languages like Marathi, English, Hindi,
Urdu, Varhadi (a dialect of Marathi), Konkani, Braj, Bihari.
With Urdu loving friends, he spoke in Lakhanavi adaa. He grasped
things like a blotting paper. He hadn't just mastered math of
shrutis; but he was quite adept at rules of astrology. He was
blessed with an ability to concentrate fully on music and become
one with song in a jiffy. Treating swaras indolently under the
excuse of aalapi and drab, lifeless slow singing under the guise
of galaa jamaanaa were not for him. The music would burst forth
at once. He could reach taar shadaj the moment he wanted to. He
maintained a non-chalant expression even as he performed
uncommon feats of prodigy. It was this casual mastery which
probably militated against him to some extent. His apparent ease
made many music critics underestimate the high level of skill
required to sing so beautifully. He would unleash a taan
spanning three-four aavartans and effortlessly reach sam at its
end. But there was no milking the applause, no attempt to
impress upon the audience that they were witness to a miraculous
taan. Without any change in his demeanour, he moved on to
another sublime taan. As if the earlier difficult taan was sung
by somebody else. There are very few such artistes who are not
tempted by making a show of their tayyari. Most of us artistes
have 'Narsissus complex'. But Vasanta had no use for
self-aggrandisement. He always melted in his company. To
appreciate his unique style and genius, you had to catch him
between two tanpuras. Off stage, he just didn't believe in
drawing attention to himself. He felt no need to shout from
roof-top that he was an artiste. He never entertained any
illusions that he had to carry on his shoulders the burden of
the future of Indian music. Vasanta set off both for his mehfil
to sing and for the sabzi-bazaar to buy vegetables with the same
unassuming walk. He avoided the trappings of his profession.
Gathering sycophants around himself, barking at his disciples,
making life difficult for tabalji, going late to his own
concerts... that was not his way. Sometimes I feel that people
realised his stature so late in the day because of his
simplicity. We don't take seriously men who wear unostentacious
salwar-kameez, washed at home, and are seen going around on a
bicycle. Some of our seniors, who were aware of his stature,
would say : "It is not enough to be talented. Your stars must be
properly aligned as well." When he was about to complete 50
years, his luck changed for the better. Then onwards he was
showered with garlands, medals, shawls, certificates, and
awards. He had never complained about lack of recognition.
He had never schemed to attract attention. Now the fame which
was his due extended its embrace to him.
Though recognition was slow in coming, people then realised his
genius with a force that made up for every injustice which had
gone before. Recently I met Khadim Hussain Khansahab, the famous
singer and guru of Agra gharana. A visiting singer from Pakistan
was recording his music on the NCPA premises in Mumbai.
[National Centre for Performing Arts.] He was singing a tarana
in raag Zeeluf which Vasanta had first sung for me forty years
ago. 'dir dir tom naa - dir dir tom naa'. I had never heard that
tarana from any other singer before. Vasanta had conjured
glorious incandescent chandeliers of swara with this tarana in
many mehfils until very recently. His memory possessed me
acutely. I couldn't resist. I whispered to Khadim Hussain
Khansahab : "Our Vasantrao Deshpande was a master of this
tarana." Khansahab immediately said : "woh to ratan aadami thaa.
His voice could scale peaks which even the imagination of
others' can't encompass, let alone their voice." Softened by
Vasanta's memory he praised him fulsomely for 3-4 minutes. He
had seen the drama 'Katyar ...' again and again for Vasanta's
singing. "What singing!", he continued. "What adaakaari!! ratan
phand-kaar!!" (rare gem of an artiste.)
One rarely meets people in course of life who are worth getting
addicted to. Sometimes friends fall short in friendships,
sometimes we fall short. You may know each other for years. But
the two personalities don't mix like milk and sugar. You meet.
You sit together. You move around in that company. But you don't
dissolve in each other's life. Meeting most people doesn't give
you the kick which addicts get from their fix. But Vasanta had
so dissolved in my family life that we kept assuming that he
would be around forever to keep us company. That we might ever
have to live in a world from which he had gone for ever, that
our Fate might have ordained such a cruel punishment for us, to
be endured helplessly until we ourselves were granted mukti from
this world ... such melancholy thoughts had never even touched
my mind. But Vasanta left us and all the references changed so
dramatically. On entering balcony of my flat in the morning, I
could see his balcony to my right where the road turned.
