May 28, 2011. What was otherwise an entirely forgettable day for the Men from Manchester, equally so for us fans, was the source of a memory that I'll treasure for years to come. Paul Scholes played the last few minutes of an illustrious career, and at the final whistle, two of the most rated Footballers in the world clamoured for his jersey. That, thought I didn't know it then, was Curtains on a brilliant, record-breaking career; Curtains on a tremendous 17 years of service, Curtains on the exploits of the greatest player I ever did see.
I started watching Football seriously, quite late compared to a lot of my peers, 2001 or so. The 02-03 season was probably the first I saw in entirety. United had a rousing fightback to reclaim their Premier League throne and Paul Scholes was at the forefront. One of the most lasting memories of that season is that of the hat-trick at St. James' park in a 6-2 whalloping of Newcastle. A brilliant right footed volley, then a trademark drive from the edge of the box, and a finish from close-in to complete it. For a kid searching for a footballing hero, I had found Scholes.
Over the next 9 years, Scholes was the provider of many, many magical moments. The one-touch jabs, the jaw-dropping cross-field long balls, the dummies, the dribbling, and the goals. Oh, the goals! A clip of Scholes scoring feats would make a veritable highlight reel of goals - the long range drives - the Bradford City screamer, the Chelsea drive, crazy skills in the box against Blackburn, the Barcelona stunner to put us through, and then, the Aston Villa one. Everytime I look at the strike, I can't believe that it went in. Perfection if there ever was.
But the reason I rate Paul Scholes so highly is not just for the goals he scored, or the skills on display. Scholesy was a fighter through and through. People wrote him off and he bounced back. When Seba came, they said he would be shunted out. When, he had the eye-injury, they said his career was over. Every time, he roared back. Paul Scholes wasn't blessed with just an astute footballing brain, but had the rare ability to adapt to the changing game. When the goals started drying up, and the pace dropped, Scholes was reborn as an all-controlling midfield maestro, pulling all the right strings. To say that he orchestrated United's 06-07 title run wouldn't be exaggerating. He moulded his game, and changed from a goal-scoring machine to a creater extraordinaire.
Another reason, and this has been stated to death everwhere, is the man's attitude towards the game. Always understanding that the Game was far superior to the individual, Scholes was not one for the spotlight. Always unassuming, he made reticence his middle name. A personal life free of dirt, Scholes was and remains the quintessential family man. As he himself said, an ideal day was "train in the morning, pick up my children from school, play with them, have tea, put them to bed and then watch a bit of TV". For someone to maintain that in an era of Footballing excesses, where the fight for the public eye far overshadows the fight on the pitch, Scholes remains a rare entity, and deserves all the plaudits he receives.
Of course, he wasn't perfect. And, if I may be so bold, that makes him more of a person. Ask a detractor about Scholes, and they will always mention the tackling. Agreed. Paul Scholes was a bad tackler. But to define his game by the tackles is an attitude far beyond cynical. Personally, late as he mostly was, I never felt a hint of malice; and Paul Scholes - a dirty footballer is laughable to me. Honestly, to keep harping on about the tackilng is to deprive yourself of everything else that he brought to the table, and I'm sure - you aren't doing yourself any favours.
Why then, do I love Scholesy so much? Football, and sports in general have been defined as defence mechanisms - an unconscious attempt you make to protect yourself. To me, Football is still an escape. 90 minutes of forgetting all the cares in the world, and being one with your team. 90 minutes where you have these warriors on the field playing for you, representing you, willing to kick-ass and get kicked - FOR YOU. That is perhaps why you invest so much into the game, and love it for the ride that it is.
And so, to Scholesy, thank you for taking my side on the pitch. Thank you for being there over the years. Thank You for providing a vent, for being an inspiration. It's been 6 months - and I miss you not being there every game. Fare Well, old friend!
Wednesday, 21 December 2011
Tuesday, 8 November 2011
10 Songs : Bhoole, Bisare Geet
I guess saying that I'm "bringing back" a posted that I "posted" all of two times is quite pompous of me. But, these are things that you just have to do, especially when you don't have a lot to write about at that moment.
I've always been a huge fan of Hindi film music - the good kind. By that I'm usually referring to most things pre-1980. That's not to say the past 3 decades have been absolute crap, but I'd rather not listen to something that Jumping Jack Jeetu was testing the limits of the human pelvis with. I'm also not a fan of the Atif Aslam led "renaissance", which obviously means naming the Capped One will be an insult to this post, nay blog.
My first memories of old, Hindi film music go back to Aajoba's gramophone - and to a very old collection of songs he had. One of them - Shraddhanjali - I think - which was Lata Mangeshkar's tribute to the first singing "superstars". I remember being very amused at how everybody was so nasal that time - especially Pankaj Mullick singing "Piya Milan ko jaana" or Saigal singing " So Jaa Raajkumari". I don't think I was a "fan" then, after all I was barely 6. The gramophone was an endless source of amazement to me, especially the story he told me about the dog who remembered "his master's voice" which led to the iconic picture.
Growing up, music was a very integral part of the family. Dad has this massive collection of film music - mostly old recordings from the radio. We always had the old cassette player on, or the radio; and the most important task to finish while leaving on a vacation, was picking out the cassettes to listen to on the way there. None of us are musicians in any sense of the word, but music was one thing common, and I cherished that bond. I loved to, and still do, ask my parents and grandparents endless ( and mostly, repetitive) questions about music from the older times. Who sang what; how the movies were then; the theatres then; and of course their source of music. I'm sure, to anyone above 40, Binaca Geet Mala must've been a very important part of their childhood.
Since we were strictly forbidden to ride our cycles to school ( all the way to 10th, I must embarrassingly admit) Aai-Baba used to drop us there. School was at 7.30, and we had the radio on a s usual. Aakashwani (I don't think we had Radio Mirchi then) used to air a program called "Bhoole, bisare geet) at 7 am. Now this played really really old songs; mostly from the 40s and 50s. The songs were great - but the movie titles were really absurd . So whether we had Uma Devi singing "Afsana Likh Rahi Hoon" or "Saiyan Dil Mein Aana Re" by Shamshad Begum, or "Aana Meri jaan Sunday ke Sunday" ; or another of Shamshad Begum's classics with the Rangoon-Telephoon, times were great, and so was the music.
The thing I find most remarkable, and this is probably the most done-to-death discussion you'll ever have, is the longevity of these songs. It's not just that they were brilliantly written, composed and sung. There have been a lot that followed. A lot in the past decade, even. But, hardly any gets elevated to the heights these songs have. Or is even spoken of having a chance to do so. So when "Jawan hai Mohabbat" from Anmol Ghadi is still played on the radio - an astounding 65 years after it's release, you can only stand and applaud.
The list of songs that follows, isn't really full of "Bhoole, bisare geet" to a lot of people. But, to my "generation" they well might be. So, presenting a few blasts from the past that I love. Hope you find one for you.
I suppose Mere Sanam was a great example of the Hindi movies of the time. Nothing path-breaking about the storyline, nor particularly shining performances from what Aai tells me, but a movie whose popularity had a lot to do with the catalogue of songs it had. Asha Bhosale's "Yeh Hai reshmi zulfon kia andhera" is better heard than seen, and "Jaaiyen aap kaha" is another phenomenal song. My favourite though is this Rafi classic - with a particularly memorable guitar riff.
I've recently started collecting movies by the legendary Guru Dutt, and I must say that the movies, themselves landmarks in Indian cinema, boasted some of the best soundtracks you'll ever find in the movies. One of S.D.Burman's best - to choose a single tune from Pyaasa would be difficult. From the ever-pleasant "Hum Aapki Aankhon Mein" to Mohd.Rafi's "Sar Jo tera Chakraye" to two brilliant, heart-rendering melodies - "Jaane woh Kaise" by Hemant Kumar and the climatic "Yeh Duniya agar mil bhi jaaye" by Rafi Saab. But, I guess I'll go with Geeta Dutt's playful, seductive tune, not jut for the voice but for the lingering memory of Waheeda Rehman - breathtaking as she entices Guru Dutt on.
4.) Aaha Rimjhim ke ye pyaare pyaare - Usne Kaha Tha (1960).
5.) Yeh Nayan Dare Dare - Kohra ( 1964 ) Singer - Hemant Kumar.
Link :http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TVq6wCkZ9_o
7.) Jalte Hain Jiske Liye - Sujata (1959). Singer - Talat Mehmood.
Link :http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3X-zFcDGcZM
The thing about Asha Bhosale that strikes me the most is that she has probably the most expressive voice I've heard. The range of emotions on display are truly awe-inspiring. You don't need to see the song picturised to get the full experience. Especially in cases like "Yeh Hai Reshmai Zulfon ka Andhera" where a pre-diva Mumtaz wasn't exactly "seductive material" so as to say.
Which works out to be great as a segue considering the fact that this song was never filmed. The director of what looks like a typical Hindi potboiler with the usual share of gangsters and damsels in distress, never found a situation to fit the song in. Therefore, one of Asha Bhosale's most memorable songs is never on screen.
Trivia-wise, I wonder if it's the only Hindi song to have won the Best Song at the Filmfare Awards despite never being on film.
As it is, this melody, the last she sang for O.P.Nayyar before their much publicized fallout, remains an eternal classic.
I've always been a huge fan of Hindi film music - the good kind. By that I'm usually referring to most things pre-1980. That's not to say the past 3 decades have been absolute crap, but I'd rather not listen to something that Jumping Jack Jeetu was testing the limits of the human pelvis with. I'm also not a fan of the Atif Aslam led "renaissance", which obviously means naming the Capped One will be an insult to this post, nay blog.
My first memories of old, Hindi film music go back to Aajoba's gramophone - and to a very old collection of songs he had. One of them - Shraddhanjali - I think - which was Lata Mangeshkar's tribute to the first singing "superstars". I remember being very amused at how everybody was so nasal that time - especially Pankaj Mullick singing "Piya Milan ko jaana" or Saigal singing " So Jaa Raajkumari". I don't think I was a "fan" then, after all I was barely 6. The gramophone was an endless source of amazement to me, especially the story he told me about the dog who remembered "his master's voice" which led to the iconic picture.
