Old City & Hariprasad Chaurasia

Yesterday I ventured into Old City, after quite some time, a year at least. The Charminar area of Hyderabad along with its adjoining Mulsim dominated Afzalgunj and Nampally together form the areas collectively referred to as Old City. My destination was the Times of India Hyderabad Festival being held at Chowhalla Palace where Padma Vibhushan Sri Hariprasad Chaurasia and Padma Vibhushan Sonal Man Singh were scheduled to perform their Art.

Stepping into Old City lends one a romantic and subtlely unnerving feeling of being transferred to another world order. Especially under the seige of the lights and sounds of the evening waning into the night. Little scooters and other assortment of two wheelers scurry hurriedly amidst fissures existing within heavy traffic, the wrong way in narrow one way bylanes. Vision is granted by yellow bulbs put up by hawkers. Their wares too would put shopping malls in the most affluent localities to shame. After all where in these times would you find a pile of scarves for sale, with an image of Twinkle Khanna in the centre surrounded by loud embroidery. Most passing autorickshaws carried green flags and crude graphiti of AIMIM - All India Majlis-e-Ittehadul Muslimeen - the local party headed by Asaduddin Owaisi. Everyone makes it known to whom it is that they belong. No matter if you run a small pan shop or the brightest textile store in the neighbourhood. In Old City you still gotta serve somebody. Also I noted Cycle rickshaws on some streets. I had never seen cycle rickshaws outside Calcutta till date. These were not exactly the same though. Their passenger carriers were lower and closer to the ground below, and the wheels have a smaller diameter than the ones back home.

My friend and I reached Chowhalla Palace in time for the concert. We didn't have passes though. That however didn't seem to be a problem as most of the invitees seemed to have an excess of passes. Two such passing families provided us with our invitations. I must say I was a little apprehensive entering the Palace. Most guests had arrived in exquisite suits and sarees and in Mercs and Hondas. We on the other hand had walked 2 kms from the nearest bus-stop in dirty shirts, jeans and slippers. We were still allowed in without any fuss.
Pandit Chaurasia's performance turned out to be mindblowing. I had never experienced Indian Classical music before and even the atmosphere in the lawn surrounding the stage, where the audience were seated, was that of an utter ease and relaxation that I had never experienced earlier. Completely different from all live acts I've seen. You could see elderly couples shaking their heads vigorously to the taal and hold hands, and groove - if I may say so - to the music. The tightness of the performers on stage too was that of a different league. I was most impressed by the Pandit's tabla accompanist. He was like a raging demon, bellowing a throbbing and ebbing beat of chaos swirling around the stage, controlled by what seemed like a string composed of sound from Panditji's flute situated at its focal point. At its heart. Such sweetness juggling what seemed like an uncontrollable yet measured barrage of beats. I found it oddly disturbing yet exhilarating.
Pandit Chaurasia also seemed to have a keen sense of humour when he expressed his wariness about eating into the time allotted to the fiesty danceuse whose performanec was to follow his, upon him being requested an encore. "She' from Delhi....Maaan Singh (arms raised in animation)...thats why I'm scared you see". He finally relented to the audience's request saying "I'll play you a little peice of...uh umm...anything", then promptly proceeding to pick up his flute and sway away one last time. Stud.

I also sat through a bit of Sonal Man Singh's performance. She must've been really graceful, but I have never been visually very aesthetic. Her accompanying Sarod player was brilliant though. He also made me realise an uncanny similarity between Indian Classical musicians and Blues artists in the stringed instruments division. They both love to hear the notes bend. Literally. One of the most apt images of contentment in my mind is that of the expression on a musician's face instinctively and spontaneously appreciating a note played well. You should've seen the Sarod Master's face after every note he stretched to his instinctive satisfaction.
I also realised that dances are used to tell stories. Atleast can be. I had never witnessed a Classical Dance performance before, nor have I ever felt that I could actually 'understand' it. But on observing carefully, the first dance the maestro performed, seemed to me like an invocation of the different incarnations of the Goddess Parvati. The first one was Durga slaying the demon Mahishashur - this was easy, the accompanying vocalist repeated sholkas mentioning both Durga and Mahishashur - I could further make out other similar emulations of the Goddesses Kali, Bhabani, and Devi Bhubaneshwari.
However I soon got bored and left at the commencement of the second dance.

I also ate dinner at Shadab Hotel in Old City. If anyone has been to Hyderabad and not eaten at Shadab then they have lived a little less than those who have. There are very few things in life that I can say the same of.

Mumblings

The last post was probably too graphic and ought to have atleast carried a caveat of some sort for the weak hearted. My apologies. I don't know what brought it on. I was really tired and pissed off with doing what I was doing. Also I've been having very gory dreams and conversations of late. Its possible that it could be because of a fantasy novel I'm reading, where an impossible civil war has broken out and has cost the lives of thousands of civilians thus far. The author does well to describe the deaths at each battlescene.
Also I've grown extremely irritable of late, especially regarding academic affairs. I must check my impulses.

