tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88764765868081418652024-03-13T19:19:27.405-07:00Jasmine StringsVeenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.comBlogger492125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-44878700173914315012023-10-31T23:35:00.001-07:002023-10-31T23:35:34.620-07:00Tune O Rangeele<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyFMUrr-gxAchdGkXYoCJEKBNMhHaWhftuTByyvs16iD8cYXVm_zjRobzeoe0OIo-cMvIjtNsDlzj-LyqaPKw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /> <p></p>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-20219820482309486902023-10-08T01:02:00.000-07:002023-10-08T01:02:31.547-07:00Asai Mugam - Mahakavi Sri Subramanya Bharatiyar <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyMP61gWjpoKsfElNCy-_YXvwSIi0V_V13YOz9JLi4McD2oeprbWNZosNELeVPX-mt2jkcDZnqQcDAwV4x5LQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /> <p></p>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-56342630940718366152023-10-06T21:03:00.051-07:002023-10-06T21:42:40.779-07:00LOOKING LIFE IN THE EYE......<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoGwA-0HpF3fHQBUGuaVNxrEoFQ_G7wBYaCP0HK-Cz1hC62m3mcnRYXAsyDifYfKlOdwx9cbJ4EHj_EB2sOOSq0DDJxVqmibI0tI8kR1qOjyc5AD0JcTWsh4K8wg9VfRiC5J7U4uQyf3iKrp7vM1HxkuL_xVD_VOmVNZ5U61yFvL1xTDAnEEG5UyPx_Z4_/s1024/IMG-20231007-WA0012.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="980" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoGwA-0HpF3fHQBUGuaVNxrEoFQ_G7wBYaCP0HK-Cz1hC62m3mcnRYXAsyDifYfKlOdwx9cbJ4EHj_EB2sOOSq0DDJxVqmibI0tI8kR1qOjyc5AD0JcTWsh4K8wg9VfRiC5J7U4uQyf3iKrp7vM1HxkuL_xVD_VOmVNZ5U61yFvL1xTDAnEEG5UyPx_Z4_/s320/IMG-20231007-WA0012.jpg" width="306" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">I have never been on social media platforms till I started Facebook in June this year. </span><span style="font-size: x-large; text-align: left;">I was like a child fascinated by a new toy. I got so engrossed in FB. What I liked about Facebook is the immediate connect I had with everyone. </span></div><p><span style="font-size: large;">A certain thing irked me last week which led me into a self-explanatory monologue on FB about quitting the music field.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">To my utter shock, my speech was received as a sob story by my near and dear music lovers. Embarrassed as hell, I removed the post a couple of days ago.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I never react to hatred or contempt, but PITY - NO WAY BOSS. My super-sized self esteem would never allow that.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Take the bull by its horns" is my motto and my way of life. And that's how it'll remain, no changing that!!</span></p>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-58158340836355565232023-10-02T05:24:00.000-07:002023-10-02T05:24:42.480-07:00Sun Sahiba Sun (Voyage Of Inspiration)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyrUSfZzS4kWWaG_RsLuXdkKQOJe2D3vtT6IWFaJ3ozQwsy_ssFcbdZHHxO_1WLiz6wqoWdo00L9vY9ZgyYEg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /> <p></p>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-91331204849027433852023-10-01T07:34:00.005-07:002023-10-01T07:34:29.377-07:00Dikku Theriyatha Kaattil<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz_8oPs1NzqHomwJRL-SB_pRR-s0ypRxYJvcTNFGvpujoJFuH4NAP4Hwafr3SMIlqmS8VAGEbdjOwy3iNxHyw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /> <span style="font-size: large;">Dikku Theriyatha Kaattil - Mahakavi Subramanya Bharathi - Ragamalika - Adi</span><p></p>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-54234109906134022942023-09-22T22:30:00.002-07:002023-09-22T22:39:01.631-07:00RADHASHTAMI - 23rd September, 2023<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwBGW29bZB3oBeFArCr-3bw2BvFvmdceCCahPBBmrq93Lbt2PtvRsfzBTqnDm4Bbvebj-yvBg2fshEz8U1vcQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>RADHA MUKHA KAMALA - PAPANASAM SIVAN - KAPI - ADI</b></span></div><br /><p></p>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-80260933779945434882023-09-17T20:50:00.007-07:002023-09-17T20:50:41.773-07:00HAPPY VINAYAKA CHAVITHI!!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxLi90ohd8dMvKqsYht2mGDoyPQuBuz599i_E_mWA2XWTKuX8lQr__v6I1IgRfw8Dh7OwuRtMS1tZahDaN20Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /> <p></p>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-86189900600213566442023-06-06T03:37:00.013-07:002023-07-28T08:06:34.760-07:00THE PILLAR LADY-8<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOeQhesKq_dk8anpH3aHmmXJ_Zb9-1f857-kPUUJVmKOinp34XTKECnPyHt_2r26IoCFPWCr7dg25qx2cZDbpTrzz6qN4b0oJjZ0n29iDPguddEUH31kGRNq5kXqc54wyMf3k9-BNqb2GKidPpG9CIwAHixt_OVYEu-pB-BikyM77pYVbHmsaseKRe7g/s646/AD51596E-0F56-4F92-93E9-4CBEABFDBA22.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="646" data-original-width="475" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOeQhesKq_dk8anpH3aHmmXJ_Zb9-1f857-kPUUJVmKOinp34XTKECnPyHt_2r26IoCFPWCr7dg25qx2cZDbpTrzz6qN4b0oJjZ0n29iDPguddEUH31kGRNq5kXqc54wyMf3k9-BNqb2GKidPpG9CIwAHixt_OVYEu-pB-BikyM77pYVbHmsaseKRe7g/s320/AD51596E-0F56-4F92-93E9-4CBEABFDBA22.jpeg" width="235" /></a></div><br /> <span style="font-size: x-large;">I stood dejectedly. Every cell in my body protested against the job of PA to Mimi. I was unable to digest the madness and pass it off as something natural. Even worse was being a part of it. I longed for my normal routine of writing articles on current trends and politics, planning debates, having loads of fun with my friends.... I simply couldn't imagine how I got talked into this situation by Ma. The trip to Rishikesh not only lost its appeal, but it also triggered my anger at a friend who coaxed me into giving my acceptance to join the group.