Growing up, music was a very integral part of the family. Dad has this massive collection of film music - mostly old recordings from the radio. We always had the old cassette player on, or the radio; and the most important task to finish while leaving on a vacation, was picking out the cassettes to listen to on the way there. None of us are musicians in any sense of the word, but music was one thing common, and I cherished that bond. I loved to, and still do, ask my parents and grandparents endless ( and mostly, repetitive) questions about music from the older times. Who sang what; how the movies were then; the theatres then; and of course their source of music. I'm sure, to anyone above 40, Binaca Geet Mala must've been a very important part of their childhood.
Since we were strictly forbidden to ride our cycles to school ( all the way to 10th, I must embarrassingly admit) Aai-Baba used to drop us there. School was at 7.30, and we had the radio on a s usual. Aakashwani (I don't think we had Radio Mirchi then) used to air a program called "Bhoole, bisare geet) at 7 am. Now this played really really old songs; mostly from the 40s and 50s. The songs were great - but the movie titles were really absurd . So whether we had Uma Devi singing "Afsana Likh Rahi Hoon" or "Saiyan Dil Mein Aana Re" by Shamshad Begum, or "Aana Meri jaan Sunday ke Sunday" ; or another of Shamshad Begum's classics with the Rangoon-Telephoon, times were great, and so was the music.
The thing I find most remarkable, and this is probably the most done-to-death discussion you'll ever have, is the longevity of these songs. It's not just that they were brilliantly written, composed and sung. There have been a lot that followed. A lot in the past decade, even. But, hardly any gets elevated to the heights these songs have. Or is even spoken of having a chance to do so. So when "Jawan hai Mohabbat" from Anmol Ghadi is still played on the radio - an astounding 65 years after it's release, you can only stand and applaud.
The list of songs that follows, isn't really full of "Bhoole, bisare geet" to a lot of people. But, to my "generation" they well might be. So, presenting a few blasts from the past that I love. Hope you find one for you.
1.) Kuch Dil Ne Kaha -Anupama (1966) Singer : Lata Mangeshkar
Link : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fUhvq8jk5mA
Link : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fUhvq8jk5mA
What better way to start off a list than with this eternal classic from Anupama. A song that emphasizes the importance of the melody, and the fact that you don't really need a heavy instrumental arrangement to make a great song. Another fact which amuses me to no end is that, for all his ham-faced action heroism later, Dharmendra was in some brilliant movies in his black-and-white days. And some great songs.
2.) Pukarta Chala Hoon Mein - Mere Sanam (1965). Singer : Mohd. Rafi
2.) Pukarta Chala Hoon Mein - Mere Sanam (1965). Singer : Mohd. Rafi
I suppose Mere Sanam was a great example of the Hindi movies of the time. Nothing path-breaking about the storyline, nor particularly shining performances from what Aai tells me, but a movie whose popularity had a lot to do with the catalogue of songs it had. Asha Bhosale's "Yeh Hai reshmi zulfon kia andhera" is better heard than seen, and "Jaaiyen aap kaha" is another phenomenal song. My favourite though is this Rafi classic - with a particularly memorable guitar riff.
3.) Jaane Kya Tune Kahi - Pyaasa (1957). Singer : Geeta Dutt.
I've recently started collecting movies by the legendary Guru Dutt, and I must say that the movies, themselves landmarks in Indian cinema, boasted some of the best soundtracks you'll ever find in the movies. One of S.D.Burman's best - to choose a single tune from Pyaasa would be difficult. From the ever-pleasant "Hum Aapki Aankhon Mein" to Mohd.Rafi's "Sar Jo tera Chakraye" to two brilliant, heart-rendering melodies - "Jaane woh Kaise" by Hemant Kumar and the climatic "Yeh Duniya agar mil bhi jaaye" by Rafi Saab. But, I guess I'll go with Geeta Dutt's playful, seductive tune, not jut for the voice but for the lingering memory of Waheeda Rehman - breathtaking as she entices Guru Dutt on.
4.) Aaha Rimjhim ke ye pyaare pyaare - Usne Kaha Tha (1960).
Singers : Talat Mehmood and Lata Mangeshkar.
Link : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OIgVdDFXv-U
Link : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OIgVdDFXv-U
I first remember hearing this song in an old cassette Dad had - with a collection of rain songs. This stayed with me, along with "O Sajana Barkha Bahar". It always conjures up great memories of the rains. Going on long drives in the old car, or going up to Sinhagad, or just sitting at home and lazing out, while the clouds go crazy outside - knowing that you're a lot happier, not having to wade through the certain traffic jams and what not outside.
5.) Yeh Nayan Dare Dare - Kohra ( 1964 ) Singer - Hemant Kumar.
Link :http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TVq6wCkZ9_o
I said it once, and I don't mind saying it again; with the "faces" that were running around those days - I would've been a lock to star in a few movies. Biswajeet was no expression - sorry, exception. Yet, he managed to star in some of the biggest movies of the day; along with the most beautiful faces - be it Waheeda Rehman, or Asha Parekh.
But this song is solely for the genius of Hemant Kumar. A brilliant singer and composer, and responsible for some of the best melodies in Hindi cinema. I first heard him sing "Tum Pukaar Lo" which remains one of my favourites till date.
On another note, this song was covered by Jagjit Singh for one of his albums. Do check that one out too.
But this song is solely for the genius of Hemant Kumar. A brilliant singer and composer, and responsible for some of the best melodies in Hindi cinema. I first heard him sing "Tum Pukaar Lo" which remains one of my favourites till date.
On another note, this song was covered by Jagjit Singh for one of his albums. Do check that one out too.
6.) Baiyan Na Dharo - Dastak ( 1970) . Singer - Lata Mangeshkar.
Link :http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vgtOQAedJ6s
I admit I don't listen to classical music. Or understand any of it. But when there are songs this good I really don't mind. Aai tells me this was from a "bold" movie for those days - which probably means it dared to explore a topic that had the slightest hint of S-E-X.
Seriously, though, this is Lata Mangeshkar at her best - smooth, silky and effortless. Personally, it pains me that she still continued singing post the late '80s. I'd rather listen to her in this than even, say, DDLJ.
I admit I don't listen to classical music. Or understand any of it. But when there are songs this good I really don't mind. Aai tells me this was from a "bold" movie for those days - which probably means it dared to explore a topic that had the slightest hint of S-E-X.
Seriously, though, this is Lata Mangeshkar at her best - smooth, silky and effortless. Personally, it pains me that she still continued singing post the late '80s. I'd rather listen to her in this than even, say, DDLJ.
7.) Jalte Hain Jiske Liye - Sujata (1959). Singer - Talat Mehmood.
Link :http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3X-zFcDGcZM
I absolutely love this song by Talat Mehmood. I got this movie as a birthday present for Aai, but haven't had the time to go see it. Still, what ranks as one of Nutan's best performances is a definite must-see.
This song, particularly stands out. I used to call it the "phone song", but all trivial comments aside, the image of Nutan weeping into her receiver as Sunil Dutt serenades her will, to me atleast, be an enduring one.
This song, particularly stands out. I used to call it the "phone song", but all trivial comments aside, the image of Nutan weeping into her receiver as Sunil Dutt serenades her will, to me atleast, be an enduring one.
8.) Chain Se Humko Kabhi - Pran Jaaye Par vachan Na jaaye (1975). Singer - Asha Bhosale
The thing about Asha Bhosale that strikes me the most is that she has probably the most expressive voice I've heard. The range of emotions on display are truly awe-inspiring. You don't need to see the song picturised to get the full experience. Especially in cases like "Yeh Hai Reshmai Zulfon ka Andhera" where a pre-diva Mumtaz wasn't exactly "seductive material" so as to say.
Which works out to be great as a segue considering the fact that this song was never filmed. The director of what looks like a typical Hindi potboiler with the usual share of gangsters and damsels in distress, never found a situation to fit the song in. Therefore, one of Asha Bhosale's most memorable songs is never on screen.
Trivia-wise, I wonder if it's the only Hindi song to have won the Best Song at the Filmfare Awards despite never being on film.
As it is, this melody, the last she sang for O.P.Nayyar before their much publicized fallout, remains an eternal classic.
9.)Jawaaniyaan Ye Mast Mast - Tumsa Nahi Dekha (1957). Singer - Mohd.Rafi
Link :http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aR6jo2ZdIW4
Much has been said in the wake of Shammi Kapoor's passing. Two lines will be a certain dis-service to the man. I never "followed" his career so as to say, or have seen a lot of his movies. And, therefore, the songs remain my only connection.
To me, he might not have been the most good looking, or the most talented as an actor, but is its one thing that he did well was he could bring a smile to your face. If the movies are meant to be viewed as a means of escape, then surely Shammi Kapoor was one of, if not the, in making that happen.greatest
10.) Ye raatein yeh mausam - Dilli Ka Thug (1958).
Link :http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aR6jo2ZdIW4
Much has been said in the wake of Shammi Kapoor's passing. Two lines will be a certain dis-service to the man. I never "followed" his career so as to say, or have seen a lot of his movies. And, therefore, the songs remain my only connection.
To me, he might not have been the most good looking, or the most talented as an actor, but is its one thing that he did well was he could bring a smile to your face. If the movies are meant to be viewed as a means of escape, then surely Shammi Kapoor was one of, if not the, in making that happen.greatest
10.) Ye raatein yeh mausam - Dilli Ka Thug (1958).
Singers - Kishore Kumar and Asha Bhosale.
Coming to the last song, I just realised that I went through an entire list without mentioning Kishore Kumar. Since that would be quite a travesty of sorts, I suppose I'll have to do with just one by the legend.
This is an song from the Kishore-Nutan starrer Dilli ka Thug, which featured one of Kishore da's typical madcap songs in "C-A-T Cat, Cat mane Billi", which used to be a favourite when I was a kid. But, this is just truly enchanting! Kishore Kumar and Asha Bhosale complimented each other so very well, be it a soft love song or a crazy ballad.
Monday, 24 October 2011
It's a Doggy-dog World
I had always figured myself to be a cat person. I'd always liked kittens more than pups and figured that the first pet I'd have would always be a cat. Especially a Persian. So, it took a considerable effort by a furry, drooling, "slightly" overweight bundle of crazy to change all that.
