Hyderabad Heritage Week - At Taramati Baradari

Went to the Taramati Baradari, a place I really like for some reason, with Vasu, Geeta, her mother and Ishan, Shobha and Anjali to enjoy the week long Heritage celebrations.

On show that day was Ecstasy by Strings, a sitar performance by Vinod Singh, Irfan Khan and Naveen Kumar with Uday Kumar on tabla. This was followed by Kasanna from Hubli with Hindustani vocals and then came the ghazals.

All programs were to be 7 p.m. to 10 p.m. at historic venues like the Golconda fort, Taramati Baradari, Chowmahalla palace and the Qutb Shahi tombs. The location itself was worth it. Entry was free. (I saw one newspaper article that referred to Taramati Baradari as Taramati Baramati!)

There were 15 people at the venue and at the highest count perhaps 40. The performances were lovely, the setting simply superb and magical under the night sky. I enjoyed all that I could view before I left at 9 p.m. I wish I'd know it earlier, might have seen more. Vasu was the one who told me about it and invited me. Superb stuff and I only wish the AP Tourism Department promotes the same a bit more. Next year certainly.

My Biggest Passion Perhaps - Music

I was thinking a while ago what my biggest passion in life was. Passion, qualified in terms of that thing for which I went to great lengths to acquire, achieve and enjoy. I thought of people, books, cricket, travel, food, movies, women, laughter, life and then came to the one thing that took the cake - music. I do love my life, laughter, people but I sort for take them for granted. I do make some effort where movies, travel and books are concerned. I do actually make some sacrifices when cricket and women are concerned. But what I really care for, one for which I'd travel miles for, one for which I made many kinds of sacrifices for, one for which the acquisition of each had the anticipation of getting myself a great gift, one that does not make me feel guilty to spend on myself - that surely has to be music.

The acid test for me is this. What is the one thing I'd spend on to enjoy it. Not cricket though I love playing the game - I never bought a bat after my childhood days and preferred to borrow it from one of my more affluent friends (perhaps that's why I became a bowler because bats were too expensive to buy). Not food because I have limited requirements when I am by myself. Not women because I have perhaps only invested time with them and nothing much more (not the diamond ring type). But when it came to music I had no issues with money.

My first taste of financial freedom came when I went to Bangalore to represent Hyderabad in the Under 15 tournament. We'd carry a few hundred rupees for safekeeping and I'd saved up a couple of hundreds after some spartan spending on food. Those were the days when my father purchased a cassette player at home. So I browsed a store on Brigade Road and carefully spent a fortune on buying four cassettes - ABBA's Greatest, Chilly's Come to L.A., Kraftwerk and another that had an assorted mix of songs including Funky Town (or was it Lipps Inc?). Ah, heaven. I listened to those songs over and over again. Those tapes are still with me except Chilly which my cousin Sanjay borrowed with a promise to return a few years ago.

It became a regular feature of all my trips - save up money so I could buy a cassette or two by the end. That was the only luxury I allowed myself. Where Venkatpathy would splurge on a beer or a gift for his girl friend, I'd buy cassettes. My collection slowly grew and I would plague those friends of mine who had music decks that could record to record some cassettes for me. More cassettes followed. I'd save up money and scrounge and take the bus to Basheerbagh to buy cassettes in Sangeet Sagar. I bought a good many cassettes there including YES, Jetthrotull, Bryan Adams, Rick Springfield, Samantha Fox, Men at Work, Police and so many more. And from there I discovered a little store in Chirag Ali lane that sold some really rare tapes (I had one from Little River Band - a rock collection which was truly interesting), the gift shop in Nallakunta and so on and so forth. I foraged old cassettes that could be taped over and I think I erased some bhajans etc my Mom would listen to and taped some western music on to that.