</span><p><span style="font-size: large;">My thoughts were rudely interrupted by loud giggles. Her anklets and her giggles working up a cacophony, Selvarani came running into the room, obviously after meeting Mimi.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Selvarani continued to laugh hysterically and ran to the centre of the room with her stick. I realised that she laughed for no reason only to show her dimples. She raised both hands, her left hand held the stick while her right hand which was raised higher showed a thumbs-up sign.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Maran briefly looked up from his mobile. He muttered under his breath, "Crap..... not again..."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Cutting the call in the middle Maran bent down and prostrated to Selvarani. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The old manservant flung the tray on the floor, making a crashing noise. He shouted at Selvarani angrily, "I have knee pain, I can't bend."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Selvarani kept giggling but didn't budge, her raised hands and thumbs-up sign intact. Maran whispered to the old man, "Bend as much as you can."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Fuming, the old man bent slightly as though prostrating to Selvarani and turned on his heel to walk out of the room in a huff.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I felt someone tug at my leg. It was Maran. He was pulling my calf and gesturing wildly at me to prostrate to Selvarani.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My anger started to build slowly as I looked at Selvarani. She was looking at me expectantly, her direct gaze compelling me to prostrate to her.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Crossing my hands across my chest I looked at Selvarani through narrowed eyes. I tried to convey through my gaze, "Just who do you think you are?! Like hell I'll prostrate to you! Get lost!!!?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My gaze mirroring my contempt, I did not try to disguise my anger and disgust.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Selvarani laughed even more hysterically and declared, "Now I know why Meemee Akka hired you as her secretary. You are soooooo cuuuuteeeee......"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I was taken aback. It dawned on me that Selvarani had a nasty mind in contrast to her dimples. She cleverly twisted my attitude as cute, effectively refusing to acknowledge the insult I threw at her.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My cheeks reddened in embarrasment. Irritated, I walked away, refusing to be part of the nonsensical scenario.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">"Tomorrow reality show in Crazy TV!! Meemee Akka and I are judges!!! See you, bye!!!!" Selvarani screamed and ran out of the room.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I glared at Maran angrily after Selvarani left. I did not want to ask any more questions even though I was itching to know what was with her thumbs-up sign.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I was surprised as Maran himself answered my question, as though reading my mind. "Selvarani is believed to raise her hand in a thumbs-up sign whenever she wants to bless mankind. People clamour to prostrate to her, they believe Goddess Herself has descended on Selvarani when she raises her hand and shows the thumbs-up sign."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Boiling mad at Maran's senseless theory about thumbs-up sign, I wanted to be deliberately obtuse. Ignoring Maran I addressed the old manservant, "Err, what are those lovely plants next to the window?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">(to be continued.......)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><p><b style="font-size: large;">(DISCLAIMER-THE NEW LABEL "ADITI'S VIEW" IS A COMBINATION OF FICTION/ DRY HUMOUR AND SATIRE. THE ARTICLES ARE PURELY FICTIONAL AND CHARACTERS FEATURED IN THE ARTICLE ARE A WORK OF MY IMAGINATION BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO ANY LIVING ENTITY. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ANYBODY IS A PURE COINCIDENCE.)</b></p><div><b style="font-size: large;"><br /></b></div><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-56630556024876626452023-05-31T22:40:00.000-07:002023-05-31T22:40:33.709-07:00BONDING MOMENTS…..<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzWxgbsOPHeUDsWxU86cikTJInMd3censCIsaMxL02fFAJXMizVc4OKLFBKNhrC4e_Hcw8SmyxkioM6dp3oyg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /> <p></p>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-85386075879017954942023-05-26T23:30:00.006-07:002023-05-28T07:30:58.865-07:00Sri T. M. Thyagarajan Centenary Year <iframe frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://youtube.com/embed/eoClrsxECL4" width="480"></iframe><div><span style="font-size: large;">Dr. G. Baby Sreeram is an authentic disciple of Sangita Kalanidhi late Sri. T. M. Thyagarajan. Highly traditional, extremely talented and 'sampradaya' oriented, Dr. G. Baby Sreeram's presentation runs strictly along the lines of Guru Sri. TMT's unique tradition. