Madhaniya - A Song For All Music Lovers

Neha Bhasin! 💓

One of the magical voices out there. She can sing deep, soulful melodies that bring to mind the rustic damsel, roaming the vast farmlands of Punjab, searching for her estranged beloved. Or, foot-tapping naughty numbers of fun and frolic. She is as good at singing the native songs of Punjab as she is at rendering vamp-like croons.

Here she is singing one such a soulful melody. This song is of a girl taking leave from her parents' house after getting married. Every married woman can clearly recall the pain she felt during that moment of both pleasure and pain. Dedicated to all the married women here, who know what it feels like, to leave one house to make another. 

Though I understand less than even a smattering of Punjab, her voice conveys all that melancholy without even the need for words. After all, isn't music a thrill that transcends all the barriers made by humans?! 💓

Watch the video on Youtube

Book Review – Masterpieces of Indian Art, Dr. Alka Pande

The literary world has almost always looked down with disdain at the so-called ‘coffee-table books’. These books are considered as a not-so-serious-dabbling into their subjects, there only to serve the purpose of decoration and casual browsing. Though not all coffee-table books deserve such treatment, this one lacks the merit to be a work worthy of respect.

While I bought this, I was so glad at having added another book of art history to my collection. But this book has more flaws than merits. Grammatical errors, spelling mistakes and even a glaring factual error make for uneasy reading. Just imagine the level of carelessness in preparing and editing the work, when it calls John Ruskin as the ‘ninth century art critic’, instead of ‘nineteenth century’. Another annoying aspect is that there are many photographs of artworks that are not discussed in detail and there are discussions on art pieces for which there is no photograph presented. This book thus fails to fulfill the role of an encyclopedic tome too.

The writing is not much inspiring either. If you have already gone through ‘The Wonder That Was India’, by A.L. Basham, then you can simply skip this book, unless and of course you want to own a nice-looking coffee-table decorative piece. This is a book that could have been and should have been better, considering the richness of the topic it is dealing with and the number of awards the author has won. But, alas, this book simply stirs up a passion for Indian art and leaves it unquenched.

A masterpiece this isn’t meant to be!

Book Review – Two, Gulzar

Expectations are the bane of mankind. From hermits that expect to attain salvation through penances to lesser mortals trying to reap the benefits of hard work, we are all driven by expectations of one kind or the other. No wonder then that we readers have our own expectations too – to see every book that we read leave upon us a lasting impression or a meaningful lesson. Especially if the book happens to be from our favorite authors or on our favorite topics, our expectations soar high. But, like most, a reader’s expectations too fail, at least once in a while. 'Two' is one such a disappointment. This being the work of Gulzar, a man with the knack of conveying so much in so few words, I opened it with a lot of expectations, but only to be disappointed.

Gulzar is one of those innumerable victims of the India-Pakistan partition. Being a famous writer, he has time and again recounted in his works the horrors of that blood-soaked period of modern Indian history. Like many people who had their roots on either side of the border ripped out, he too nurtures within his heart a desire to see both countries get united. Or, at least, stop quibbling like 'school boys', to borrow his words. He has always tried to heal the wounds of partition through his poems and short stories. This time, he has attempted to do the same through a new format - the novella.

This novella by Gulzar, details the calm lives of the people of Campbellpur, in that part of the country that was to become Pakistan, the chaos preceding partition, the turmoil that befell them during partition and the horrors that awaited them even during the much more civilized, modern, later days. A school teacher and his simple family, an ageing courtesan, a rich landowner forced to abandon all his wealth, truck-drivers, dhaba owners, men of narrow ideas and great ideals all form the ensemble in this emotional work. Many of them leave 'Pakistan' by foot, while a bunch of them leave by truck. But even after coming to the other side of the border, they don't find solace. They remain refugees at an emotional level, with memories of their ancestral land haunting them. Then there are the conflicts that kept happening well within and outside their country of refuge - India-Pakistan war, rise of Bangladesh, Kargil war on the outside, and the 1984 anti-Sikh pogroms on the inside. Thus, like 'the dry leaves falling from the trees', they are left unhinged, thrown here and there at the whims of the political winds.

The book is brilliant in parts, be it the formation of characters, depiction of events or flow within chapters. One can feel Gulzar's indignation and deep pain at the turn of events that cleaved the great nation into two. But seen as a whole the book isn't what you'd expect from someone like Gulzar. The book simply feels like a bunch of emotional events melodramatically cobbled together, using the thread of Partition. Of course, the book is said to be based upon real events, recounted by the families that went through the pain of partition, but somehow, it doesn't all stick together as a whole. May be, Gulzar was involved in this work more as a victim, dealing with it more at an emotional level, than as an author.

