What's app Selections 3

Bird Meditations, bird thoughts, bird loves, bird conversations and bird beings...

17.11.17-8,30 a.m.

It is such a pleasure watching birds. I mean, it is not even as though i plan to watch them.

I was just getting ready to start correcting a batch of those 130 grammar papers, when their movement on the tree branches sailed into my peripheral vision.

Who says birds don't chase each other? This was a case of two shalik birds, nimbly following each other from the lower to the higher branches. Fast, lithe, ballerina tapering legs.

No worry, no cares. Just living. One has to learn from birds and animals.

English Romantic poetry celebrates the bird as the highest symbol of freedom.

In  To a Skylark Shelley writes, 'higher still and higher/ the blue deep thou wingest' 'Thou' because the bird is holy. Holy. Holy. In the Kathamrita Thakur speaks of the Homa bird, which lives high up in the Heavens. When the young are born they start descending towards the earth. But half way through they realize that the earth is full of pain and corruption, and they go right back to where their mother is in the upper skies...

Indian adage says that Sadhu and Panchi (bird) don't hoard...:)  

18.11.17-5,15 p.m.

Thank God for bird sounds in the city. On Southern Avenue, on the way back from the park one hears them. Chorus of bird voices. Restful, beautiful. Interrupting and providing such a restful and soothing counterpoint to city sounds. Great Mother Nature! May we always be blessed with your presence. No wonder the Bengali character is poetical. Surrounded by so much beauty, how can one not respond? The poet Jibanananda Das said in one of his Rupashi Bangla (রুপসী বাঙলা) poems, "Banglar mukh ami dekhiyachi/ tai prithibir mukh dekhite chahi na aar" ('বাংলার মুখ আমি দেখিয়াছি/ তাই পৃথিবীর মুখ দেখিতে চাহি না আর').

Kobitaar sphuron aaj je aar shesh hoi na. Ekta gaan achhe, 'ami kaan pete roi'. Robi Thakur er gaan. Rabindranath to Baul bhab e bishwas korten. Je bhab achhe oi gaanta teo: 'dekhechhi roop sagore moner manush kancha shona'. Oi 'moner manush' hochhen Atman. Baul ra believe kore je nijer moddhye khunjle Ishwar ke pawa jai. Rabindranath ei eky bhab prokash korechhen ei gaantai; 'amar praaner manush achhe praane'.

(কবিতার sphuron আজ যে আর শেষ হয় না।  একটা গান আছে, 'আমি কান পেতে রই'. রবি ঠাকুরের গান। রবীন্দ্রনাথ তো বাউল ভাব-এ বিশ্বাস করতেন। যে ভাব আছে ওই গানটাতেও: 'দেখেছি রূপ সাগরে মনের মানুষ কাঁচা সোনা'। ওই 'মনের মানুষ' বলেছেন আত্মা কে। বাউলরা বিশ্বাস করে যে নিজের মধ্যে খুঁজলে ঈশ্বর কে পাওয়া যায়। রবীন্দ্রনাথ এই একই ভাব প্রকাশ করেছেন এই গানটায়, 'আমার প্রাণের মানুষ আছে প্রাণে'। )

Tai bochi 'ami kaan pete roi'. Prakritir choron dhwani r jannya 'kaan pete' thakte hoi. (তাই বলছি 'আমি কান পেতে রই'। প্রকৃতির চরণ ধ্বনির জন্য 'কান পেতে' থাকতে হয়।) Hopefully the more receptive and open one becomes, one hears the natural symphonies and orchestras better.

Whats'app Selections 2

There are many scattered reflections on music, nature and birds, particularly. Some of these I have intentionally and some accidentally deleted. My children and I have now started a Family Whatsapp where I store comments from other sites so as not to delete valuable comments.

Scattered musings on Music

Written to a friend

Was listening to Bhimshen Joshiji sing 'Bajubandh khula khula jai'. Felt I was in the presence of something great and mighty. Raag Bhairavi. And of course, Bhimshen Joshiji's mighty exploration of it. Raag Bhairavi. Like the wind and waters and tidal waves. As mysterious and as beautiful.

I was just thinking now that great musicians are probably those who in some previous life have been so devoted to a particular svara or group of swaras (say, a raag like Bhairavi), that they were willing to sacrifice everything for it. They would never want to come down to any petty or utterly selfish level whereby they would violate the spirit of the raaga. Musicians are those who see into the soul of notes.

To my friend Sharada on Bhimshen Joshiji singing 'Muhammed Shah Rangila re' set to Raag Miya Malhar:

Dear Sharada, while I look at his physical posture that speaks of intense and one pointed concentration,  I feel that musician and music are one. In one of his great poems where Yeats probes the relationship between the performer and the genre/medium, he asks, 'how can one separate the dancer from the dance?' (It could be in Michael Robartes and the Dancer or Among School Children) As I look at Bhimshen Joshiji's bent face, immersed in a sound universe, uttering the opening swaras of Miyan Ki Malhar, I feel he is  Raag Miyan Malhar. That is why he can sing it with such passion and power. The skies, the rain and the thunder speak through him.

With my old time college friend and Dada, Abhijit Lal Roy (Laluda):

Regarding an informal video of Shahid Parvez playing Raag Yaman.Parvez is in a hotel room most likely, and there are people listening to him. I had almost been certain that he was Parvez,but I still asked Laluda to confirm:

Laluda: It is Shahed Parvez indeed.Swaosthane sur sothikbhave lagle, shorire--mone ki je romancho hoy, eirokon ar kichute hoyna! ( when the right note is uttered in the right place the magical satisfaction it brings is equal to none other)

Me: Yet, it is Mishra Yaman, right?