I've been harping about life, especially mine, imitating art. So, if my "professional" experiences are straight out of a Scrubs episode, I feel Marley and Me was probably written keeping me and Dollar in mind. I'd always been around dogs ever since I could remember. A lot of my relatives had dogs, and to me, they seemed nothing short of the best behaved dogs on the planet. So, Marshall and Tenny and Chimu were disciplined to the core, no doubt the effects of a strict military upbringing. And Goldie was Saint Goldie. Legend has it that Goldie's bark had magical healing properties, but I wouldn't know - considering he never did when I was around. Not barking aside, he was the most lovable thing on four legs that ever lived, and besides leaving behind some great memories, he left me with a problem. Because Goldie was now the benchmark by which i would judge all future dogs, I was setting myself up for a world of trouble.
It was a cold December day when we got Dollar home. I haven't told him this ( and I hope you guys won't too) but in a Sunny days- Gavaskar-esque freak of nature, Dollar might not have been the guy we would've brought home. But the trainer said he was the better looking one -and the one voted "most-likely to have a great personality" and the rest as they say is history. Of course, when we did choose him, I hadn't had the fortune of finishing "Marley and Me". And we didn't sample both the parents before we got him. So, I suppose all future vases cracked, sofas chewed and peed on are our fault, really!
I guess deciding to don a "parents role" for Dollar was a momentary stray thought. After all, with Aai-Baba being Aai-Baba for Dollar too, I could,honestly, have my cake and eat it. I'd have all the endless pleasure of playing with a pup with never-ending energy without having to worry about the peeing all over and pooping in the middle of the night. Of course, dollar did all of us a big favour and got toilet trained real quick ( 3 months or so, although Dad would like everyone to know it was 3 weeks). After that, it was pretty much smooth sailing.
I guess deciding to don a "parents role" for Dollar was a momentary stray thought. After all, with Aai-Baba being Aai-Baba for Dollar too, I could,honestly, have my cake and eat it. I'd have all the endless pleasure of playing with a pup with never-ending energy without having to worry about the peeing all over and pooping in the middle of the night. Of course, dollar did all of us a big favour and got toilet trained real quick ( 3 months or so, although Dad would like everyone to know it was 3 weeks). After that, it was pretty much smooth sailing.
Till we got to the chewing bit. Like all dogs do, Dollar had this phase around 5 months or so when every thing in our house became his own personal chew toy. The sofas started it off. And then he moved on to the walls. It didn't matter that we actually got chew-toys for him. I suppose the paint on the wall gave him flavours a chew toy never could. The next three months was spent on trying every known remedy. Smearing chilli powder didn't help at all. If anything, it spurred him on even more. And so it went on. Considering the sofas were right in our living room - that was probably the topic of discussion. And a whole lot of embarrassed/sheepish smiles for us. The growing up continued, and save for the stray visitor humped beyond compare, I don't think we had too much to complain.
Life with Dollar, is probably, all ha ha hee hee. If you get past the few quirks in the road that is. For starters, he's got the biggest appetite in the world. I know Labs love to eat, rather, live to eat - but, Dollar is in a league of his own. We started him on Pedigree like all pet owners do when they're green. After all, go with the tried and tested. But, somehow he never took a liking to it. I mean, when you live in a house where you are going to get every single delicacy the rest of the family eats, Pedigree really has no chance. I remember getting a customer survey guy from Pedigree over to check up on Dollar - poor guy should've realized what was clearly a losing battle - and he probably must've lost it when Dad started naming the things Dollar actually likes to eat. Saying that he has a sweet tooth is the understatement of the millennium. The thing he likes most in the world, and I'm not kidding here, is Kharvas. So much so that we are now forbidden to utter the word at home -the mere mention of it sets him drooling. So we started spelling it, but I'm sure he's caught on to that too.
The funny thing is, the sweet tooth thing evolved into a liking of everything that Dad gives him. So he eats all sorts of vegetables, even he ones I hate - Gawar and Bhendi to name a few. So, the foodie thing's worked out for me big time. Mum's happy - I'm now finishing first servings in record time.
The one thing that probably defines my day with Dollar is the walk in the evening. And people who've come along with us will vouch for the fact that it is an experience. Every single time. It starts with getting the leash - which is a 10 minute ritual consisting of Dollar generally going haywire - and freaking out all over. Once he's ready and leashed up - it begins. Considering that re-enforcing his territory is THE purpose of the trip, Dollar doesn't let a single spot go dry. It's been 5 years of walking him, and I'm still surprised at the amount of pee he has stored up. I mean his bladder would put a Humvee to shame.
The shortest distance between two points might be a line, but try telling him that. What usually ensues is the most convoluted path you can ever think of, with numerous de-tours and re-runs, with him dragging me along - stopping only to relieve himself for the gazzillionth time, or to stop and smell someone else's calling cards.
The best part about is that, considering most Indians are still petrified of dogs - a walk with Dollar through a crowd is usually like Moses parting the waters - or Jim Carrey and the cars in Bruce Almighty - if you didn't get that. Dollar probably loves a little tormenting and he heads straight at them - which ends up with the best shrieks people can manage - guys and girls. And if there might happen to be a cat around...
But what Dollar means to me is something that I'll always struggle to put into words. He never was just a pet. Always family. And three months without him early next year is a thought I don't want to entertain.
Life with Dollar, is probably, all ha ha hee hee. If you get past the few quirks in the road that is. For starters, he's got the biggest appetite in the world. I know Labs love to eat, rather, live to eat - but, Dollar is in a league of his own. We started him on Pedigree like all pet owners do when they're green. After all, go with the tried and tested. But, somehow he never took a liking to it. I mean, when you live in a house where you are going to get every single delicacy the rest of the family eats, Pedigree really has no chance. I remember getting a customer survey guy from Pedigree over to check up on Dollar - poor guy should've realized what was clearly a losing battle - and he probably must've lost it when Dad started naming the things Dollar actually likes to eat. Saying that he has a sweet tooth is the understatement of the millennium. The thing he likes most in the world, and I'm not kidding here, is Kharvas. So much so that we are now forbidden to utter the word at home -the mere mention of it sets him drooling. So we started spelling it, but I'm sure he's caught on to that too.
The funny thing is, the sweet tooth thing evolved into a liking of everything that Dad gives him. So he eats all sorts of vegetables, even he ones I hate - Gawar and Bhendi to name a few. So, the foodie thing's worked out for me big time. Mum's happy - I'm now finishing first servings in record time.
The one thing that probably defines my day with Dollar is the walk in the evening. And people who've come along with us will vouch for the fact that it is an experience. Every single time. It starts with getting the leash - which is a 10 minute ritual consisting of Dollar generally going haywire - and freaking out all over. Once he's ready and leashed up - it begins. Considering that re-enforcing his territory is THE purpose of the trip, Dollar doesn't let a single spot go dry. It's been 5 years of walking him, and I'm still surprised at the amount of pee he has stored up. I mean his bladder would put a Humvee to shame.
The shortest distance between two points might be a line, but try telling him that. What usually ensues is the most convoluted path you can ever think of, with numerous de-tours and re-runs, with him dragging me along - stopping only to relieve himself for the gazzillionth time, or to stop and smell someone else's calling cards.
The best part about is that, considering most Indians are still petrified of dogs - a walk with Dollar through a crowd is usually like Moses parting the waters - or Jim Carrey and the cars in Bruce Almighty - if you didn't get that. Dollar probably loves a little tormenting and he heads straight at them - which ends up with the best shrieks people can manage - guys and girls. And if there might happen to be a cat around...
But what Dollar means to me is something that I'll always struggle to put into words. He never was just a pet. Always family. And three months without him early next year is a thought I don't want to entertain.
I read an article a few months back in Time magazine, where the author suggested that animals, even dogs, might be incapable of emotions in the truest sense. I have never disagreed with any other written word more. 5 minutes with my guy is enough to shatter that claim. It's not just excitement and joy that he exudes. Dad or Mum go out, the separation pangs show. Bring another pet close, and jealousy rears her ever ugly head. But,he is, and has been, there for me, when I needed it the most. I remember, and this is one story I have never shared with anyone - it had been a year since Aajoba passed away. Dollar was a year old. And we were alone at home. There was a guy calling, who simply asked me to put him on the phone. The question was straight forward, probably an old acquaintance who hadn't been in touch. But, somehow I couldn't say a word. I couldn't get myself to tell him that I couldn't put him on the phone. I thought that I had gotten over his passing, but everything came flooding back, and I was reduced to a quivering mess. The only thing I remember is that I was huddled up in a corner, and Dollar coming and sitting beside me and putting his face in my lap, just to let me know he was there. And he never left for a second.
And so, to Dollar, the biggest, craziest softie I've seen, the only guy I've ever laid a big wet one on, and quite possibly, my soulmate, it's a hell of a journey we're on. And i can't believe you're turning 5. Middle aged now, eh? Here's to wishing you some brilliant times ahead ( do try and give me a pup with some girl, will you? - and preferably, another lab - not the strays you only have eyes for) and a very happy 5th birthday!! You are barking mad, and I wouldn't change you for the world!
Friday, 7 October 2011
Leap of Faith!
I got to watching Scrubs again, right from the very start. When it originally aired, I hadn't even started out in Med School. So, back then, it was just another hilarious sitcom. But, watching it again, after so many years and now,being in the exact same situation myself, I can't help but feel as if it's me they're talking about. Every moment of the Pilot has been everything that I've gone through over the past 6 months - it's been a hell of an experience - at times, exhilarating and bitterly disappointing at others.
Life as an intern, as Madhura/Vineet/Varun n co. will attest to ( after having to sit through yet another session of what seems like a never-ending round of me bitching about stuff), isn't always all that great. It's like the 1st day of secondary school all over again. One moment you were top dogs, the next you're knocked down to size. In the hospital scheme of things, we're right at the bottom of the pile, below patients, obviously and maybe, just maybe, above the "obnoxious relatives". In simpler words, Ego.Balloon.Big pin.You get my point.
The one thing that I'll vouch for, and I'm drawing huge parallels with the Pilot here, is that all 4 years of Med School/endless lectures/whatever it is that's supposed to get you "ready" isn't going to help you much. Once you're dropped into the endless stream of patients, as J.D puts it bluntly, you realize "I don't know jack". It's basic instincts then. Fight or flight all over again.
