WORD OF CAUTION: No part of this Post or any post or notes from acnotes may be used in training artificial intelligence without the written consent of the author.

Disclaimer: Well, I’m aware that in this time and age of visual overkill, posts which are long and just words may not gain traction. And I’m okay with that. In fact, the whole intent of this page is to see if people still read. At 1300+ words, this post isn’t really that long. However, the accompanying music could complement your reading to elevate your experience. And a conversation that could be equally comforting awaits you towards the end. If you don’t wish to pause for a while and read, no worries. I understand. Move on.

Status Quo
After the surgery and the stitches being removed few weeks back, I’m getting better without haste. While, getting back to routine, one step at a time, this song amongst a prayer routine, daily walks, a few more songs and books are part of the care package I’ve put together — to find healing and solace. Then, no spoiler or surprise, there’s a song by ARR. Also, there’s a specific conversation between Mary Oliver and
Krista Tipett from On-being, which I resort to often since its release in 2016, which I highly reccomend you listen. Today, I’m glad you’re here and hope that you join me on this road to recovery.

“A pavane (also spelled pavan) is a slow, stately court dance from the 16th and 17th centuries, as well as the musical composition written for it. Originating in Europe during the Renaissance, it allowed nobility to display their formal attire and graceful manners.”

What you just listened to is how it was intended to sound when Gabirel Fauré, a French composer, wrote it in 1887. A piece written for piano primarily but later became a version for orchestra and optional chorus. While he considered it as his least favourite or significant piece, it became the most popular symphony over time. The rhythm that is set to complement the slow Spanish court dance that’s known as Pavane, it was played in the background as the nobility sashayed on the dance floor showcasing their prim and proper formal attire. A true reflection of the Belle Époque era that ended with the First World War.

There are several renditions and versions available out there, both with and without the words, however this piece got me reminded of a Children’s book I would read to my son during the pandemic and a bit after as well.

Unborn Children. Unexplored Forest.

The story of Butterfly Dance in a nutshell is about two friends Dotty and Stripe who start out as Caterpillars. So, in reference to the below-mentioned song, you can imagine the two caterpillars crawling to the tune of the violin strings being plucked accompanied by the wind and string instruments. They go on with their routine together. They’re unborn children in an unexplored forest. They’re curious, playful and inseparable, and they assume this is how life is going to be. And they’re accustomed to doing everything collectively from dawn to dusk (till 2 min 50sec). As the string instruments soar and the cellos enter, this is when you see they’re exhausted. They both fall into deep sleep. When the lone flute plays, this is the cue for them to emerge as butterflies (at 3 min 51 sec). Thereon, they unfurl their wings and go one step further to explore their beautiful surroundings and figure out they are both different in their own ways. Now they know that they can fly as the wind beneath their wings’ nudges them towards the sky. And then the story goes on as they explore the new dimensions of friendship and feeling belonged or accepted regardless of
their differences.

Now circling back to the song, you can listen to the soundscapes and delve deeper as you imagine these two caterpillars roaming the forests, metamorphizing eventually into butterflies and exploring the vast green expanse under the wide blue skies. While this is my interpretation, you’re free to listen to the abovementioned and share your narrative. In addition, this is a song that also strikes a stark similarity to a 1999 song by AR Rahman. Nope, this is nowhere copied or inspired, and the style is neithter close to Pavane. However, in essence you might notice some similarity.

Two melodies, 100+ years apart. Yet, pointing towards the same direction.

To draw a parallel, I present to you this next song from a 1999 Tamil movie ‘En Swasa Kaatre’. Well, it’s on purpose I haven’t shared the video. And you don’t have to worry about knowing the meaning of the song. Also, knowing who the Lyricist is, I would seldom focus on the person but their work. It’s a personal choice, but you’re free to look it up. In fact, even Gabriel Fauré didn’t really focus much on the lyrics for Pavane. It was after a year or so that the lyrics were added. That said, we will mostly meditate on what the song conveys, and the journey ARR takes you through. Now, if you may, listen to this song first while I try to translate the essence of the song. There won’t be any forced rhyme of rhythm but mostly some interpretation of this mellifluous ballad based on the opening lines.

While there is a video from the movie that might not do complete justice to this song, I want you to internalize this as you listen. Suggest you find yourself a place where you’re all by yourself, get a good pair of earphones or better still play it on the speakers and let the music carry you forth. This is one of the songs that would outlast the movie and its time and go on to create a special place for itself. I’m sure it’s already on the playlists of many ARR fans. To substantiate this further, here’s quoting ARR himself from an interview.

Source:

As mentioned earlier, I won’t be literally translating the song, just like my previous posts, I will try to capture the essence with just the opening lines. And the first few lines, captures the journey you’ll be embarking on.

Opening lines:

Thirakkaadha kaattukkullae
Pirakkaadha pillaigal polae aanom
Parandhodum maanai pola
Tholaindhodi ponadhu engal naanam

|| In an untouched, unexplored forest
Let’s wander like unborn children. 
Like a deer leaping, free from care,
Our inhibitions were shed as we pranced on. ||

And while the lyrics go on to describe their exploration in the woods, the music also cues at the same adventure if you listen closely. You can picture the serenity of an untouched forest, the trickling brooks, the cascading waterfalls that plumet from high mountains. The vivid colours of the birds perched on branches and their melodic calls. The wind whistling through the bamboos. And the clouds bursting open, overwhelmed by its love and showering onto the forest with its incessant rain.

I truly hope one day this song and many more of ARR’s compositions are rewritten for an Orchestra to perform and they’re compiled as a Symphony or album or into volumes. So that they may remain timeless and at the same time appreciated by people across the world, sans borders and languages.

Now to tie this all up

I would now like to draw your attention to a 10+ year old conversation between my most favourite poet - the late Mary Oliver - and the most inspiring host Krista Tipett. I first listened to this podcast in the month of August 2016. Till date I would have revisited their conversation time, time and again. Likewise, Mary Oliver’s book of essays titled “Upstream”.

While a documentary of Mary Oliver that was aired recently (which I’ve read about and haven’t watched yet), sheds light on an unseen perspective to her life – I always thought of her as someone who would derive hope and the courage to thrive from nature at times of strife. Similarly, as you may have gathered by now, I am inspired to do so to. While feeling stuck, in grief, burned out, confused, in sickness, and all the struggles that would make this life bitter, I’ve been saved by the beauty of the world.

#acnotes

PS: This is a slight deviation from my regular posts on art, poetry and music. Instead, this time I chose to capture what I witnessed in person at a waiting room. Call it a poem, staccato prose or just an observation, I’ll leave that to you. Life at present is at the valley, it’s a time I’m evaluating my options, taking second and third opinions to make it through a medical emergency. So, I am not saying I will be on a break from posting, however the pattern might be a bit more erratic than before. So, kindly bear with me. Thank you for your time, attention and patience.

#acnotes

What do you see?

The irony is unmissable – regardless of what I shared a bit earlier; you’re still looking at this screen and here, while you’re present elsewhere. Physically or mentally and sometimes both. Now, don’t look away. Humor me, will you? Look closely at this
1884’ painting by the French Naturalist Artist – Jules Breton. The easiest guess is, it’s a farmer at sunset. Or, perhaps, an imagery that complements the classic poem – The Solitary Reaper by William Wordsworth. However, what truly elevates the viewer’s perception is the title. Seems simple, but what the painter has done is perhaps, what Andrew Stanton mentions in his hugely popular Ted Talk from 2012 about the “Unifying Theory of 2+2”. You see the farmer and then you see the title, then you arrive at your own story. Before you move to the next line, listen to the music shared below while you scroll back up to gaze at the painting once again.

Now, read the title that I mention at the end of this sentence, scroll up and gaze at the painting once more please - “The Song of the lark”.

There is no better word to describe the feeling you have when you hear and see a skylark than ‘exaltation’. And I’m not alone in thinking that. ‘Exaltation’ is the collective noun for a group of skylarks. And it’s spot on.

Charlie Corbett, 12 Birds to Save your Life

What could it be?

The song of the lark signifies the break of dawn. So, it negates the assumption that it’s during sunset. While they’re known as the messengers of dawn, Larks also symbolize the arrival of spring. So, they’re the symbols of hope, light and joy. Simply said, it’s the end of winter. Now when you look at the lady’s face you will see a sense of anticipation and realization that it’s morning as well as the end of the cold season. More so, if she was upright and east facing, then the sun would have hinted that, but she is facing the other way. And maybe, a few moments before, bent down to cut the crops. To draw a parallel, she is bent over like us on our devices/screens, pre-occupied without paying any attention to what’s around.

What’s more there to see/feel or hear?

The painting kept bringing back a peculiar familiarity to a song I had listened to as a kid. Some visual cue before I digress a bit.

On a different tangent, this was a song that was reminiscent of another song or rather an album I’ve listened to time, time and again growing up. I’ll first mention what I thought was the influence and then the track I wish to present. Thanks to a neighbour who would play this on repeat whenever they were sloshed. Also, there is a cinema near my house - Urvashi (a single screen theatre which is on the verge of closing down) that would play the CD (shared below) just before the movie started and during intermission.

This was the 90s when the exposure to global music was way more than before. Enter Satellite channels viz., MTV and Channel V, Enigma became quite popular. What I remember more vividly is how it would be blasted on the car stereo while driving down and as a good friend mentioned, this was a go-to album/track for College Fests that had fashion shows. In other words, the popular squad in the senior most batch, walking up and down the ramp mimicking the models of FTV. Needless to mention, the glaring effect of smoke or fog machines blended with the colour filter / gel scrollers. Anyhow, we will pause this here and go on with the song.

What’s more?

Contrary to what I initially believed, this song below seemed like an inspiration of Enigma’s ‘Child in Us’, however it was not. Perhaps, the rhythm style might have inspired ARR from Enigma’s earlier work, but this song from the movie ‘May Madham’ was released in September 1994, whereas Enigma’s ‘The Child in Us’ came out in November 1996.

The song begins with the tweet of an unseen bird and then the interlude has the age-old tune of the first of the four-part chants in Sri Venkateshwara Suprabhatam – as its base in a soothing sound of a flute. Also, one can hear the synths and chimes that cue the morning mist. To those who were raised in India, more specifically, South India, they’re quite familiar to this song rendered by the Legendary Singer MS Subbulakshmi. In fact, referred to as the definitive morning-hymn of the Hindus, this is not only the wake-up call for many Indian households but also for Lord Venkateshwara at Tirupati.

The rhythm in the background that plays on loop hints the influence of Enigma, however, this is a composition — like no other. You can hear an impeccable fusion of a Carnatic raga (Hindolam as per Wikipedia) and western aesthetics complemented by an ensemble of Indian Instruments viz., Mrudangam, Tabla, Santoor (Hammered dulcimer), among others. Sung by Shoba Shanker, there are other female vocalists too backing her in chorus, it’s a calming number that’s timeless and to be listened to preferably at dawn. Or, whenever you feel a bit gloomy to see the crimson highlight over the horizon.

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Further on in the Ted Talk, Andrew Stanton goes onto share a quote (above-mentioned) by British Playwright - William Archer. I won’t delve further into the abovementioned video. You could search and watch the same to get more insights into storytelling. But for the time being, we will focus on how the song I just presented in this essay uses this Unifying Theory of 2+2. Like the farmer looking toward the lark in Breton’s Painting, PC Sreeram in the video shows the protagonist is addressing a flower that’s non-existent and so does the lyrics mention the non-existent flower. A remake of the classic Roman Holiday featuring Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck, this movie — May Madham had Sonali Kulkarni and Vineeth playing the lead roles, however the plot was adapted to suit the Indian sensibilities. And like some albums that outlast the movie, this is one. And the 2+2 theory which ARR brings together is through the fusion of Suprabatham and Enigma’s genre defying style.

Thank you for your patience and attention

We are seldom present in one place. Perhaps, we are physically present at one destination, while our mind ambles in parallel universes. Brooding over crumbs from the past, letting the present slip between our fingers, and fussing over an unseen future addled with doomsday anxiety. Not divided by age, sex, race, regions or religions, we are all those who have eyes and thumbs scrolling up and down – all looking towards the same direction and vision, yet disconnected. We are all those with our faces drooping down at the screen never to risk looking away or up or anywhere around. We are under the same sky, immersed in the deluge of entertainment and information, yet we are all discrete. We are all together, yet distant, an archipelago. We are the bent-neck generation. And this is the clarion call to look up and listen to the song of the lark.

#acnotes

Two Sides of the Same Coin – Destruction and Creation

Except for reading them in books or watching them in movies, I’m guessing many who are reading this may not have witnessed a war field. And if you were ever unfortunate to have passed through one, I cannot imagine what you may have experienced. That said, the flowers on a war field are like the rarest combinations, perhaps? You see life and death, flourish on the same breath. Now if we were to delve deeper into these killing machines, I’m reminded of this song from The Sound of Music – Edelweiss. The song is based on the rare Edelweiss flower that is found at a higher altitude in the alps. And the flower symbolizes bravery, strength and endurance for its grit to survive on such a terrain. While this song appears twice in the movie – the first time when the Lead character, Captain Van Trapp sings a duet with his daughter, when he senses music returning to his life after his wife’s passing. Then there is the second time, which hits harder, when he sings to convey a silent rebellion against the Nazi invasion. Perhaps, I won’t spoil this for you if you haven’t watched the movie. So please do watch it. And for those who have, you know what I’m talking about. Moreover, this song is a somber goodbye set to tune by Oscar Hammerstein II and Richard Rodgers. In fact, a metaphorical and a literal goodbye as it was the last song the duo wrote, before Hammerstein’s death. And what a song?! Give it a listen when you really have a few minutes to spare. Please.

Same Message — Decades and Destinations Apart.