Laluda: Yes

Me:  In the beginning it is the indescribable melody of Yaman which I fell is quite matchless. Little    rivulets of sound,  delicate embellishments....

And then bits of Khamaj come in.

I also like the carelessness of posture and moment

Composing on a rumpled bed

If one waits for the right moment, Laluda, it never comes

A lot happens in haste and lack of preparation

A little dirty also the scene, but I like the untidiness, yet, readiness

It's like 'ei danra, gaanta ga dekhi, ami bajai (Hey listen, drop everything and sing , let me play along..)

Laluda: Hyan. Yes. My teacher had taught me that Yaman embodied the extravagantly generous sensibility of a youth who was willing to give everything to the world. Imagine Panchak in Achalayatan who sings 'Aaj jemon kore gaiche akash' [Laluda's comment had been in Bangla. I gave a rough translation of it]

Me: Wow. That is rich. You know Laluda, I love Yaman the most.

Laluda: Me too!

Me: It's magical and overabundant in a way that doesn't offend. You used to sing that song.

Laluda: Yes, absolutely.

Me: It's like drowning in an ocean of melody and not being afraid..

       In a sea of Amrita!

Laluda: Taito! (yes, indeed)

What'sapp Selections 1

What'sapp has revolutionized my life. It allows me to look, observe, feel and encapsulate in words. There is freedom, liberation and music in that. Rhythm. Joy. I started my blog today. A young Media Studie's student (a student of a student of mine) helped me out. I could have never done it on my own--someone had once commented 'Sreemati is technically challenged':) True. To launch myself I am simply uploading certain spontaneous writing and 'feeling' moments. The range is eclectic and random.  Starts with a message to my music teacher Sri Chayan Mukhuty of how I once saw white flowers in a musical swara. 

Then there are hurried impromptu whatsapp inputs as to how a class VIII student may write an essay on the virtues of Reading! Sent to a friend named Anita. 

Another one about birds to my cousin Mithoo in America who sent me a short video on a seagull. I write to her about the Kokil in Basanta Kaal. 

I wanted to start. So there we are...:)

Dear Chayan da i get visions when i sing. I just saw a heap of bel flowers with a beautiful golden hue inside. The potential of light and glory in white...

Faintly hued in a golden light

To Malabika Sarkar before reading a paper on Ritwik Ghatak:

Like his art, his life was dramatic. Honoring Ritwik says something about Bengalis. Their need to revisit their cultural heroes. We see how traditions and myths are created.

For Anita

Reading books is fast becoming an outmoded form of learning and gaining knowledge. With the internet revolution and with the heavy emphasis in digitalized forms of knowledge, books are becoming more ornamental than necessary

However, books are like persons and one grows with them.

However books are like persons. Books that we read when we are very young, may carry traces of a grandmother's smile or twinkling eyes

When i grow older, i may move on to more serious reading, reading that challenges my understanding and intelligence, but one day my eyes may suddenly alight on that book of fairy tales my grandmother would read me, and i might want to turn its leaves, because my grandmother's smell would come back to me.

So books have a way of building family traditions. A simple book of fairy tales may become a link between mother, daughter and granddaughter.

May be its the same book that all three generations read. It might give the granddaughter a chance to assess the kind of printing and illustrations that were done during her grandmother's time or her mother's. Thus books nudge the mind to think about many things.

There is a magical connection between the printed word and one's mind. A sensuous connection, like a tantalizing smell or beautiful colour. The brain that likes images of the world, particularly, responds to the printed word, which is like a picture.

There is a ' romance ' in the printed word. Mysterious, beckoning, challenging. Books bring that out better than digital media, simply because they have a shape and size and one can feel the printed paper. Something complex, miraculous ang magical takes place between the eyes, the brain, the intellect, the ears ( if one is reading from a book to a child) and the printed page, that may be a relationship of a lifetime!

Very famous Renaissance scholar, Erasmus, once said, when i have money, i first buy books. If there is any left over, then i buy food!

I would check if it is Erasmus, Anita. I could be wrong. But someone as great and a Renaissance scholar, said that.

To my cousin Mithoo on her sending me a video of a seagull:

Beautiful Mithu. Beautiful. Two of us in two geographical locations, listening to bird calls. To me as beautiful and as melodious and enchanting as the best of human voices singing. The kokil calls persistently as I write. Ei Ei Ei. Ki korchish. Ami Gaan gaichi to. Shunbi na? Jog Dibi na? ' amare Tumi ashesh korechho', bole pakhi. Pakhi niye likhte khub ichhe kore. Kokil je Ki akul bhabe, je Ki poignantly modhur bhabe giye cholecche, toke Ki Bolbo. I feel like stopping everything and listen to the bird. Particularly loud and resonant and close today. After I cut down the shiuli tree for Priya s weds, fewer birds have come visiting this year. I miss them. So much. So very much. The kokils giving is so unbounded, so overflowing, so absolute. Hisheb korte shekha ni pakhi. Amader moto. Ar Amader moddhye jara hisheb kore na tader durgotir obdhi Nei. Mohe rang do lal from bajirao mastani is a fabulous song. Shuney nish. Song has been a revelation to me. Bangla serial e er ekta sanashkaran achhe. Kothao khunje pai ni. Hathat Hindi line ta ekbar gaye uthlo keu. I tracked this incredible original version.