I was thinking about it, and it seems to me that I simply cannot partake of any activity that I do not feel like doing. I postpone, dilly-dally, even sit with it and stare at the screen before taking the umpteenth smoke break. But I always despise taking the plunge into something I inherently dislike. Five years at Nalsar has left me broken and impaired in this regard. I don't think I regret it though. Fits me fine.

I haven't completed my aforementioned project yet, but I've reached a stage where I know it'll get done. Now I mustn't act against my character and try to finish it quickly and submit it today. Anything to the contrary will cause further mayhem in my head.
I must chill now, blog maybe. A day's further delay won't make anything any worse than it already is with 2 days, the Jah willing - my word for some divine holiness or satan's agent that looks out for me when I'll need him the most. And its a 'He'. I guess it makes me feel less bad about not praying to 'Him' or keeping in touch with 'Him' except when I need 'Him' the most.

Now I shall go get myself a smoke.

Deathcab for Cutie (I couldn't think of a title for this one)

I've been called many mean things in this lifetime. I've also been called many good things so far - more often than the mean ones I must say, but we all know flattery gets around more than honesty - however, today my thoughts found the mean side of things to be digressed by.

Some of the more memorable mean things said to me have been arsehole (millions of times, especially in school), dildo (nearly became a psuedonym), loser, curses that include 'I hope the worst in life happens to you', to the most recent 'lying, slimy, cowardly fuck' with reasons being provided for the use of each word.

You must think I've really fucked with the lives of some people. I cannot extend any defense to this except that I've fucked with no one who hasn't fucked with me first.

Anyway this got me thinking regarding the villainous side to myself. As in if I were to be one of those heavily tatooed, bad guys with lots of eye-liner, what would I be doing? How badly could I be bad?

I've never had any daydreams about being an evil person, even though I fancy being one now. However, till date I've always wanted to be a hero. Someone who saves lives, especially those of pretty damsels. I've never dreamt of being say a killer. But in light of the recent appraisals I have recieved, I for once wished to kill people.

I thought about it and figured I could only kill for 2 reasons.

a) Intense Hatred

b) Vengeance

A close friend and I were discussing how to kill people, or rather what do we really want to do to the people we want to kill. I shortlisted 3 people that I would really like to see destroyed. In the first category there exists only one person. There's just one person I can say that I truly hate. Its this girl I used to know. I wish to lock her in a coffin, and bury her alive. The coffin shall contain enough air to last a few days and shall also have a microphone attached to it. The microphone shall be connected to my speakers where I can hear my prey wail though suffocation for hours. I'll record the screams for posterity, into a tape I shall call "Bitch's Moan". I only wish that even 7 deaths do not kill her, and she lies there wailing for all eternity.

In the latter category exists 2 males, both older than I. For one, who also happened to be my warden till a few years back, I have the most elaborate props in minds. I wish to construct a slide made of sharp razor blades and jutting out broken pieces of glass, atleast 100 feet in length, put at an apprpriate angle. Then I will proceed to strip him of his clothes and shove him down from the top of the slide. What he won't know is that the slide ends in a pool of antiseptic - Dettol - in which I shall let him remain till he goes numb with pain. If he drowns well and good, if he doesn't I'll shoot between his eyes, just in case.

The third is that of a senior from college. Haven't met him since his graduation and have not wished to meet him till I had this newfound desire to exact revenge. I do not wish to kill him. All I want to do is to string him up by his testicles, naked and upside down from a Banyan tree. Videotape him and put it up on Youtube. hah. Go fuck yourself now big boy. Bastard.

*I'll title the video 'The Hanging of The Man'*

Haaah. I feel strangely relieved and physically tired. I have to return to my paper on Telemarketing and Consumer Law which is 2 days overdue; from which this monlogue was but a mere break. I have strong reasons to believe that prolonged formal education has brought out the worst in me.

Cheers and if anything is found offensive, then they have been inserted with such intent.

Condoms in the News

Yesterday's newspaper - I was reading Times of India for a change - had an article upon the Papal visit to Cameroon, Africa; with an adjoining photograph of the Cameroon First Lady kneeling before him. The Pope had come under severe criticisms from Social Organisations around the world prior to his visit to the Aids ridden continent, due to his anti-contraception stand. He believes that using condoms is against the will of God and is not an appropriate mode of fighting Aids. The German and Fench Governments have respectively issued statements denouncing the Pope's comments. The Pope however, still visited Cameroon yesterday and reiterated his views on matters contraceptive before an overtly devout Catholic, Aids ridden populace. Yesterdays reports says that now even "insiders" of the Vatican feel that "he's (the Pope) is not in touch with the real world".

Damn.