Sometimes Vasanta was seen there, watering his plants or hanging
his clothes to dry or just relaxing. I would ask him to come
over. He would respond : 'coming'. Later one tree completely
obscured the view to his balcony. I started inviting him over
telephone. These telephonic talks also became a habit very soon.
Vasanta's company was very addictive for all his friends. On
many occasions Vasanta had to leave Pune for his dramas or
concerts. His absence was acutely felt on such occasions. My
association of 40 years with him was worth 400 rich years for
me. His uncountable memories, his knowledge of many subjects,
his gift for explaining his point, his ready wit which caused
fountain of laughter to erupt any moment, the way his samskaras
expressed themselves through his talk have left such indelibly
deep impression upon me and I was so accustomed to having him
around, that even one year after his death, my mind refuses to
accept that he is no longer amongst us in the land of the
living. Someone used to touch me so deep inside, enriching and
blossoming my very being, turning into pure gold every moment
spent with him... I felt this so acutely after Vasanta left this
world that my subconscious still doesn't accept the raw fact
that he is dead. Since his death, I have never been able to
listen to his recordings for more than a minute or so. The day
before he died, he had said to me : "Bhai, this pain is becoming
intolerable." It was so unlike him. That was the only time I
heard him give way to helpless utterance. But he soon recovered
and said in his usual chirpy style : "This heart ailment is
going to finish me off." Whenever his music is played in my
presence now I am reminded of this last meeting. And just as
some careless foot might disturb a superbly done rangoli while
you are admiring it, his song is turned to ashes for me. Not
only does his swara fail to lessen the pain of our separation,
it accentuates the misery.
It rained very pleasantly one night last month. The next
morning was very cheerful. To greet such a fine day, I and
Vasanta would take a walk upto Chatushrungi [hill, hosting a
famous temple in Pune - dn]. I entered the balcony. The tree
leaves glistening after bathing in the overnight rain, the wet
road, a gentle breeze - my eyes turned in the direction of
Vasanta's balcony. I turned back, reached my phone and said to
Suneeta - "Let me check whether Vashya is around." And then I
immediately felt a pang. I fell with a thud to the reality that
Vasanta, who would accept the invitation of a fine morning by
saying 'Yes, I'm coming, Bhai', was now sundered for ever
from me.
As I have related, a tree had obscured my view of his balcony.
A few months ago, some of its branches were cut off. Now I can
see his balcony again. But now it is just a balcony, like any
other. One part of that building as designed by the architect.
Vasanta, responding to me by raising his hand and saying
'coming', is not seen in it any more. It is just a lifeless part
of that building, made of cement. When I enter my balcony I see
that balcony of Vasanta's house. Like an empty sanctum. It
reminds me that a Festival of Happiness in my life is now over
for ever. And then 'abd abd manii yete' (billions of memories
crowd in upon me).
-----------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------
doogar rajib
> proper. Today even half-baked musicians like Rashid Khan and the
> bong tabalchi-brigade are introduced as Ustads and Pandits. But
hey nani,
Give it a rest will ya? You have neither the wit nor the merit to get
away with the peurile garbage Rajan spews. Rashid Khan may be a lazy
musician; he is not half-baked. Only a half-assed wannabe loser would
call him that.
love and kisses,
rajib
--
Rajib Doogar www.cba.uiuc.edu/doogar
naniwadekar
doogar rajib <doo...@staff2.cso.uiuc.edu> wrote -
>
> > proper. Today even half-baked musicians like Rashid Khan and the
> > bong tabalchi-brigade are introduced as Ustads and Pandits. But
>
> hey nani,
>
> Give it a rest will ya? You have neither the wit nor the merit to get
> away with the peurile garbage Rajan spews. Rashid Khan may be a lazy
> musician; he is not half-baked. Only a half-assed wannabe loser would
> call him that.
>
> love and kisses,
>
> rajib
>
Rajib -
Rashid Khan's singing badly lacks substance. You are entitled
to disagree with me. But where does Rajan come into all this?