A nice, simple read, from an author renowned for painting vivid pictures with his words. The book can also serve as a reminder or as an introduction to that gory part of our collective past. But as a work of literary quality, it simply doesn't count for much.

'Two' is a good book, but the parts here simply don't add up to form a perfect whole!

Book Review – When Breath Becomes Air, Paul Kalanithi

‘At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet’, it is said. But one cannot say the same about Death. When Death arrives calling, not everyone stays brave or becomes a philosopher. Not all of us remain the proud humans that we are during our lifetimes, but go begging for another lease of life, no matter however brief that might be. Very few of us have the courage and composure to meet Death face-to-face, contemplate their life so far, take stock of their purpose and progress, and then, finally, do something that would fill them with the satisfaction of leaving behind something worthwhile, something that could set apart their sojourn on this planet from the billions of others. Paul Kalanithi’s was, fortunately or unfortunately, one such life that acquired a glowing purpose and meaning, sadly more during his final phase of life.

Paul Kalanithi was the second of three sons of an Indian couple settled in America. He had everything going for him. A comfortable life with family, marrying the love of his life, pursuing a career as special and as advanced as neurosurgery, reputation that could have landed him a plump career as soon as his training ended. But he also had something else too – lung cancer of an advanced stage. All his plans for the future suddenly vanished like mirage. With a life now cut short due to illness, Paul launched deeply into questions of existential nature, questions he had felt even while he was riding the crest of the tide.

This book is the answer to his questions about the meaning and purpose of human life. And, what an eloquent and poetic answer this has turned out to be! Published posthumously, this memoir recounts Paul’s early life in detail, telling us about what led to his decision to pursue a career in neuroscience, his early days as a resident surgeon and his ascent to glory. Then come the details of his illness, the various stages of cure that were tried and his frantic, determined quest to find the meaning for his life, whatever little was left of it. His wife Lucy’s epilogue is as fitting an end to the book as it could have been – beautiful, full of love and written more in a matter of fact manner than in a mawkish tone, just the same way in which Paul had written the whole book.

Life is a continuum and Death is a part of it, whether we like it or not. Death is in fact the only absolute certainty in the lives of everything, from the tiny sapling to the mightiest of stars. Just like the eyes ignore the nose that is in front of them, in order to give us an unhindered view of the world, our minds push that ineluctable reality behind so that we can plot our plans for decades until, of course, Death arrives calling, putting to waste our best-laid plans. The more we contemplate the meaning of our lives, the more we acknowledge what awaits us all in the end, and the more we chart the course of our lives accordingly, the easier it becomes for us to leave our mortal shells behind with dignity. Just the way Paul did.

Going through the book, I was often reminded of Viktor Frankl’s ‘Meaning Triangle’. According to him, a human being can add meaning to his/her life in one of these three ways – by creating something beautiful – a work of art, literature or something else similar, by being a beacon of love, filling the lives of others with love and joyful experiences or, finally, by showing a courageous attitude towards the travails that Life places on one’s path. According to me, Paul has done all the three and has really added a glowing meaning to his beautiful life, no matter however short it had been.

Done reading, I am leaving this book on my shelf, nestled between Viktor Frankl’s magnum opus ‘Man’s Search for Meaning’ and Anne Frank’s ‘The Diary of A Young Girl’, because I really feel that this book deserves its place up there!

Happy New Year 2018!

Another year has ended. Yet another has begun. Old calendars replaced with new, more colorful ones. Old diaries filled and filed away. New ones opened with hopes and dreams. From midnight, phones ringing continuously, notifying wishes from friends and relatives. Euphoria fills the air around.

But, all this euphoria for what? What does this concept of change in Time denote? Days, Weeks, Month and Years – but for us humans, who else sees much sense in them all?

Our days and years are all mere exercises of continuum. Unlike the diaries and journals that we keep to mark time, there are no actual chapters in reality. There are no curtains falling and raising, marking beginnings and endings. Time is for us humans to feel Life fully but not all at once. Just like the bodies need sleep to recuperate and resume the activities next day, Mind needs the concept of Time to break Life into easy, little, digestible fragments.

As we all start yet another ‘new year’, let’s remember this. Life is trickling away, as we sit here making resolutions and big plans for the days ahead. The resolutions, wishes and good thoughts are all fine. But let’s just spend a few minutes with our own selves today to take stock of our progress in life, our past dreams, our buried desires, our unkept promises, our unfulfilled passions. Let’s dig them all and see whether we have left anything that could end up being a regret in our final moments.