I hooked up our humongous Phillips radio to the little cassette player and made a bigger sound. I would be enthralled when I heard the sound of the music decks that Vidyuth and Naresh owned. In fact in those days much of our conversations revolved around music. While Vidyuth introduced me to Daryl Hall and John Oates, Michael Jackson, Alan Parsons Project, John Seger and the Silver Bullet Band and so many more Naresh and I spent endless hours listening to ABBA and Michael Jackson. By myself I had the company of Boney M, BeeGees and the rest. I remember I even made a gift of my Dad's vinyl record - that of Ananda Shankar - to Naresh. Similarly I gifted a Jetthotull that somehow wormed its way to me to Sai. I was a great one to donate my Dad's stuff. As with books he also had a huge collection of music, vinyl records, and for someone who probably did not know much Hindi, was an ardent fan of all the Mukesh's, Rafi's and others. He had a varied mix from Western to Indian, classical to filmy and my ears got used to listening to good music (Hugo Montenegro was one) as I grew up.

My best moments were those that I spent sharing my music with those I loved. To me that was a big thing, baring a highly personal part of me. So it was fun to go and wake up Sanjay at 11 in the night at his house in Chikkadpally and listen to music till three in the morning - something we both loved doing and hope to repeat, just as it was fun sharing songs with my friends and family. When I felt great affection for someone I'd tape my best songs for that person. I remember the first gifts that Shobhs bought for me - Dire Straits album On Every Street and one on Morning Ragas. Oh, we heard much music then. My cassette collection grew and I harboured in my mind my first big acquisition that I set my mind upon - a music deck. Thankfully Phillips came to our rescue then with an integrated deck and not one of those where you had to buy everything separately and I went and bought my first music deck in Pune in 1992 December for Rs. 10,000 from Gokuldas  Store on Main Street. I think my salary at that time was Rs. 3000 but that 10000 was one of the happiest I spent. And that deck brougth me so  many hours of listening pleasure in Pune, Mumbai and Hyderabad. I continued buying cassettes when I worked in Mumbai, scouring the second hand shops near VT that sold cassettes and I got some great ones -  Brotherhood of Mann's Greatest hits was one.

And then the places that played great music. The pubs n Hyderabad were good in those days - the 90s with Barrel House, Cloud Nine playing decent music. The moments we spent in Cafe Mondegar in Mumbai listening to the music on the Jukebox on Friday evenings were incredible - REM's Everybody Hurts comes to mind each time. I cannot forget the Rock Night that we did at home one night playign loud rock music from 11 p.m. till 3 a.m. - and no one complained. ACDC, Scorpions, Radiohead, Deep Purple, Aerosmith, Black Sabbath, Pink Floyd and so many more. Loud head banging stuff.

Each song has a memory attached to it now. Every person also has a song attached to him or her now.  I think i can easily classify people that way - those who shared their music with me and those who did not. Those who did have a song to them - one that I can recognise them with, share a bond with. Starting from my brother Ram who was on of the first to listen to music with me, my sisters Mythily and Lakshmi, my Mom who had a great ear for music, Vidyuth (from when we were 14), Naresh, Koni, Sanjay, Sanjay Reddy, Aqueel, Shobha, Sunnie, Satish, Kiri, Ranjan, Vardha, Madhav (eclectic music), Mony, Parag, Raja, Satish, Milind, Parth, even the younger ones right down to Anjali. Each cassette has a memory - where I bought it, who was with me then, who listened to it with me, what was going through with me in those times - everything comes back easily. My best cassettes got lost but I got some from others. The cassette collection grew until it became some 400 and stagnated there. Digitised music came in and then the poor old cassette faded away unable to sustain themselves before the hep ipods and phones. I listen to music even now but I do not feel that same intensity as I did then.

The other day I decided to move all my cassettes up into the attic and make some space down in the shelf that they were occupying. Some 400 of them. And as I dusted them and put them in a box I remembered each memory almost as it happened then. I thought of the times I would dust and clean them, repair them, play them. I figured out the way to repair them myself - and that is what a passion does to you. You go to great lengths to care for it. Carefully opening up the spoilt tape with a sharp edge of a knife, with the greatest care removing the damaged part with a scissors, gluing the separated ends of the tape together and carefully screwing it all back on. Ah, good as new.