I have no idea what he thinks about Rashid Khan. I just did a
quick search on google archives. Nothing comes up. He has
never said a thing about Rashid on RMIC or off-forum to me.
As for the bong tabla players, I have heard a couple of concerts
recently where Bannerjees and Chatterjees have run amok. All
of them Pandits, of course.
> love ...
>
you are always welcome.
> ... and kisses.
>
Keep them for Ustad Rashid.
- dn
Sanjeev Ramabhadran
>
> Rajib -
> Rashid Khan's singing badly lacks substance. You are entitled
> to disagree with me. But where does Rajan come into all this?
> I have no idea what he thinks about Rashid Khan. I just did a
> quick search on google archives. Nothing comes up. He has
> never said a thing about Rashid on RMIC or off-forum to me.
Well, last I remember, Rajan was pretty unambiguously thumbs-down on
Rashid Khan. So is a lot of RMIC, for that matter, though your google
archives search may not reveal it. I am not suggesting that RK's got
nothing to rethink in his approach. However, epithets aside, I also
think it's unfair to characterize him as talent-less or
substance-less, and unfortunately *good* things said about him are IMO
too few and far between in this forum. My take? He sounds quite
impressive in bits and pieces, but could use better judgement
organizing and arranging them (and maybe a little less brown sugar
too). I also would like to hear him with a more "sedate" tabla player
than Pt. Ananda Gopal Bandopadhyay.
> As for the bong tabla players, I have heard a couple of concerts
> recently where Bannerjees and Chatterjees have run amok. All
> of them Pandits, of course.
Never mind the Pandit/Ustad thing, it's pointless to really argue that
one anymore. I think we can confer it on anyone who posts more than 10
times to RMIM or RMIC (since I suggested it, I get first dibs :-)).
For that matter, I don't generally have a problem calling anyone
Pandit or Ustad if it floats their boat, and I could care less if
anyone actually ever conferred these titles on our greatest musicians.
Sanjeev
Keith Erskine
: > As for the bong tabla players, I have heard a couple of concerts
: > recently where Bannerjees and Chatterjees have run amok. All
: > of them Pandits, of course.
: Never mind the Pandit/Ustad thing, it's pointless to really argue that
: one anymore. I think we can confer it on anyone who posts more than 10
: times to RMIM or RMIC (since I suggested it, I get first dibs :-)).
The rush to self conferred panditry of the smug and insular RMIC NRI club
certainly does indicate exactly how highly they "think" of themselves, no?
Especially alarming (to some) is the notion that posting/braying can ever
be a path to panditry, rather than the only true path, upon which many
RMIC NRIs have yet to even embark .....
Make no mistake, I do oh so deeply respect you RMIC NRIs (especially the
NM RMIC NRIs), so heaven forbid a white person suggest anything to them...
but might I oh so meekly and supplicaciously suggest this RMIC panditry title
be titled itself:
"The Naked Donkey Bandit Braying in the Moonlight Pandit"
unless, of course, any of the RMIC NRIs can do any better .....
Of course, due to the singular honor of this title, it should only
be conferred annually ..... my vote for 1st rmic NDBBMPt. award goes to .....
envelope please ..... Nani (Knownot) Dewakar (DoACar? DewAcre? (Green Acres?)
I'll allow y'all to tally subsequent ballots as you see fit .....
That's all from me folks, no further braying/rebraying, got (much!) better
things to do, so I gotta jam outta here .....
Keith "bray not for me" Erskine
I don't speak for HP.
naniwadekar
Keith Erskine <k...@fc.hp.com> wrote -
>
> The rush to self conferred panditry of the smug and insular RMIC NRI club
> certainly does indicate exactly how highly they "think" of themselves, no?
> Especially alarming (to some) is the notion that posting/braying can ever
> be a path to panditry, rather than the only true path, upon which many
> RMIC NRIs have yet to even embark .....
>
of yourself publicly again and again? What 'true path' are you
blabbering about just a few days after announcing petulantly
that you had lost interest in Indian Classical music?
The first time you got interested because of Amjad Ali. After
a lapse, it looks like Rashid Khan is rekindling your interest
in ICM. Good show!! Keep it up for longer this time. May we
hope that Rashid Khan's resume will soon boast bringing up
Keith Erskine to a level where he now remembers scale of
Bhoop at last?