In other news, the UK Government's "sexy" condom campaign has sparked a row amongst the British Intellegensia. The Ad-campaign launched by the Brit Health Minister Dawn Primarolo - tell me I'm not the only one who thinks her name sounds like a pornstar's - which has cost the Government over 5.2 Million Pounds is reportedly labelled "Condom confidence boosts sex appeal". It also says "men like nothing better than a woman who knows what she wants" to encourage the women to be carrying condoms. Personally I like anything that saves me money, so I guess in a way they're right.
The campaign is supposed to have recieved support of various liberal women's activists. A writer from Cosmopolitan magazine, Sarah Headley supports the campaign as she believes carrying condoms should be perfectly natural like carrying phones, keys and purse.
However, the British Conservatives - whoever they are - have blasted this campaign as encouraging 'promiscuity'. Julian Brazier, introduced as a Conservative lawmaker states, "the problem (of STDs) starts with growing levels of sexual activity by people with multiple partners". I'm tempted to say no you moron, but I am too ignorant on the same to comment. What I don't get is how awareness regarding condom usage, going to increase promiscuity. I mean, are people who generally don't go around being promiscuous, going to turn into sexmaniacs overnight thanks to an ad campaign? Or will promiscous people, especially teenagers - I hate to refer to people like that, I have no problems with anyone's promiscuity or lack thereof - now be better of thanks to the Government actually making something worth using, seem natural and cool?
Ektu flummox.

Of World Leaders

Around the time I started this blog, the world was caught up with the ongoing McCain-Obama electoral campaigns. Basically the world had gone gaga over Obama. I was in Bangalore during the month of November, 2008; and could then spot many Bangalorians sporting T-shirts in support of Barack Obama. At first I didn't know how to react, I mean I don't think I cared enough to react. A bunch of people going bust and now they all need a new saviour. Well God help their saviour, is the most I could come up with.

A close friend of mine decided to visit Bhutan around the same time. He was accompanying a delegation of Indian Bureaucrats and thus had access to elaborate tours and sightseeing plans in Bhutan. It was a call from him that got me interested in this small Himalayan country. I learnt that it had recently - November 6th, 2008 - crowned its new King, the youngest monarch in the world at 35, King Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuk. Druk Gyalpo, the 5th Dragon King.

On reading further on him, I found that his accession to the throne was marked by him taking on the responsibility of overseeing the democratization of his country. In fact he went on state in his coronation speech that "to make democracy work was the challenge before the Bhutanese people in the next decade". His first task as the new King was to travel to different parts of Bhutan to speak to its civilians, especially the youth, to convince them to accept democracy as the furture for governance in Bhutan.

I have a few batchmates from Bhutan and recently I had asked them about their opinions regarding democracy. Most of them believe it to be an inevitability under this King, however wish it were not so. King Jigme Singye, the 4th Dragon King, had slowly industrialised his country building roads and adequate infrastructure, while also ensuring that the masses reaped the benefits of the same. He had infact coined the term "Gross National Happiness" and had used the same to get his point across at the United Nations meet. Bhutan is not a part of the world free trade community - infact for foreingers other than Indians, Bhutan charges a daily fee equivalent of $100 for each day's stay in Bhutan- nor does it plan to open its economy completely. Bhutan's greatest potential industry is tourism and yet it maintains severe restrictions on outsiders entering the country. It does not wish to exploit its beauty, thereby leading to its ruin. My friend informs me that Bhutan is pristine and beautiful, and so are its women. Apparently only women serve alcohol at Bhutanese liquor stores, which are found alongside every grocery store - just, random input.
Anyways, the new King is determined to see his father's initiatives through. It was his father who started the democratization of his country by first introducing limits to his own absolute power. The new King now officially governs with the advice of a democratically elected cabinet.
The people of Bhutan are scared that their good kings will be replaced by corrupt politicians as in their neighbouring countries such as India.

There are good times and there are bad times. What kind of people, or even what kind of system shall allow for the maximum welfare is something about which one may argue to no end. However, after much thought, I have come to the conclusion that the answer to the aforementioned questions, lies with the seeker. Its not 'who can save the world?' thats important. Its about 'who can save you?' or 'what can save you?'. The best part is you get to decide.
Some people are born into roles and both Obama and Jigme Khesar were born into their's. This is not to judge either, but just to take your own personal pick. King Jigme is my pick to save the world.

The Longest Comment Ever!!

This comment deserves a post to itself. Thank you Atul.

Atul Vishwanathan said...

Hey, very nice and informative.. (seemingly professional too.. heh heh). I had a similar history as yours till the pseudorocker part... all of my co-pseudorockers then shifted to the blues.. i just couldn't. The music was boring and culturally not appealing. I am not saying rock was, but at least i thought it was. This, I couldn't even do that. To tell you the truth, I began feeling far removed ever since I started listening to Indian Ocean. That was because those guys sang in a language I didn't know, but still appealed. (Maybe it's the same with you for blues.) But ever since, music has lost meaning to me. As in, I can enjoy any music now simply as a break from routine. Entertainment and that's all. It never was (I thought it was) or will be a part of my routine.

Anyhow, please help me put a few things into perspective here:
1. You say Eric and the blues helped you be who you are and how you behave. I don't understand the direct link between the two. Can you please give an instance or otherwise clarify.
2. Do you play an instrument? Do you wish to?
3. There are thousands of people in India and elsewhere who have never been exposed to rock or blues. Do you think they are missing something? Do you think they would appreciate it if they heard it? Will American kids ever be as enthusiastic about rajasthani music as kids here are about their kind of music?