Decades and frontiers apart, a similar message was floated in a song, from a movie made in South India. The plot of the movie, based on a true story, revolves around a little girl, going in search of her mother, who was a Sri Lankan refugee. To add some drama to this, the 9-year-old daughter shuns the adopted mother who raised her – set out on a quest in search of the mother who gave her birth but abandoned her. The whole premise of the story elevates when her adopted parents join this quest and visit Sri Lanka to discover that the mother’s identity has changed to someone who isn’t a refugee. Well, as usual, I won’t spoil this for you. If you haven’t watched this movie, I highly recommend you do. Without digressing much I will get straight to the song- Vellai Pookal from Kannathil Mutthamittal.

If I remember correctly, the song plays at the beginning and towards the end of the movie. Not a complete song, but more like a soundtrack in the background. And to draw a parallel, you could compare it to – John Lennon’s Imagine. The song begins with a gentle strum of a guitar and sustains throughout. Complemented by the fragile voice of AR Rahman with multi track backing vocals, subtle bass and some keyboards to fill in, it could be classified as a ballad. Only towards the middle can one hear the cymbals chiming followed by a soft drumroll. Also, the flute manages to elevate the listener higher up as they mindfully listen. Without exaggeration, listen to this song with both eyes closed as you lean back – you’ll know what the song conveys. Perhaps, if need be, you could always look up the lyrics and the meaning. But the song is a prayer or a plea. And this plea uses words to reiterate the message. Also, somewhere back in my head this song resonates whenever I read or chance upon some news about wars being fought.

The Irony of War History – It repeats itself.

We have read about it, as mentioned earlier, maybe we’ve been caught amid a war. But we rarely learn from it, and neither do the so-called leaders. Afterall, they’re not the ones on the frontline. Case-in-point, this painting from Ronald Francis, who paints in Trompe-l’œil (French for “deceive the eye”) style. A style of painting that’s goes over the head for the break-neck generation like us, since we will casually scroll past. In fact, this is where the need for galleries is more significant in these times than ever. We’re slowly losing out the ability to see. So, we need a purpose and a place to sit down, observe and read between the lines.

Now, may I request you to look at this painting a bit closer. The painting is based on a dream the artist had. Perhaps you could read the text about it a bit later, to avoid any spoilers. Let’s see what we gather from the viewing first.

At first glance, you see a man carrying someone out of the door. You scroll past and you’ll miss the whole story. Now, look at the picture again. Look closely. You’ll see the man is a soldier and the one he’s carrying could be his fiancé or wife. And when you see her, you see it’s probably a deceased body as the flesh has blackened and the arm and legs are bony. In the background, is a partly visible tilted portrait of the soldier. Could be his wedding portrait. In the foreground you see cobwebs on the left windowpane and the right window pane is broken. The opened can’s reflection could be seen on the broken glass on the floor. Perhaps, someone tried to break the glass with it and gain entry. And the stain by the door seems like a dog or some kid might have relived themselves. Now, you can read the caption – the artist wrote for the painting.

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An Open Ended Conclusion

Truth be told, the effects of war isn’t just reserved to those who are at the frontline. The ripple effect touches every single person alive at some point and at some part of this earth. And, the recent times are an evidence to this, however, one can hope for the white flowers to bloom. Also, as uncertain is the plight of war — how war is a vulgar display of a human invention that at some point is waged to find peace — the irony is unmissable too. Finally, one confession, akin to how one seldom knows when and how a war ends — this post too ends abruptly.

PS: However, I will leave you with this poem:

Wage Peace
By Judyth Hill

Wage peace with your breath.
Breathe in firemen and rubble,
breathe out whole buildings
and flocks of redwing blackbirds.

Breathe in terrorists and breathe out sleeping children
and freshly mown fields.
Breathe in confusion and breathe out maple trees.
Breathe in the fallen
and breathe out lifelong friendships intact.

Wage peace with your listening:
hearing sirens, pray loud.
Remember your tools:
flower seeds, clothes pins, clean rivers.

Make soup.
Play music, learn the word for thank you in three languages.
Learn to knit, and make a hat.
Think of chaos as dancing raspberries,
imagine grief as the outbreath of beauty
or the gesture of fish.
Swim for the other side.
Wage peace.

Never has the world seemed so fresh and precious.
have a cup of tea and rejoice.
Act as if armistice has already arrived.
Celebrate today.

#acnotes

Image credit: Siddarth RG, Siddarth’s Newsletter

This flash essay is part of a collaborative, constrained-writing challenge undertaken by some members of the Bangalore Substack Writers Group. This month, we used the prompt, ‘What’s keeping you afloat in a turbulent world?’. At the bottom of this snippet, you’ll find links to other essays by fellow writers.

Disclaimer
Given the current circumstances, I understand that it’s a privilege to share this opinion when people are battling for survival and trying their best to swim to the surface to catch a breath. And I, being fully aware of this disposition, wish to exercise this privilege to share my two cents. That said, you too have the privilege to read this post and contemplate, if time and patience permits. Or you’re free to skip and scroll onto another post, if you may. More importantly, as I wrote this post, I felt this was a reflection that resonated with me the most. If not for anything, this is a #notetoself

What’s Brewing

There is an onslaught of headlines, reels, viral videos on whatsapp or social media and more importantly updates from people you speak to in person and those you connect with online that is too overwhelming. This is an age of information overkill. There are breaking news/stories coming your way even when you seldom go looking and there are different versions of the stories based on where and how you look. In this tumultuous time, there is little one could do to ignore it all and stay sane. So, how can one stay afloat when the tides are high, the boat is rocking and storms are raging? Well, that’s something I’m figuring out too while I write (and you get to be part of this endeavor in parallel as you read).

Why Worry

From whatever little I’ve known memory is a fraudster. Future is an enticer and a worry-inducer, in equal parts. The present is your current companion, yet we all let it slip away easily. And what makes this equation complicated are flashes from the seen past and worries about the unseen future that eclipses the now. More importantly, the barrage of distractions in the present that screams from the rooftop that everything is on fire. However, there’s a remedy to stay anchored to the now. To be involved in what we do. To engage with what’s given to you wholeheartedly. Simply said, though it’s not that simple to say, it’s all about being mindful. While you’re at it, here’s a song from Dire Straits that just aligns with your current state of mind. Maybe, if you choose, drink the tea when you listen and follow or read the lyrics below. Sit back, plug in your earphones, close your eyes and lean in to listen.

Why Worry 
– written & composed by Mark Knopfler

Baby, I see this world has made you sad

Some people can be bad

The things they do, the things they say

But baby, I’ll wipe away those bitter tears

I’ll chase away those restless fears

And turn your blue skies into gray

Why worry

There should be laughter after pain

There should be sunshine after rain

These things have always been the same

So why worry now

Why worry now

Baby, when I get down I turn to you

And you make sense of what I do

And though it isn’t hard to say

But baby, just when this world seems mean and cold

Our love comes shining red and gold

And all the rest is by the way

Why worry

There should be laughter after pain

There should be sunshine after rain

These things have always been the same

So why worry now

Why worry now

As I listen to this song on loop, what’s truly comforting is — the song seems like it’s ending at 4:25 but that very next second it continues with the mellow riffs and rhythm. It’s as though Mark Knopfler* is giving you your space to sit back, listen and decide for yourself with the extended outro. Experience the calmness in the still as you revisit those lyrics in your head. More so, if you wish to see a different point of view, it’s like the cup of tea before you that’s singing to you as the vapor wafts over its placid surface. Asking you, ‘Why Worry’. Perhaps, when you listen to this song again from this angle the whole experience elevates.

“just when this world seems mean and cold

Our love comes shining red and gold

And all the rest is by the way.”

Especially, these abovementioned words, cue the flavours of tea. While the songwriter’s intent could have been hinting at love’s passion (red) and purity (gold), the same red and gold also refer to the strong and lighter blends of tea, accordingly. Maybe, I’m stretching this a bit too much. Or do you have another perspective to share? Feel free to add in the comments.

*In a 1989 interview with the BBC, Knopfler expressed mixed feelings about this section, calling it "a very pointless thing to me now, all that faffing around with pretty sounds" Courtesy: musicradar.com

Would it help?

Now, before I close, I wish to share this scene from Steven Spielberg’s Bridge of Spies. To set some context, this conversation is between Tom Hanks who plays a lawyer and Mark Rylance, who is an accused spy. While the latter has been convicted of spying and the former is fighting for his release, the lawyer notices in his brief encounters with his client that he is least worried. And these scenes capture the sentiment of the client quite poignantly.

Pause. Indulge, leisurely.

Drink Your Tea by Thich Nhat Hahn

Drink your tea slowly and reverently,
as if it is the axis
on which the world earth revolves
– slowly, evenly, without
rushing toward the future;
Live the actual moment.
Only this moment is life.

Bonus for reading till the end: Here’s a clip from my most favourite series “Modern Family” on how control is an illusion. What’s meant to happen will happen. What’s up to us is how to deal with this change. So, to worry is still a choice.

PS: Drink the tea. Skip the Kool aid.

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Read on for other Essays based on the same theme from my fellow members of the Bangalore Substack Writers Group:

40 mins and bird-by-bird by Amit, EarlyNotes

The small pleasures and blessings of life by Rakhi Kurup, Rakhi’s Substack

Some mornings I want to fix the world by Shruti Soumya, Same Here

It ends or It does not by Nidhi, General in her labyrinth

Water, water everywhere by Shwetha Harsha , ChutneyMIx

What’s keeping me afloat in this turbulent world? By Ritika Arora, Not a Straight Line

Gardens, Parks and Scrambled Thoughts by Ameya, Always Ameya

What’s keeping me afloat in a turbulent world? By Divya Sivaram, Beta Brain

A Black Tote Bag By Spandana, Spandana’s Substack

What keeps me afloat: A list, By Shruthi, Will you be my Friend?

#acnotes

Weekday afternoons during high school, a phase my mind wanders into during lazy afternoons. Nothing much happened, yet every moment seemed eventful. Little pleasures: a simple lunch, a single cot under the fan and a colour television with a remote, yet not more than 12 channels. And on that 21” colour television played some series that were so engaging and entertaining. Especially, The Wonder Years, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Small Wonder, to name a few. Amongst the three, what still stands out for me is The Wonder Years and its title track by Joe Crocker, which is a cover of The Beatles’ song – ‘With a Little Help from my friends’.

Whenever I listen to this song, my sentiments echo this line from Andy in the series finale episode of The Office:

“I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days
before you’ve actually left them.”

By now you must’ve already guessed the topic of this post. That’s right I will be covering (okay excuse the pun please), some songs that outdid the originals when covered by other artists. This is purely based on my preference, so if you beg to differ, you’re free to voice your opinion in the comments.

A Pandemic. A Playlist. A Favourite Pastime
(which was initially a chore).

I’m sure it wasn’t just me and many here would relate to this phase. I don’t wish to remind you of the dark times but only wish to share the silver lining of this time. Moreover, this is no attempt to mask that phase or spread any propaganda by stating whatever happened was for the best. It was a shitty time, but music amongst other things kept my boat afloat. In other words, this is more or less, being grateful for the blessings in disguise. Or, as Abba sang it – ‘Thank you for the music’.

At a time when all were supposed to stay locked up, some volunteered to crash and bang vessels to ward off the heebie-jeebies. A few, perhaps like you and me, chose to listen to music mostly, while doing the chores. For me, washing dishes was my most therapeutic pastime. My wife would get annoyed (or like my son says – innoyed) by the time I picked a playlist. This was in fact the time when I truly had the time to mindfully listen to songs, time, time and again. And when I chose to delve deeper, I discovered artists performing covers of some popular and some least known songs. This by itself became a playlist I would revisit to see how uniquely and differently one would interpret another’s work. Also, this was also a way to get introduced to new songs. All thanks to YouTube and its algorithm.

Why Covers?

So what makes one go and listen to covers of old songs? Why listen to the same-old, same-old, when there are so many artistes both old and new releasing singles and albums, round the clock? Before I get to the point of view of — us, the listeners, here’s why perhaps many artists do covers. While there are many reasons like paying homage, being inspired and to some extent imitation — there’s also this need for acceptance from the audience. Especially, the newbies who wish to engage and connect with the audience.

Imagine you’re at a pub or you’re listening to music based on reccos from Spotify or YouTube, there’s this time your mind goes numb to whatever new that you might chance upon. But then, there’s this sudden flip for a few seconds. You ears tend to lean in, your shoulders begin to move, your fingers drum on the table or your hand swings to mimic a few strum, and then your feet begins to tap ( can this be called muscle memory?). There’s something familiar, yet new that’s caught your attention. And the world around you comes to a screeching halt. You pause or you slow down from whatever you were doing and give in to what’s playing. You look towards the band if you’re at some place/venue or you gaze at the device you’re listening from to see who is playing. That, my friend, is their All-Access Pass to your mind space. In other words, it’s like visiting a newly opened cafe or restaurant that serves an unique menu/ cuisine, however they do have a few usuals that cater to those who don’t want to take risks.

My Tip for the Day (which nobody asked for):
Choose Chicken Fried Rice whenever you visit a new restaurant in India without reading any reviews or don’t trust the place. It’s one dish that seldom goes wrong. Or, if you’re a vegetarian, Dal Kichchdi or Sweet Corn Soup.

Why Listen to Covers?

Now back to the question - why we listen to covers? Well, in my case it’s mostly for familiarity once again, and it’s seeking comfort in the known. Something you have adored and gone back to repeatedly while growing up has been presented or repackaged in an interesting way. While this new version can either be good or bad, we will now stick to only the versions that are good and occasionally better than the original. Is that a disapproval I sense on your face? Personally, for me, I prefer Bob Dylan’s songs as covers. But again, that’s just me. And I won’t be mentioning any of his songs in this post. Perhaps, with all due respect to his song writing and his skill to pick the right words and weave them together, I will dedicate one separate post for him some other day.