A lifetime of memories got boxed up and I decided to photograph each row as it happened - the original tapes, the recorded ones, the cheap taped ones, the second hand ones - as Anjali and Manasi watched and even helped me store them away. In a while they all got boxed up - two boxes was all it took and were shunted up. That's all it takes for a lifetime of passion, of good times, of experiences - two cardboard boxes. And now, even less. And what does one do with it - a passion that took so much time, effort and money - just box it up? A useless passion.

But passions are not useless. They connect you to ecstasy of life at the click of a finger. On note is all I need and I am flying, singing out loud, my mood all changed. Life is worth living again. And for putting me on this journey, for this endless joy that I get from my life, for what my Mom once famously said to me - what would we do without music?, I must thank the biggest romantic I ever knew, my Dad, who probably spent all he had on his books and his music and hoped to get through life like that. Well, he did.

IPL 6 - What A Show Cameron White!

I am a huge fan of Cameron White's captaincy and my belief in his abilities was vindicated in the way he led his side Sun Risers today to victory over Pune Warriors. Sun Risers Hyderabad is arguably a weak side with no stars and they capitulated for 119. Most would have given up when Pune was romping home at 38 for no loss. There were comments for 'Sun setting on the Sun Risers' etc. But Cameron White showed how it is done in a street fight where the end is all that matters. He hung in there, slowly tightened the screws, played all the right cards to upset the Pune Warriors rhythm and drove home the final nails before the Warriors knew what happened. Sun Risers won with a margin of 11 runs.

From the tenth over onwards it was a master class exhibitionism of wonderful captaincy. Going for wickets all the time White made sure that his best bowlers got all their overs done early on so the pressure was kept on till the very end. And when there is pressure there is bound to be a mistake and each time there was a mistake, White had his men ready. It was a classic exhibition of what to do when you have limited resources - with some imagination and attacking play, you can make those resources seem pretty dangerous. Superb stuff. I liked what Mishra, the hero and the hat trick man for today said - Cameron told me to go for wickets and not bother even if I got hit for a four or a six. Now that's the kind of a captain one would like. Good for young Ashish Reddy too who makes a contribution every match - batted and fielded well today.

I saw White do something equally good last year when he made Mumbai Indians sweat to get 90 off runs against the Deccan Chargers. He is the right man to lead the Sun Risers. Why is he not leading all the games? It could give Sangakarra time to focus on his batting which could help the Sun Risers big time.

The Incredulity of Father Brown - G.K. Chesterton

This book deceived me for 40 years now - with its cover and its title. It belongs to my father's book collection, one that was pretty large with a wide array of topics and authors, and sat along side several Wodehouses, Robins, Chases, Forsyths and more. Almost all the books are now gone, some eaten by moths, some destroyed by bad handling and lost during transport, some taken away and some given away. Today I kick myself for being rather careless with that collection though I realise that as a ten - fourteen year old I could not really do much about it. But the memories remain and hang on with their smells and feelings.

The pencil mark on the book shows that it was brought in 1973 for Rs. 6 in Warangal. I certainly remember seeing that earnest face of Father Brown on the cover of this book those many  years ago. The title appeared serious and of some religious nature and I never ventured near it. All the Forsyths were done, all Wodehouses, all Harold Robins too, but never this one. In spite of my partisan attitude towards it, somehow the book hung on, outliving and outsurviving all of its other colleagues, and presented itself to me at various times. As my own collection grew I found that it is the only one of my father's collection left and since it is is pretty good condition, left it amongst the shiny new ones.

The book chose its time for me and I sat down to read it now in 2013. In the first page I realise that Father Brown is a delightful character and not some drab moral preaching priest, a man of God but more interestingly a detective who specialises in solving murders and other crimes. I'd have never believed it. Then I realise that it is actually a series of eight crimes, presented as short stories, and a pretty delightful reading it was too what with Chesterton's lovely use of the language. Father Brown breezes through cases that include The Resurrection of Father Brown (where he arises from the coffin after his own death), Arrow of Heaven, Oracle of the Dog, Miracle of Moon Crescent, Curse of the Golden Cross, Dagger with Wings, Doom of the Darnaways and the Ghost of Gideon Wise. Each one as intriguing as the other and fine reads as no other. Father Brown himself is a busy and interesting character who observes and suddenly comes through with his solution from the most unusual view points. Chesterton moves lightly over time periods, descriptions and creates a rapid pace for the stories.