Thanks to the entertainment you provide, let us hope you won't
slink back to your famous 'mailing list'. How is that mailing list
doing, moron? What music has that list discussed?
- dn
Keith Erskine
: Keith Erskine <k...@fc.hp.com> wrote -
: >
: > The rush to self conferred panditry of the smug and insular RMIC NRI club
: > certainly does indicate exactly how highly they "think" of themselves, no?
: > Especially alarming (to some) is the notion that posting/braying can ever
: > be a path to panditry, rather than the only true path, upon which many
: > RMIC NRIs have yet to even embark .....
: >
... grateful deletia ...
Merthiful goodneth, what mutht a poor white boy do not to
get flamed by you NRIs in your little clubhouse?
I honored Nuni with the 1st vote for the 1st annual NDMBPt. award
(owing to the singular importance of this title, let's make absolute
sure to pronounce it correctly, read along with me now:
it is pronounced Nuh-dumb-dit - let's try again - Nuh-dumb-dit ..
got it? cool, ok, I just wanna make sure to go slow because the
previous posting was so difficult for you to understand)
and I STILL get flamed? How doth thou doeth iteth, esq. Warren?
Must one actively engage in mouth-to-arse supplication of the
head RMIC naked donkey/chihuahua himself for obsequiousness adequate
to offset one's racial origins? It certainly happens regularly here,
by NRIs too, hmm..... maybe it's not all racial, maybe 50% racial,
50% RP supplication? so if I'm white, I need to kiss up twice as
much to the scantily clad yapster as the NRIs? Wow, you guys drive
a hard bargain.... let me think about it... (ooops, another rmic
faux pas.... thinking before posting ..... Heaven forbid I should
do that again, lest the Almighty God smote me with the same vengeance
as punters... oops, posters to rmic....)
Oh, merthiful goodness, where are my manners?
Congratulations, again, Nani, on the reception of the 1st Ndumbdit award!
Ooops, another faux pas:
Congratulations, Nt. Dewakar!!!!!
That's all, folks - now bray amongst yerselves, y'all heah?
Keith Erskine (BS '84 RU SCL.GBA.RR.MS.GO)
naniwadekar
> get flamed by you NRIs in your little clubhouse?
>
It is not the whiteness of your skin but the thickness of your
skull that is the problem. If you had a matching thick hide, the
problem might have been alleviated to some extent. But alas ...!!
Anyway, you don't even amuse anymore. So there is no
point in responding to your puerile posts. Feel free to post
whatever junk presents itself to your febrile fancy. You won't
hear back anything from me.
- dn
Keith Erskine
: Anyway, you don't even amuse anymore. So there is no
: point in responding to your puerile posts.
But there is a point, Nani, your devastatingly thorough haplessness
amuses me now more so than ever! I admit, I got frustrated posting
sincerely to rmic, ya know, pearls before swine - I grant it to you,
that is not amusing for long. But if ya throw half melted M&Ms at
swine, and some stick right between the eyes, some stick to the forehead,
some bounce off, but leave a wonderful Pollock-ian abstract blend of
primary color and earth brown from shell/chocolate on the pig that is
the canvas of performance art, not even knowing how ridiculous he looks,
that can be most divinely entertaining for said dispensator of M&Ms
and other onlookers who are not wallowing in excrement (and risking
collateral M&M damage) right along with the primary target pig?
Perhaps the M&M/excrement splattered pig is not entirely unlike the
naked emperor/chihuahua, eh?
: Feel free to post
: whatever junk presents itself to your febrile fancy. You won't
: hear back anything from me.
Oh, puhleeze, say it isn't so!!! (Oh, wait, guess you can't say that!)
OK, being my usual helpful self, feel free not to respond to me, but
as the 1st NDMBDT Nt. recipient, you have an obligation, nay, a moral
imperative, to excrete from amongst your vast musical knowledge with
the other animals in barnyard, no? Heck, I'm a' hopin' it happens,
else the farmer ain't gonna have mucha nothin' to spread on the field
get the corn growin' good next year, y'heah?
Fertilize on, Wayne! Fertilize on, Garth!