An Ode. A Reinterpretation. A Teary Ending.

Some call it a cover, while I choose to call them reinterpretation. And I don’t recall where I heard or read this “Reinterpretation is evolution”. In other words, it repackages the same content to appeal to a different audience. And to elucidate this better, I wish to once again talk about a song I’ve already written about.

“Starry Starry Night” by Lianne La Havas is a cover of a classic – “Vincent” by Don McClean. While Don did tell the story of Van Gogh and his work, which is still celebrated – what Lianne did with this rendition was bring a lot of soul to the movie “Loving Vincent”. Lianne took the metaphorical baton from Don and ran that last mile in the movie. The melancholy one would feel at the end of the movie is perfectly complemented in this version as the end credits roll. For the tears that are summered at the corner of your eye — she helps in easing them down your face. To get the exact effect, may I please request you watch the movie and then the song.

Some Visual Relief

To further illustrate my case of listening to covers, may I present to you a few reinterpretations by Picasso (a bit pixelated, so kindly adjust).

The art you see (above) are recreations of a masterpiece (below) titled Las Meninas (The Ladies-in-waiting), which is a 1656 painting by Diego Velazquez. In fact, in 1957, Picasso went on a spree making several playful inscriptions and variations of this masterpiece. And the best part, both Picasso’s variations and the Original by Velazquez hang under the same roof just a few yards away from each other.

The Fear of Flying. A Love Note. And a Wish List.

During one such days in the pandemic, I bumped into “Pancakes for Dinner”. However, I’m thankful to the algorithms and social media for bringing me the cover performed by Malavika MS (singer/songwriter) first. There were days, this played on loop.

It’s a cover of the song from Lizzy McAlpine’s 2020 album titled “Give me a Minute”. What stood out the most for me in this cover was how it flowed so well from start to finish in one go. And while it remained true to the original, Malavika manages to bring in her own vocals as backing too, and adds more resonance to the yearning or desire expressed. Also, just a guitar for accompaniment complements the whole performance.

While you listen to this cover, do listen to the below shared version too, if you haven’t. It’s one of the few songs where an expression like “What the Hell?!” is placed like a sparkle on a tucked diamond in a coal mine. It just blinds you from seeing it as a mildly vulgar idiom, and look beyond to consider what she wishes to confess.

Two Distant Timelines. A Virtual Duet. One Wonderful World.

While the first thought that could come to your mind is Late Louis Armstrong’s version, this one has a timeless story to narrate. A bond that transcends the barriers of time, life and death.

Katie Melua was a relatively new talent in the year 2003, when her album “Call Off the Search” debuted in the UK and the song “The Closest Thing to Crazy” was a instant hit. More importantly, one of her biggest inspirations was Eva Cassidy. In fact, Katie had written a song about her called “Faraway Voice”. Sadly, they both never met. Eva had passed away in the year 1996 due to Melanoma. However, in 2007, a "virtual duet" was created by bringing together Katie Melua's vocals with a recording of Eva Cassidy's. Thus, proving the point “What a Wonderful World”.

Whenever you find the time, do check out other covers by Eva Cassidy. Most of them are live recordings. The one shared here, which is a cover of Sting’s classic, is my personal favourite, because this also doubled as a lullaby for my son during the pandemic. And till date, it’s at the top of the playlist, which we play to him at nights.

Soulful Covers vs. (AI Generated) Sloppy Covers

Before I end this post, let me tell you I might just come up with a sequel to this post since there are so many more reccos. That said, I wish to bring to your notice this abomination that’s happening in the name of making covers. I have been reading up and coming across this via many articles. However, this is something that happened quite recently and I got to know about it from the Instagram page of a rising talent and latest sensation in the Kannada film industry (South India) aka Sandalwood, Sumedh K. The recently released song titled “Tulasi” is a major hit and is trending on social media.

At the same time, you see other content creators using this to promote their page/channel or accounts, or whatever you may call it. What’s worse, is making a cover version with AI. Also, adding a disclaimer “This version is ai generated parody for entertainment purposes only. No disrespect to the original artists.”

Well, if this was done with the consent of the original creator then perhaps, it’s okay. Or, let’s say the creator is no more, and the artist is paying homage to the original creator by reinterpreting the work with consent from their estate or label, or if it’s available in public domain (which was in the case of Picasso and his reinterpretation of Vasquez’s work). More importantly, if the work is recreated with H.I. (Human Intelligence) and with the consent as mentioned earlier, then maybe it’s an exception. But, when you recreate or generate with the help of A.I., regardless of creating it by engineering the prompt or modifying the original, thus making it a derivative work, seems unethical and demeans the effort and creativity of the original artist. More so, I’m all for democratising the creation of music or any form of art, but what has happened lately in the name of content creation undermines the cornerstones of evolution viz., artistry and creativity. I will get back to this topic, maybe in a later post.

For further reading: AI Slop Is Flooding Streaming—and Musicians Are Fighting Back

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A Pop Hit Song. A Viral Metal Version. And a Phony Story.

Hope the previous segment didn’t digress too much or get too heavy. So, as some comic relief, here we circle back to my high school days. Well, actually this was during my early college days when there was this metal cover version of Britney Spear’s “Hit Me Baby One More Time” that went viral. Fact: This was way before even the term viral was coined I guess. Anyway, this was a time I was slowly getting acquainted to Rock, Heavy Metal and their variants — then one day a friend brings this Type O’ Negative’s (so-called) tribute to Britney on an MP3 CD. For a band with a reputation like that to do a cover like this was unheard of. However, it was freely available on Napster, BearShare and Limewire ( do look this up to find out what it was), and that was reason enough for it to go widely popular. Needless to say, I was amongst the many who fell for this prank until yesterday. Now, as I was doing my due diligence, while keying this, is when I got to know, it was a fake cover all along.

Unrequited Love. A Disappointment. And a Timeless Classic, Translated.

Well, this will be the last one for sure, until I return with a sequel. The first time I chanced upon this song was when my wife and I were watching the movie - Diana.
Perhaps, you could watch the below scene first and this features the original sung by Jacques Brel.

This song is featured at the most apt time and not really a spoiler here though, after sometime they mutually break up. And at that time, this song lingers with that heavy feeling one can’t really name. After many years, I came across this song once again, but this was while randomly browsing. This left a way bigger impact when Barbara Streisand narrated an anecdote and how a disappointment led her to come up with this cover. I won’t say much, perhaps it’s better to hear it from Barbara herself.

Bonus: Since we are on the topic of unrequited love already, I’m squeezing this last one here. It’s a cover of Tom Wait’s - Martha. While Tom Waits’ original is undeniably good, Lisa takes it several notches up with her voice that’s like skimming pebbles across a placid lake. Reach for your best earphone, if you may, and indulge. Truth be told, this applies to all the covers/reccos I’ve shared so far.

Share

<If you’ve come this far, thank you for your time and patience. I truly appreciate it.
And before I forget, is there a cover song you wish to recommend to my readers?
Feel free to suggest in the comments.>

Note: I don’t know if the the old playlist is still on the other OTT platform after I unsubscribed. Only a part of the collection shared here I’m putting together on Apple Music, presently, since not all these tracks are available there. Yet.
If you wish to have the link, please DM.

#acnotes

A slight digression from the main plot to share a striking parallel between the painting you see above and the story about this brief song I will be sharing with you in a moment. The Hireling Shepherd (1851) is a painting by the Pre-Raphaelite artist William Holman Hunt. It represents a shepherd neglecting his flock in favour of an attractive country girl to whom he shows a death's-head hawkmoth. The meaning of the image has been much debated (Source: Wikipedia). One of the interpretations of this painting is about how the shepherd has forgotten or has ignored what he ought to do and is besotted by the charm of the girl he’s trying to woo. As you read on, you may find a similarity with the protagonist we are about to meet. And the rest, I will leave it at your discretion to decipher.

Now, pretend you didn’t read what you just read and let’s begin with a blank slate.

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||A traveler, a stormy dark night, a railway station at some distant land, a stranger on a bench wrapped up in a blanket and a train that’s behind schedule. Could the sum of all these elements lead to a story? Well, with Mani Ratnam and AR Rahman it certainly does. And when it’s through the eyes of Santosh Sivan, the experience gets even more immersive. Now imagine you’re there, on the left- a traveler with an Id card dangling from his neck and lugging some baggage walks onto a platform. A few feet away, a stranger bundled in a blanket is seated on a bench. The traveler mistakes the stranger for a man, asks him for a match to light his cigarette. And then a gust of wind enters the scene to reveal, it’s a girl. There’s a brief exchange of glances and words. Truth be told, it’s the male protagonist who does most of the chatter while the female protagonist first seldom responds and then smiles, follows it up with a request – “A hot cup of tea”. A request or a distraction to get rid of him. No spoiler here, the very next scene reveals that by the time he returns, she has boarded the train. And he sees her leave as it rains. He let’s out a loud call “Oy!”. She quickly looks back. Their eyes meet, but the train parts them, as though it was delayed on purpose to do just this. He mumbles to himself “This is perhaps world’s shortest love story.”||

For some visual relief, you could watch either of the versions depending on the time available to you:

Hindi

or Tamil

In a time and age, where the viewer has been given the option of skipping the intro, here the introduction itself is a short film. And then what follows is its sequel. Rather, a musical sequel. The consequences of this brief encounter and how the male protagonist passes through 7 shades of love (attraction, infatuation, love, reverence, worship, obsession and death). Enough has been said about this already and its songs on the album. If you’re not too familiar, do look it up. This post is mostly about the first scene and a tiny song that repeatedly plays in the background whenever both the protagonists meet unexpectedly. In the original album, it’s titled as Main theme. Sharing both the Hindi and the Tamil versions below.

Hindi:

Tamil:

The two lines that play on loop are from a poem by the late Allama Iqbal:

“Sitaaron se aage jahaan aur bhi hai”

Beyond the stars, there are many more worlds/universes.

“Abhi ishq ke imtihaan aur bhi hain”

And in love there are more tests/trials of love".

Also, another rendition of the poem as a ghazal. Clearly, rendered in a truly contrasting style.

Trivia: The first line of this poem was quoted in a conversation between the Late Indian-born Astronaut Kalpana Chawla and Former PM of India - I.K. Gujral.

While there’s more to this ghazal/ poem, only the first two verses/lines were picked. And the same was also translated to Tamil. Perhaps, this is to prepare the audience for what’s to come. And one truly needs to read between the lines to understand where the story is heading.

Furthermore, there’s one line that came at the top of my mind when I watched Dil se… once again, few weeks back. And it’s a line from 500 Days of Summer.

“This is a story of boy meets girl. But you should know up front, this is not a love story.”

To close, here’s a Rumi’s poem* (I don’t subscribe to this translation though, go to the end to find out) that could allude to what was shared before.

Translated from Persian by Coleman Barks and John Moyne, from The Essential Rumi, published by HarperCollins. Copyright © 1995 by Coleman Barks.

For those who have already watched the movie, you might already know both the lead characters are led by two separate identities and ideologies. While one is trying their best to drag the other onto their side, it’s a pursuit of futility. And love in this story especially is a mere façade to show the true state of the nation. Now to connect the two lines to the story, the song throws in cues about how theirs is a love that could have survived in parallel universes, except for this one. Also, there will be many tests in this pursuit for love. That said, the end of the movie is left for the audience to decide - did both the protagonists win their tests in their own way or was it a game that ended as zero-sum?

*Rumi’s Poem – The Erasure of Islam from the Poetry of Rumi

#acnotes

This flash essay is part of a collaborative, constrained-writing challenge undertaken by some members of the Bangalore Substack Writers Group. This month, we used the prompt, ‘MUSIC’. At the bottom of this snippet, you’ll find links to other essays by fellow writers.

I recently saw time come to a stand still when I had to get some photocopies done and there was a power cut in that street I was wandering. I was walking down a partly busy suburb marketplace near the bank in search of a stationery store. From a distance I could spot, a board hanging, around the bend which read ‘XEROX’. On the way, I saw a welding shop with its shutter half down. Next to it was the flour mill with a lady sitting outside basking in the morning sun, cleaning wheat through a sieve. Then adjacent to it was the electricals store with dust laden gadgets like old mixers, table fans, a flatscreen tv laid facedown along with a toolkit on the table. This was between the stationery shop I had to visit and the flour mill I just passed. Something made me stop for a few more seconds. The store owner sat there staring at the road ahead. The empty stare where the eyes point ahead but the vision peers into a memory somewhere within. The outlet was barely lit up except for a shaft of light piercing through a tiny opening in the asbestos sheet above. Motes of dust moved up and down a light beam escalator. I walked past but his eyes didn’t blink. He peered through me and into nothingness. In the background, an old Kannada song crooned from a palm sized speaker. Perhaps, the songs were pre-loaded on a SD card and that’s what played. A popular classic followed by another. That’s when it hit me, it was a playlist or collection of songs from the late 1970s/80s. That instant, I was transported back to #24, Old Mission Compound — my grandmother’s place where these songs would play on the radio in the mornings through a National stereo tape recorder with built in radio aka Two-in-one.

There’s this one scene/song sequence in the movie Begin Again (2013), where Dan (Mark Ruffalo) spots Greta (Keira Knightley) at a bar as she performs a song. While the song begins with just her vocals and a guitar, Dan who plays the role of a producer, envisions how the song could be embellished with more instruments and better arrangement. I would do the scene injustice if I were to explain it all, I request you view it here.

