25 March 2014

Home they brought her warrior dead…

It was an office meeting. Two of my team mates and myself were going thru some intense discussions about an important professional decision we have to make for our business in the coming months. As we started wrapping up our discussions, we started talking about the passing away of a pet of one of my teammates.

He was particularly affected since he was very close to this pet. But more importantly the discussion was about how stoically his wife had taken to this sad passage….. till an innocuous event like he sharing a very old picture of the pet with his wife got her to completely break down.

Reminded me of an Alfred Tennyson poem – on the importance of crying. After my friends left, I looked up the poem and read it up again. It is a master stroke of Tennyson to convey the importance of crying as a natural way to relieve your inner feelings. And the wisdom of somebody who is ninety years old!!!!

Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead

Home they brought her warrior dead:
She nor swooned, nor uttered cry:
All her maidens, watching, said,
‘She must weep or she will die.’

Then they praised him, soft and low,
Called him worthy to be loved,
Truest friend and noblest foe;
Yet she neither spoke nor moved.

Stole a maiden from her place,
Lightly to the warrior stepped,
Took the face-cloth from the face;
Yet she neither moved nor wept.

Rose a nurse of ninety years,
Set his child upon her knee—
Like summer tempest came her tears—
‘Sweet my child, I live for thee.’

Alfred Lord Tennyson

25 March 2014

Chirag-e-dil (Flame of the heart)

“Jis chirag ko apney dum sey jalayaa hai
Usi chirag ne mera aashiyaan jalayaa hai
Bachata tha jisko hawa ke ek jhonkey se bhi main
Usi ney aaj mujhe gehri toofan mein phansaaya hai”

Translation:

The flame (of love) which I fanned with my breath
Is the same flame that has burnt my world to cinders
She, who I shielded even from the most gentle breeze
Has, indeed, today left me in the midst of a raging storm

(Unknown poet)

5 March 2014

Ahmad Wali back again!

Ever since I had that conversation with that Afghan cab driver in DC, I have been trying to dig up more songs of Ahmad Wali on YouTube. Here is one that is just amazingly mellifluous (at least to a Bengali ear). I am also intrigued by the influence from common roots of Indian songs and Afghan songs on each other. The tunes of most of his songs remind me of some other song I have heard before. (And I cannot understand a single word of what he is saying).

For all my Bengali music lover friends, which Nazrulgeeti does the second song of Ahmad Wali (starts at 5:35) remind you of? There are parts of the song that have almost the same tune!!

And for my Afghan friends (read Miriam 🙂 ) what is the meaning of the song he is singing?

1 March 2014

Nice qawwali to end this Friday evening…

“Muthhee bandh key aanewale,
Tu hath pasarey jayega
Dhan daulat jagir se tune
Kya paya, kya payega?

Chadhta suraj dhire dhire
Dhalta hain dhal jayega”

You, who are born in this world with your fists clenched (symbolizing wanting to hold on to your belongings)
Will die with your palms open (symbolizing you will have to give up everything when you die)
With all your money, property and belongings
What have you got? What are you going to get?

The shining rising run … will slowly but surely be setting on you!!

22 February 2014

Celebrating Feb 21

Sharmila and the kids are at the Demi Lovato show. I got the whole house and evening to myself! So I decided to kick up my own cacophony at home 🙂

This being the World Mother Language day [the origin goes back to a very unfortunate incident. When the British, in their infinite wisdom, divided India along religious lines before they left in 1947, Pakistan was born as two large noncontiguous landmasses – one is what is today known as Pakistan and the other one is what is today known as Bangladesh. It was originally called East Bengal – because the dividing line broke apart a state that had Bengali speaking guys like me into East Bengal (as part of Pakistan) and West Bengal (as part of contiguous India – where I was born)].

Later East Bengal was renamed East Pakistan and then after its war of independence (Pakistan has a different view on this), it became Bangladesh. In between, there was a move by Pakistan to have a common language – Urdu as the national language. East Pakistan revolted against this – as they wished to keep their language Bengali as their official language – and the protest turned deadly with four students being shot dead.

Much later, UN recognized this day as the World Mother Language day to celebrate diversity in this world.

To celebrate that, spent a couple of hours listening to Bengali songs by singers from Bangladesh – some really young and upcoming talent like Dina, Saju, Liza, Shadhona… My absolute favorites are Chanchal Chowdhury and Momotaj!

Speaking of cacophony, I experimented with a combination of tabla and cajon to those tunes. I had a very faithful and appreciative listener as you can see in the picture 🙂

Also, I do not think UN sanctioned wine as part of the World Mother Language day, but I threw that in for free 🙂

20140221-224323.jpg

1 December 2013

Higher than 31,000 feet!

On a Delta flight to Boston. At 31,000 feet.
Spirits are lifted even higher by Abida Parvin’s rendition of:

“Tu ne deewana banayaa to mein deewana bana
Ab mujhey hosh ki duniya mein tamasha na bana”

You made me a lover,
thus I am a lover today
Now please don’t make me a laughing stock
In this reality-conscious outside world

“Nigah-e-Naaz se poochhenge kisi din ye zaheen
Tu ne kya kya na banayaa!! Koi kya kya na bana”!!

5 November 2013

“The Pig” – two different takes..

This one is a simple light-hearted funny one by Ogden Nash.

The Pig

“The pig, if I am not mistaken,
Supplies us sausage, ham and bacon,
Let others say his heart is big–
I call it stupid of the pig. ”

This one is a much deeper one (about letting circumstances define you or you take charge to define circumstances) although worded in a very innocuous way by Roald Dahl

The Pig

“In England once there lived a big
And wonderfully clever pig.
To everybody it was plain
That Piggy had a massive brain.
He worked out sums inside his head,
There was no book he hadn’t read.
He knew what made an airplane fly,
He knew how engines worked and why.
He knew all this, but in the end
One question drove him round the bend:
He simply couldn’t puzzle out
What LIFE was really all about.
What was the reason for his birth?
Why was he placed upon this earth?
His giant brain went round and round.
Alas, no answer could be found.
Till suddenly one wondrous night.
All in a flash he saw the light.
He jumped up like a ballet dancer
And yelled, ‘By gum, I’ve got the answer! ‘
‘They want my bacon slice by slice
‘To sell at a tremendous price!
‘They want my tender juicy chops
‘To put in all the butcher’s shops!
‘They want my pork to make a roast
‘And that’s the part’ll cost the most!
‘They want my sausages in strings!
‘They even want my chitterlings!
‘The butcher’s shop! The carving knife!
‘That is the reason for my life! ‘
Such thoughts as these are not designed
To give a pig great peace of mind.
Next morning, in comes Farmer Bland,
A pail of pigswill in his hand,
And piggy with a mighty roar,
Bashes the farmer to the floor…
Now comes the rather grisly bit
So let’s not make too much of it,
Except that you must understand
That Piggy did eat Farmer Bland,
He ate him up from head to toe,
Chewing the pieces nice and slow.
It took an hour to reach the feet,
Because there was so much to eat,
And when he finished, Pig, of course,
Felt absolutely no remorse.
Slowly he scratched his brainy head
And with a little smile he said,
‘I had a fairly powerful hunch
‘That he might have me for his lunch.
‘And so, because I feared the worst,
‘I thought I’d better eat him first.’ “