Keith Erskine
Richard Harrington
B. Suresh Krishna
Suresh
-suresh
shams
Now, can somebody come up with a RAAGA for an audio-portraiture of
Big Dog-Me Too-Jerk-Howler? How about a Gamak for the Big-Dog emulation
and an Aakar Taan for the Howler?
Shams
sur...@alberich.psych.nyu.edu (B. Suresh Krishna) wrote in message news:<j3GI7.13$zv3...@typhoon.nyu.edu>...
Bossk (R)
> Must one actively engage in mouth-to-arse
> supplication of the head RMIC naked donkey/
> chihuahua himself for obsequiousness adequate
> to offset one's racial origins? It certainly happens
> regularly here, by NRIs too, hmm ... maybe it's
> not all racial, maybe 50% racial, 50% RP
> supplication? so if I'm white, I need to kiss up
> twice as much to the scantily clad yapster as the
> NRIs? Wow, you guys drive a hard bargain ... let
> me think about it ... (ooops, another rmic faux
> pas ... thinking before posting ... Heaven forbid I
> should do that again, lest the Almighty God smote
> me with the same vengeance as punters ... oops,
> posters to rmic ...)
No, can we bring back the good old Keith Erskine, please?
--- Bossk (R) <bossk-...@telia.com>
Keith Erskine
: Keith Erskine <k...@fc.hp.com> wrote:
Bossman K, que pasa? Sorry, the other K-man was informed in no
uncertain terms that talking about music in this newsgroup is boring
and offensive, so I'm simply trying to conform to the flames of folly
posting etiquette model many rmic flamoids told me was the preferred style.
How am I doin' so far? I'm carefully avoiding posting anything about music
itself (even though the SUPERLATIVE Ravi & Anoushka Shankar concert in Denver
I would have loved to have reviewed in depth). So, please do tell, is my
flame frequency & intensity about right? Too hot? (Papa bear) Too cold?
(mama bear?) Just right? (Goldilocks ROCKS!!! :-)
God bless Rock 'n Roll!!!
Peace,
Keith Erskine
Rajan P. Parrikar
>How am I doin' so far? I'm carefully avoiding posting anything about music
>itself (even though the SUPERLATIVE Ravi & Anoushka Shankar concert in Denver
>I would have loved to have reviewed in depth).
Erskine, what is this fantasy about you writing "in depth" ?
What have you been smokin', pigpup? Let us hear about it quick.
It has been a while since I last rubbished your loser mlechha ass.
Out with it, dickweed. We know you have nothing better to do.
r
Keith Erskine
: k...@fc.hp.com (Keith Erskine) writes:
All right, the small naked dog emperor doth brayeth/yappeth into the fray!
What took you so long, Raj-pup? Deciding to enter as a small, naked
chihuahua, or as a naked braying donkey?
"Hee-haw... hee-haw.... hee-haw... that Rajan.... hee-haw...
he funny.... he use dirty words.... hee-haw... that funny....
hee-haw...."
Please do note, rmic barnyard animals: Any form of humor more elevated
than name calling & obscenity is WAY too far over the heads of the RMIC
barnyard animals, whose cognitive algorithmic powers range none too far
past the rudimentary "If it doth smelleth like poop, wallow in it...
if it doth not smelleth like poop, eat it.... if it tastesth like poop,
spit it out... "
OK, given that, I'm gonna try my hand at rmic appropriate humor level:
"Hey, Rajan made a poopy noise!"
Wow, listen to the barnyard animals cracking up, it sounds like
100 See 'n Say toys running amok, or is it a choir of gamaks?
Now, what was it we were talkin' about? Oh yeah - concert reviews?
BO-OOOOO-RING! This is MUCH more fun! Also fun is the subject of
taxing NRIs and other immigrants in the US of A - how much would you
pay annually to stay in my country of native birth, Raj-pup? Is
$10,000 USD asking too much? Especially given that many NRIs work in
the USA for very sub-standard engineer wages, perhaps a high annual
tariff on NRI engineers will discourage US companies from seeking to
minimize costs by relying on immigrant engineer pools.... whaddaya
think, Rog? Sorry, yap up, can't hear ya over the clamoring of your
barnyard cheering section....
"Hee-haw.... Rajan funny.... he use dirty word .... hee-haw ..."