This year, let’s resolve to reduce the burden of unfulfilled desires from our hearts. Let’s slim down the sizes of our egos. Let’s refresh the interiors of our minds and cleanse them of narrow beliefs and needless differences. Let’s assume a fresh outlook towards Life that smells, tastes and feels pure, simple and pleasant. Let’s remember – today marks not just the beginning of a new year but also the ending of the old one. Have we fulfilled all the resolutions that we had made for ourselves at the beginning of the previous year? If not, let’s try to live up to them this year at least. More than anything, let’s resolve to relish this gift of life, which may not always be pleasant and beautiful but definitely worth experiencing in its whole gamut.

Wishing a very happy new year 2018 to you and yours, filled with abundant happiness, absolute peace, lots of love, scores of success and a sense of satisfaction laced all through the year!

Share & Care - Lessons From A Crow

Reams of religious scriptures proclaim humans as the most intelligent and most special of creations favored by 'God'. However, we humans have time and again proved ourselves to be unworthy of such adulations. Also, no one that has ever observed fellow lifeforms on this planet would entertain such naïve beliefs. For, every lifeform has its own fair share of vices and virtues. While we humans have been displaying more vices than virtues these days, the animal kingdom throws up a pleasant surprise with its noble qualities every now and then. I was a lucky witness of one such surprise this morning.

Just as I was having my breakfast at a roadside eatery, I saw two crows scavenging for food from a bin kept nearby for disposing leftovers. Wanting to feed them, I took a small piece from my food and threw it towards them. Agitated, they flew away and took refuge on a compound wall. Assessing whether I posed a threat, and assured that I wasn’t, one of the crows came down to the place where I had thrown the morsel, while the other remained perched on the compound wall, watching my moves.

The bigger and braver crow that came down examined the food. Satisfied that it was just food and no harmful projectile, it picked the morsel and went back to the wall in one swift move. Sitting on the wall, our brave crow gulped down the food little by little. Seeing that made me happy at getting an opportunity to feed them. There was even a faint whiff of ego for my having been the only one in the whole bunch of people to look at those crows and give them food. But what happened next made that ego vanish.

As the brave crow was finishing eating, the other crow on the wall started cawing. I am not an ornithologist and definitely no mythical character capable of understanding the language of birds, but I could clearly make out his – or, was it a her?! – cry for food. As the cawing continued for a few seconds, our brave crow walked close to his hungry companion. Turning the head towards the other and widely opening his dark beak, he let the other crow partake the half-swallowed food.

Now, we have all heard or even seen how the mother bird feeds her brood through regurgitation. But two fully grown birds sharing food with one another in the same fashion? That was a first to me, which made me both happy and contemplative. If such ‘less-sentient’ creatures like crows could behave with such care and compassion, why can’t we?! We have made huge pedestals and glorious tales for concepts like Nobility, Care, Compassion, Empathy, Sympathy, Understanding and What-Not! But have we realized that they should indeed have been our routine ways of life?

What if we started treating one another with courtesy? What if we added compassion to all our interactions with our fellow occupants on this beautiful planet? How nice it would be if only we could lace all our words, thoughts and deeds for and with one another with basic decency? We don’t need to go hungry to feed another being, but what if we could share whatever little we have and stay content? How would the world be if we all behaved like that crow, not just mindful of our own personal needs but staying compassionate towards those much less fortunate than us?

As the famous author Scott Adams once said, we should all ‘remember there's no such thing as a small act of kindness. Every act creates a ripple with no logical end.’ Well, being a dreamer, I can’t help but imagine the whole planet being drowned in such pleasant ripples!

Human Dignity

A person's dignity is never defined by their wealth, clothes, job or social 'status'. Dignity of a human being is something innate. Got this old idea of mine reinforced today as I observed one of the janitors at the restaurant this morning. He was sitting at one of the tables in the not-so-well-lit inner corner of the restaurant. The way in which he was sitting was what you call as 'majestic'. Sitting sideways on the chair, ramrod straight, broad-chested, a square jaw that complemented the overall manful look, with one hand resting on the table and the other above it, he reminded me of the paintings of Maharanas and Zamindars of yore. Initially I assumed him to be a customer awaiting his food. But only when I saw him gather the cleaning cloth and the bucket from behind the chair and start cleaning the tables did I understand what he really was. Even while cleaning the tables, his demeanour wasn't that of someone doing a 'menial' job. He went about his job in a clinical, detached manner.

Once again I have learnt that dignity isn't defined by ephemeral external factors, but something that we exude from within. And, I am grateful to that middle-aged fellow citizen from North-East for this morning's lovely lesson!