The only way you're sure you'll learn is by practice. And that was a, how shall I put it, somewhat difficult situation for me. Because, right at the very start, I was scared stiff. The truth is, everyone's scared. Most will never admit it. It's not something like litigation that I'm worried about. For me, it's, as it has been for a long time, a great fear of failure. And, by failure, I'm not talking about exams or passing; but to a significant extent, a failure to live up to expectations. Considering that I do well academically, I expect myself to be just as good at the nitty-gritty "manual labour part. And, when I don't get it right the 1st time, or sometimes, even the 2nd or the 3rd, I start to feel it's a pattern/ or that I'm "doomed to fail" at this. Or, at worst, I might give up before I start.And blame everything, from my phenomenally poor motor skills, in part due to the misshapen stubs that I have for fingers. Therein lies the problem. If you don't do, you'll never be good at it. But, if you never try, then you stand no chance of ever doing it and doing it well.
And so, the first few months of the Internship passed away, without significant loss of life or limb, but without me having "achieved" a great deal. There were numerous incidents along the way, including one where I got my fingers stuck in a forceps while performing a venesection -thereby reinforcing my great fear of my own short, stubby digits. Surgery at the start was great, but playing it safe. So, when you consider - an amateurish attempt at assisting an Appy and another time having my fingers up a humongously fat guy's arse trying to what could only be described by an observer as "tearing the bloody thing apart" - as my only "crowning" achievements, you could understand the state I was in going into what was described as the posting that was certain to make us regret every single waking second spent in the hospital.
Obstetrics and Gynaecology as a subject isn't anywhere near the things that I like. And the posting was obviously going to be much, much worse. Going into it, I was just about as confident as a foot soldier in the battle of Helm's Deep, facing an entire army without knowing if there was to be a Gandalf to the rescue...
The first day of Ob-Gyn was something that I don't think I'll be forgetting in a while. It was three of us interns, with all the experience that 2 months of a Surgery posting could ever give, thrown head first into what was clearly a battlefield. It seemed as though every single woman in the place had long since decided that she was going to achieve a lifelong dream of motherhood in those 6 hours in the morning. Now, 8-10 deliveries in 6 hours might not seem a lot at first glance, but trust me, it is, even for a place like Sassoon. So, that was honestly it. Sink or swim. With no time to think, not even to see if you could actually swim. I can't ever be sure how we did get through that, but we did. And when the dust settled, and the cords were cut, and the placentas disposed off, we were still there. Tired as hell, but there all the same.
Does this seem like the archetypal moment in every single person's life, when you finally break that one barrier holding you back and realize that you are finally on the path that was always meant to be? This wasn't one of them. Not really. Honestly, that happens only in very cliched, cheesy books/ films, or as they say, anything that Chetan Bhagat pens down.
Life as an intern, as Madhura/Vineet/Varun n co. will attest to ( after having to sit through yet another session of what seems like a never-ending round of me bitching about stuff), isn't always all that great. It's like the 1st day of secondary school all over again. One moment you were top dogs, the next you're knocked down to size. In the hospital scheme of things, we're right at the bottom of the pile, below patients, obviously and maybe, just maybe, above the "obnoxious relatives". In simpler words, Ego.Balloon.Big pin.You get my point.
The one thing that I'll vouch for, and I'm drawing huge parallels with the Pilot here, is that all 4 years of Med School/endless lectures/whatever it is that's supposed to get you "ready" isn't going to help you much. Once you're dropped into the endless stream of patients, as J.D puts it bluntly, you realize "I don't know jack". It's basic instincts then. Fight or flight all over again.
The only way you're sure you'll learn is by practice. And that was a, how shall I put it, somewhat difficult situation for me. Because, right at the very start, I was scared stiff. The truth is, everyone's scared. Most will never admit it. It's not something like litigation that I'm worried about. For me, it's, as it has been for a long time, a great fear of failure. And, by failure, I'm not talking about exams or passing; but to a significant extent, a failure to live up to expectations. Considering that I do well academically, I expect myself to be just as good at the nitty-gritty "manual labour part. And, when I don't get it right the 1st time, or sometimes, even the 2nd or the 3rd, I start to feel it's a pattern/ or that I'm "doomed to fail" at this. Or, at worst, I might give up before I start.And blame everything, from my phenomenally poor motor skills, in part due to the misshapen stubs that I have for fingers. Therein lies the problem. If you don't do, you'll never be good at it. But, if you never try, then you stand no chance of ever doing it and doing it well.
And so, the first few months of the Internship passed away, without significant loss of life or limb, but without me having "achieved" a great deal. There were numerous incidents along the way, including one where I got my fingers stuck in a forceps while performing a venesection -thereby reinforcing my great fear of my own short, stubby digits. Surgery at the start was great, but playing it safe. So, when you consider - an amateurish attempt at assisting an Appy and another time having my fingers up a humongously fat guy's arse trying to what could only be described by an observer as "tearing the bloody thing apart" - as my only "crowning" achievements, you could understand the state I was in going into what was described as the posting that was certain to make us regret every single waking second spent in the hospital.
Obstetrics and Gynaecology as a subject isn't anywhere near the things that I like. And the posting was obviously going to be much, much worse. Going into it, I was just about as confident as a foot soldier in the battle of Helm's Deep, facing an entire army without knowing if there was to be a Gandalf to the rescue...
The first day of Ob-Gyn was something that I don't think I'll be forgetting in a while. It was three of us interns, with all the experience that 2 months of a Surgery posting could ever give, thrown head first into what was clearly a battlefield. It seemed as though every single woman in the place had long since decided that she was going to achieve a lifelong dream of motherhood in those 6 hours in the morning. Now, 8-10 deliveries in 6 hours might not seem a lot at first glance, but trust me, it is, even for a place like Sassoon. So, that was honestly it. Sink or swim. With no time to think, not even to see if you could actually swim. I can't ever be sure how we did get through that, but we did. And when the dust settled, and the cords were cut, and the placentas disposed off, we were still there. Tired as hell, but there all the same.
Why is it so indelibly etched, then? Not just because the stream of oncoming babies literally kicked our collective asses. But, I did realise that I could just about hang on, when it mattered.
Does this seem like the archetypal moment in every single person's life, when you finally break that one barrier holding you back and realize that you are finally on the path that was always meant to be? This wasn't one of them. Not really. Honestly, that happens only in very cliched, cheesy books/ films, or as they say, anything that Chetan Bhagat pens down.
If this was supposed to be one of them , I guess it would've played out with us being instant heroes, saving lives and what not, riding off into the sunset with the rest of the posting merely a blur on our paths to eternal glory.
The posting didn't get any better, and with Pediatrics to follow, that made for the most frustrating three months of my life. The first day wasn't an all-conquering experience, but I guess it geared me up to face the rest of it.
To end this, since I have made numerous references to Scrubs and talked about my hatred for cliches, I guess I'll just be a hypocrite and end with one. A voiceover, then, if you please...
"I guess life isn't really about one single defining moment. You don't really have a flash of enlightenment. What life is lucky enough to do for us is provide a hell of a lot of tests along the way, most of which you don't realize are tests till you've gone through them. When you are faced with what seems like one though, I suppose the best you can do is know you can, rather than think you might not. And take a leap.You might just surprise yourself.
When did I realize I was cut out to be a doctor? Honestly, I'm still not sure. But, with every passing day, I hope I get closer to convincing myself." No, seriously.
"I guess life isn't really about one single defining moment. You don't really have a flash of enlightenment. What life is lucky enough to do for us is provide a hell of a lot of tests along the way, most of which you don't realize are tests till you've gone through them. When you are faced with what seems like one though, I suppose the best you can do is know you can, rather than think you might not. And take a leap.You might just surprise yourself.
When did I realize I was cut out to be a doctor? Honestly, I'm still not sure. But, with every passing day, I hope I get closer to convincing myself." No, seriously.
Wednesday, 31 August 2011
Women's Tennis: Holding out for a Hero(ine).
It's barely been 3 days of the start of the final Grand Slam of the year, but the goings-on in the Ladies' singles draw make for some seriously unhealthy reading ( much like the daily musings of a certain Ms.Mirza; after you've spent the better part of the last few years injured or married or injured again; durable is probably not the best word to describe yourself). This might just have been the only Slam in history where the defending champs from the last two Slams haven't lasted 2 days - let alone a week; and with Kim Clijsters not defending her crown, we have none of the current Slam holders in the 2nd round. Adding to the chaos is the fact the Caroline Wozniacki seems more interested in following the illustrious footsteps of Dinara Safina. Which is why, when Serena at the age of 30, barely back from a year's absence, is considered to be the favorite for the crown, it isn't a surprise at all. Seriously, the only question I dare ask is how much worse is it going to get for the Ladies' game.
If you have your reservations, then ask yourself; when was the last time you truly saw a great Ladies' Singles match - one which was evenly contested and had more winners than errors. The last I go back to is Venus Williams vs Kimiko Date at SW19 this year. Which is all the more remarkable considering that it took a 31 yr old and a 40 yr old to show them how it's done. The Ladies' seedings and draws don't paint a pretty picture - players like Roberta Vinci and Julia Goerges in the top 20! And a total of 6 grand slam winners - which is a decent number no doubt, but when you have luminaries like Ana Ivanovic amongst them...you get my drift. Contrast this to 10 years ago, when the top 20 were heavyweights in a much truer sense - I get that my contrast is flawed in that a lot of the women then hadn't won anything but went on to later; but, honestly, Henin/Clijsters/the Williamses in 2001 seemed far brighter prospects than Wozniacki/Zvonareva/Petkovic today.
I'm trying to explain the apparent decline in quality in tennis, and there are a few "contenders" that come to mind. The more I think about it, the more I feel that "sexing-up" Women's tennis has been one of the worst ideas in a long time. Most of the players today are glammed-up-pretty faces, who seem more concerned about "Who're you wearing today" than their actual game. And it's not just Sharapova I'm talking about. Lets have a test, then. Tell me the first thing that pops into your head when I say...Daniela Hantuchova..."The best pair of legs in tennis"? Or, Nicole Vaidisova ...."someone who looked amazing on court - and it's not her game I'm talking about - who cares that she reached a few semis here and there"....Simona Halep? Ok, I had to get that or those out of the way.
But, though the glamming-up might make sense from a purely "selling tickets" point of view, but how can it be good for the players? I mean, what credibility do you have left when the only thing people can remember about you is some little black dress you wore on court? And if it's the "skin-show" that people pay to see, what does that say about the game and the level it is played at? I get that the game is , and has been, very error-ridden - and the winner is more often the person making the fewer errors, but, personally, the glamour doesn't take away the attention from those error, it highlights them.
