Rest in Peace - Still Life/Ipswich, UK
Monday, April 21, 2008
Friday, April 18, 2008
Record players and golden afternoons....
As I listen to the bassy voices of Debabrata Biswas and Sagar Sen sing out of my tinny laptop speakers and eyes stray to the park across the road, it takes me back to when I was in school. we had a HMV record player and two wooden speakers and a whole bunch of records.
And on sunny afternoons, Dad would put on any of the Bengali old greats on that record player and as the rich sound floated along from room to room and in and around the hills, it will weave a magic of sound. It didn't matter what we were doing, the music will reach us. Some one would be curled up with a book, my brother will likely be doing crosswords or trying to catch an siesta, mom must have been trying to catch up on her school papers while sipping on some tea...and the music will simply invade the atmosphere and settle around us.
And then there were moonlit nights on clear nights, which will soon lead to every one dragging a cane chair into the front lawn and getting comfortable in their colorful shawl, while some one popped in another record into the trusty record player.
There will be scratches and hisses at the beginning and then suddenly sound used to pour out the wooden boxes, soft and soothing. Many people find Rabindra sangeet tedious because of its repetitive slow melody. But in those afternoon's and nights, they just fit the moods and the songs stayed in the memory along with the moments.
Mind you though, we did have modern music systems later on, but the tradition didn't stop, it just changed the medium. We would pop in a CD instead of a cassette, but there would still be those moments in like framed by that music.
And it spilled out of bengali into Hindi and western. Afterall the north east india resonates with music anytime. I am spoiled, I confess. Still now, i can't resist humming a good song when I see a golden afternoon or a moonlit night. It is kind of gloomy out side today, but in my mind its a golden summer afternoon.
I am sharing one of the old Bengali modern songs that used to play a lot in the record player. Click to listen
And on sunny afternoons, Dad would put on any of the Bengali old greats on that record player and as the rich sound floated along from room to room and in and around the hills, it will weave a magic of sound. It didn't matter what we were doing, the music will reach us. Some one would be curled up with a book, my brother will likely be doing crosswords or trying to catch an siesta, mom must have been trying to catch up on her school papers while sipping on some tea...and the music will simply invade the atmosphere and settle around us.
And then there were moonlit nights on clear nights, which will soon lead to every one dragging a cane chair into the front lawn and getting comfortable in their colorful shawl, while some one popped in another record into the trusty record player.
There will be scratches and hisses at the beginning and then suddenly sound used to pour out the wooden boxes, soft and soothing. Many people find Rabindra sangeet tedious because of its repetitive slow melody. But in those afternoon's and nights, they just fit the moods and the songs stayed in the memory along with the moments.
Mind you though, we did have modern music systems later on, but the tradition didn't stop, it just changed the medium. We would pop in a CD instead of a cassette, but there would still be those moments in like framed by that music.
And it spilled out of bengali into Hindi and western. Afterall the north east india resonates with music anytime. I am spoiled, I confess. Still now, i can't resist humming a good song when I see a golden afternoon or a moonlit night. It is kind of gloomy out side today, but in my mind its a golden summer afternoon.
I am sharing one of the old Bengali modern songs that used to play a lot in the record player. Click to listen
Monday, April 14, 2008
Sweet memories of Poila Boishakh!
Poila Boishakh means first day of Boishakh month, which is the first month is the Bengali new year. In a nutshell, it means Bengali New year. I will take this opportunity to wish everyone a happy new year.
Moving on, this day always brings back memories of me and my mom making sweets back in my childhood home- The sweet smell of frying peetha's and coconut, the delicious aroma of thickening milk and sticky fingers from eating all the those goodies coated in sugar syrup.
Over the years, I have really lost my sweet tooth and hardly fancy much sweets. But every new year I feel compelled to prepare something, may be in honor of those memories or just sticking to tradition.
Whatever be the reason, the act of making these sweets always brings back those afternoons spent in my mom's kitchen, squatting on a wooden pidi (low seat) and trying to make coconut laddu's and yelping as the heat stings my palm. My mom was always encouraging, even when my laddu's looked suspiciously like bullets, and held all the five finger impressions. Even today as I make the sweets, I can remember the instructions. I think tradition is as much about making good memories and passing then off to the next generation as much as it is about maintaining age old customs.
Moving on, this day always brings back memories of me and my mom making sweets back in my childhood home- The sweet smell of frying peetha's and coconut, the delicious aroma of thickening milk and sticky fingers from eating all the those goodies coated in sugar syrup.