What makes this book so unusual is that it uses the Father to solve cases that appear to be miracles of God. In his own responsible manner Chesterton makes a case of being rational through his protagonist, to see the facts as they are, and not attribute the same lazily, to some supernatural force. Some cases, including the first one where Father Brown who appears dead for all reasons and awakens just in time, have been structured just to keep the masses aware that God is in his place and crime in its own. I loved the fact that he chose such a religious character to temper extreme views on religion and the misuse of religion, miracles, occult, curses and black magic by creating circumstances and characters to plead and show the path of reason. I cannot imagine any writer showing half as much imagination, courage and responsibility as Chesterton did in 1926, which was when this book was first published, and taking such a responsible and clearly stated case through delightful stories. I do not think any book can match this book for its rare and unusual content, its fine storytelling and its quaint language. Great piece of writing and for all those who say that fiction writing or a work of art cannot be based on a belief system, or that it cannot be entertaining and responsible, Chesterton's work gives a fitting answer. Fiction can be entertaining, educative and responsible and can shape thought for ages. This book could be relevant even today.

I am so glad the book waited for me and thought I was worthy of the wait. Perhaps it was to convey this thought that I could write fiction and still write responsibly. For that, thank you Father Brown. Back to the shelves now.

Play It Again, Sam - Movie Review

'Play It Again, Sam' was out in 1972 and so we have Woody Allen looking much like Farroq Sheikh would have in our 70s movies. But once again the theme of the movie, as in all Woody Allen movies, is pretty interesting. How does he do it? He truly inspires me to write a script one day.

The main theme is this - what happens to men who normally are quite composed and interesting and intelligent when they meet women? We grew up with a huge Amitabh Bachchan syndrome when all of us tried to behave like Amitabh when we met girls - a perpetual scowl or a sullen response, a deep voice and an air of indifference was our formula. No success of course and rightly so. In fact my friend Vardha who is an eternal romantic, often confesses of his fantasy to sue Amitabh for messing up our romantic lives. But now I find that the story is the same across seven seas. Woody Allen's character is stuck by a bad case of Humphrey Bogart and it is but natural that he has a pathetic romantic life.

Woody Allen plays Alan, a movie critic, obsessed with watching Casablanca and Humphrey Bogart. His wife leaves him soon as the movie begins as she is more outdoors and action type and not the watch movies and sit at home type that Woody is. There is some talk about sexual inadequacies too but that much is to be expected in Woody's movies. (I'd love to see him play a super stud in one movie - a man who is just as he is normally but who has this hidden sexual gift!) His best friend Dick and his wife Linda (Diane Keaton) try to counsel the neurotic and over anxious Alan with other women and find him wrecking each encounter with his filmy notions of how he should behave and (Bogart) and all that. Finally happens that he has an affair with Linda. Just as they are wondering what to do Dick comes over to Alan and confides that he suspects that Linda is having an affair. Sense prevails and Linda and Dick fly off together after a Casablanca kind of a scene at the airport. Throughout the movie we have a Bogart-lookalike giving advise to Alan on how to proceed with the women. In the end Alan discovers that he did not need to be Bogart to be attractive to women - he just had to be himself. Wish we'd seen this movie in our youth.

I love these little hooks and themes that Woody Allen comes up with and how he ties it all up so well, with a twist of irony to the whole thing. Woody Allen plays his neurotic character as only he can, bumbling, falling over, making a complete fool of himself and being so relatable to that part of us. It also shows San Francisco well which is uncommon as Woody sticks to New York mostly. The movie is based on a play written by Allen of the same name. So what's it with Sam, who is he etc? Apparently it's a take off from a dialogue in Cabalanca - 'Play it, Sam'.