Likewise, I was there, waiting between the electrical shop and a stationery store amid a power cut. And as the songs played, I had traveled back in time. In an instant, I was under the madras roof, reclined on a foldable sofa, with feet rested on a cool red oxide floor. Twin doors beside facing the portico partly open. I could almost see a moringa tree sparsely spreading over the kanakambara flowers (Firecracker flower or Crossandra) shrub at its feet. A 1970s Vespa in pale yellow tint, parked on its center stand inside the living room near the wall. An old square Seiko wall clock with a sakura design on its face — the second hand moved clockwise without making any ticking noise. Then as the song faded, the sound of a photocopier kicked in from somewhere behind startling me for a split-second, just before the prelude to the next song began. Simultaneously, the electrician snapped back as the tube light in the shop flickered on. And We both had travelled back from ‘then’ to ‘now’.
______________________________________________________________________

As promised, here’s one way to build a time machine*.
*Spoiler alert: This is devised to only take you back in time, briefly.

1. Pick a streaming / music platform.
(if this was a decade or two ago, I would have suggested a mix tape or CD)

2. Name that playlist after the place or season or phase of your lifetime
you wish to travel back to.

3. Add the songs from that time one after another (chronology doesn’t matter.)

4. Find a place where you won’t be interrupted.
Setting your phone on airplane mode is optional.

5. Get a good pair of earphones or headphones.

6. Fasten your imaginary seatbelts.

7. Close your eyes (if you may).

Godspeed! Have a safe journey.

Read on for other Essays based on the same theme from my fellow members of the Bangalore Substack Writers Group:

DhvaniTaranga by Shwetha Harsha , Chutneymix

Music for Mental Health by Shruti Soumya, Same Here

The Singing Neighbour by Rakhi Kurup, Rakhi’s Substack

#18: On Music by Siddhesh Raut, Shana, Ded Shana

Growing Up a Metalhead in Small-Town India by Rajat Gururaj, I came, I saw, I floundered

Morning Raaga by Nidhishree Venugopal General in Her Labyrinth

#acnotes

This flash essay is part of a collaborative, constrained-writing challenge undertaken by some members of the Bangalore Substack Writers Group. This month, we used the prompt, ‘A Window Into…’. At the bottom of this snippet, you’ll find links to other essays by fellow writers.

There is this common passage in the apartment complex I live in, where I go for walks. On one side of the passage is a compound wall that’s almost 10 ft. tall adorned with barbed wire, end-to-end. Adjacently, there’s a row of windows that’s slightly elevated from my eye level. So, mostly all I get to experience is the smell and sounds. Depending on the time of the day, the experience changes. In the mornings — alarms blare from a few windows at 5 to 15-minute intervals. Surprisingly, two have the same tone. This is followed by spinning of a washing machine and scent of the flowery fabric conditioner, every other day. Then there’s the hissing of pressure cooker. Simmering sounds of mustard seeds accompanied by the crackle of curry leaves. The aroma is a bonus. This, at times, a little before 8 am or occasionally around 12 pm. But relatively, afternoons are as silent as the good old banks at lunch break.

Evenings are when you notice how these openings change in character from one moment to another. There’s a little chatter of parents and a lot of cacophony of kids, so the windows keep them where they belong, the common passage. Half past seven, from one window you can hear the shruti box’s drone and two voices practicing in unison. Unlike the houses in the past, which would hint about the people or the heads of that family living in it — these days, where we are restricted to pigeon holes — windows offer a glimpse about the people in them.

While what you read earlier is the view of the windows from outside in, there’s another face to this coin. The view from the inside out. What are the people from the inside looking at? Where is their gaze focused on? Would they even look out or within? Furthermore, what does it mean to be where they are right now? And this is where we segue into the song of this post.

A true classic and one video that is a touch point to trigger 90’s nostalgia of early MTV days in India. A song that would play almost every morning, while I would leave to school and even on a Saturday morning when I was at my grandma’s house. And, while the lyrics by itself is a easy to hum along and to an extent decipherable, for someone who grew up watching regional National award winning movies on Sunday afternoons with subtitles, this video was an exception. While the song begins with the lyrics as subtitles, at one point, at the below shared frame it changes. And it makes one wonder why doesn’t it sync with the song.

It was after repeated watches and many years, it hit me - it’s their mental chatter. And when you know have this realization and watch the video again, the whole story/stories play differently. It’s almost like you have a full view of each house with the curtains bared. You gape in to see the tension between the fixity facade and the flux mental state as the camera pans from the windows of one car to another.

A common thread — every other person is hurt in someway or another. More importantly, no spoiler here, they’re all stuck. However, it’s the next frame that elevates the whole story to a different plane.

A silhouette of a person looking down. As the car approaches, the character is revealed and is seen tearing pages from a book and letting it afloat.

A stark reminder that, there are times when even some signs from above or words from the scriptures may not reach you or speak to you.

Then there’s this part where the subtitles echo the sentiments of the voiceless.

Especially, this above frame that shows a bunch of flowers placed on an empty seat poignantly capturing the absence of someone. Watch the video leisurely, mindfully — gaze into the windows one after another and read between the lines, rather look behind the panes. There’s way more than what meets the eye in these windows. Especially, that last aerial shot that hints at a scene of rapture.

People have been previously referred to as houses or more aptly little boxes as Pete Seeger sang. However, I believe in addition to that we are akin to this mythical character Cyclops, if you wish to imagine more visually. A house with just one window open. Few get a fleeting glance, while fewer get to gaze into it. And maybe, just one or two get welcomed in with the door wide open. However, for most part of one’s life they remain as a house with only a window in view. Some get to know the fixity and a few get acquainted with the flux, but not many get to see both.

____________________________________________________________________________

Read on for other Essays based on the same theme from my fellow members of the Bangalore Substack Writers Group:

The window that looks back, by Vaibhav Gupta, Thorough and Unkempt

A window into the vegetable market by Rakhi Kurup , Rakhi’s Substack

A window into permission for freedom: The FIRE Number by Shruti Soumya, Same Here

A window into a person who shivers on stage by Mihir Chate, Mihir’s Substack

A window into a life on a sabbatical by Ritika Arora, Ritika Arora – Medium

A window into bendy morals by Amit Kumar, EarlyNotes

A window into Kalimpong by Karthik Ballu, Reading This World by Karthik

A window into what makes a great Quiz Question
by Rajat Gururaj, I came, I saw, I floundered

Still Looking By Spandana, Spandana’s Substack

Three Windows in a Week By Nidhi, General In Her Labyrinth

A window into a screen-less day by Saniya Zehra Saniya’s Substack

_________________________________________________________________________

If you’ve come this far, you deserve a bonus - here’s a cover version by the Corrs, played for MTV Unplugged.

#acnotes

Back to Cecilia — so after a few listens I could gather it seemed more like a song about a capricious woman and how she is the source for both angst and euphoria to this lover who is singing to her. This was sometime around 1996, the initial days of MTV in India and this video would play often.

That said, it was much later I got to know it was a song by Simon and Garfunkel from the 1970’s album – The Bridge over Troubled Waters. Thanks to Wikipedia and ClassicFM, I got to know the true inspiration behind this song. For those of you who already know you’re free to skip the next paragraph. However, do give the song a/another listen.

Contrary to popular belief, Cecelia is not just any girl, but St. Cecilia. St. Cecilia (flourished 3rd century, Rome [Italy]; feast day November 22) was one of the most famous virgin martyrs of the early Christian church and historically one of the most discussed. She is a patron saint of music and of musicians. According to a late 5th-century legend, Cecilia was a noble Roman who, as a child, had vowed her virginity to God. When she was married against her will to the future saint Valerian, then a pagan, she told him that an angel of God wished her to remain a virgin. He promised to respect this wish if he were allowed to see the angel. She replied that he would if he were baptized. On his return from baptism, he found Cecilia talking to the angel. She then converted his brother Tiburtius, who also saw the angel. Both men were martyred before she was. She distributed her possessions to the poor, which enraged the prefect: Almachius, who ordered her to be burned. When the flames did not harm her, she was beheaded. Source: Britannica

While this seems like a regular post on #acnotes, this time I choose ponder a bit further on the Writer’s Block and lets just say I took the scenic approach to this post while starting it with a song. Unlike the usual, I don’t wish to share a definition of Writer’s Block and insult your intelligence. Hence, I’ll directly get to a few approaches I’ve read about and practice to overcome Writer’s Block. I’ll cover a few approaches in this part. And based on your response, I will return with a few more. Also, these are tried and tested by me and it has worked so far.

1. When you can’t seem to love the act of writing, try writing about something you love: Whoa! That is leaving the brief too vague and broad, so I’ll narrow it down to my own experience. The reason behind this Substack page - #acnotes is writer’s block. It was some time in early in 2024 when I figured I could not write poems anymore, I started writing about the songs I love. While this is also my effort to pass down my likes with regard to music to my son, who might read it someday, this was also an attempt to make listening to music, mindfully. Hence, I started writing about music - the songs and albums I love most, the reason and in addition I wrote about the way they made me feel. So, this could be one approach to get over your writer’s block. Find something you love and write about it.
   PS: Choose a vocation and preferably not a vice ;)

2. Early Morn, Brain Dump: In other words, Morning Pages. This was a practice I picked up during the pandemic after I attended Akimbo’s The Creatives Workshop. I was quite regular at it and then I lost the streak. Hopefully, I will get back to it in 2026. In a nutshell, Morning Pages is a daily writing practice or also known as stream of consciousness writing that was made popular by Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way. So, this is something you do first thing in the morning, when you fill 3 full pages in longhand with words that crop up in your head first thing after you wake up. You don’t have to be coherent, grammatically correct, typos are allowed and you’re not restricted to any topic. It’s one way to clear your head before you begin the day. What sweating out to a workout is — is what Morning Pages is to writing. You will find a lot of videos and articles about this on the net. However, I hope what I shared earlier should give you an idea on what to do. Simple tip: If you’re wondering what to write first thing in the morning, write about the experience of writing first thing in the morning. Need inspiration? Scroll back up and listen to what Paul Simon wrote and sang with Art Garfunkel. If that isn’t writing about writer’s block, then what is?

3. 25 Minutes: During the pandemic I came across this Illustrator on Instagram (will update and give due credit whenever I recall her name and account). She used to post one Illustration a day and each illustration was made in a span of 25 minutes. Nothing more, nothing less. So, that’s when I got to know about the Pomodoro Technique. And that’s how I came up with my Pomodoro Poetry Project. Based on a prompt, I would start and finish a poem in 25-minutes straight. I managed to do this for 2 years and the third year is when I hit a block, and that’s when I started this page on Substack.

   

   Are there any other practices you follow when you hit the block, feel free to share in the comments. I will try to include them with my other approaches in my subsequent post with due credit.

   Thanks for reading ac notes! This post is public so feel free to share it.

   Share

   
   **Now, as promised earlier, here’s the story.

This was in high school and it was the summer vacations when a friend was attending Vacation Bible School at the Church. A good friend back then, but now we’ve lost touch. And as most high school memories of summer go, he had a crush on a girl. She was in the same class and there was some tension in between. However, he wanted to confirm if they shared the same sentiment. So, as the practice goes in the late 90s, what better way to express one’s love than through a mix tape. Now, this is where I enter. The only one in our friends circle with a double deck tape recorder. A list was made. Cassettes and CDs were sourced from wherever we had access to. Needless to say, while English music was to an extent listened to in our circles, we weren’t always cognizant to the lyrics nor what it meant. That said, we could decipher a few words and made up our own version/story about the songs in case there was no cassette inlay or CD lyrics booklet. In those days, MLTR were quite popular and so were other boy bands. Then there was this one particular song which seemed like it was tailored for my friend and to convey his message across to his crush. The lyrics from whatever we could recall we assumed it was a proposal song. It mentioned (quoting from memory) something about how the protagonist made up his mind to express his love and make her his. He’s been searching for her and he finds her standing outside the Church. We quickly reached for the cassette, played the first few lines to confirm and that was it. This song would open the playlist. One after the other the songs were quickly recorded and the next Sunday he managed to gift her the cassette. Three weeks go by and she’s nowhere to be seen. We assume, maybe, since the school reopened she got busy with her studies. And after almost a month we see her at a distance. He walks up to her to talk but she sees through him and walks away. Perhaps, this was when we got to know what ghosted meant way before that word was even invented. Fast forward to 5+ years when we are both listening to ‘The Best of MLTR’ on a CD at his place. This song slowly fades in. We are now in college and our comprehension is far better than what it was. We stare at each other as the song plays. Both look at each other as though the truth dawned upon us on what exactly happened back then. And the reason behind why she behaved the way she did. We play the song once again and open the lyrics booklet in the CD case. Line after line after the first verse — and the realization .hits us like haystacks, a tractor and a cow from a swirling tornado. Perhaps, you’ll be able to understand that better when you listen to this song.

4. Frame a Story around an Anecdote: For those of you still reading, here’s the Bonus Tip - case in point. What’s a better source than your own life?! Mine deeper down the timeline. Find anecdotes, instances, moments or whatever you may call it. Frame a story around it. And write about it. No AI can compete with you here.
   

   Here’s a quick step-by-step to make a story out of an anecdote.
   a) Beginning - the set up - Context / Background setting

   b) Middle - the incident or event - What happened, when, where and if there was a Why add that as well.

   c) End - Contrary to the usual approach, I usually prefer to add a dash of sensory elements. Make them feel what you felt. Moral / Lesson, let the reader figure that out. To each their own.

   If not for the abovementioned approach turning into your most compellingly read autobiography, it would at least help you flex your writing muscles. Repackage this anecdote for some other story if you may. Nobody cares.

#acnotes

“If you're making an album, you're also going to deliver it to the public. And once you do that, it's theirs. It's the soundtrack to their memories. Their lives is what they hear, whether it's at their weddings or when it's a tragedy in their life. And they go to your music for solace, or they go to your music to have a catharsis or some sort of connection to feel like they're not alone. There's all these ways that people write to me and connect with me talking about ways they've danced to my music or song alone. Or, saw me at a concert and a song connects to their life in a way that I could never fully understand, but I deeply appreciate that — is what's in the future for an album. That's what the future of it is. It's a communal experience that people continue to add on to, and it really grows without any of your consent. You made it, it's gone. It's for the people.”