Sorry for this diatribe. I am not sure if this is the right medium for this discussion. But what the fuck...

Firstly this is a medium where anything goes, so well thank god for diatribes and for comments turned into posts. Now to answer them questions raised,

1. I remember my earliest memories of college being plagued with acts carried out of insecurity. I was a nervous kid. I wanted to do things right. Rather I wanted to do the right thing. Always. Besides I was extremely self critical, and often took the blame for other acting bitchy upon myself. And rock music abetted the same. Rock music inspired me to do what is considered right, to want to save the world, to uphold ideals. Milan Kundera once said, "Rock music is like my heartbeat to me, it reminds me with every beat that I am mortal". I think in retrospect I agree with him to a certain extent.
The blues however is a different story. If Rock music reminds one of one's mortality, then blues reminds one what it is like to be alive. The blues wanst to live. Despite having them blues. The blues keeps life simple, something you'll always understand. And it don't make no pretence of upholding any morality. The blues only deals with humanity and human reactions, right or wrong, they're still human and are worth singing and cherishing. And the simplicity is always welcome, especially when the world goes so complex on you. For example, BB King's "Get out of my life woman, you don't love me no more"; or Muddy Waters "Got my mojo workin' but it just don't work on you"; or "I'm going down to shoot my old lady, you know I've caught her messin' around with another man" from Hey Joe by Billy Roberts (famously covered by Jimi Hendrix). The blues, like I said, keeps it simple and accepts imperfections of the human condition whole heartedly upto the point of making it sound cool. Fucking cool. I like that.
I've stopped trying to do things right or even trying to make myself perfect in the eyes of others. The blues made me realise the futility of the same. I am what I am, Thank God. Jimi Hendrix said that. I've finally learnt to live like that. Thanks to the blues.

Also I've learnt to appreciate wimmen for the way they look and not for who they are. I believe a beautiful woman is God's gift to mankind and must be treated right. No matter how bitchy and dumb they are. Those are just obstacles God has put on them so that they can find a man who will look past that shit and appreciate the real beauty. Blues taught me to appreciate the beauty on the outside. The real beauty of a woman. Heh.

2. I 've been formally trained to play the violin - Western Classical - upto Grade 5. I've also cleared upto Grade 4 of music theory. However, playing the violin was like doing homework. I never really appreciated the music. I've always fancied playing the bass though. Jack Bruce (Cream), Leo Lyons (Ten Years After) and Jon Paul Jones (Led Zep) are my heroes in this regard.

3. I believe music is something that breaches the darkest corners of the human soul. Music is also something I've always been overtly influenced by. Kind of like what Literature does to some people. For example if I had to shoot someone, I wouldn't keep a book with me as an explanation, I'd keep an album. So like that, I feel anyone and everyone is capable of being influenced by music. The fact that you haven't been introduced to a certain form of music doesn't mean you're missing something. Everyone has their own natural inclinations and likewise find their type of music, which then grows around them and lives with them. In their car, or in their CD cases, or with the ones they love and share their lives and music with. No one is missing anything they don't have already.
On whether Rajasthani kids would appreciate American music; well maybe, maybe not. That really depends on the kid now, doesn't it? I appreciate music in the English language, cause well having been brought up in an English medium school since childhood, I'm most comfortable thinking in English. In fact for my vernacular exams, I used to think in English and translate the same into Bong/Hindi. So like that.

Have I answered all questions succintly? I know I have tried. Thank you for the comment. I'm glad I could arouse someone's curiosity for the blues. Please go ahead and ask for further clarfications. I would be only too glad to provide answers to the same the best I can. Cheers.



*If I maybe permitted, I'd like to make an addition to the answer to Q1. I was thinking about it, and I realised that I forgot to talk about my passion for travelling. I like to travel, and it is something I picked up round about the same time I started listening to the blues. Blues lyrics are traditionally characterised highways and railroads and cheap liquor places. All that is my kind of scene. I like travelling, mostly by inter-state public road transport. I live and eat cheap, travel and get high more. Also I find this kind of peace within me and without, both when I travel and when I listen to the blues. I guess I don't travel to beat the blues, I travel cause I got the blues. I said that. heh.

**Also worth mentioning is that I have no intentions of being a professional and hence don't write professionally. But coming from a professional, I'll take you comments as a compliment. So Thank You.

Brothers & Comrades

Today afternoon I was missing some of my school friends. I'm not sure what brought this on, and I'm not sure why I was hoping that 2 particular boys would randomly turn up at Vien (tea stall on Theatre Rd., actually Vien is the mithai shop next to which lies our tea stall) and somehow life in general would look brighter. Though I know that both of them are now across the Atlantic facing their own blues, I still just wished if either could be around, just for a little while. I have nothing in particular to say to them. Just wanted to sit around and gas for a while. Something we're pros at.

So I promptly went to sleep. Mr. Keating (Robin Williams) in Dead Poets Society says that "it is only in dreams that men are truly free, forever it was and forever shall it be". Whenever I miss someone, and its rare for me to miss people (I'm terribly cold hearted), I try to find them in my dreams. I've just woken up - yes its 9pm now, I've slept all evening - and my thoughts haven't collected fully yet. But the feeling of those 2 haven't left my insides yet.