Fun and highly watchable.

Thought For The Day - Are You Seizing Control Or Waiting To Be Controlled

Think about it. The world is divided into two types. The ones who seize control and get on with life. The others who are waiting to be controlled and always looking around.

I'd say (at this point) that it is better to try to be one of those who seizes control. Now that commits you into dealing with things as they come up and sorting them out. It's more action oriented, more unpredictable, more fun and certainly a hell of a lot more exciting. I'd guess it also pays off better.

The second type are the ones looking to be controlled. It could be anywhere but it's their tendency to leave control to whoever - God, Dad, spouse - and be the hapless victim. This looks like a no win situation where you have little or no control over your life, are always dependent on someone else for things to change in your life. It could make you perpetually melancholic and resentful. The dull and boring life is predicted for this types not to mention an unrewarding life.

Seizing control is associated with risk and confrontation. It's not. It's about taking responsibility for yourself. Actually not seizing control will lead to more confrontation and risk because people will walk on you easily then.

Seizing control is just a state of mind. Of being free. Of knowing all options are available. Of flowing the way you want. It is a matter of backing yourself. And not waiting for someone else to guide, shape and control you.

I suspect that those who believe fully in god also understand this in a way. God requires complete surrender to life force. And complete surrender to life force is another form of seizing control and not being dependent on another person's likes, dislikes, approvals, disapprovals. Don't look around - listen to yourself. Just do as the free spirit wills you to intuitively. Leave the rest to whatever you believe in.

Go ahead. Feel it in your head. Take control. Do the first thing that comes to your mind by yourself. Seize control. You're free.

Faster Fenay at Fort Pratapgad - B.R. Bhagwat

The B.R. Bhagwat original in Marathi is stuff of folklore. I have been hearing of Faster Fenay for a long time from Raja, Satish, Shobha and probably Milind and Parth as well, so when I saw this slim book in the bookstore I could not resist picking it up. Faster Fenay does not disappoint. The thirteen year old Banesh Fenay alias Faster Fenay alias Fafe and his schoolmates from Vidyabhavan, Pune, Santosh Desai and Chakor Deshmukh outwit a kidnapping gang in this story that has as many twists and turns as any book of 100 pages can contain. And they are as relevant and as contemporary as any mobile phone-ipad wielding kid today.

Puffin Classics, 110 p, Rs. 199

The schoolboys are on a trek to Pratapgad Fort. Nice way by B.R. Bhagwat to include history in the story and not just weave some story. After they learn about Shivaji and his legendary duel with Afzal Khan, the action begins. From stories of missing people, devious sadhus, hidden tunnels, kidnapping gangs, earthquakes, treasures, coded maps - the book has it all. Moving at super fast speed and full of entertainment for the reader Faster Fenay is fun and just the kind of stuff you want to read when you're a kid. Or even when you're an adult for that matter. I enjoyed it thoroughly and got done with it in half a day.

The original Fenay series was in Marathi and the Puffin Classics in English have been translated by Tejas Modak (who has done a good job of it). B.R. Bhagwat's own story is very interesting in itself. Born in 1910, he worked mainly as a journalist - with the Sakal in Pune and later Prakash in Mumbai. He joined the AIR in 1941 and quit soon after the broadcast of Gandhi's arrest to join the Freedom Movement. After being jailed for two years for taking part in the freedom struggle he returned to writing, translating Jules Verne and H.G. Wells into Marathi. Later he published a Marathi magazine for children called Balmitra from 1950 to 1957. Faster Fenay took birth sometime then and was later serialised on Doordarshan. He wrote over 200 books and several comic strips. B.R. Bhagwat died in 2001.

You wonder why you don't read these children's books anymore. They are fun and quick, easy to read and do not tax you too much, they take you back to being a kid and to all those crevices in your mind that you'd have forgotten, and best of all they leave you feeling good and light. Not heavy and burdened.