- Jon Batiste

Do you have an Artist in mind, whose work you previously adored previously but you detest them as a person now? A painter/author/musician whose work marks or is associated with a key moment of your life, yet you disassociate that person after some news you heard or read about them? Perhaps, the argument of separating the art from its artist or the creation from its creator, is never ending. I have been mulling over it for many years. Discussed with friends, colleagues and acquaintances on how they manage to handle this relationship. And this is just a summation of what I could capture. It is my personal take and I’m open to discussion. Truth be told, this is just skimming the surface and more like a conversation starter. Intentionally, I don’t wish to drop names because I’m sure you’re cleaver enough to know who I’m talking about. If not, well, one day you’ll surely know.

Art above Artist? or, Art vs. Artist?

As mentioned earlier, this is an ongoing debate in my head ever since I learnt about one major pop artist who had left an indelible mark in my childhood and adolescence. However, when the skeletons from the closet started to roll out I did cancel that artist. Well, this was way before ‘cancel culture’ was a fad. Almost 15 years back, I completely stopped listening to their music. And completely shut those memories associated with that artist down. Believe it or not, the first ever album I purchased as a kid with my own savings was the cassette of this artist.

Then a few years later a similar instance happened with a filmmaker. A director, writer and actor who I looked up to, fell from grace. A similar cycle repeated. Then eventually #metoo happened. This was a time when stars rained from the skies and got flushed right into the storm water drains and to the ocean of no-redemption.

Now, quite recently it was an author of both adult and children’s books, who got exposed by one of his victims. Well, I relate to this and I’m sure for you too it is quite a puzzling phase. Imagine, most of the moments you treasured, the memories that doubled as milestones and people you felt were an integral part of your life all seemed to drift into a dark space you don't wish to revisit. So, at times, you feel you are losing out on your own identity. At least, the parts you only tend to identify because of what impact they've made. For instance, another children’s author who has a major fan following both amongst children and young adults and adults who grew up reading their books and the movies that were adapted to screen got to know this person had some polarizing opinions. That said, this is the time I felt there needs to be some decision made, a line drawn and navigate out of such doldrums. That's the time I did a bit of reading up, some discussions (both personal and virtual), this included speaking to the Author of the book Monsters - Claire Dederer (via Instagram) some time back. This was much before the book was launched. It was around the time her article titled What Do We Do with the Art of Monstrous Men? had just been published. I'm yet to finish the book, since it's quite triggering (#triggeralert). However, I've read and covered those parts in this post that address my concerns. That said, what I'm about to share is purely my views. More importantly, what I share below aren't my conclusions, but learnings from it. And it will evolve over time. Perhaps, I'll add a sequel to this post when I have something more to add. This is an on-going thread on how to separate the art from its artist. How we tend to approach art before and after we know about the person? How do we stand in support or show solidarity towards the victims who have endured the ordeal? How not to mock or overlook the pain you or I haven’t endured? Needless to mention, there will be a few thoughts I will revisit over the course of time.

1. Holier than thou attitude. Holier than whom?: This is our stance when we see our idols fall. So better thing to do is treat them as humans. Everyone is fallible. No exceptions. Respect them for their talent, but don't get carried away by it. In other words, they’re referred to as Idols for whatever they’ve accomplished in their respective fields. Maybe, it’s time we stop worship and see their worth for their work. Beyond that, it’s purely at your discretion.

2. It's personal, but is it permissible?: Of course it's their personal life, but who takes a call on if it's allowed or not allowed. They have their individual pasts and maybe that could be the reason why they behaved how they behaved. For instance, they themselves could have been victims of abuse and trauma. And like they say, mostly the abused becomes an abuser down the line. But does that justify their act? Well, there's law and order and higher authorities to decide that. However, we could still do our part in standing up or showing our objection by not being enablers. Don't promote the artist, if they're still alive. If the artist is dead, there’s no point in brewing over that. However, caution the ones who admire their art. Spread the word with those who aren't aware. But don't diss or judge the fans because of their idols. If they’re doing it regardless of knowing the truth, then maybe you could look at distancing yourself from them. That’s still a choice you make.

3. What's yours is yours: Once an artist puts their work out there it is no longer theirs. The memories you had with those songs/ music/ movies belong to you. The artist is tainted, however it should not taint your personal moments. Learn to separate. Let’s accept the fact that this so-called artist didn’t benevolently handover their art to you for free. They had a contractual obligation and a commercial intent. So, if anything, in an utopian world they could be paying for the real-estate they’ve occupied in your mind/memories. So, go ahead and try to keep whatever is yours as yours. I know it’s not easy, but it’s one way of looking at it. That’s the reason I started this post with the quote from Jon Batiste.

Pardon me if anything I said was crossing the line. This is mostly a note to self and to some near ones who have been conflicted on what to do with the monsters who they assumed were masters. I’m open to discussion and you may DM if you don’t wish to discuss it openly. This, like I mentioned previously, is a conversation starter. Nothing I’ve mentioned here is conclusive. I’m still working on it and refining a few thoughts which I may present a bit later.

It’s about people’s ability to associate the art with the artist. We’re not clones. We’re supposed to disagree. That’s what a pluralistic society does. But what we’re not supposed to do is dispose of each other because we disagree.

Erin Moriarty

Share your thoughts in the comments, at leisure.

Share

#acnotes

Image Credits: Shwetha Harsha, ChutneyMix

Two-years and this song still echoes. It’s as fresh and as resonant as a gurgling river flowing beside a cottage, if you ever had a chance to live in one on the riverside. While listening to this song, I’m reminded of one of Kahlil Gibran’s poems - The River Cannot Go Back. While there’s still a debate going on if the poem is the original work of Gibran or Osho, that’s a topic for another post. However, this poem shares the apprehension of the river to merge with the ocean.

“It is said that before entering the sea
a river trembles with fear.
She looks back at the path she has traveled,
from the peaks of the mountains,
the long winding road crossing forests and villages.
And in front of her,
she sees an ocean so vast,
that to enter
there seems nothing more than to disappear forever.
But there is no other way.
The river can not go back.
Nobody can go back.
To go back is impossible in existence.
The river needs to take the risk
of entering the ocean
because only then will fear disappear,
because that’s where the river will know
it’s not about disappearing into the ocean,
but of becoming the ocean.”

While the above poem is in the perspective of the river, the song aforementioned is from the ocean’s point of view. It’s how the ocean beckons, lying in wait across the seven seas to meet the river. And the music director - Charan Raj chooses the synth-rock genre to convey this sense of flowing of the river in its quest to feel belonged by the ocean. With your eyes closed you could visualize the birth place of the river as the bare vocals of Kapil Kapilan with minimal background music at the start of the song, A narrow mouth from which the water body springs forth and trickles. And at the 30-second mark is when you hear the synths cueing the cascading of the narrow stream to a wider river. Gently it flows down. The fluidity of the lyrics from Dhananjay Rajan complements the whole essence of the song.

At 1:55 you hear the Veena lead, a hint at how the river has tumbled over the highest mountain and gushes forth towards the seas. Thereon, it has gained momentum all the way. There is no stopping. It cuts across rocks and boulders, flows over dams, seeps beneath gilded trees at the golden hour planted on the banks. And races towards the ocean waiting with its arms wide open. As it waits with bated breath. Waits with waves crashing and currents circling. Hoping one day, it would embrace the river to feel belonged. One day, the river and the ocean would become one. Until then, the song ushered by the wind, goes to beckon the river and guide its trail.

#acnotes

KIND ATTENTION: As mentioned at the start of this post, this flash essay is part of this month’s collab with Bangalore Substackers Collective. Read the other posts shared below for the same theme: Belonging.

• Happiness & a sense of belonging by Aarti Krishnakumar, Aarti’s Substack

• Virtual Embrace by Shwetha Harsha, ChutneyMix

• Belonging Is A Many Shaped Word by Priyanka Sacheti, A Home For Homeless Thoughts

• I belong by Spandana, Spandana’s Substack

• We are all mad here by Gowri N Kishore | About Murder, She Wrote.

• Food and Belonging by Rakhi Anil

• Ambiguity of Belonging by Mihir Chate, Mihir’s Substack

• The Complexity of Belonging by Avinash Shenoy, Off the walls

• #14: On Belonging, by Siddhesh Raut, Shana, Ded Shana

• Where am I? By Abhiram R, Abhiram’s Newsletter

• The Canteen, By Shruthi, Will you be my Friend?

• Somewhere I Belong, By Meghana Ramachandra, One True Sentence

• Unknown Citizen by Nidhishree Venugopal, The General in her Labyrinth

“What should young people do with their lives today? Many things, obviously. But the most daring thing is to create stable communities in which the terrible disease of loneliness can be cured.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, Palm Sunday: An Autobiographical Collage

We, the bent-neck generation, ought to look up and around at times. We need to see who is around and try to connect if you really intend to. Smiling at a stranger, spreading cheer, being that sunbeam in a gloomy place may seem too cinematic and more apt for a piece of fiction, however here’s an approach we could embrace to engage with the world around without seemingly coming across as too awkward or nosy. Here’s Kurt Vonnegut again to suggest how to go about. This is a letter he wrote to the Students of Xavier High School. Read it leisurely and I will share my take after this letter. If you wish to listen to the same in the legendary voice of the Late James Earl Jones, kindly wait till the end of the post.

From the above-mentioned letter, let’s just take this part:

“. . . Practice any art, music, singing, dancing, acting, drawing, painting, sculpting, poetry, fiction, essays, reportage, no matter how well or badly, not to get money and fame, but to experience becoming, to find out what’s inside you, to make your soul grow.

Contrary to what Kurt suggests in his letter, you still have a choice. Perhaps, practice and share that art with an audience, instead of “tearing it up into teeny weeny pieces”. That’s one way of finding your community, your tribe, to drift your island closer to others to be part of a continent. Need I mention, this post is also my effort to feel belonged among the Bangalore Substackers Collective (however, I couldn’t stick to the word limit). Without digressing too much and sticking to what I believe I do best, I’ll share my two cents on writing. For those who might ask: do you have the authority/permission? Or, maybe their mind voice questions, if I’m qualified to do this? Well, I think I do. And this is where I stop seeking permission.

How to Write

To write, you do not need to come to the realization that if writing is your true calling. You don’t have to ponder, if this is what and why you were put on this planet to do. To be honest, writing needs to be one of the skills akin to reading, regardless of what your age is. And it’s never too late. Reach for a pen/pencil, paper and your brain or heart (or both), and start writing. If you’re the type type, then reach for your laptop or notes app on your smartphone. The way you learn to walk, run, swim or cycle, writing can become a skill that’s part of you, this too could become one. It’s unfortunate that the prominence for reading supersedes that of writing. If you ask me, if you’re a voracious reader, you should be able to write. If you’re not, you still can manage to write, however reading helps finding better words to make your writing read well. Like they say, to write well one needs to read a lot. To read is a good-to-have habit. It’s like how breath control is important for singing, swimming or running?! Well, that more or less how reading aids writing. That said, it’s a topic for another day.

Now let’s get back to writing. We are on a quest to find our tribe. So, without getting distracted, what’s next?

The Right Place, The Right Time - May or may not exist

From one of those writers who inspire me and help me to keep going - Austin Kleon, here comes a blog he wrote in 2016, about The Bliss Station. Read this at leisure. In the same blog, he quotes, Joseph Campbell:

You must have a room, or a certain hour or so a day, where you don’t know what was in the newspapers that morning, you don’t know who your friends are, you don’t know what you owe anybody, you don’t know what anybody owes to you. This is a place where you can simply experience and bring forth what you are and what you might be. This is the place of creative incubation. At first you may find that nothing happens there. But if you have a sacred place and use it, something eventually will happen.

Now that’s one school of thought that helps to start writing. It helps to know there’s you’re devoid of any connection to begin with. That, and a comfortable place you could go back to time, time and again, to pour your heart out. For those who already know about, Morning Pages, that’s a good place to start too. For those who don’t, may I suggest you look up Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way.

Why don’t we write (or why don’t we write more often)

Let me tell you, there’s more than just one point of friction when it comes to writing, as opposed to reading or even doom scrolling. More than effort, writing requires inspiration, focus, time, choicest stationery and some stationary space as well — be it for sitting down or standing to converge your thoughts. All of the aforementioned is part of the whole process. That said, as you go, you would realize some times, there could be one thing that’s missing from the sequence, which in my case, is inspiration.

What to do when there is no Inspiration?

I am reminded of a headline a cousin and his friend came up for a college project -a mock condom ad: “When temptation strikes, a condom would be nice”. I hope it’s okay to lighten up this post a bit instead of a super serious discourse. Now, with all due credit to those two, let’s take some inspiration from that to present my theory: “When inspiration doesn’t strike, just showing up would be nice”. Show up, be present, sit down, take a deep breath and write. Don’t worry what will conjure. Keep at it. Hone your craft on the go. If possible, show up at the same time, every day/every other day and write. Or, write whenever you may, but try to bring back that same focus and attitude while you are at it. Or, take brief pockets of time to do. How? Read on.