But, though the glamming-up might make sense from a purely "selling tickets" point of view, but how can it be good for the players? I mean, what credibility do you have left when the only thing people can remember about you is some little black dress you wore on court? And if it's the "skin-show" that people pay to see, what does that say about the game and the level it is played at? I get that the game is , and has been, very error-ridden - and the winner is more often the person making the fewer errors, but, personally, the glamour doesn't take away the attention from those error, it highlights them.
Another thing which has always bothered me is the great lack of determination - both, to get to the top and also, to stay there. The careers of a lot of players today follow a very familiar trend: Get noticed early - be dubbed the "next big thing" , win a few games and a minor title on the side, rise up the rankings, lose to Serena in the semis/finals, slide down the rankings, vanish into obscurity.Waves upon waves of Russian "sensations" have threatened to blow us away but the resulting impact has been hardly more than a pebble. Which is probably why we've had some of the most undeserving world no.1s the past few years. Ana Ivanovic started it all, Wozniacki looks slightly better, but not by much - but the one that takes the cake is Dinara Safina. It takes a lot for someone to make Marat look the cooler head in the family. Whether it's a lack of determination or just simply burnout from too much exposure I don't know, but that might be why players like Li Na, Schiavone and Stosur have "peaked" so late in their careers.
One area the Women's game has always trumped the Men is where a lot of the top Singles' players were also equally proficient at doubles. This resulted in a lot more net-play, drop shots and volleys - which made the game a lot more pleasing to the eye. Of today's lot, hardly any of the top players are known for a doubles game, which makes baseline play the only way to go about things. True, the Williams sisters got the power game into Women's tennis, but Venus is terrific at the net and no one can say that Serena wins by her power alone, without having any other skill to back it up.
Which brings me back to Serena. When the Sisters came onto the scene, I hated them with a fury that I reserve only for the likes of annoying, butt-scratching Spaniards. I felt, and I'm not completely wrong here, they outmuscled rather than outplayed poor little Hingis out of the game. I felt that power over skill wasn't the way to go. Anyone who could knock them off their perches would get my support. Growing up has changed this, however. I still don't have to like them on the court, but there is a level of respect that I have for the both of them. You know Serena's right when she says "she's the rightful No.1". Serena's pushing 30, and at an age where most others retire - even on the Men's side, she's still the favourite going into most tournaments - irrespective of what the rest of the field is. She's close to a lock for the USO title, unless there's a big surprise, and might just dominate the scene for a few years more, provided she's fit.
So, looking ahead means looking at the post-Williams era. Honestly, of the current crop of players doesn't inspire much, but a man can still dream, can't he?
Changes I would suggest - 1. More emphasis on the game, and not on everything else. 2.Stop the era of the pretty princesses and get down and dirty. 3. More doubles, better for the game. 4. Better scheduling, so that there are fewer injuries, and longer careers.
So, here's to a better Women's game and a better Women's champion! I really hope I'm surprised.
Monday, 29 August 2011
Arseholes no more?
Let me get this straight. 8-2 was terrific; an entertaining, open game, with the best drubbing of the "old enemy" that I've seen till date. But, somehow, and I might be the one of the very few to admit this, but it was nowhere near satisfying as it should've been. Nowhere close to a few of the other games; the 2-0 "streak-breaker" at home or even the 2-1 at home with Hargreaves' free-kick to seal it. Even rubbing the win in the faces of the two Pool fans and a Gooner didn't make it any more satisfying. Could it be, that I had just felt that rare of emotions for a truly despised opponent; pity? Something, which while a matter of some concern to me ( after all, I HAD taken numerous oaths to myself to hate "the enemy" till the day I drop dead, and some more), but something which I'm sure no Arsenal fan would like me to express, proud as a lot of the ones I know are.
My first memories of the Gunners have almost never been good. I started watching Football with any proper interest about a decade back, and considering the Scousers' continuing domestic failures ( the 2001 "feat" is still a Mickey-Mouse treble to me, and as any self-respecting United fan, I vehemently refuse to accept that it can ever stand for anything) and the fact that Chelski and Citeh hadn't acquired their respective sugar daddies, the Premiership then was pretty much a two horse race. And what a race it was! The earliest matches I saw hadUnited and Arsenal at the peak of the rivalry - tense, heated affairs with two titanic teams throwing everything they had at each other - the kitchen sink, maybe, but Pizza - most certainly. With two headstrong gaffers waging their own intense battle, the prospect of a United - Arsenal game was a mouth-watering treat. Considering the build-up to the game being so great, the games were no less.
Which is probably why saying I hated the Arsenal would be an understatement of extreme proportions. Of course, how could you harbour any other feeling for that a**hole Martin Keown jumping all over Ruud, or Ray Parlour, or the evolutionally retarded Patrick Vieira, or anyone associated with the club for that matter (I'm sure my Gooner friends will consider these descriptions very mellow, compared to their terms of choice for talking about United players). Every match was followed with that sole intention of taking the enemy down, no matter what. Every defeat was a very bitter experience - every victory all the more pleasing. No surprise then, that the streak-breaking game, where United and Gary Neville in particular did everything short of killing Reyes n co., evokes the fondest of memories.
That's exactly why it surprised me to no end when I felt as I did. All these years, I had been waiting for the downfall of Arsenal; the moment when I could finally stand over their cowering remnants and rub it in their faces - but when the moment arrived, I was curiously underwhelmed.
Much has been said about the reasons for Arsenal's dramatic downturn of fortunes, and I wouldn't like to bore the world by parroting every single one of them. Yes, I get that Wenger, the chairmen and the players have all played their parts in mucking things up, but one thing that has struck me the most about this latest Arsenal unit is the complete lack of anything Arsenal about it.
To me, the thing which most typified the Arsenal teams of past was the continued presence of the arseholes in them. Don't get me wrong - I don't mean to be derogatory this time. What I mean is that every team over the past 25 years had men (not boys - as has been constantly used for this current crop), men who stood up when it counted, who got down and dirty, who took the tackles hard but gave them back in equal measure. Men like the no nonsense backline of Afams, Lee Dixon, Winterburn and Bould; men like Martin Keown and Ray Parlour; men like Patrick Vieira - who couldn't care less about the bookings as long as he maintained status quo on the pitch. To me, they made Arsenal the club that it was. They allowed the managers to build a team around. They allowed the flair to shine through. Not to take anything away from Messers. Bergkamp, Overmars, Henry or Pires - but their legendary antics would've been a tad less gloried had it not been for the omnipresent back-up in mid-field and defence. And, how do I even forget David Seaman - who cares bout the WC "error"? He was Arsenal's rock and anyone who can carry out saves like the one against Sheffield in the FA Cup is a legend.
The "arseholes" being strong-willed characters also meant that they were not just imposing as players, but that they produced some of the most inspirational leaders to play for the Gunners. The first word when thinking about Tony Adams, to any honest football fan, isn't alcoholic but fighter - against demons on and off the pitch. Vieira was no less of a great leader - and his clashes with Roy Keane made for some great moments. Henry was perhaps more of a "actions speak louder than words guy" but I may be wrong there. That for me has been the biggest contributor to their successes and ultimately, the lack thereof, that has contributed the most to their current problems. Honestly, there is such a lot of difference between the images of a bandaged Vieira playing on - and a hapless William Gallas crying after the B'ingam game, or for that matter Van Persie looking completely clueless versus United the other day.
My first memories of the Gunners have almost never been good. I started watching Football with any proper interest about a decade back, and considering the Scousers' continuing domestic failures ( the 2001 "feat" is still a Mickey-Mouse treble to me, and as any self-respecting United fan, I vehemently refuse to accept that it can ever stand for anything) and the fact that Chelski and Citeh hadn't acquired their respective sugar daddies, the Premiership then was pretty much a two horse race. And what a race it was! The earliest matches I saw hadUnited and Arsenal at the peak of the rivalry - tense, heated affairs with two titanic teams throwing everything they had at each other - the kitchen sink, maybe, but Pizza - most certainly. With two headstrong gaffers waging their own intense battle, the prospect of a United - Arsenal game was a mouth-watering treat. Considering the build-up to the game being so great, the games were no less.
Which is probably why saying I hated the Arsenal would be an understatement of extreme proportions. Of course, how could you harbour any other feeling for that a**hole Martin Keown jumping all over Ruud, or Ray Parlour, or the evolutionally retarded Patrick Vieira, or anyone associated with the club for that matter (I'm sure my Gooner friends will consider these descriptions very mellow, compared to their terms of choice for talking about United players). Every match was followed with that sole intention of taking the enemy down, no matter what. Every defeat was a very bitter experience - every victory all the more pleasing. No surprise then, that the streak-breaking game, where United and Gary Neville in particular did everything short of killing Reyes n co., evokes the fondest of memories.
That's exactly why it surprised me to no end when I felt as I did. All these years, I had been waiting for the downfall of Arsenal; the moment when I could finally stand over their cowering remnants and rub it in their faces - but when the moment arrived, I was curiously underwhelmed.
Much has been said about the reasons for Arsenal's dramatic downturn of fortunes, and I wouldn't like to bore the world by parroting every single one of them. Yes, I get that Wenger, the chairmen and the players have all played their parts in mucking things up, but one thing that has struck me the most about this latest Arsenal unit is the complete lack of anything Arsenal about it.
To me, the thing which most typified the Arsenal teams of past was the continued presence of the arseholes in them. Don't get me wrong - I don't mean to be derogatory this time. What I mean is that every team over the past 25 years had men (not boys - as has been constantly used for this current crop), men who stood up when it counted, who got down and dirty, who took the tackles hard but gave them back in equal measure. Men like the no nonsense backline of Afams, Lee Dixon, Winterburn and Bould; men like Martin Keown and Ray Parlour; men like Patrick Vieira - who couldn't care less about the bookings as long as he maintained status quo on the pitch. To me, they made Arsenal the club that it was. They allowed the managers to build a team around. They allowed the flair to shine through. Not to take anything away from Messers. Bergkamp, Overmars, Henry or Pires - but their legendary antics would've been a tad less gloried had it not been for the omnipresent back-up in mid-field and defence. And, how do I even forget David Seaman - who cares bout the WC "error"? He was Arsenal's rock and anyone who can carry out saves like the one against Sheffield in the FA Cup is a legend.
