Brilliant PM of a brilliant country

The Perfect Carnatic Song

In my opinion, this song in Carnatic music is THE PERFECT ONE. It has lyrical beauty, the typical sentiment of a devotee, and focusses on one theme.. grace. It is set to one of the loveliest of ragas. It sounds too good to be true... just listen and you will agree!

Audio File : RK Srikanthan

Audio File : Bombay Jayashri

pAhi shrI girirAjasutE

Abstracted from: Compositions of Shyama Shastri, Subbaraya Shastri & Annasvami Shastri by Sangeetha Kalanidhi T. K. Govinda Rao, published in Chennai 1997 (No. 31).

Raga: Anandabhairavi / Tala: rUpakam / Composer Syama Sastri

P: pAhi shrI girirAjasutE karuNAkalitE padasarOja manusarAmi tE amba

A: dEhi matEranupamagatim mE EkAmrapatisudati sati tEjasA atulita divyamUrttE lalitE atilalitE

C1: dEvi purANi nigamavinutE prItiriha vasatutE mAnadE anudinamajitE yudhi jitEndra vimatE dEvAvirata kRta nutE kAmakOTipITha gatE dInajana nikarE bhuvi paradEvatE sucaritE

C2: nIpavanI paramanivasanE namra jagadavana nEtri janani kanakavasanE jhaSavishAlanayanE gOpayita sukavijanE pApa tApa khaNDana nipuNE kuntaLa vijita ghanE ghanajaghanE kalAvati ratE

C3: kAmitadhAtri kamalamukhi kAmAkSi akhilasAkSi kAmarati kAma shubhaphaladE dhRta sugandha ghanalatE shyAmE adya bhava mama mudE shyAmakRSNasadvaradE shyAmaLE AshritaratE viditagatE sadA iha varadE

My translation:

Oh Daughter of the King of Hills, Mother, bestow thy grace on me, for I just follow in your lotus steps....and grace is your very nature!

Mother, also give me wisdom, you pearly-toothed consort of Siva(Ekamreshwara), unmatched in effulgent form, divine Lalitha, ever-so-pliant in feminine grace!

You're primordial, worshipped in scriptures, and once ended god's quarrels too, oh unvanquished one! May your affection be with me here always....just enshrined as you're in Kamakoti Pitha, uplifting all poor souls.

You're the Purifier, Mother! Your eyes are filled with love for all creation, those large eyes that recall beauteous fish.

You're the inspiration for great poets, you're adept at destroying infernal misdeeds, you're a lovely one, with such splendid hair and figure!

You fulfill our wishes, and you foster passionate love amongst us. Oh lotus-faced one of dark mein, oh one swathed in golden robes, holding a fragrant plant in hand, grace me just this instant! For you're ever and ever grace personified!

Yin Yang and Zhang

You see recently posted a piece of my art. It is titled Yin Yang and Zhang*. It shows how man is an eternal cauldron of creativity with left brain logic and right brain art and how the whole creative process causes a Zhang in his being. iPhone 4 is good for this process. Let me show you another piece of my art:

The Fire of Life

It took only a couple of minutes of finger painting on this retina display touch screen. I have a slew of applications all about photography and art neatly assembled into groups. Incredibly this chalk and charcoal art app called Doodle Buddy makes a charcoal scratch sound as you slide your finger=virtual chalk over this incredible glass=slate! You can even imagine the rough contact between slate and chalk as you see the grainy lines. And you can smudge and blend colours too. Enjoy!

* Zhang - if you're like me, you would like to look up what zhang means. Come on, Lah, it is there just for rhyming!

iPhone 4 Photos

iPhone 4 Miscellany

Went to Bangalore. Auto fares are up 30%. In return you get foul-mouth and pick-pocket drivers. Trained in Chennai I believe.
Came back and bought an iPhone 4. Amazing display better than the human eye can see. Great camera HD. Am blogging now from it.

Yin Yang and Zhang ( iPhone art)

When he comes.

This is a highly evocative poem of the Vishwa Kavi Rabindranath Tagore:

The night darkened. Our day's works had been done. We thought that the last guest had arrived for the night and the doors in the village were all shut. Only some said the king was to come. We laughed and said 'No, it cannot be!'                It seemed there were knocks at the door and we said it was nothing but the wind. We put out the lamps and lay down to sleep. Only some said, 'It is the messenger!' We laughed and said 'No, it must be the wind!' 

There came a sound in the dead of the night. We sleepily thought it was the distant thunder. The earth shook, the walls rocked, and it troubled us in our sleep. Only some said it was the sound of wheels. We said in a drowsy murmur, 'No, it must be the rumbling of clouds!' 

The night was still dark when the drum sounded. The voice came 'Wake up! delay not!' We pressed our hands on our hearts and shuddered with fear. Some said, 'Lo, there is the king's flag!' We stood up on our feet and cried 'There is no time for delay!' 

