Those good old days.....

I am posting this on behalf of Rama:

This song dates back to my 8th grade days, way back in the 70s when my mom forced me to learn Carnatic music because one, that was what most Tamil and Kannada Brahmin parents did in Bangalore- send their children to sangeetham and Bharatanatyam classes and two, she happened to overhear me imitating a popular Kannada film song that would play faithfully on our radio every morning. So it was generally agreed that I could sing in shruthi. The music teacher happened to be a relative, probably an aunt many times removed. She lived close by so I could walk to her house for lessons. Since I would perpetually hang out at my friend’s house every evening after school and this friend also happened to be musical, both of us decided to learn together. Because the teacher was a relative, there was no fee expected or given by us but there were other students who paid her. Following dictates of tradition, my mom escorted us to the teacher’s house and asked me to give half a dozen bananas, jasmine flowers from our garden and tamboola [betel leaves and supari] to the teacher, introduced us to her and left. My friend’s mom had died long back but we were sure she was present in spirit. Both my friend and I already knew most of the beginning lessons as we had heard them many times over when our elder sisters [privileged first borns who had a teacher come home and teach individually] were singing or practicing. When she learned this, right from day one our teacher decided that we were going to start learning krithis. Again following tradition, she started to teach us a krithi on Ganesha in Gowla ragam, which I have sung here. Ms. P. Devi, our teacher was around 30 years old, single, already graying, slim and tall. She lived with her older sister’s family as her parents were probably dead and single women didn’t usually live by themselves then. Her mannerisms were a little awkward and you would often catch her smiling and talking to herself. Since no one paid undue attention to that, neither did we. As a teacher, she was a tough task master. She would reprimand me at every lesson and praise my friend unfailingly because my friend could imitate the intricate gamakas perfectly and I faltered a lot, particularly when the song reached the higher octave. When ever she scolded me, my friend used to burst into giggles. I asked her why and she said ‘did you notice, she was scolding you but looking at me!’ I felt humiliated both for myself and my teacher. I was told by my parents that the teacher can never be wrong and I had to show ‘implicit’ obedience [my mom’s favorite expression] to parents and elders. I felt bad that I wasn’t doing the gamakas and getting scolded, and I also felt bad that my teacher was laughed at. I never progressed beyond this krithi with Ms. P. Devi because she would insist on perfecting that one line before moving on and I never did even after trying many times. Telling myself that I could never sing perfectly like my friend, I stopped my lessons with Ms. P. Devi. Looking back, after nearly 25 years in the field of persons with disabilities, I realize that the modern day scholars would classify Ms. P. Devi as being autistic or having Asperger syndrome. She was socially very awkward, talked to herself, was musically gifted and pretty inflexible! She wouldn’t give eye contact, as illustrated by my friend’s remarks above. She had dropped out of school after 7th grade because she failed it many times and that indicates that she had cognitive processing issues as well. Luckily for her, she was born way back in the 40s when people in India did not know the word autism and the society had embraced her in its protective fold, without anyone having to rehabilitate her! Her sister’s family had recognized her musical abilities and had turned it into a vocation for her! Here’s my tribute to Ms. P. Devi. My mom said that she passed away couple of years ago. Ms. P. Devi’s probably smiling (or frowning?) from heaven because I still struggle with gamakasJ.

Here's me singing Pranamamyaham.......

...an ode to the setting sun...

Mavaltya Dinakara by B.R Tambe.

Music and voice again by the Mangeshkars. [As much as I love their music, I see now a necessity to diversify, explore, to just listen... perhaps sing too]. Anyway, I decided to sing this song for the poetry. It was written in the early 1900s (perhaps late 1800s?). The words, the imagery, the sentiment--all are so strange, so alien to today's times. I have tried to translate but I am not confident of my interpretations...