In the last couple of years of high school, my friends and I hung out roughly in a group of nine. We took all our tuitions together and were in the same batch in every subject. We were also considered the worst bunch of guys amongst the science students and our exploits with Mod X, our math teacher, are still whispered in the hallways of our school. Or so we like to think.

However, over the last 5 years personalities have been shaped in certain ways and though all nine of us are still in touch with one another, we've also managed to put some distance between ourselves. While some have grown closer together, others have sort of drifted away. This happens or so I'm told. Among the people I've remained fond of are say Peter (he'd like me calling him that) and Dancer.

Today I was missing both of them. Particularly Dancer. I'll tell you a story about an incident most Martinians and Jacobians (they know who they are) of Class of 2004 would remember.

St. James' School Kolkata were hosting their...I dunno once in 5 years/2 years fest called Jaco Synthesis which, as it turned out once we were there, was rigged against us that particular year. Now this is not a big thing. We at La-Martiniere for Boys have historically rigged every single fest against them. However in our particular year my close friend - say Mascarenhas - was President on the Interact Club; he took a stand and made sure our annual fest Karma Yatra was a fair playing ground for all participating schools. Something he ended up in tears for at the end of the fest, but I'll give him credit for it. He even stood up to our Vice Principal, Mr. Francis, who had explicitly asked him to make sure that James didn't win.

St. James went on to win Karma Yatra '04 and Martinians having lost face at home vowed vengeance at the upcoming Jaco. Dammit these fests were so goddamn important to us then. I don't remember going to a single fest since graduating from school, though I remember being offerred money to come and judge an event in my own school. Its really sad the state of affairs at these fests.

So anyways once we realised we had no hope of winning although we could clearly see we deserved better than what we were getting, we Martinians erupted in 'revolt'. I clearly remember getting mad and shouting slogans and all others from our school egging me on and forming an 'army' behind myself' as we literally marched to the gates of the shamiana hosting the fest and disrupted the event going on. While the others with me followed suit and misbehaved, Dancer was the only one who had held me back and asked me to calm down. Impulsive as I was I pushed him away, even called him a fool I think, and then went ahead and paraded my army bfore fifty odd stunned Jacobians and their teachers who were rendered completely helpless. Once on a rampage there was no stopping us. Some Jacobians came forward to confront us, and me being right in front, I was in the thick of things. It was turning into a mob scene and we Martinians were thirsty for blood. James teachers kept their cool and tried to pull their boys back, they knew they couldn't control us. But we wanted blood. I remember getting frustated and climbing onto the shoulders of some boys, upholding our KY brochure and doing pelvic thrusts in the air infront of the James VP's face, Mr. Holt I think. Others would soon emulate the same. This got James' attention. They came forward. Suddenly I remember a body stepping before me as I got down to fight. It was Dancer. I was in front right through and had no idea what was going on around in my rage. Dancer while not supporting my acts had still hung around to look out for me. I think he took a well aimed punch in the chest before all hell broke loose. Jacobians didn't know we were armed with chocolate bombs which promptly went off all over their campus causing panic amongst other participating schools and teachers eventually leading to the days events being postponed. We had lost the fest but won the war. Or so we felt as 17 year old, hormone filled twerps that we were. But the fest was not the point. The point was Dancer. He later told me that he knew things would go wrong in a matter of seconds, which is why he'd asked me not to get involved. He also said the others didn't believe in me. They just wanted someone to lead them into the scene. None of them had the balls. I remember asking him why he stuck around; he said he felt I was the only one doing what I felt was right and no matter if he didn't believe in the means, he would back me up. And he did.

Over the years I have realised what I fool I was then and have rendered my apologies to various Jacobians I've gotten to know since then. One of whom is in the nine I mentioned earlier. Another a Sardar, James' favourite Sardar and mine too, would go on to become a dear friend of mine. However, I'll never forget what Dancer did that day. I was an asshole, and he knowing the same refused to judge me and chose to remain a brother in arms. I miss you bhai. Come home fast.

Peter knows who he is, and I don't have it me to write anymore. I'll talk about Peter some other day. For now I miss both my brothers and tonight I'll say a little prayer for us. May the force be with us.

Of Discovery, Religion & God

There were a few artistes whom I had been following since my late high school years into college. I had heard all the studio albums released by Pink Floyd and Dire Straits before I entered college and it was something I was quite proud of. I was a snoot in choices of music, and now looking back, I feel I took an overt pride in the fact that I liked Rock music, and that I had heard a 'lotta shit'. In college I continued to blast the same music from my room for an entire year. I was a rocker (bloody psuedo fuck if you ask me now...but I was only 18) and swore by the abovementioned, Pearl Jam (I still dig PJ), Oasis and REM.