The king has come - but where are lights, where are wreaths? Where is the throne to seat him? Oh, shame! Oh utter shame! Where is the hall, the decorations? Someone has said, 'Vain is this cry! Greet him with empty hands, lead him into thy rooms all bare!' 

Open the doors, let the conch-shells be sounded! in the depth of the night has come the king of our dark, dreary house. The thunder roars in the sky. The darkness shudders with lightning. Bring out thy tattered piece of mat and spread it in the courtyard. With the storm has come of a sudden our king of the fearful night.

Osho, the mystic, interprets this poem thus:

A beautiful poem by Rabindranath Tagore, "The King of the Night".... There used to be a very huge temple, so huge that there were one hundred priests to worship the statues of gods in the temple. One night the chief priest dreamt, and the dream was such that it made him wake up -- he could not believe it, but he could not disbelieve it either. 

In the dream he saw God himself saying to him, "Tomorrow is the fullmoon night. Clean the whole temple, get ready -- I may come any moment. For thousands of years this temple has been calling me, but the call was professional; hence it was not heard. Your call is not professional. You are the first chief priest in this temple whose heart is full of longing, full of prayer, full of waiting. You are not simply doing the rituals, your whole life is in it. So don't forget: tomorrow I am coming and I am giving you an advance notice, so that the temple is ready to receive the guest for which it was made many, many centuries before." 

It was difficult to believe that God would speak to him -- he is nobody, he does not deserve it. On the contrary, he has so many weaknesses, so many frailties which every human being is prone to... but on the other hand, how to disbelieve? The dream was truer than our so-called true life. 

He was worried about what he was going to say to the other priests, because they will make him a laughingstock. The temple has been there for centuries and God has never come. But even if it looks awkward, embarrassing, he has to tell them, because he alone cannot clean the whole temple; it is so big, so huge.... 

He woke up all the priests and said, "Forgive me for disturbing your sleep. I am in a dilemma: I have seen this dream...."And all the priests laughed -- because priests are the only people who don't believe in God. They know perfectly well that God is a strategy to exploit people. 

They said, "It was just a dream, go back to sleep." But the chief priest could not sleep. In the morning he said, "It may have been just a dream, but who knows? If God comes and finds us unprepared, it will be such a shame. So I order you, as the chief priest, to clean the temple, to decorate the temple with flowers, with candles. Make it fragrant with incense, and let us wait. Even if it was only a dream, and God does not turn up, there is no harm. The temple needs cleaning, and it is a good opportunity." 

The whole day the temple was cleaned, decorated. Delicious food was made for God, but the whole day passed and there was no sign. And the chief priest was standing at the door, looking far away where the sky seems to meet the earth -- the temple was in a very lonely place -- but the road remained empty; nobody came. 

The day disappeared into night. They were all hungry because they were waiting: first God should be served. And then all the other priests said, "We had told you, a dream is just a dream. Who has ever heard of God coming to the temples? You are very naive, very simple, very innocent. Now let us eat -- we are feeling hungry and tired -- and go to sleep." 

So they closed the doors, and ate the food that they had made for God. And because they were tired from the whole day's cleaning and decoration and preparation, they immediately fell asleep. 

In the middle of the night a golden chariot came on the road leading to the temple. 
 The sound of the chariot coming... and the chief priest was deep down still feeling that God cannot be so deceptive, particularly to a man who has never done any harm to him. He heard the sound of the chariot. He woke up the priests, and he said, "He is coming! I have just heard the sound of the chariot, listen." 

And they were half asleep and they said, "Just go to sleep! You are going mad, just because of a dream. This is not a chariot, this is just the clouds thundering." He was alone. They silenced him. 

The chariot came to the door. God stepped onto the long steps reaching up to the temple. He knocked on the door. Again the chief priest said, "I have heard somebody knocking on the door! Perhaps God has come." And now it was too much. Annoying them in the middle of the night... utterly tired and exhausted priests. Somebody shouted at him and said, "You shut up and just go to sleep! It is nothing but the breeze hitting the doors. No God has come and no chariot has come; it has never happened." They again silenced him. 

In the morning when the chief priest... he could not sleep; the waiting kept him awake, the longing kept him awake. He got up early and opened the door -- "My god!" he said, "He has come" -- because on the road there were signs of a chariot coming up to the door, and on the steps he could see the signs of someone reaching the door. He looked carefully... because dust had gathered on the steps and there were perfect impressions of the feet. It was no one other than God, because the impressions in the dust were ctly the same as had been described in the ancient scriptures; exactly how the feet of God would make an impression. 

With tears in his eyes, he ran inside and made all the priests wake up. And he said "You did not listen to me -- it was not clouds thundering in the sky, it was the chariot of God. And it was not the wind knocking at the doors it was God himself who knocked. But now it is too late." 

This beautiful poem has immense significance. God comes to every heart -- because that is the temple, the only temple -- and knocks on the heart. But you go on rationalizing, and your doors are closed.