Aditi's Mavalatya Dinakara

mavalatya dinakara, arghya tuzha joduni donhi kara
[O setting sun, joining both hands i offer (my prayers?)]

jo to vandan kari ugavatya, jo to path firavi mavaltya
reet jagachi hi re savitya, swarthaparayanpara
[all worship the rising, all turn their back on the setting,
this is the norm in the world, the aims are self-serving]

upakarachi kuna athavan, 'shite to vari bhute' ashi mhan
jagat bharile tond-puje-pun, dhari pathivar shara
[who remembers past help, people stay until there is some benefit,
the world is full of sycophants, with arrows on their backs (?)]

aasakt pari tu kelis vanvan, diles jeevan he narayan
mani na dharile sana-thor-pun, samadarshi tu khara
[you strived even when you were tired, o narayan, you gave life,
with no reservations for small or big, you are the real impartial one]

Dasht-e-Tanhai Mein...

Iqbal Bano passed away on April 21st 2009. The legendary Pakistani gazal singer created classics that will forever mesmerize listeners. Dasht-e-tanhai is one of my favorites. The words by Faiz weave magic. Here's a You Tube recording of Iqbal Bano singing the gazal. It is awe-inspiring... everything is just right--'sur,' 'lay,' voice, expression, diction, nuances, connections of words and notes...

Here's my tribute to her.

Dasht-e-Tanhai
By Faiz Ahmed Faiz
Translated by Ayesha Kaljuvee

dasht-e-tanhaai mein, ai jaan-e-jahaan, larzaan hain
In the desert of my solitude, oh love of my life, quiver
teri avaaz ke saaye,
the shadows of your voice,
tere honthon ke saraab
the mirage of your lips
dasht-e-tanhaai mein,
In the desert of my solitude,
duri ke khas-o-khaak tale
beneath the dust and ashes of distance
khil rahe hain tere pehlu ke saman aur gulaab
bloom the jasmines and roses of your proximity

uht rahi hai kahin qurbat se
From somewhere very close,
teri saans ki aanch
rises the warmth of your breath
apani khushbuu mein sulagati hui
smouldering in its own aroma,
maddham maddham
slowly, bit by bit.
dur ufaq par chamakati hui
far away, across the horizon, glistens
qatra qatra
drop by drop
gir rahi hai teri dil daar nazar ki shabnam
the falling dew of your beguiling glance

is qadar pyaar se, aye jaan-e jahaan rakkhaa hai
With such tenderness, O love of my life,
dil ke rukhsaar pe
on the cheek of my heart,
is vaqt teri yaad ne haath
has your memory placed its hand right now
yun guman hota hai
that it looks as if
garche hai abhi subah-e-firaaq
(though it's still the dawn of adieu)
dhal gaya hijr ka din
the sun of separation has set
aa bhi gaye vasl ki raat
and the night of union has arrived.

Jivalaga, Rahile re door ghar maaze...

Being Marathi is an incredible source of joy for me... Access to poetry, music, literature that gives the highest inspiration. Here is one such song that brings together three divine talents... I have loved it for a long time. Thus far, I resisted singing in fear of not doing it justice. Finally, couldn't stop myself from at least an attempt. I still have ways to go even in acquiring all the little (and big) twists and turns of notes that Asha manages so effortlessly... let alone expressing the essence of the song. But here goes anyway. In Marathi--"prayatna karayla dhajatey."

Aditi's attempt at Jivalaga Rahile Re Door Ghar Mazhe

Original Song on Youtube

Music Director: Pandit Hridaynath Mangeshkar
Lyricist: Shanta Shelke
Singer: Asha Bhosale

jivalaga rahile re door ghar maze
paul thakle mathyawarche jad zale oze
[Oh my love... My house is far away, feet tired and the burden on my shoulders feels heavy.]

kirr bolate ghan wanrai, sanj sabhoti datuni yei
sukhsumnanchi sarali maya pachola waje
[The dense forests speak, and the evening darkness deepens from all sides. The illusion of blossoms fades and all one hears is their dried crackle.

gaav magacha mage padala, paitali path timiri budala
hi ghatakechi sute sarai mitale darwaje
[The last village is left behind, and the path below my feet is drowned in darkness. As I leave the resting place, the doors close.]

niradhar mi, mi wanwasi, gheshil kenva maj hridayashi
tuch ekala, tuch ekala nath anatha mahima taw gaje
[I am without support, exiled in the woods. When will you take me in your arms? You are the only one, the protector of those without protection, your glory is everywhere.]