Sometime in my second year I got my hands on the 4 disc Crossroads Compilation of Eric Clapton's studio work over the years. I don't exactly remember why I actually played it but I guess it was because of a friend who insisted upon making me listen to "real music". Since then I've heard that compilation enough number times to have memorised even the order of songs in each disc - my favourite is Disc 3 - and have gone out of my way to collate as much of Clapton as I could. It was the first time I'd heard the blues. It was love at first sound.

The funny thing about Clapton, which is something you don't realise when you start listening to him, is that most of his stuff that blows your mind isn't really written by him. Eric Clapton, contrary to popular opinion, did not start out aiming be a fullblown rockstar. Eric Clapton was a guitar player. According to him, he wanted to be like Buddy Guy. He wanted to play the blues like a maestro, like a demon possessing the souls of all and sundry before him. I think he succeeded. Perhaps too soon in his life. However, over the years I have grown from Clapton's music and have discovered all that I listen to now. It was that compilation that led me to artists like Buddy Guy, Jimi Hendrix, Muddy Waters, Robert Johnson (whom Clapton considered to be his guru - Clapton has a Robert Johnson cover in every album of his - his most famous number Crossroads is his version of the Cross Road Blues by Johnson) and eventually my personal guitar hero Stevie Ray Vaughan. Thus for me listening to Eric Clapton was like an introduction to a form of music that has grown like a cancer within me and now has complete control over my senses and my life. If I had to profess a faith I would call it music - blues specifically - and Eric Clapton would be my oldest God, the patron saint of the blues.

Recently I came across an interview of Clapton's from 1974 that revealed another side to the man who was once touted all over the Islington subways as God. A side that got me interested in his life and career. A side that showed me an emotional, honest, passionated and maybe slightly daft guy who was aware of the tremendous talent bestowed upon him by the heavens, and who understood its value enough to have still kept himself alive. Something that most of his contemporaries and even guitarists after him haven't been able to do.

Eric Clapton started his career in a British band called Rooster which also had Brian Jones on rhythm guitars, and he would often sing in place of friend Mick Jagger on the side - when Jagger would be too high to sing - at a club called The Firehouse . I do not think they ever recorded for I haven't been able to get my hands on any of their music. However, Rooster soon split with Jones joining forces with Mick and Keith Richards to form the legendary Rolling Stones and Eric Clapton joining a blues influenced rock n' roll band called The Yardbirds. His stint with the Yardbirds gained him recognition as a blues guitarist in the British underground in the 60s. However, The Yardbirds were looking to break into the charts and thus were looking to record more pop numbers, moving away from the blues. Clapton, then 18, couldn't care less about the charts. The first pop number recorded by The Yardbirds - For Your Love - was also the last number recorded by Clapton for them. According to him, he wanted to play the blues, and he wanted to know the blues. So after The Yardbirds, Clapton became a construction worker for a while till John Mayall found him and inducted him into the Bluesbreakers. He would also play in a band called The Glands in Greece for a while, before returning to England and The Bluesbreakers to cut his solitary record with them. It was his stint with The Bluesbreakers that gained him recognition all over his homeland as the 'best blues guitarist in the Brit club circuit'.

However, he still hadn't recorded the stuff that his legend is made of. In 1966 Clapton formed the earliest power trio rock-blues band, modelled after Buddy Guy's trio, alongside the phenomenally talented Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker. Below is Cream (from left : Eric, Ginger and Jack).

Cream is arguably the most influential rock-blues band in the history of Rock n Roll. They released 4 studio albums and in them they created the kind of power blues that would go on and influence the creation of rock trios like The Jimi Hendrix Experience and Beck, Bogart and Appice (BBA). While Clapton did sing on a few numbers, it was Jack Bruce who handled most of the vocal work and songwriting for the band.
Personally I feel they were the most creative and individually talented outfit of musicians to have ever come together. In the long run their onstage talent was probably rivalled only by Led Zeppelin, and their creativity by Jethro Tull. Still the work they did in the 4 albums remains unparralled in my opinion. Especially their live recordings. I also possess a 4 cd Cream Compilation (Those Were The Days) of which 2 consist their live recordings. I think the stuff they have on those 2 cds, should be made a compulsory part of music lessons in every high school that imparts music lessons (mine did...they never played us Cream though, fucking idiots).

Cream reached dizzying heights of fame and fortune. They became the biggest band of their time and Eric Clapton was at the peak of his career. In fact when Chaz Chandler, Jimi Hendrix's manager, offered to take Jimi to England and get him a band, all Jimi asked was, "will you introduce me to Eric Clapton?"

Fame came with its price. 2 years into the band Ginger Baker and Jack Bruce were reportedly at loggerheads with each other more often than not. Clapton on his part was getting disillusioned as a musician. He wasn't singing as much as he would've liked. But more importantly he felt that as a band they were performing "absolute rubbish" at their live gigs and the fans were still going wild. He is said to have purposely stopped playing in the middle of a gig to note his band's reaction. To his surprise neither Baker nor Bruce realised he had stopped and continued playing on their own. To add to this Clapton was now listening to more voice driven soul music. In his interviews he mentions listening to Stevie Wonder the most during his final Cream days, in fact he co-wrote Badge with George Harrision in his last album with cream, minus any over the top guitaring because thats what he was aiming to move away from.