Rajan P. Parrikar
>I'm carefully avoiding posting anything about music
Dear dog-doodoo Erskine,
You present the sorry sight of a middle-aged, white loser
with nothing to recommend you except a Fender up your sphincter.
Stop fucking yourself like this. I will be around to piss on
you, of course, per the dictates of your karma.
Warm regards from amche sundar Goi,
r
Rajan P. Parrikar
>"Hee-haw... hee-haw.... hee-haw...
Erskine, dog-doodoo, this is a family forum. Keep your hippie
punk fornicating bestial habits to your bedroom. What is wrong with
you fuckwit? Were you conceived as a waste product in an unfortunate
moment of coprophiliac passion?
Warm regards,
r
Rajan P. Parrikar
>taxing NRIs and other immigrants in the US of A - how much would you
>pay annually to stay in my country of native birth, Raj-pup?
We will pay nothing. Every NRI here knows that you are
a free lay and a free shit-pot. Now that the Fender has
found a home the NRIs will use you only for the latter.
Free of charge, to be sure.
r
Gabe Halberg/Rebecca Yahm
Please continue your battle through the medium of private emails. Although
having an audience may make the whole back and forth more interesting for
you guys, I'm sure I'm not alone in not wanting to wade through such
postings on RMIC.
Gabe Halberg
Rod M. Reed
This does remind me of a query I broached a year or so ago about whether or
not there are ragas expressing the baser emotions, such as nausea, disgust,
revulsion, etc. Not that I would really care to listen to such a thing,
but, would be a good tantric sort of discipline, the imp of the perverse,
etc. Why is ICM always supposed to be so darned uplifting and beautiful all
the time? How about raga for silliness, avarice, gall stone operation. So
many valid human emotions and experiences yet to be explored in raga form.
Take care,
Rod
"Gabe Halberg/Rebecca Yahm" <yahm...@sover.net> wrote in message
news:B8211F5D.39A0%yahm...@sover.net...
bdixit
revulsion etc. is demonstrated by many performers of ICM. They do this when they
are giving performances because of their "poor training" and "big egos", but
some of the very accomplished musicians also show these emotions when they deal
with each other and when they deal with others off the stage...... BND
"Rod M. Reed" wrote:
--
Balwant N. Dixit
University of Pittsburgh
559 Salk Hall
Pittsburgh, PA 15261
Tel No:(412) 648-8582
FAX No:(412) 648-8475
Keith Erskine
: I second the motion, Gabe .
: > Please continue your battle through the medium of private emails.
: Although
: > having an audience may make the whole back and forth more interesting for
: > you guys, I'm sure I'm not alone in not wanting to wade through such
: > postings on RMIC.
Sorry, Rod & Gabe, you guys have been outvoted, though I DO strongly
agree with your position statement. I now merely try to conform to
the unwritten charter of rmic, frivolous flames take precedence over
all else. I tried for years posting in earnest strictly about ICM,
after years of being incessantly flamed and being told rojann's (mr.
Goa religious fanatic sexist racist NRI) flames are more interesting
than my *dry* discussion of music (Why? Why???? Because virtually
NO one here is a MUSICIAN!) (HINT: the "hidden true path" relates
to a VERY famous ICM anecdote - does anyone get it now? Did anyone
wake the d*mn farmer yet? One cannot play or pray when one brays -
but to those who choose not to learn to play, the choice to merely
bray limits not their time to play)
Soooo, since this newsgroup is as intentionally strife free as the
various thirld world countries and their incessant terrorism due to
their various and sundry religious fanatic separatist movements, what
say those of us TRULY interested in music, rather than incessant mindless
adulation of big names & big.fish.in.little.pond.naked.chihuahua.
"musicologist.cum.museonmycolonist".frequent.brayer.program.members,
start a NEW newsgroup:
rec.music.MAKERS.indian.classical
The charter will be STRICTLY restricted to musical performance issues.
If rmmic becomes as repugnantly odiferous of excrement & bile as this
newsgroup/barnyard/cesspool, formation of the moderated group
r.m.M.i.c.moderated can take place, with a STRICT no flame charter.
I WILL not in any way help write the charter or expedite the newsgroup
creation process, though I will vote (God Bless America & Democracy!).