Lakshmi Vallabha

After listening to Pushkar Lele's excellent and very effective rendition of Kumar Gandharv's Tukaram abhang "Lakshmi Vallabha Dinanatha Padmanabha" on Marathi SRGMP, I rushed back to my files of KG's Tukaram Darshan. Ever since, it has been playing on repeat mode on my computer.

A search for the lyrics on the net wasn't fruitful for a a long time. I finally found it in the complete Tukaram Gatha on marathi wikibooks--an amazing resource!!! This is the URL: http://mr.wikibooks.org/wiki/

And here's a transliteration of Lakshmi Vallabha:

Lakshmi Vallabhaa, Dinaanaathaa Padmanaabhaa |Dhru|
Sukh vase tuze paayee, Maj thevee te chi thaayee |1|
Maazhee alp hee vaasanaa, Tu to udaaraachaa raanaa |2|
Tukaa mhane bhoge, Peedaa keli dhaav vege |3|

p.s.

May 6th 09

So, there's a Composer's Day celebration that Rama has organized in honor of Thyagraja Aradhana. And I am planning to sing my version of Lakshmi Vallabha [influenced by KG's original and Pushkar's interpretation]. Here's what you would call in academic parlance, a rough rough-draft:

Aditi cannot resist singing (and recording and posting) Lakshmi Vallabha.

Bhaja Govindam--live via skype

One of the things Rama and I have been doing is to skype music together. When we were in the same town--Bloomington--there was a small group of friends to make music with face-to-face. After I moved away in summer 2008, Rama and I found that skyping was a good way to continue sharing music. In the past few months, we have tried a lot of things--doing vocal exercises, taking up a raga and practicing alankars and alap, selecting songs and perfecting them to our best abilities.

MS Subbalakshmi's Bhaja Govindam was one of our most ambitious projects. Rama (the carnatic specialist) sent me a link to the song. I heard, was conquered, and started obsessing over it. Rama had grown up with the song and knew it well. I heard recordings and then had Rama refine my rendition before I felt confident. Our ambition was to sing it together. We began on skype, eagerly waiting for the opportunity to sing it together--live.

A few days ago, I was in Bloomington. Rama and I had a music session, where we sang Bhaja Govindam together--finally!!! I decided to record our attempt to see how it sounded, and it's not too bad... In the hope that listeners have even a fraction of the fun we have when we sing, here's our version of the masterpiece.

Bhaja Govindam by Rama and Aditi

Jaunpuri fascination

Any listener worth their salt has experienced periods of obsession--when they can think of nothing but one song, one piece, one raga. Well, the last few days have been Jaunpuri days for me. I have been reviving compositions from my notebook, listening to online recordings, and picking up film songs--all in the raga Jaunpuri. Here are two pieces that I mustered the courage to record.

Jaunpuri Chhota Khayal in Tritaal. There is no tabla, but I was trying to follow the tritaal cycle as I sang.

My attempt at Geeta Dutt's brilliant Kabir bhajan: Ghunghat Ke Pat Khol from the film Jogan

Continuing with Rama's earlier post about learning from a guru/teacher vs. learning through any other method--including recordings... I had learned the chhota khayal (Sajan Gare Laag) from my teacher in India in a very conventional manner--writing down the words and learning the melody by ear and rote. The song I learned from recording--again in a conventional manner. I downloaded the lyrics and sang them numerous times with Geeta Dutt's recording. But it was more than just Geeta Dutt's recording. I also recorded myself and played it back, cringing at my ineptness and marking places where I could do better. There is yet a huge scope for improvement but the opportunity for self-criticism did help...

Recordings are the medium through which film songs reach us and that would be the obvious way way to learn them. Where as we are taught to consider classical music as sacred--difficult to learn except through face-to-face (or telephonic or virtual!) interactions with a living teacher/guru. Is that why it is easier for us to accept learning a film song in this manner rather than a classical composition?