Cream eventually disbanded in 1968, and Clapton moved through several acts in rapid succession. He formed Blind Faith first alongside Baker, Steve Winwood and Rick Grech. It bombed. On being asked the reasons for its failure, Clapton said, "Our first live gig was before an audience 36000 strong. We couldn't handle it". He literally fled the arena with their opening act Delaney, Bonnie and Friends. Clapton had found this husband-wife soul outfit singing at a pub with no one listening to them. He liked them and invited them to open for Blind Faith. He toured with them as an additional guitar player for a while before stealing their rhythm section to go on to form Derek and the Dominos with whom he would release his ballad filled megahit album Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs. It was during his tour of America with the Dominos that he met Duane Allman and invited him over to record with the Dominos. Duane Allman is found playing the slide guitar on 5 tracks in the album.

This album marks the end of the Clapton I worshipped and who led me to the kind of music and musicians I have now come to follow. Clapton would go on to become an immensely successul solo artist who played every kind of music that ever turned him on, without the fear of not being accepted or failing commercially. It was his art that was the only thing holy to him. Clapton would much later cover I shot the sherriff which would introduce reggae and Bob Marley to a global audience. In the 80s he started patronising the annual Crossroads Guitar Festival where he brought his teenage hero Buddy Guy to the world. Most of the Buddy Guy electric guitar albums available in music stores today have been recorded in the 80s even though he's been a recording artist since 1958. Clapton would also discover Stevie Ray Vaughan on the radio while driving his Cadillac, and bring him to the notice of the world.

To me Eric Clapton has been a sort of personal preacher/guru. His work introduced me to the music I listen to which in turn influences the way I choose to live and behave. Further he has influenced multitudes of guitar players I like including the likes of erstwhile blues artists such as Robert Cray, Bonnie Raitt and John Mayer. Also if it hadn't been for Clapton we would've probably never have known Stevie Ray Vaughan.

If I did believe in God I have a feeling he'd look like this.

A true blues spirit. May the legend of Slowhand live on forever. Atleast till I get to meet him. I don't know what I would say when I do meet him (and I will...before he dies on me) but I guess I will say Thank You to him, amongst everything that I might blurt out. A big fat Thank You for all the music Sir Eric. God of Guitar.

They call it stormy Monday...

...but Tuesday's just as bad. In fact for the past 2 months everyday has been the same for me. But rather lazy than stormy. As in everyday has been a Sunday. In college I attended a royal 2 classes in the entire month of January. I missed a week's classes in February faffing around in Goa. The rest of the days were mostly off due to recruitments where I failed to secure employment (which means the Sundays don't stop happening on a daily basis even after I graduate). And now, early March I'm home for almost a week and a half. The only exercise my body gets is post sunset when I travel out to our favoured tea stall on Theatre Rd. to meet my friends, who drop by after a long days work at their respective workplaces. Its nice to have salaried friends. Cigarrettes, tea and the occasional beer comes free. Its almost like your birthright to rip your buddy's wallet. I just wish I had a wallet my friends could rip off. Whats there.

By now I have completely forgotten what it was like to wake up early in the morning (my eyes open just in time for lunch these days). Even them manic Mondays have an unsettling calm and peacefulness about them.

Not that I'm complaining though. Right now I'm officially the King of Joblessness.

I hope this week turns out to be a nice, relaxed week for everyone who needs it (recently a friend informed me that he was working 55 hours non stop, including his birthday...the force be with you shona). Amen.

Of NALSAR FUCKALL UNIVERSITY OF LAW

Having returned to civilisation for a while, I am busy eating, sleeping and taking stock of my life in college so far. I'd like to talk about life in my college for once. I know I have made passing referances to the same from time to time. However, I don't think I have actually clearly reflected why that institute is a (pardon me) shithole of a place.

To begin I have to give a brief introduction to my college, NALSAR University of Law, Hyderabad. Its situated 28 kms fron Secunderabad, Andhra Pradesh; about 3 kms from a village called Shameerpet. Some of the rules regarding the conduct of students that have evolved in that place over the past 5 years have been as follows;

a) Everyone has to be back on campus by 7pm. Otherwise you will be indefinitely grounded to remain within cmpus premises at all times.

b) Students of opposite sex aren't allowed to hold hands or get cosy in public. It is not our culture. Homosexuals are not included in the above rule. I suspect this is because the NALSAR administration actually believes that Homosexuals don't exist. I feel, they think that gays only come on TV.

c) We have 2 hostel campuses within the University campus. One for boys and one for girls. All students are supposed to have retired to their hostels by 9pm. And they are expected to remain there for the rest of the night till 9am when classes resume and breakfast is available. Meanwhile it is to be noted that there is no food available to the students for the 12 hours that they're expected to remain within their hostel confines.

d) Our campus has got a 13 foot wall, with broken glass pieces embedded on them. There are also poles stuck on the wall at regular intervals which are used to host 3 layers of barbwires. One horizontal, another crisscrossing the horizotal ones, and the third and the deadliest forming a 3d loop around both the aforementioned.