The Pomodoro Technique
This is just one of the approaches, feel free to explore and choose what works for you. During the pandemic, I came across an Illustrator on Instagram who would illustrate or sketch daily for 25 minutes and post it on the gram. That nudged me towards my poetry project (which I will be soon publishing as a Ebook and sharing, message or comment if you wish to get one copy). I called it the Pomodoro Poetry Project. Every single day for 25 days straight, in a month, I wrote a poem. Each poem was based on a prompt from The Alipore Post Poetry Month or my own prompts. 25 minutes. Nothing more, nothing less. And I would post it as is some times. At times, I would write in 25 minute slots. While most poems were completed in 25 minutes, some took two slots or three slots of 25 minutes each. This included a bit of editing, image search from unsplash and then posting. Well, I hear you. So, if you’re not into poetry, write some prose for the same time. Write in short bursts. Or, write it part by part and see if there’s a common thread to weave them altogether. If neither works, leave it be, as it is. Needless to say, there were times, I hit a block. This happened quite recently in April 2024. So, what to do when you stumble over the writer’s block.

The Writer’s Block

There is a school of thought that there is no such thing as a Writer’s Block. I first came across this while attending The Creative’s Workshop at Akimbo. The below shared video is an excerpt from that session I attended where he shared the same concept or approach, not exactly in the same words, but it was equally impactful.

I’m guessing you’ve watched the video, if yes, here are the key takeaways which you need to keep in mind:

• Writer’s block hits you when you have the fear of bad writing

• The only way out is though it - do the bad writing
  (however, you don’t have to ship it)

• Eventually, good writing will slip through

• Merely do the work without the (-ve) narrative and drama

• Muse or talent doesn’t really matter

• Choose to find your smallest viable audience (the audience of 1*)

• Understand your genre

• Explore to make magic in the small so you can do it again

Finding your Smallest Viable Audience - The Audience of 1*

At The Creative’s Workshop, one of the most important lessons I learnt which I would never forget is finding your smallest viable audience. In other words, write for the smallest audience who might be interested in reading what you have to write. That could even be for the the audience of 1. To give an example, I came across this core idea, from one of the greatest music composers of this time and age - Hans Zimmer:

So, who are you writing for? Without any exaggeration, I write for myself first. I am the first reader for my work. Of course, at times, that stops me from writing too, since I become my biggest critic, however I’m learning to overlook that at times. If that’s something you relate to, don’t be deterred, with practice, we can still over come it. Now let’s assume we have a picture in mind to whom you write, maybe now, we could start writing to find our tribe.

There’s an old proverb that says you can’t choose your family. You take what the fates hand you. And like them or not, love them or not, understand them or not, you cope. Then there’s the school of thought that says the family you’re born into is simply a starting point. They feed you, and clothe you, and take care of you until you’re ready to go out into the world and find your tribe.

- Written by: Krista Vernoff for Grey’s Anatomy (S 2 : E 12)
Meredith’s Narration in the Episode of Grandma got run over by a reindeer

Oh! And just when you thought, it’s the end of the post, let me tell you about two more things, before I wind up: The Fallow Season and The Manifesto.

The Fallow Season

There’s a time to sow, there’s a time to reap and then there’s a season of fallow.
A fallow season technically refers to that time of the year or maybe a bit after the harvest when the land is left without sowing or uncultivated for its soil to regenerate its nutrients. Similarly, we all go through one or more fallow seasons. During this time, never forget to being kind to yourself. This is the time, you do nothing, and more importantly you don’t feel guilty for not being productive. In other words, this is the time you use to recharge. Read, run, take long walks, travel, cook, make collages, write poems that don’t rhyme, listen to music in an unknown language, sit staring at the wall or do what they call rawdogging. Or, better still, go on an Artist’s date.

The Manifesto

What is that one core idea or thought that makes you go back to writing — time, time and again. Write that down. Simply said, it is a motto or belief you hold close to your heart that works like a north star whenever you feel lost and brings you back on track. For instance, here’s mine, which I’ve already shared on an older post.

“I believe that in any creative pursuit, we are in the business of making messages in bottles. You write your heart out, create art , make music or come up with a recipe, or whatever you think your creative calling is. Once done, you gently roll it up, shove it into a bottle, cork it and fling it into the wide blue open. Someday, it will find the marooned and bring them ashore.”

#Credit to Pankaj Singh and Naveed Mulki for their Storytelling Workshop - Two Lines Become Three for guiding me in helping me find this north star I already had but didn’t know what to call it.

Now, perhaps it’s time for you to start writing or it’s your fallow season. No pressure. No matter at what phase of life you are, this is your cue to start or restart. Or, if you’ve come to a screeching halt, this is your sign to recharge and go find your tribe. Especially, at a time when there is a deluge of AI slop posing as someone’s creative effort — here’s me inserting an em dash to say ai be damned. And here’s me taking the liberty to paraphrase** Waltman to nudge you towards the Write side:

**The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid this AI slop of soulless content, synthetic prose, senseless poetry and banal art, and other filler content… O me, O life?

Bonus: James Earl Jones reads Kurt Vonnegut’s inspirational letter to a group of students

#acnotes
#notetoself

Every time I sat down to listen and write about it, I got quite carried away in the song. This time, however, after hundreds of listens, I’m sharing my reflection on this composition. It was as though I was staring back at the eye of the storm, the storm walls, the spirals. And while writing about it from memory, I felt truly vulnerable, overwhelmed and broken down at times. So, here goes nothing.

“Eugene Peterson: I think the listening business is the part of prayer that gets most neglected. And plenty of people have taught me this, but one of the best teachers, for me, has been Karl Barth. And he’s just adamant about, when you pray, you don’t ask God for things. You pray to listen. And then, when you’ve listened, you can hear God speak and take you into paths you’d never thought about.”

Krista Tipett: You propose quite a different relationship. I mean, you say, “God speaks to us; our answers are our prayers.”

Source: OnBeing

The part I’ve shared from the above conversation between Tipett and Peterson is what I recall from their podcast on OnBeing, when I listen to this song. Unfortunately, this is song that’s only available on YouTube at the moment, however, I hope it’s available on other streaming platforms soon. May I request, if you’re listening to this on your laptop, set aside your smartphone. If you’re listening to it on your smartphone, maybe choose a convenient time and place where you won’t be interrupted for approx. 7 minutes. Needless to say, a good pair of earphones help.

A composition that’s a blend of Matt Redman’s gospel number and Kutti Revathi’s lyrics which is sung by ARR and Sunmisola Agbebi. For once, I won’t share the lyrics or its meaning, and I’ll leave that to you to decipher.

The song begins with just 3 notes (D B D B C B C B) played as a base on loop. Partly, reminiscent of the tamboora or tanpura that’s played in the background to create a continuous drone in Indian Classical music. It’s as though this is the anchor for the entire song. You feel tethered to these notes yet you drift in different dimensions, distances and directions and you return to the epicenter. All you need to know is it’s a prayer. A call for help. An S.O.S. that is in the most meditative form.

Play the song, sit back, and you close your eyes — picture a whirling dervish in a trance as you hear the Sunmisola’s voice. Then you hear the strings, you may picture the dervish morphing into a storm on the sea and as you focus keenly you feel you’re above the clouds as the bass notes fill in with the strings. You’re caught in the currents, you float, as ARR croons. The voice echoes, taking you by your hands. Surprisingly, in this case, the echoes resonate before the actual singing. It’s as though the prayer is being worded at the back of the head and then leaves the lips, upward and onward. Now you’re at that point they call the horizon. The place that you thought could only be seen but never touched. But here you are, reaching out. The next moment you feel you’re elevated higher and are caught in a zone that’s divides darkness and the light. A point that’s impeccably described by Ted Chiang in his story
Tower of Babel:

“For the first time, he knew night for what it was: the shadow of the earth itself,
cast against the sky.”

Then you see a streak of light as ARR returns at around 5:00 min mark on the track (image below for reference). No spoiler here, just surrender. Let go of any defenses and listen mindfully. I don’t want to point out anything beyond this.
Let go. Close your eyes shut, tight. Listen.

Before you feel you’re about to fall, take a breather emerge to the surface. You open your eyes now, to find yourself in daylight, reclined on a chair, across a table and you see a stirred cup of coffee slowly reclaiming its stillness. Well, that’s how I felt. Wish to listen to this song once again and share your thoughts in the comments? Or, maybe, you wish to keep this to yourself. I’m fine with that too. Perhaps, you now have your own version of a prayer. Let it echo. Or, let it whisper, feebly.
Whatever you choose, to do with your prayer, do keep in mind to listen too.

#acnotes

While you’re here, I wish you could recline a bit and think about your childhood. What are the most common objects that come to your mind, when you walk down the memory lane? Well, give it a shot and make a list in your mind.

Here’s mine:

1. Colour TV with wooden twin shutters/ sliding doors on either sides and 12 Channels (no remote)

2. 14 Watts Cassette Player/Tape Recorder aka
   Two-in-one with Radio

3. Diwan / Single Cot placed a few feet away from the TV
   (We didn’t have a couch or sofa back then)

4. Metallic Folding Chairs (4) that shuttled between living and dining room

5. Wooden Teapoy at the Living Room

6. Singer Sewing Machine

7. Foldable Dining Table (that doubled as an ironing board and study table)

I’ll stop the list here since I will be writing about No. 7 (no surprise there) —
the dining table from my childhood was large yet easy to carry around, which could be folded and placed near the wall when not in use, but I’ve seldom seen it folded. Beyond its purpose of being a dining table, it used to be the place where I used to do my homework, dad used to iron his factory and my school uniforms on Saturday or Sunday evenings, and Mom used it to chop vegetables, fruit and prep for Christmas snacks. And some times it would double as a step stool to pick something from the attic. Also, this is where the Cassette player was placed, at the edge, partly on the window sill which was at the same level. More importantly, this table was where friends and relatives, sat down for lunch/dinner/ tea and snacks when they visited. So, in a nut shell, this table was at the center of my world while growing up. We moved a few houses since then and at some point we had to let go of that table I guess. However, when I listened to this song “That Table” from The Lone Bellow it took me back to that 4 legged time machine.

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Pause. Push Forward (slightly). Press Play.

A little into my 20s, there was this one other table. This one was our first dining table after we got married. This was one such table that lasted almost 10 years. Once again, this was an epicenter of a lot of moments that turned into memories worth cherishing. A meeting place for bottomless cups of tea in the evening and coffee, the morning after. Where we sat together and read, spoke, argued, and dined. Here, she quilled and painted, briefly. Her baking counter and studio lightbox to click pictures of what she baked. However, when our son arrived, he did sit at it for a year or two - since it was a circular table which was unstable without a wide base, so we had to let go. Refer pic below for the table and the Christmas decorations, my wife put up, and almost fell. This was our safe space, especially during the pandemic — when we three of us were mostly at home, it used to be one of the places we would commune. The light from that window was so perfect, we would spend a lot of time there. Especially, during the rainy season, gazing out and catching a glimpse of the downpour with a hot cup or corn cob. And the winter sun would pull a chair and give us company just before dusk.

The Song. Press Play (at leisure)

Thanks to for introducing me to this band. This song was definitely a find. Listen closely. But before that, here’s a note to set some context. Last weekend I was at a Storytelling workshop at a Cafe in Bangalore. Conducted by the Co-founders of .Faraway Originals - Naveed Mulki and Pankaj Singh, it was quite an insightful yet brief session that actually helped me nudge this draft into a post. So, without divulging much about the course content for obvious reasons, I’ll share that one exercise that relates well with this song. And that segment was about “The Window”.

The Window

A window through which one sees a story. In simple words, it’s the eye or the lens through which the storyteller wants you, the reader, to see the story. Or, rather experience the tale. For instance, Bram Stoker’s Dracula is narrated through journal entries, 84 Charring Cross is purely an exchange of letters between the Bookstore Staff and a Writer/Reader, then there’s The Book Thief which is a story narrated from the point of view of Death. In this case, it’s “That Table.” A constant in the song or the narrative around which life happens and moves on.

Sharing the lyrics below. Unfortunately, it’s not fully available on the web yet. Except for the CC /Lyrics on the streaming platforms. So, here you go. Perhaps, you could scroll as you listen. Singing along? Optional ;)

That Table – Lone Bellow

Verse 1 – Timeline 1

I remember that table / Where I grew up
Eating cereal in my highchair / Apple juice in a sippy-cup
Where I did my homework / And I played Monopoly
And that dog was always down at my feet / Looking for something to eat

Where I told my mom all about / How that girl broke my heart
And my mama held me close and said / She was no good from the start

Chorus

We all held hands / Bowed our heads / And talked to the people on the other side
We asked each other about our days / And we’d say it’s gonna be all right

We’d fill our cups with wine and beer / And then we’d raise them up / And all said cheers
But everything that changes / And the one thing that stays the same is / That table

Verse 2

I remember that table / Where I first got drunk
I got into my old man’s liquor / I Didn’t know when enough was enough
I remember that table / Where I hung my head in shame
And I knew I was in trouble / When he called me by my full name

Where I broke the news / I was leaving home
And my mama cried even though she knew / It was time for me to go

Chorus

We all held hands / Bowed our heads / And talked to the people on the other side
We asked each other about our days / And we’d say it’s gonna be all right

We’d fill our cups with wine and beer / And then we’d raise them up / And all said cheers
But everything that changes / And the one thing that stays the same is / That table

Yeah, dad was at the head / Mom was by his side / And there was a little ole me / Along for the ride
Now it’s me at the head / My wife right by my side / My little baby daughter / Along for the ride

Verse 3- Timeline 2

She’ll remember that table / Where she grew up
Eating cereal, dinner, hot chicken / Apple juice in a sippy cup
Where she does her homework / And she plays Monopoly
that dog is always down at her feet / Looking for something to eat

Where she told her mom all about / How that boy broke her heart
And her mama holds her close and said / He was no good from the start

Final Chorus
We all held hands / And bowed our heads / And talked to the people on the other side
We asked each other about our days / And say it’s gonna be all right
She drinks her juice / We’d drink our beer / We raised them up / And all say cheers
Everything that changes / One thing that stays the same is / That table

<end of lyrics>

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Contemplative Pause

A few things that really stuck with me, without stating the obvious is how through out the song, it’s about the things that made one’s past. A life that was worth reminiscing. A life one was thankful for. And how life goes a complete circle around that table. Across two timelines. And while at it, what truly didn’t feature on or around “That Table” was a gadget/screen/mobile/smartphone/laptop. Perhaps, that was intentional? I’ll leave that to the listener or reader to decide. Well, that is the beauty of this song. A message that’s tucked carefully between the lines. Listen again, if you missed to notice.