The "arseholes" being strong-willed characters also meant that they were not just imposing as players, but that they produced some of the most inspirational leaders to play for the Gunners. The first word when thinking about Tony Adams, to any honest football fan, isn't alcoholic but fighter - against demons on and off the pitch. Vieira was no less of a great leader - and his clashes with Roy Keane made for some great moments. Henry was perhaps more of a "actions speak louder than words guy" but I may be wrong there. That for me has been the biggest contributor to their successes and ultimately, the lack thereof, that has contributed the most to their current problems. Honestly, there is such a lot of difference between the images of a bandaged Vieira playing on - and a hapless William Gallas crying after the B'ingam game, or for that matter Van Persie looking completely clueless versus United the other day.
Why, you might ask, do I bring myself to express this for the "rivals"? Because, honestly, through all the bickering, I realised that I respected Arsenal as a club. I respected the football they played. The "Invincible" season was a neutrals' delight and I can admit that considering last year's United team likely to emulate that was foolhardy at best. I respected Wenger and his policies, even though i don't like the man. But most of all, I'd rather have a team that has worked hard at building a footballing institution win the big titles than some oil-crazy,terrorist-funding,Qatari sheikh/Russian baron who's decked up his latest plaything with more gifts than it ever deserved and turned it's shrill fans into believing that they were always destined for greatness.
So, personally, I feel Arsenal are at the most important crossroads - the 8-2 thumping has,ultimately, proved good for the club. Atleast, it forced Wenger's hand into re-inforcing a sorry squad. (Can't imagine what would've happened had he decided to go about the season without buying). My two cents on the updated squad - there aren't any arseholes, sadly but Arteta and Mertesacker will give them much needed strengthening. More importantly, 3 of the 5 signings have been captains of their clubs/national teams - which to me is the most significant take-home point from the dealings. I read an article saying that this set of "panic-buys" completely undermined Arsene's transfer policy. Personally, I think this was what it should've been closer to all this time. Go for youth, yes, but when you know you have experienced players in the team as guides. United proved Alan Hansen wrong by "winning it with kids" - but that side also had Cantona, Bruce, Pallister, McClair and Schmeichel among others.
I know the chance of a Arsenal relegation is mouth-watering at times, esp. when I'm reminded of Keown n co., but if I'm being completely truthful, I'd rather have another United-Arsenal title tussle than some nouveau riche pretenders to the throne.
So, personally, I feel Arsenal are at the most important crossroads - the 8-2 thumping has,ultimately, proved good for the club. Atleast, it forced Wenger's hand into re-inforcing a sorry squad. (Can't imagine what would've happened had he decided to go about the season without buying). My two cents on the updated squad - there aren't any arseholes, sadly but Arteta and Mertesacker will give them much needed strengthening. More importantly, 3 of the 5 signings have been captains of their clubs/national teams - which to me is the most significant take-home point from the dealings. I read an article saying that this set of "panic-buys" completely undermined Arsene's transfer policy. Personally, I think this was what it should've been closer to all this time. Go for youth, yes, but when you know you have experienced players in the team as guides. United proved Alan Hansen wrong by "winning it with kids" - but that side also had Cantona, Bruce, Pallister, McClair and Schmeichel among others.
I know the chance of a Arsenal relegation is mouth-watering at times, esp. when I'm reminded of Keown n co., but if I'm being completely truthful, I'd rather have another United-Arsenal title tussle than some nouveau riche pretenders to the throne.
Wednesday, 3 August 2011
10 Songs : August - The Beatles Edition
So it's probably clear to anyone that's been around me this past month that I'm in the middle of my biggest wave of Beatlemania. This time, it's definitely not a passing one. For a band that will complete 50 years of the release of it's 1st single next year, some might say I'm getting into the mood far too early. Honestly, for the band that means so much to me, anytime works!
My first association with The Fab Four goes back a long time. First memories, when I was maybe 8, in the back of our first car - the Van, listening to the sweet sounds of "Love Me Do". I'm sure I'm wrong, but they're the 1st "phoren" band I remember listening to. Or, atleast, the one I'll claim is. Still, the early years were mostly restricted to a few old cassettes my Dad had taped, mostly songs from their early recordings. "She Loves You"/ "I wanna hold your hand"/"Ticket to ride". Light, upbeat, silly little love songs. I consider myself very very fortunate that musically, I had a "life" (with The Beatles, Abba and the Carpenters and even Boney M) before the "Boyband/Pop" wave hit in the late '90s and sadly, swept me along for a while.
Thankfully, it wasn't too long before I got my head out of that musical cesspool. Bryan Adams started it, Def Leppard helped and U2 finally got me out. When I came back to the Beatles, they had changed. A lot. Discovering the later albums was like discovering a whole new band. One that had shed all pretenses. One that was making music the way it always wanted to. At 14or 15, I wasn't distinctly aware of the drugs talking, but I didn't care. I had found my band. And I was going to stick to it.
This "sticking to it" consisted of following the band in various capacities, having periods of only listening to them and nothing else, moving on to "better" things, but I still kept coming back. The journey was complete when I finished my collection. With this, I got a a taste of everything, from the brilliant "Rubber Soul" to the absurd "Yellow Submarine". Everytime, I got a whole another experience. A whole new meaning to a lot of songs. Tripping with them is a highly recommended experience. You don't need drugs. Just close your eyes and let yourself go. As Messers. Lennon and McCartney write
"Turn off your mind, relax and float down stream,
It is not dying, it is not dying
Lay down all thought, surrender to the void,
Is it shining? Is it shining?"
So, here's presenting 10 songs of John, Paul, George and Ringo. They're not the most well-known. Some of them might not even figure on my "all-time" Beatles lists. But they're 10 very significant songs. Songs, which, being a Beatles fanatic, I can recite backwards. But, more importantly, songs with which I'd like the rest of you to get to know my band better.
1. While My Guitar Gently Weeps. Album : The White Album.
Studio Version : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F3RYvO2X0Oo
Live Version 1( Concert for George) :http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FC1EZcrZEIs
Live version 2 - Clapton and Harrison : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ezd7fRvJgtc
Easily the best Beatles song of all time, for me. Considering the fact that George was significantly overshadowed by the Lennon-McCartney express, the rare moments where he got to demonstrate his exquisite talent are all the more enjoyable. One of the most memorable guitar riffs ever to start off and then, what a solo! Having Eric Clapton playing lead guitar made such a difference! Try, then, the live version, with Clapton and Harrison taking the song to a whole new level. Also, from the LOVE album, try the "stripped down" version, with just George singing and a simple guitar accompaniment. Heavenly!
Truly the ultimate tribute to George, especially evident at the "Concert for George", with Dhani Harrison playing acoustic guitar. As Olivia put it, " With Dhani on stage, it looked like George stayed young, and we all got old"
2. Across the Universe. Album : Let it Be.
The best song from the last album, and possibly THE best written song. This isn't them on a trip. This is Lennon-McCartney showing that, when it came to writing, they could "write an entire swimming-pool".
" Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup
They slither while they pass, they slip away across the universe"
The "Jai Guru De Va" line added to the chorus adds so much to the song, written at the time they were heavily influenced by TM. A brilliant song all-round.
3. Norwegian Wood (This Bird has Flown). Album : Rubber Soul.
Reporter: I'd like to direct this question to Messrs. Lennon and McCartney. In a recent article, Time magazine put down pop music. And they referred to "Day Tripper" as being about a prostitute...
4. I am the Walrus. Album : Magical Mystery Tour.
This is, truly, tripping with the Beatles. Written when Lennon was on one of his acid trips, the fact that it's the drugs talking makes for a weird and wonderful song. Crazy lyrics, a great melody and an instantly recognizable line "Goo-goo-g-joob". Don't try to decipher the lyrics - you can't.
5. Dear Prudence. Album : The White Album.
This one, another from the White Album, again emphasizes the importance of the melody. The story goes that John Lennon wrote it for Prudence Farrow, Mia's sister, to get her "out of her shell" after she became a recluse - in the whole TM/Maharshi/drugs era. It's very simple and very beautiful lyrically.
6. Hey Bulldog. Album: Yellow Submarine soundtrack.
One of the lesser known tracks by the band, but supreme all the same. To me, it signifies everything the Beatles were about. A killer bass line by Paul to start, a nice Harrison solo, brilliant vocals by Lennon and utter chaos at the end, when Paul and John just let go. Barking, howling and maniacal laughter. Yeah!!!
7. A Day in the Life. Album : Sgt.Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.
The best song from "The best album of all time". An epic, influential piece. Lennon and McCartney wrote different parts of the song. The part about the accident was supposedly inspired by the death of a friend of John's. Paul provided the verses in the middle. Brilliant lyrics, a great melody as always and as Wiki puts it "the greatest/most famous final chord in music history"
8. We Can Work it Out. Single.
This one's another of my personal favourites. And I like this version a lot more than Stevie Wonder's cover. It reflects the dynamism in the song-writing and some of the group's internal struggles with a great contrast of Paul's optimism and realism with Lennon's dreams and philosophy. With "Day Tripper" this makes for a fantastic record.
9. Blackbird. Album : The White Album.
This one's a gem. Disguised as a soft, unassuming folk song, it becomes so much more. Lennon felt it reflected the African American struggle in the southern states. To me, it represents any struggle, to try and reach what you've always yearned for, and worked for. "You were only waiting for this moment to arise. Blackbird, fly!"
Another track from one of my favourite Beatles albums, this is a brilliant melody. No hidden, deep meanings here. Just a simple song. Always makes me smile. More so because "Penny Lane" is also Kate Hudson's eternal groupie in "Almost Famous".
There you have it. 10 songs from the greatest band of all time. Till next month, then...
Tuesday, 12 July 2011
The End
WARNING : The cheese factor in this article might cause severe side effects, including not wanting to read another thing i write, ever again.To those who feel that this scenario might come true, stay away!
Ever since I woke up one morning 4 years ago and dashed to the then Crossword on JM Road, to get my hands on the last book, I sort of knew that it was coming down to this. It's Friday. Unless you've been living the Amish way ( I'm sure young Ezekiel or Jeremiah or whoever, still know too), you know what I'm talking about. The end of the Boy Who Lived. And with it, the fading away of the last vestiges of a childhood that, in many ways, I'm desperately trying to hold on to.