I'm tired of doing things for what are predominantly wholly selfish
ingrates, if not worse. Someone please do pick up the ball and carry it
through - or does anyone really CARE about the MUSIC enough to do it?
Hmmm, I thought not. Too bad. Bray on, Rozann-ji! Bray on, Nayknow-ji!
I'm lovin' this brayin' stuff, now that I have the right attitude!
Peace. Namaste.
Keith Erskine
I don't even speak for myself at times, let alone for HP.
: This does remind me of a query I broached a year or so ago about whether or
: not there are ragas expressing the baser emotions, such as nausea, disgust,
: revulsion, etc. Not that I would really care to listen to such a thing,
: but, would be a good tantric sort of discipline, the imp of the perverse,
: etc. Why is ICM always supposed to be so darned uplifting and beautiful all
: the time? How about raga for silliness, avarice, gall stone operation. So
: many valid human emotions and experiences yet to be explored in raga form.
: Take care,
: Rod
: "Gabe Halberg/Rebecca Yahm" <yahm...@sover.net> wrote in message
: news:B8211F5D.39A0%yahm...@sover.net...
: > Rajan and Keith,
: >
: >
: > Gabe Halberg
: >
: >
Rod M. Reed
more serious, and not use such extreme examples. Is there, in theory, a
raga for expression of most any emotion within the realm of human
experience? And if so anybody doing such expression? If musician X feels
like such and such, is there a raga Y that lends itself to expressing such
and such? Some emotions and characteristics are not commonly expressed in
ICM, as far as I know, at least not in depth. Is there for example a raga
for comedy, silliness, that is not just playing stupidly or doing some
tricks but has as its purpose the presentation of what is musically funny in
all its variety? Howabout a raga moves between contrasting emotions, for
example, that begins with extended expressions of fear and trembling but
moves to courageous triumph and is still one raga? There surely must be
many ragas that at least can be played with lots of eroticism and sensuality
that may not be performed except for select audiences? I understand that,
unlike in WCM where a single symphony may move through many often
contrasting and diverse emotions, raga development imposes restrictions,
but, within those limitations, does ICM theory admit exploration of any
emotion and if so do such feelings find expression? Is there an avante
guarde of ICM?
Sorry about the previous examples of ragas for revulsion, etc. (I've been
stuck now asking myself that if the tantric-underground sitar player had
successfully conveyed the feeling of nausea, should the audience reeking of
vomit applaud that success?)
Rod
"bdixit" <bdi...@pitt.edu> wrote in message
news:3BFBE419...@pitt.edu...
naniwadekar
>
> I understand that,
> unlike in WCM where a single symphony may move through many often
> contrasting and diverse emotions, raga development imposes restrictions,
>
raag development imposes no such restriction(s).
- dn
Rajan P. Parrikar
Gabe and Rebecca,
Please save your sermon for the white trash s-o-b Erskine.
He will be pissed on and spit upon here as and when we NRIs
(or RIs) desire. You may ignore the thread/postings if you
like.
Warm regards,
r
Rajan P. Parrikar
>all else. I tried for years posting in earnest strictly about ICM,
Is that so? Nobody read your doodle. NRIs and RIs flush you
down the toilet the minute they see the tip of your Fender-up-your-ass.
Warm regards,
r
Havanur
> This does remind me of a query I broached a year or so ago about whether or
> not there are ragas expressing the baser emotions, such as nausea, disgust,
> revulsion, etc. Not that I would really care to listen to such a thing,
> but, would be a good tantric sort of discipline, the imp of the perverse,
> etc. Why is ICM always supposed to be so darned uplifting and beautiful all
> the time? How about raga for silliness, avarice, gall stone operation. So
> many valid human emotions and experiences yet to be explored in raga form.
>
There is a raga called Madh Surja composed by Pt Kumar Gandharva. To
be sung at noon as the name implies and supposed to evoke a sense of
fear. There was an LP record too IIRC.
Havanur
Rod M. Reed
Thanks for the info. I've found many CDs of Pt Gandharva on the web, but
not the Madh Surja. I'll keep looking.
Noon would seem to be a nice safe time to deal with fear.
Rod
"Havanur" <hav...@worldnet.att.net> wrote in message
news:919c1a26.0112...@posting.google.com...