Over the years, I have really lost my sweet tooth and hardly fancy much sweets. But every new year I feel compelled to prepare something, may be in honor of those memories or just sticking to tradition.
Whatever be the reason, the act of making these sweets always brings back those afternoons spent in my mom's kitchen, squatting on a wooden pidi (low seat) and trying to make coconut laddu's and yelping as the heat stings my palm. My mom was always encouraging, even when my laddu's looked suspiciously like bullets, and held all the five finger impressions. Even today as I make the sweets, I can remember the instructions. I think tradition is as much about making good memories and passing then off to the next generation as much as it is about maintaining age old customs.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Round the Bend
For someone who loves books, I have grossly wronged my lovelies by not blogging on them yet. Well, better late then never. Well I just finished having a long conversation with my brother who lives across the ocean and as usual we started discussing books and movies and Nevil Shute.
There are a few books that leave an impression in your mind that fade but not go away. Round the Bend by Shute is one such book to me. On the surface, book tells the story of two people - Thomas Cutter, an ex-world war II pilot trying to make money by running cargo planes in the gulf and Connie Shaklin, his half-Chinese half-Russian engineer with a strange spiritual belief - that doing honest and good work is the best way to worship.
As the story progresses, Shaklin weaves his concepts of Buddhism and good work with the motions of aircraft maintenance and becomes a spiritual leader of sorts to the other mechanics. I can compare the energy of this story to another good book- "Jonathan Livingston Seagull" by Richard Bach.
He(Shaklin)has been saying that in studying the stresses and the forces in the structure of an aircraft, the thermodynamics of an engine or the flow of current in the oscillating circuits of a radio transmitter, we are but following the injunctions of Guatama (Buddha)...the world is full of suffering and pain caused by our wrong desires and hatreds and illusions, and only knowledge can remove these causes of our suffering ..."
Strange, yet compelling the story is not for everybody. Its also a very different book from Shute's other books. If one wants to start with Shute though I will suggest reading A Town Called Alice- a classic that will last a long long time
There are a few books that leave an impression in your mind that fade but not go away. Round the Bend by Shute is one such book to me. On the surface, book tells the story of two people - Thomas Cutter, an ex-world war II pilot trying to make money by running cargo planes in the gulf and Connie Shaklin, his half-Chinese half-Russian engineer with a strange spiritual belief - that doing honest and good work is the best way to worship.
As the story progresses, Shaklin weaves his concepts of Buddhism and good work with the motions of aircraft maintenance and becomes a spiritual leader of sorts to the other mechanics. I can compare the energy of this story to another good book- "Jonathan Livingston Seagull" by Richard Bach.
He(Shaklin)has been saying that in studying the stresses and the forces in the structure of an aircraft, the thermodynamics of an engine or the flow of current in the oscillating circuits of a radio transmitter, we are but following the injunctions of Guatama (Buddha)...the world is full of suffering and pain caused by our wrong desires and hatreds and illusions, and only knowledge can remove these causes of our suffering ..."
Strange, yet compelling the story is not for everybody. Its also a very different book from Shute's other books. If one wants to start with Shute though I will suggest reading A Town Called Alice- a classic that will last a long long time
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Mystery gifts in the soya bean box!
Does anyone remember the mystery gifts that came with Nutrela soya chunks and Maltova drinks? It was a big thing with us when we were kids. I remember the anticipation and excitement whenever mom bought a new packet which had the magic words in the box "gift inside"!
Unlike today where these gifts are mainly action figures or tattoos etc, in those days, the gifts were not targeted towards children. So they were often glass bowls and steel spoons which were of no interest to us. But sometimes, we got cool gifts like small mirrors or combs or something equally unique that was not useful to the adults but caught our imagination.
I still carry one of these gifts with me. I got it when I was in class seven or eight. It was small pocket mirror inside a plastic casing shaped like a red heart with an arrow through it. Inside the mirror was round. One used the end of the arrow shaft to pry the lid open. I still have it with me somewhere - not cracks or scratches...just like new!
Unlike today where these gifts are mainly action figures or tattoos etc, in those days, the gifts were not targeted towards children. So they were often glass bowls and steel spoons which were of no interest to us. But sometimes, we got cool gifts like small mirrors or combs or something equally unique that was not useful to the adults but caught our imagination.
I still carry one of these gifts with me. I got it when I was in class seven or eight. It was small pocket mirror inside a plastic casing shaped like a red heart with an arrow through it. Inside the mirror was round. One used the end of the arrow shaft to pry the lid open. I still have it with me somewhere - not cracks or scratches...just like new!
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