Ever since I woke up one morning 4 years ago and dashed to the then Crossword on JM Road, to get my hands on the last book, I sort of knew that it was coming down to this. It's Friday. Unless you've been living the Amish way ( I'm sure young Ezekiel or Jeremiah or whoever, still know too), you know what I'm talking about. The end of the Boy Who Lived. And with it, the fading away of the last vestiges of a childhood that, in many ways, I'm desperately trying to hold on to.
I grew up with Harry Potter. And so did most of my generation ( I'm saying most, because I do, incredibly, know people who haven't read a book yet!). India caught on late as usual to the Potter craze, and so it was for me. It's funny that the first Potter book I read was "The Goblet of Fire". It had, probably, just come out; and Dad got a copy on his way back from the States ( Yes, this does make me look "old"). I had already graduated the Chronicles of Narnia, and though I didn't get the Christian subtext then; at the age of 12, that was probably it for me as far as fantasy went. ( Enid Blyton was for "kids" and I hadn't gotten down to Tolkien then). To say I was hooked was an understatement, and after finishing the book in 4 days flat, I had found my own Narnia. Someplace I could relate to. It was funny that I started with the Fourth, because when I got down to reading "Azkaban", it seemed weird how Sirius was suddenly a bad guy!
I was soon done with the rest in no time, and considering they had announced the 1st movie, that was the next thing on the agenda. But, those were still the days when movies reached India 6 months late. Fortunately, we were in Singapore that time, and finding out that our cab driver was a fan too, I pestered him to help, till he got us tickets. A first week viewing means I'm probably the 1st of my group to have seen it, and it's something that I wouldn't mind boasting about.
The books ahead were "mega-events". It helped that there was a big gap between "Goblet of Fire" and "Order of the Phoenix", by which time India was submerged under a Potter deluge. Each new book was met with long lines/fans camping - scenes right out of the Star Wars lines. Every book made me like the series more. Its remarkable that the cliffhangers at the ends of the books made sense, and continued to have the same impact till the next one was released.No "jumping the shark" here. And then, there was the 7th. This time, I was part of the line. I camped out, couldn't sleep the night before. The book was a weird experience. Every page that led me through the story also got me to the End. It's funny how you want to get it over with and yet, never have it end.
I feel the best part about the books, and why they appeal to such a wide demographic ( unlike, some "pale" imitations, hem, hem!) is the attitude towards the protagonists and children as a whole.You always get a point through to kids when you talk to them at their level, without ever being condescending. The books addressed it's readers as persons in their own right, and not just "children". And because you literally grew up reading them, you stayed faithful.Personally, they remind me of how I was. The part of me that was a wide-eyed 12 year old boy before I descended to a self-deprecating cynic. A part of me I fear I can never get back.
Somehow, the loss of never getting to read another book was somewhat reduced by the fact that there were 3 movies to come.True, the movies aren't a shade on the books. Perhaps, it's because there hasn't been one director for all, that the movies seem disjointed and stop-start. Yet, you'll still sit through them because you love the books so much. You'll criticize them, savage them for ruining your favourite parts of the books ( I still hate you, Alfonso Cuaron), but you'll keep coming back to them. For the books.
And so it must end. Or does it,really? Does the fact that the last movie plays out in a theater before you're eyes mean that the magic of Harry Potter comes to a finality? I'm willing to bet a lot of you ( though you might not admit it) will read the books all over again. As JK said, and I know I'm transcending all boundaries of cheese, "anyone who wishes to come back, Hogwarts will still be there for you to come home to"
And so, this time, I' m gonna go watch the final movie. No comments. No critiques. 2 hours of letting myself go. 2 hours of letting myself experience every emotion the movie wants me to. 2 hours of reliving the best parts of me. Being a kid again. I owe it to the books. I owe it to "Jo".And I sure as hell owe it to the 12 year old I left behind!
I was soon done with the rest in no time, and considering they had announced the 1st movie, that was the next thing on the agenda. But, those were still the days when movies reached India 6 months late. Fortunately, we were in Singapore that time, and finding out that our cab driver was a fan too, I pestered him to help, till he got us tickets. A first week viewing means I'm probably the 1st of my group to have seen it, and it's something that I wouldn't mind boasting about.
The books ahead were "mega-events". It helped that there was a big gap between "Goblet of Fire" and "Order of the Phoenix", by which time India was submerged under a Potter deluge. Each new book was met with long lines/fans camping - scenes right out of the Star Wars lines. Every book made me like the series more. Its remarkable that the cliffhangers at the ends of the books made sense, and continued to have the same impact till the next one was released.No "jumping the shark" here. And then, there was the 7th. This time, I was part of the line. I camped out, couldn't sleep the night before. The book was a weird experience. Every page that led me through the story also got me to the End. It's funny how you want to get it over with and yet, never have it end.
I feel the best part about the books, and why they appeal to such a wide demographic ( unlike, some "pale" imitations, hem, hem!) is the attitude towards the protagonists and children as a whole.You always get a point through to kids when you talk to them at their level, without ever being condescending. The books addressed it's readers as persons in their own right, and not just "children". And because you literally grew up reading them, you stayed faithful.Personally, they remind me of how I was. The part of me that was a wide-eyed 12 year old boy before I descended to a self-deprecating cynic. A part of me I fear I can never get back.
Somehow, the loss of never getting to read another book was somewhat reduced by the fact that there were 3 movies to come.True, the movies aren't a shade on the books. Perhaps, it's because there hasn't been one director for all, that the movies seem disjointed and stop-start. Yet, you'll still sit through them because you love the books so much. You'll criticize them, savage them for ruining your favourite parts of the books ( I still hate you, Alfonso Cuaron), but you'll keep coming back to them. For the books.
And so it must end. Or does it,really? Does the fact that the last movie plays out in a theater before you're eyes mean that the magic of Harry Potter comes to a finality? I'm willing to bet a lot of you ( though you might not admit it) will read the books all over again. As JK said, and I know I'm transcending all boundaries of cheese, "anyone who wishes to come back, Hogwarts will still be there for you to come home to"
And so, this time, I' m gonna go watch the final movie. No comments. No critiques. 2 hours of letting myself go. 2 hours of letting myself experience every emotion the movie wants me to. 2 hours of reliving the best parts of me. Being a kid again. I owe it to the books. I owe it to "Jo".And I sure as hell owe it to the 12 year old I left behind!
Wednesday, 6 July 2011
Card Capers
We had guests over today, and among the usual reminiscing, Dad brought up the topic of playing cards and how theirs was a generation brought up on playing cards. That set me off and to be honest, we (i.e. my generation) - even calling us that makes me feel too damn old, aren't too far behind. Looking at it now, and especially at a few of my younger cousins who haven't played cards yet!, we are, in all likelihood, one of the last generations to extract such a tremendous amount of fun from 52 pieces of cardboard( Jokers not included!)
Whoever invented playing cards must be feted till Kingdom come. Honestly, it's hard to imagine something which costs so little( I still don't know the cost, considering most of the decks have been off planes/gifts/etc.), keeping so many people entertained for so long. I was never a Monopoly guy. Hated the damn thing. And with Carrom, considering my legendary motor skills, the less said the better. And anyone who knows me can account for the fact that I'm a woeful cricket player, and probably worse at Football. So, not really leaving me much choice, cards were my "true calling".
So, whether it was starting out with the basics - "Bhikar-Savkar" and moving on to "Paach-Teen-Don" and "Saat-Aath", cards had me hooked. Mum moved me on to more involving games like " Jhabbu" and " Badaam Saat", and the rest is history!
Rummy was brilliant, and one of the best games for two. Of course, it's also the keyword of a very dirty joke that I told my parents ( of all people) - don't quite remember what happened afterwords, it's still a blur. I'm bad at Rummy and still haven't managed to beat Mum straight. So, I convert best-of 3 into best-of-5 and so on, but still lose every time.
Challenge is a game of lying through your teeth, and not surprisingly, another one I'm bad at. Whatever you do,never sit in the seat after Anuja's. I have, and at best, it's a mauling. I've tried many-a-time, to sneak cards through but get caught. I'm a better poker player, though, which is funny. But then, after countless times of being the "gadhav", I can't figure it out..
"Not at home" remains a game for sleepless nights. An endless game,if there ever was one, one mention and out come the pillows/books/any other items of interest to hide the "jodis" in.Now, I'm a bit biased against it because the sheer mental effort it takes to try and get all the pairs.Most people give up before the end, but it's still worth the effort to see all your relatives put on "game faces" desperately tring to convince you that they have that last "jodi". When it comes to scratching at pillows and shorts and what not, I'm sure you get the picture.
The the eternal crowd favourites - "Laddice(I'm not sure how we spell it) and "Mhendikot". I remember four of us cousins getting together at another Sis' wedding. We must've been 13 at the eldest. 4 straight days cooped up in a room with some 100+ games of Laddice(guess that's what I'm calling it), who knows "kiti laadu chadle". That was the life!
Bridge is something I've never learnt to play. Dad refused to teach me, saying it was way too addictive. And "304" I've forgotten,not having played it since Std.9.
And then, there's "Judgement".If there ever was a game designed to test your skill as a player of cards, it's "Judgement". Deliciously tricky, as the number of cards dealt keeps reducing, its all the tougher to keep your bets. And though winning might be fantastic, there's no pleasure matching that of getting beat, but then screwing up everyone else's game.I recently had the pleasure of 4 straight hours of Judgement at Solapur, and I must say, the rust wore of pretty soon!
So, whether it was starting out with the basics - "Bhikar-Savkar" and moving on to "Paach-Teen-Don" and "Saat-Aath", cards had me hooked. Mum moved me on to more involving games like " Jhabbu" and " Badaam Saat", and the rest is history!
Rummy was brilliant, and one of the best games for two. Of course, it's also the keyword of a very dirty joke that I told my parents ( of all people) - don't quite remember what happened afterwords, it's still a blur. I'm bad at Rummy and still haven't managed to beat Mum straight. So, I convert best-of 3 into best-of-5 and so on, but still lose every time.
Challenge is a game of lying through your teeth, and not surprisingly, another one I'm bad at. Whatever you do,never sit in the seat after Anuja's. I have, and at best, it's a mauling. I've tried many-a-time, to sneak cards through but get caught. I'm a better poker player, though, which is funny. But then, after countless times of being the "gadhav", I can't figure it out..