“If the home is a body, the table is the heart, the beating center, the sustainer of life and health.”

Shauna Niequist,
Bread and Wine: A Love Letter to Life Around the Table with Recipes

The next time you’re at the table, perhaps, give it a moment. Soak it all up while you can. Maybe, give thanks not just for what’s on the table but who is around and whatever is around. Look at the table as an anchor, while the world races past, the mind is in motion, the moment is fleeting, here’s one point you’re tethered to. To be still. To be at peace. To indulge in the calm while a storm could be raging on.

In closure, I hope you have the time and patience to read a poem. If possible, I request you to pull a chair and sit at the nearest table. And if it resonated to you, say cheers, and pass it onto someone across the table.

Perhaps the World Ends Here

The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.

The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation, and it will go on.

We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.

It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men at it, we make women.

At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts of lovers.

Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms around our children. They laugh with us at our poor falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back together once again at the table.

This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.

Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place to hide in the shadow of terror.
A place to celebrate the terrible victory.

We have given birth on this table, and have prepared our parents for burial here.

At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering and remorse. We give thanks.

Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.

- Joy Harjo
Courtesy: Poetry Foundation

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#acnotes

To begin with, you could first listen to this song - Rehna Tu from Delhi 6. One of my most preferred versions is from MTV Unplugged. A perfect appetizer to listen to before we move any further. Also, I am one of the many avid followers of ARR’s voice and the songs he has sung. Perhaps, I will share a post and a playlist that’s sung by ARR one day (It’s titled ‘ARRsorted’). If interested, I will keep you posted for sure. Maybe, you could subscribe if you haven’t yet, to get notified.

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Now, you could listen to the one featured in the album (scroll below). It’s one of the few songs that impeccably speaks about the nature of relationships. Relationship with whom? Well, you might know it already if you’ve watched the movie or already like this song. Or, you might also guess it, after you’ve listened to this song. It’s hard to miss, if you’ve attentively read the post till now. This version also features Benny Dayal and Tanvi Shah, along with ARR.

For my benefit and the one who will read this in a few years from now as well as those who don’t know Hindi - I’ve tried to translate the lyrics. Apologies to the Lyricist Prasoon Joshi, if it’s not completely in line with his thoughts. I’ve tried to state the obvious, perhaps.

Here goes nothing:

Rehna tu, hai jaisa tu
Be the way you are - however, you are.

Thoda sa dard tu, thoda sukoon
A bit of pain and a bit of relief, you are.

Rehna tu, Hai jaisa tu
Be the way you are - however, you are.

Dheema Dheema jhonka, Ya phir Junoon
A desire as tender as a zephyr and a passion as a ravishing storm.

Thoda sa resham, tu hamdam, Thoda sa khurdura
You’re partly silken smooth and submissive,
And you’re partly sand-like coarse/ abrasive, a rebel.

Kabhi tu ad jaaye, Ya lad jaaye
You’re hard to please/be moved or stuck at times,
and you rebuke/throw a fit at times.

Ya khushboo se bhara
At times, you’re pleasant with a welcoming scent.

Tujhe badalna na chahoon
To change you, is never my intention.

Ratti bhar bhi sanam
Nope, I’m not even making
an iota of an effort (to change you), my love.

Bina sajawat, milawat
Not a bit of adornment,
Not an ounce of alteration.

Na zyaada na hi kam
Nothing more, nothing less.

Tuhje chaahon, jaisa hai tu
I love you the way you are,

Mujhe teri baarish mein bheegna hai ghul jaana hai
I wish to be awash in your rain and I wish to dissolve, while I’m in it.

Tujhe chaahoon, jaisa hai tu
I’ll love you the way you are.

Mujhe tere lapat mein jalna rakh ho jana hai
I wish to bask in your light and burn into ashes, eventually.

Tu zakhm de agar
You hurt me and while at it.

Marham bhi aakar tu lagaaye
You heal me with a balm soon after.

Zakhm pe bhi mujhko pyaar aaye
Love hurts, but as it scabs
I’ll eventually love the scar this hurt leaves behind.

Dariya oooo dariya
Doobne de mujhe dariya
Doobne de mujhe Dariya
You’re a river stream
and in its depths I wish to immerse myself completely.

Haath thaam chalna ho
To dono ke daayen haath sang kaise
Ek daaya hoga, ek baayan hoga
Tham le, haath yeh thaam le
Chalna hai sang thaam le

To walk, holding hands, together
It’s impossible by clasping, each other’s same right (or left) hands.
It takes one’s left hand in another’s right hand -
hand in hand, we can walk, holding each other’s hands.

<end of translation>

The text book definition of a paradox is: ‘a person or thing that combines contradictory features or qualities’. So, when you listen to the song once again, you could approach it in a few ways- One) the obvious, the relationship between two people. Two) being the relationship a person shares with a place (in fact, this is how it was intended in the movie - Delhi 6 I guess and many have written about it already). Then there could be some other approach which could be quite exclusive to your own interpretation. For instance, one blogger even refers to this song as a relationship with life. Presently, I’ll stick to the first two I’ve mentioned-above, that’s of a relationship with a person and then with a place.

Listen closely, and you might grasp both these dimensions. How one sees the contrasts or contradictions in the same entity, all at once in a person. Listen again, and this plays out as a song that describes the transition of a resident at a house to someone embracing that abode and turning it into their solace — a home. There are black and white shades, and then there are some grey. And in the long run one comes to terms with the latter shade. When it’s all about playing the long game, it’s not about finding the perfect person or a place to live a happily ever after. It’s about growing to love the the person you’ve decided to live with or the place you are at. Eventually, making the choices that complement the chances you’ve decided to take.

In the words of Maroon 5 and a line my wife often quotes:
“It’s not always rainbows and butterflies, it’s compromise that moves us along”
She will be loved, Songs About Jane

Especially, these lines from the above-mentioned song:
Haath thaam chalna ho
To dono ke daayen haath sang kaise
Ek daaya hoga, ek baayan hoga
Tham le, haath yeh thaam le
Chalna hai sang thaam le

To walk, holding hands, beside each other…
It’s impossible by clasping the same right (or left) hands.
It takes one’s left hand in another’s right hand -
hand-in-hand, we can walk, together.

A few lines that speaks volumes. To begin with, it clearly talks about differences. Furthermore, it’s breaks the stereotype that opposites attract. And how opposites or contradictions in each person or place could complement the other, if there’s a mindset for acceptance. Could it be a like a velcro tape? Hooks and loops, both distinct in character and functionality yet that’s what keep them together. **Truth be told, there’s nothing called “made for each other”. Perhaps, it worked well as a tag line for a cigarette brand, which referred to its filter made perfectly for the cigarette. However, when it comes to relationships, you grow into each other. It’s not a redy-made jig into saw. It’s not a puzzle. It’s a poem. It’s built on the go. Verses that complement each other with no forced rhyme.

Now, some reading and additional viewing/listening to strengthen my case:

Why you will marry the wrong person By Alain de Botton

Read | Watch | Listen

Trust me when I say that all the three resources shared above are totally worth your time. While my learning continues, I’m reminded of these lines from Milan and Kay Yerkovich’s book - How We Love:

Now to close the loop, the above shared song in this post is definitely an exception. The song begins with ARR’s voice. A steady rhythm flows with two more voices intertwining. A soothing bass line and guitar riffs that lets you recline and put your feet up. Then ARR’s voice is the current or tide that takes the listener cruising ahead.
A visual metaphor that just flashed before my eyes while I write this is the White Secretary Bird from the movie FLOW.

While there’s a lot happening with the instrumentation, ARR slips in on and off with his soothing vocals to hand hold and navigate. Then you hear the Continuum Fingerboard, played as though in deep contemplation. At approx. the 5 min mark the song almost ends and it’s the solo played here after for around 2 minutes of the song. By now, you’re all settled down. You hear the phrases from the chorus being sprinkled and the song fades out. This lets you pause, contemplate, maybe at times, replay this song. Not rush into another song. Well, this is how I have felt many a times. But again, I know many who even skipped to the next track when this solo plays. To each their own. Perceptions differ and preferences change. That said, this is one of the realizations I’ve had while listening to this song. Especially, towards the end:
Companionship isn’t a commodity. It’s not like some thing one can customize and consume. It’s about coexisting. And to achieve that it’s about navigating accepting the differences through this paradox called life. And to coexist, to compromise is the way ahead. To live, let live.

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Thank you for your time and patience. If you have a song, poem or a book to recommend in line with what you read, feel free to post it in the comments. Also, if there’s any observation or insight you have read or experienced when it comes to relationships and believe it could be of help to someone do kindly share that as well.

“Work will always be work. Some people work doing what they love. Other people work so that they can do what they love when they’re not working. Neither is more noble.”
- As told by Anis Mojgani to Simone Stolzoff, The Good Enough Job: Reclaiming Life from Work

A few years back, 2022 I think, I came across Simone Stolzoff on Twitter (I prefer to call it Twitter, since the current version or its new name is not what I like).
Simone, had posted a tweet about his upcoming book and, had asked if anyone is interested in reading the Intro excerpt and he would be glad to mail it across. I was amongst the numerous people who had reached out to him and the above quote is from the Intro. These were the words Anis Mojgani (Writer & Poet) told Simone during his senior year in college. These words still ring in my head at times, when I’m swamped with work yet I take some pockets of time off to do what I love. It’s quite obvious by now on what my preference is. Now, if you wish to read Simone’s book, which I haven’t stopped recommending till date, here’s my review that might nudge you further to pick it up.

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So, what’s the connection with the quote and this post’s song recommendation? Well, I first listened to this song almost 9 months back when I was part of a WhatsApp group run by two multi-talented and musically inclined gentlemen Chuck Gopalakrishnan and Berty Ashley (stop smirking Chuck and Berty). Then I wrote a brief note about this song and shared it on the group. In fact, the bassist of the band - Swarathma - Jishnu, who is part of the same group read it and invited me over to their next gig. Nothing comes close to watching them perform live. And Aiyanar Kudurai was no exception.

So, if you wish to read the note, then here it is:
||A banyan tree sprawls on the wide open green and beneath it resides Aiyanar (idol of a village guardian/ deity worshipped by the villagers) and his horse (idol). A squirrel leaps over the Aiyanar's shoulder and reaches for the banyan fruit, however the fruit falls on the horse and startles it to take flight on all fours.

Well, this is the basic premise one needs to know, if you don't understand Tamil to get the song's context. That said, you might still follow the song because the storyteller here is the goddam riffs and rhythm more than the lyrics. And what a ruckus. Ignore whatever you read, perhaps, pretend you didn't read what your read till now and listen to this banger. From the start to finish you'll be atop an imaginary horse, galloping all the way. The moment you hear the first few beats kick in, you're alighting the horseback. The guitars prop you into the saddle. The vocalists ensure you feel the breeze rush through your hair and cheer you on. The bass & drums' rhythmic progression are the hooves on an imaginary landscape. Kudos to the lyricist for that imagery, but the ones who wrote/composed the music race way ahead. Perhaps, it is almost like the horse is galloping towards the finish line, but its shadow has leapt way ahead for the photo finish.

Word of Caution: Do not! I repeat, do not listen to it, if it's past 00:00 Hrs.

I just did, and I doubt I would be able to sleep anytime soon. What a riot from the word go. Perfect mood setter for a Monday morning.||

https://lynkify.in/song/aiyanar-kudurai-from-raushan/QtLLZWkz

That said, the note went viral for some time. Yet, my mind kept going back to this visual. The cover image of the song on YouTube. So, here’s another interpretation of the song after repeat listens over the months. And here’s my trying to decipher the lyrics once again. This time, it’s the full song.

Disclaimer: This is purely my interpretation and it may or may not align with the band’s intent. Apologies to the Writers: Varun Murali, Sanjeeva Nayak Sooda, Veronica Angel, Jishnu Dasgupta, Vasu Dixit, if this seems to overstep or go on a different tangent.

Play the above song, as you read below. Here’s the attempt at translating the full lyrics of the song, but more so in a prose style:

||A banyan tree sprawls by the river side and on the wide open green. Beneath the tree resides Aiyanar (idol of a village guardian/ deity worshipped by the villagers) straddled on his horse (idol). Or, perhaps, it’s just the horse’s idol. A squirrel leaps over the horse’s shoulder and reaches for the banyan fruit, however as the fruit falls on the horse, it gets startled takes flight on all fours.

The horse bolts, non stop. He gallops on and on for a few hundred miles. He crosses the farmlands and paddy fields, plush green grasslands and dark barren fields, and as he crosses the village limits, there’s some spell that’s holding him back. It hits him then that he’s way past the fragrance of his familiar soil. And all he sees are eight lane highways crisscrossing. He’s wandered into an unfamiliar horizon. That very instant he retreats.  He turns around and once again darts back to where he came from. It’s a return to the start. To that same banyan sprawling by the riverside on the wide open green.||<end of translation>

Well, you could call this a piece of circular fiction where the tale ends at the starting point. Or, it’s a parable of running in circles? Now, I wish to shed light on the cover image once again. Scroll back up and glance at it once again, if you may. If you don’t wish to, it’s an image of a stallion in a stationary workplace setting. A wild being that ought to be free under the wide blue expanse and hoofing over lush green landscapes, is confined to cubicles, surrounded by colleagues and humbled by routine.