*I have scaled this wall. I have permenent wound marks on my hands and legs to prove the same. I also know atleast 3 others who have scaled it. All on our own. Fuck You NALSAR. Suck my dick.

Actually, don't.

e) You can't have visitors on campus. Your parents aren't allowed into your hostels. Further if a friend drops by to surprise you, you can get grounded. Happened to a poor first year boy already. He had no idea his friend had come from the city. The VC was near the main gate and having noticed this visitor waiting outside the campus premises, he decided to ask him who he'd come to meet. He then called the student who was being visited and grounded him in front of his school friend. Its true, I'm not making this up. We didn't know we couldn't have visitors till that day.

f) Once you take permission to leave campus, and leave campus; then you can't come back before you're expected. No matter what happens to you.

I was travelling to Araku Valley. It was to be my first trip all alone. However, I realised that I had been pickpocketed on the train, and thus got off at the Station. I couldn't file a diary with the cops because I had no identification. I had lost my ATM card, my money, and all my ids. Having found some juniors from college at the station I borrowed some money and headed back to campus. When I reached campus at around 8pm, the guards stopped me outside and refused to let me in. I had to wait for an hour with all my baggage outside my own college gates till the Registrar got back to campus and allowed me in.

f) Day before yesterday a Warden came into our hostel in the afternoon when there were no classes going on, and asked all of us to shut down the music in our rooms.

Myself : Why Sir?

Warden : It is very loud you see.

Myself : So we'll turn it down Sir. Anyway campus is empty, there are no conferances going on. Whats the problem?

Warden : No...No...Not turn down. Please put it off. Music 24/7 is not good.

Myself in my head : WTF?

As I am typing the aforementioned I can feel my blood boiling. I feel like breaking something already. The aforementioned conditions are a few examples of the restrictions imposed upon the student body of NALSAR, which ironically lives in a state of absolute bliss under the same rules.

I plan to formally collate and codify all the restrictions I have encountered in this place into a statute someday. I'll call it The Freedom of Students (Control and Regulation by Morons) Act, 1998 .

*NALSAR was founded in 1998.

**Anyone appearing for CLAT or other Legal Aptitude exams beware. Don't come to NALSAR even if you get through. India Today Rankings are a farce like any other goddamn rankings. Don't go by the brochure. Its another big fat lie. Come to campus and meet the professors. One look at them and you'll know they're morons and have nothing of value to impart to you.

Our classes were called off in the morning due to the sudden death of a proffesor's son. The kid was 4 years old.
I don't have anything to say really but that children shouldn't die, and they shouldn't be lying around sick in bed either. Atleast till they're adolescent. Kids are supposed to be running around, playing the fool, stealing chocolate over money and (kid boys) chucking mud at stupid girls. Kids are fun. Kids don't deserve to die.

I want to fund a research to find some kind of serum that keeps only children immune from death till say 16, or what the hell 18. I wish I were the President of the United States.

Happy Birthday Rory Gallagher

Wikipedia tells me Rory Gallagher was born on 2nd March, 1948 in a place called Ballyshannon, Ireland. They talk a lot about his guitars, alcoholism and music career that peaked in the 70s (apparently he's sold over 30 million albums and was also approached to replace Ritchie Blackmore in Deep Purple after Jeff Beck refused....I would've never guessed). What they don't say is, where did this man born somewhere in southern Ireland get the blues from?

I had come across some Rory Gallagher numbers about a couple of years back. I remember being taken in by Moonchild and Tattoo'd Lady. Great rock tracks. But I didn't pursue him as an artist then. He was a great rock guitar player, but those were the days when I was discovering the sweet melodies of Southern Rock/Blues of Skynyrd, Neil Young, and Allman Brothers. I didn't have the time for Mr. Gallagher then. However, recently a friend picked up the entire Rory Gallagher discography, and since then I have been hooked to what this man can do with the six strings. He's fast, he's raging, he's got some Irish groove in him that makes him sound like nothing I've heard before, and he can play the blues. Without making any comparisions, I think Rory Gallagher's sound (in its entirety vocal+guitar) is closest to Jimi Hendrix's, in his own Irish way.

I don't think too many people have heard of him outside Europe. I once joined a Rory Gallagher community on Orkut and it had 5 members including myself. So if anyone's interested they ought to look up Tattoo and Calling Card. They are his commercially most succesful ventures. My personal favourites of the little I've heard have been The Cuckoo - Live FM Radio Jam (great acoustic blues covers in the first half) and his live album Live in Europe which contains some of the best live versions of his own studio work. Its his live albums that bring out the great electric blues artist whom I have come to revere. Eric Clapton cites Rory Gallagher as the reason he returned to playing the blues in the 80s. But it was Brian May of Queen who paid him the highest tribute. He was quoted saying, "So these couple of kids come up, who's me and my mate, and say 'How do you get your sound Mr. Gallagher?' and he sits and tells us. So I owe Rory Gallagher my sound."

A must listen for any music lover.

Happy Birthday Rory. Rest in Peace. Cheers.