"Not at home" remains a game for sleepless nights. An endless game,if there ever was one, one mention and out come the pillows/books/any other items of interest to hide the "jodis" in.Now, I'm a bit biased against it because the sheer mental effort it takes to try and get all the pairs.Most people give up before the end, but it's still worth the effort to see all your relatives put on "game faces" desperately tring to convince you that they have that last "jodi". When it comes to scratching at pillows and shorts and what not, I'm sure you get the picture.
The the eternal crowd favourites - "Laddice(I'm not sure how we spell it) and "Mhendikot". I remember four of us cousins getting together at another Sis' wedding. We must've been 13 at the eldest. 4 straight days cooped up in a room with some 100+ games of Laddice(guess that's what I'm calling it), who knows "kiti laadu chadle". That was the life!
Bridge is something I've never learnt to play. Dad refused to teach me, saying it was way too addictive. And "304" I've forgotten,not having played it since Std.9.
And then, there's "Judgement".If there ever was a game designed to test your skill as a player of cards, it's "Judgement". Deliciously tricky, as the number of cards dealt keeps reducing, its all the tougher to keep your bets. And though winning might be fantastic, there's no pleasure matching that of getting beat, but then screwing up everyone else's game.I recently had the pleasure of 4 straight hours of Judgement at Solapur, and I must say, the rust wore of pretty soon!
So, here's to everyone who's ever played cards and had fun. Lets keep it going,guys. We've got a true tradition to uphold.
P.S. : Anyone who's interested in a massive cards-filled Sunday anytime soon ( hint -July end) please feel free to let me know. I'll make sure it happens. The more the better!
Saturday, 2 July 2011
10 songs
Starting off, I'll be a good boy and accept that the post is heavily "inspired" by one of Ranajeet Soman's. However, this being "for the greater good", I hopes that he accepts my post as just an "inspiration". After all, I do hope to make this a monthly feature. And what is Music, if not shared?
So, here's presenting 10 songs currently stuck on repeat in my head...if you've heard them before, cool, if you haven't, then I do hope you find something you like...
1.) Call Me the Breeze - Lynyrd Skynyrd
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ASxaSpGJmic
Here's the live version: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4SuBozi_Hp0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ASxaSpGJmic
Here's the live version: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4SuBozi_Hp0
Lynyrd Skynyrd probably is right up there on the list of great artists who died too soon. Before the airplane crash that devastated the band, they were magnificent examples of Southern Rock, with crazy 7 min long guitar solos. This one is far lesser known than , say, "Sweet Home Alabama" or "Freebird" but tops my personal list. An awesome riff to start off, Ronnie Van Zant's southern drawl, followed by an awesome solo. What tops is,though, the frenzied/maniacal piano solo, that honestly, blows your mind! Billy Powell, u epic God!!
2.) Blue Sky - The Allman Brothers Band
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DEC5s3nzVzo
2.) Blue Sky - The Allman Brothers Band
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DEC5s3nzVzo
Link to the live version : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KMbYUAv--Oo&feature=related
The Allman brothers were the pioneers of southern rock. This is an absolute gem. Smooth progression into a brilliant solo. This song reminds me of a perfect day and a long drive through the countryside. I dare you to listen to this song and not smile.Trust me.
3.) Love You To - The Beatles
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MF90rX43VpE
Something I found very funny and ridiculously annoying was a few of my friends dismissing the Beatles as "another pop band". I mean, Come-effing-on. The early days got them the success which gave them the freedom to experiment.And experiment they did. Every album post-66 is a musical masterpiece. This one, from Revolver, is one of the first attempts at using their Indian classical influences. As a tribute to George Harrison, this lesser known tune holds a very special place for me...
4.) Tum Pukar Lo - Hemant Kumar. Film - Khamoshi
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LQGMIFnIlWw
I've been listening to a LOT of old Hindi songs lately, helped in no small part by a show airing on B4U music at 9 pm everyday. The 50s and 60s were arguably the best period in Hindi film music.This song is a personal favourit. Hemant da's haunting voice sets the tone perfectly. If you haven't seen the movie, do watch it for Waheeda Rehman. The first movie I remember crying after.
5.) Waqt Ne Kiya - Geeta Dutt. Film - Kagaz ke Phool.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qXZR57XQ7yI
Again, seems like an obvious choice. I'm trying to put together a Guru Dutt collection. And offers to help will be greatly appreciated. The lyrical genius of Kaifi Azmi shines through. Sample this, " Jaayenge kahaan, sujhata nahi, Chal pade magar, raasta nahi, kya talaash hai, kuch parta nahi, Bun rahe he dil, khwab dum-ba-dum".And that voice!
6.)Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley
3.) Love You To - The Beatles
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MF90rX43VpE
Something I found very funny and ridiculously annoying was a few of my friends dismissing the Beatles as "another pop band". I mean, Come-effing-on. The early days got them the success which gave them the freedom to experiment.And experiment they did. Every album post-66 is a musical masterpiece. This one, from Revolver, is one of the first attempts at using their Indian classical influences. As a tribute to George Harrison, this lesser known tune holds a very special place for me...
4.) Tum Pukar Lo - Hemant Kumar. Film - Khamoshi
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LQGMIFnIlWw
I've been listening to a LOT of old Hindi songs lately, helped in no small part by a show airing on B4U music at 9 pm everyday. The 50s and 60s were arguably the best period in Hindi film music.This song is a personal favourit. Hemant da's haunting voice sets the tone perfectly. If you haven't seen the movie, do watch it for Waheeda Rehman. The first movie I remember crying after.
5.) Waqt Ne Kiya - Geeta Dutt. Film - Kagaz ke Phool.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qXZR57XQ7yI
Again, seems like an obvious choice. I'm trying to put together a Guru Dutt collection. And offers to help will be greatly appreciated. The lyrical genius of Kaifi Azmi shines through. Sample this, " Jaayenge kahaan, sujhata nahi, Chal pade magar, raasta nahi, kya talaash hai, kuch parta nahi, Bun rahe he dil, khwab dum-ba-dum".And that voice!
6.)Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y8AWFf7EAc4
Like this version much better than the original Leonard Cohen one. Lyrically, magnificent. What gets me is that the Cohen description about the song. He says that different versions convey different meanings/emotions to the same words just based on the style of singing. Check out the different versions and you'll get what he means.
7.)Tarun Aahe Ratra Ajuni - Asha Bhosale
Probably my favourite Marathi song. A brilliant testament to Asha Bhosale's extraordinary musical talent. The range of her voice on this song is incredible.But what's more significant to me is the meaning. Quite possibly a "bold" song even in today's times, the fact that it puts the Woman first is great. Its her desire to be loved and the disappointment at the lack of fulfillment by a lover which strikes me the most.And Suresh Bhat deals with sex in a brilliant way,never letting the song ever sound dirty. I haven't got the original song on video clip but have it at home. Everybody's free to take a listen.
8.)Run - Collective Soul.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iPvQY9LMnZ4
Like this version much better than the original Leonard Cohen one. Lyrically, magnificent. What gets me is that the Cohen description about the song. He says that different versions convey different meanings/emotions to the same words just based on the style of singing. Check out the different versions and you'll get what he means.
7.)Tarun Aahe Ratra Ajuni - Asha Bhosale
Probably my favourite Marathi song. A brilliant testament to Asha Bhosale's extraordinary musical talent. The range of her voice on this song is incredible.But what's more significant to me is the meaning. Quite possibly a "bold" song even in today's times, the fact that it puts the Woman first is great. Its her desire to be loved and the disappointment at the lack of fulfillment by a lover which strikes me the most.And Suresh Bhat deals with sex in a brilliant way,never letting the song ever sound dirty. I haven't got the original song on video clip but have it at home. Everybody's free to take a listen.
8.)Run - Collective Soul.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iPvQY9LMnZ4
Eternally grateful to Sahil Sapre for introducing me to Collective soul. This is , in my opinion, their best song. To experience it fully, just as he said. close your eyes, and let the song take you away!
9.) Trains - Porcupine Tree.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OIM5M6FmnmY
Quite simply, breathtaking! Another one of those songs that'll take you on a journey if you let it. Haunting and exhilarating in equal measure, this is one song that always tops my recommendation list. Porcupine Tree keep reinventing themsleves, this one's no different!
10.)Lightning Crashes - Live.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xsJ4O-nSveg
9.) Trains - Porcupine Tree.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OIM5M6FmnmY
Quite simply, breathtaking! Another one of those songs that'll take you on a journey if you let it. Haunting and exhilarating in equal measure, this is one song that always tops my recommendation list. Porcupine Tree keep reinventing themsleves, this one's no different!
10.)Lightning Crashes - Live.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xsJ4O-nSveg
Link to the live version : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oc80X4ecnjw
Easily the best song with the word "placenta" in it. As the band said, its not so much about dying and being born as it is about falling and rising. But then, to think of it, aren't they the same thing? Ed Kowalczyk ( had to google his spelling) is terrific vocally.
So, that's it for the month. Let me know what you think. And recommendations are always welcome!
Easily the best song with the word "placenta" in it. As the band said, its not so much about dying and being born as it is about falling and rising. But then, to think of it, aren't they the same thing? Ed Kowalczyk ( had to google his spelling) is terrific vocally.
So, that's it for the month. Let me know what you think. And recommendations are always welcome!
Monday, 27 June 2011
Na To Caarvaan Ki Talaash - Barsaat Ki Raat-Manna Dey,Rafi, Asha, Batish...
I Dunno why I'm starting out with this but came across this recently and found it to be the most brilliant Qawwali I've heard.Yes, all 12 minutes of it.And madhubala is breath-taking as always.
Firsts, Finally!
Statutory warning : This might just be the most cliched article you'll read here.And I'm sure you have read this a dozen times everywhere else. However,as everyone else says, forgive me this momentary lapse of judgement as I can't really think of a better thing to start off with.
After what seemed like the millionth time of taking a 'decision' and backing out, I finally decided to take the plunge and put pen to paper, or rather, finger to keyboard. To this favourable turn of events, i must thank a few timely pushes by Rogerhan n co.
Anyhoo, for those who do know me, know that this is going to be one hell of a "man-love/fanboy" monument to Roger Federer and Man United. So, fair warning, all ye "lesser folk"!
But, for the benefit of those who did decide to check this out, I suppose I'll write about other things too, Lit and Music most notably.
So, after getting all the niceties out of the way, time for the real thing. Here's to a blog which survives longer than a year. Cheers!
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