What if the song draws a parallel about someone you know? Or, a story that represents you and me? More specifically, the ones caught in the 9 to 5 loop and trying to strike a work-life balance. On a parallel universe, this song could have featured Dolly Parton instead of Vasu Dixit and Anthony Dasan. However, that’s a discussion for another day.

While there could be (occasional) instances that would startle you and break the routine for you to rethink your choices and revaluate the path you’re on, there seems to be certain factors that still keep us in the loop and not let us break free from where we are. The startling factors could be not getting a raise, being over looked for a promotion, work on weekends and/or toxic work culture to name a few. However, certain financial commitments, familial responsibilities and professional aspirations might keep you from breaking free. In other words, return to that familiar soil while you might have some outbursts at times. But you’re working towards making ends meet. While I don’t negate the fact that there have been many who have had the privilege or taken the risk to take a sabbatical and succeed with a Plan B, there have been many who have not gotten the chance. So, this song is perhaps a testament about those who are still in the loop. However, they still have passions or vocations they visit - time, time and time again, only to feel alive - that’s when they run amok but they retreat. There are pockets of time or breaks one uses to do what they love. But this main job is to sustain that passion or vice versa. In other words, neither is more noble.

To conclude, here’s quoting the lead vocalist of Swarathma - Vasu.

“Most of our songs are not a statement, it’s more a starting point of a discussion.”
- Vasu Dixit, Artist | Musician - Swarathma

#acnotes

There was no internet yet, so all I remembered were those two repeated words of Hindi in the first line of the song. The next day at school there was a buzz about some movie which had just released and a few seniors were planning to bunk and go watch it. A classmate overheard that and broke that news to us. Still I wasn't aware what this movie was but there was high praise about its music. More importantly, a new face who had created quite a sensation on the silver screen. So, one friend who had smuggled a walkman into school and played it during the lunch time. One part of the earphone in his left ear and the other in my right ear. The cassette abruptly started with a chant kind of music, quite hypnotic and like an Indian Classical or Hindustani raag (honestly, I didn't know what it was back then). So this friend stops the cassette midway, takes it out of the player, inserts a Reynold’s 045 pen in one of the reels/spools and rewinds it quickly. Inserts the tape back into the walkman and pushes play. It begins with a soft hiss and there it is again. Gusts of airy flute tones, played to the tempo of a pendulum oscillating or the intervals sound like a peacock's train-rattling in-between the calls for courtship. Then those same two words hint the start of the song -"Tanha, Tanha..."

That was it. The note that would flip bollywood music on its head had had been struck.

“RD Burman passed away in 1994 and a year later in 1995, another musical genius AR Rahman unleashed a fresh new brilliant sound on an unsuspecting audience through Rangeela. When I sang Rangeela Re and Tanha Tanha Yahan Pe Jeena for him, I was 62 years old! I thank ARR for bringing the best out of an elderly person.”
Asha Bhonsle

Rangeela, if you keep the video/movie aside, it's a totally different entity. Mind you, it was ARRs debut album in Hindi (setting aside Roja and Vishwavidhata, which were remakes from Tamil). And to an extent Ramgopal Verma (RGV) gets credit for curating that album though ARR composed it. The album won many accolades including 2 Filmfare Awards - Best Debut/Music Talent plus Best Music Director.

I never got a chance to watch the movie back then, however this song used to play often at a neighbour's house on repeat. I watched the movie much later - though I did see the song a few months later on Chitrahar and understood the reason behind the sensation on the silver screen. Nevertheless, till today that flute in the beginning takes me back to the doorway of that old cassette shop and the lunch breaks at 7 'D' Classroom. More specifically, how my friends used to imitate the sound of the flute by keeping the pen cap near the lips and whistle gently by blowing wind into it.

#acnotes

"Sillage, pronounced "see-yahzh", is the French word for "wake", like the wake of a ship in the water. In the perfume world, it refers to the scent trail that a perfume leaves behind as it evaporates."

There is a song or a piece of music I would assign for every phase of my life. Perhaps, it's the same for you as well. And if you wish to share it, please do so in the comments. During my childhood, Sunday mornings in Primary/Junior school - Title track or opening credits of He-man or Tom and Jerry. Sunday afternoons during that same phase - National Geographic title music. Then, Kraftwerk's Man Machine - a cassette with a red case I have no clue how my Dad had kept in his collection, which otherwise had mostly old and new Tamil songs along with HMV collections of Mukesh, Rafi and Kishore. Also, Bobby and Don double feature, each album on one side of a single Casette. Needless to say, an album of BoneyM and a few Christian Gospel albums. And at the advent of Middle school, there was one tape that would play on repeat - Dalapathi. So much so that we could hear the hiss of the tape. The last movie collaboration of Mani Ratnam and Maestro Ilayaraja.

Then, some time towards the end of July or first week of August 1992, my father brought home a Cassette on a Friday evening. The next morning, before he headed to work, the music began to play. I don't know what that sound was till date and I dare not probe to find out, since that is the sound I associate with the morning my preference in music changed. It was a paradigm shift. The audio which was playing in a 180 degree or a flat 2D soundscape, suddenly widened to draw me into that sphere. This time, I was able to feel the sound surround me from all around. A 360 degree effect while it was still played on a simple, 14w stereo set.

You know that feeling where you're looking at a painting, you're gazing into it for a while, slowly you see the frame around it dissolve and you seem to be drawn closer to the picture. The hues are more vibrant, the grains and textures of the paint on the canvas are way closer to your face. You can almost smell the paint - you blink and when you open your eyes wide, you're in the painting. You turn around to notice there's no bench, no gallery, instead, you're at the heart of the landscape. The only way out perhaps is when you let the canvas envelope you. You stay. You stay still. You surrender yourself to the world the artist has opened up to you. And that's how it was when "Chinna Chinna Aasai" (Choti si Aasha in Hindi) played.

The song began with a Vangelis-esque orchestral strings texture blended with chimes and you hear a series of soft beats that becomes the on-going rhythm. Just when you are wondering where is this going, the flute assures you it's a groovy trip. A subtle trilling of strings followed by a voice that breezed in like a zephyr. The voice of Minmini was quite unheard and it had the naivety the protagonist needed, perhaps. Until I watched the movie, I didn't know it was set in a typical rural background. While, truth be told, I had no clue what reggae was back then, it sure didn't sound like some village folk song or even like any other cinematic light music that was usually employed to introduce the female protagonists of that time. Also, I didn't quite understand most of the lyrics. However, it did hint that it was a peppy song which hinted about the little wishes of a girl that seemed a bit exaggerated. To add to that exaggeration was the groovy bass that reminds me of Wham’s - Wake me up , if you listen closely to just the start of the song “Jitterbug” part. And the freshness of introducing veena at parts, reggae style guitar strums and the complementing plucking of the fiddle strings.

Now, the signature of the artist on any painting is quite crucial. In this masterpiece you can hear ARR’s signature at 3:16 sec in the below shared audio clip. And it goes on till 3:38 sec. What best complements the voice is the visual - of an oarsman navigating a coracle through the rapids of a waterfall. This is a brilliant depiction of the music composer steering ahead his listener through his composition. I don't know if it was Director: Mani Ratnam or Cinematographer: Santosh Sivan’s idea, but it flawlessly captured the soul of the song’s creator.

Needless to say, Chinna Chinna Aasai, marked my turning point of transitioning from the Maestro to the Mozart of Madras. While I’ve been intently listening to Maestro’s songs since the last decade, that’s quite evident in my previous notes, I will forever be a Rahamaniac.

Now, reach for your earphones, recline and listen to the fragrance. Get immersed in it by every second. Once done, if possible, resist listening to it again.

#acnotes

PS: All images are screengrabs from the song’s video. Credit: Santosh Sivan, Cinematographer

Special Mention: Thanks to Debjit Basu (Perfect Strangers School of Music) for nudging me indirectly to finish this draft that was lying incomplete for weeks.

Ever Thankful to The Mastering Project for remastering the classics of ARR and sharing it on YouTube. Do kindly visit at leisure for some timeless masterpieces,
that are so well curated purely for the listening pleasure.

It was the start of another academic year, my first English class in the Second Year of Undergrad. A gentleman formaly dressed with a tie walks in to address the noisy class. All the chaos of catching up after our vacations comes to a screeching halt as he walks in, however some mumbling continues in the back benches. He is the average height with glasses so wide the first half of his face is almost concealed. The next bit beneath his nose is covered by a lampshade moustache. Somewhere from beneath it, his voice introduces him as the new English Lecturer. And I don’t really recall his name, however what he said next is still etched in my mind: “I am fluent in English, Malayalam, Hindi, a little bit of Kannada and lot of silence.” He ended that line with his index finger placed on his unseen lips. This is when everyone in the classroom almost heard that imaginary pin drop.

Well, this brings us to my first ever #acnotes about a movie. More specifically, a movie that could have been the first-ever pan Indian movie of its kind in the 80s, since it employed the universal language - Silence, quite strategically. So, does it make Pushpaka Vimana (Kannada)/Pesum Padam (Tamil)/ Pushpaka Vimanam (Telugu)/ Pushpakvimanam (Malayalam)/ Pushpak (Hindi) a multilingual or a silent movie? Definitely, maybe.

Truth be told, it’s one movie that could be watched world over even today since this language transcended barriers like no other. Perhaps, one could say it was inspired by the greats - Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton and their contemporaries from the silent movies era, yet this stands out as a timeless Indian masterpiece.

The entire movie is a silent poem interspersed with “Aha moments” between lines with background music by L. Vaidyanathan that fills eloquently in the gaps - more or less like a narration. Some key scenes that stand out (in my memory) are:

1. The ones where: the protagonist/male lead (Kamal Haasan) and female lead (Amala) meet for the first time. Especially, the scene at the funeral, which the late Satyajit Ray praised when he spoke to the Director - Singeetham Srinivasa Rao (SSR)

   

2. Then there are I guess three scenes between the pauper and the beggar (P.L. Narayana, a veteran Telugu actor) over a bridge (You’ll know who is who when you watch the movie). The bridge being an impeccable metaphor for the crossover of the protagonist’s mindset from what he was - to what he is - to what he
   would become.

   

3. The scene at the Luxury Suite where the protagonist gets to live briefly only to realize he doesn’t fit there. In fact, one haunting yet funny moment is when he’s unable to sleep in that room in silence so he goes back to his old room to bring back a piece of white noise to lull him to sleep. A masterstroke in storytelling, which can’t be explained but only experienced.

That apart, the themes the movie touches upon are loneliness, unemployment, greed, lust, envy, love, death and heartbreak, amongst others in full volume.

A lot has been discussed about and trivia shared over the 38 years of this classic. However, I wish to share one specific scene that more or less captures the essence of the movie.

Note: Watch from 8:12 sec to 9:40 sec in the below link (if the video doesn’t start exactly at the timestamp I’ve mentioned).

For someone who grew up listening to stories from my grandmother, this scene resonated so well. In this scene, he’s at his room and he has been served half a cup of tea, since he can afford only so much. Just then as he looks out of the window he sees a neighbour who raises a full cup from the next floor to say cheers. While there is an expression of brief disappointment and envy, the very next moment there’s a light bulb moment when he hears the cawing of a crow perched atop the opposite building. What happens next? Trust me, I don’t want to drop a spoiler. Well, I suggest you watch it to know. Or, maybe if you knew the good old story, you must’ve have guessed it already. But for a kid who was barely 6, this scene made me sit up and be awed by how one could apply what one has learnt. Of course, the enlightenment dawned over the years on repeat watch. Yet, this is the movie in a nutshell - ‘Contentment is a state of mind’.

The scene, though is from a silent movie, spoke volumes that I will remember for the rest of my life. Needless to say, the movie was most aptly titled in Tamil as Pesum Padam, which could be translated to Talking Picture. Or, as the movie’s tag line reads - “A silent movie which speaks”.

In closing, here’s something I want you to think and comment, if you may. Perhaps, you could answer this after watching the movie. Why do you think the movie was named Pushpaka Vimana (a mythological flying palace or chariot in the Indian epic Ramayana).

PS: If you watch the movie you’ll understand why I chose the second half of this post’s title as “From Anand Bhavan to 3039 and back.”

Some food for thought - Listen to the below track with a good pair of earphones, if you may. Or, just push play, no matter where you are:

Now, watch the below video, while I return to the language I’m yet to master - silence.

As mentioned earlier, here’s the list of other flash essays from
the Bangalore Substackers Collective. Read them at leisure:

• Loss of a language By Rakhi Anil, Rakhi’s Substack

• Beyond Words and Dialects by Aarti Krishnakumar, Aarti’s Substack

• In search of my lost mother tongue by Siddhesh Raut, Shana, Ded Shana

• The language question by Rahul Singh, Mehfil

• Geography & Language by Devayani Khare, Geosophy

• The Dance of Languages by Haridas Jayakumar, Harry

• No Garam Aloo in Tamil Nadu by Ayush, Ayush's Substack

• Lost in translation by Vikram, Vikram’s Substack

• I’ve been thinking a lot about tongues, again. by Ameya, (Always) Ameya

• The Language Beneath Words by Mihir Chate, Mihir's Substack

• What does this mean? by Nidhishree Venugopal, General in her Labyrinth

• I love the Language of, by Shruthi Iyer

• The Language of Murder by Gowri N Kishore | About Murder, She Wrote.

• I have no words by Richa Vadini Singh, Here’s What I Think

• Jal-Elephants, Thread-Navels, and Other Sanskrit Beasts by Rajat Gururaj, I came, I saw, I Floundered

• Of Language, Love and Longing: Politics, Mother Tongue and Loss by Aryan Kavan Gowda, Wonderings of a Wanderer

• The Bengaluru Blend by Avinash Shenoy, Off the walls

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