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Dr. G. Baby Sreeram, a well-known and reputed vocal vidushi is renowned within and outside the field of Carnatic music.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">(TMT Centenary year- birth date of TMT Sir-28th May, 1923)</span></div>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-60457850930228065662023-05-18T20:58:00.004-07:002023-05-28T07:33:00.143-07:00Sri. T. M. Thyagarajan Centenary Year<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzziSaaItR2l3NB_n_yM2LxCnh-j6HPZioTIhXXWVu7HwbRSXpl7O8Djx680j6cG0fBRPLRay4AmjS7DjYxsg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>TMT CENTENARY YEAR (28TH MAY 1923-27TH JUNE-2007)</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>NARAYANA THEERTHA THARANGAM, RAGAM-BRINDAVANI, ADI THALAM.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>PALLAVI- RE RE MAANASA GOPAALAM BHAJA DOORE PARIHARA BHOOPAALAM</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>ANUPALLAVI-AARAADANTARAM AKHILAATHMAKA BODHAANANDA GHANAM BAALAM</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>CHARANAM-BRINDAAVANA HITHA GOBRUNDHAM DHRUTHA MANDHARAM AKHILA NIGAMA KHANDAM</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>NANDHA SUNANDHAADHI VANDHYAM ANANYAKA NAARAAYANA THEERTHA YATHI</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">"I simply love Brindavani ragam. Something about the ragam, takes me instantly to Vrindavan..." My voice trailed off.</span><p><span style="font-size: large;">TMT Sir lifted his head from the notation book he was scrutinizing. He always carefully chose every krithi, varnam, pallavi or anything for the day's session.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">He looked at me for a brief second and went back to looking at the book in his hand.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Clearing my throat and working up some guts I ventured hesitantly, "Can you... could you please compose something for me in Brindavani?!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My heart beat fast as I waited for his answer.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">He once again lifted his head, this time I saw a twinkle in his eyes. He did not reply, he did not nod even as acknowledgement, nothing... there was just this hint of a smile on his face. Bending his head, he went back to searching for the krithi in the book he was holding.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I did not repeat my request. Feeling downcast and embarrassed I finished my class.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">On the way back home I consoled myself, "He's a man of few words, he's such a legend, I shouldn't have asked. That probably would have put him in an uneasy position. Probably he thinks I am taking too many liberties....". I decided to apologize to him in my next class for asking him to compose.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I counted every minute for my next class. The day arrived finally. As I sat in front of TMT Sir, my Veena tuned to perfection to Sir's sruthi, I mentally tried to frame my words on how to start the conversation.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Before I could say anything Sir announced, "Narayana Theertha Tharangam, Brindavani ragam, Adi thalam."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My eyes widened in delight and surprise. I exclaimed, "Brindavani!!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">TMT Sir nodded matter-of-factly. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I asked hesitantly, "Sir, your composition?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">He looked at me directly, " Yes. You wanted me to compose in Brindavani isn't it? I have composed this for you." He added, "I've even composed a pallavi which I will teach you after this krithi. You can play it in music season."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I was overwhelmed by joy. Sir composed for me, for my sake!!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">TMT Sir smiled widely, watching my evident joy.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Thank you Sir, thank you so much Sir..."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">He once again bent his head to look at the notation of the Brindavani krithi which he composed just for me!!</span></p>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-49466180362847908772023-05-15T07:42:00.017-07:002023-07-28T08:06:40.442-07:00THE PILLAR LADY- (7)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMJvFmNvwSZuxkYbFke7Mh0W7VT17soo_viNvp2xo6LL-Bc07MJpHBUlokI39nW2YQYWsnn7g5TChWlR_9BcH5FbGcX71gVcDD3bDf0ei5OtgkQ2cxnM5uHKdtYrj7x77of-cBXtB3uLHYXakIlxz6hU-378LK6cEx2xDKU-v2MclsxD7uSQH8VSrmQQ/s246/622A09C0-4371-419C-A6EB-2289A445D185.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="246" data-original-width="205" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMJvFmNvwSZuxkYbFke7Mh0W7VT17soo_viNvp2xo6LL-Bc07MJpHBUlokI39nW2YQYWsnn7g5TChWlR_9BcH5FbGcX71gVcDD3bDf0ei5OtgkQ2cxnM5uHKdtYrj7x77of-cBXtB3uLHYXakIlxz6hU-378LK6cEx2xDKU-v2MclsxD7uSQH8VSrmQQ/s1600/622A09C0-4371-419C-A6EB-2289A445D185.jpeg" width="205" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large; text-align: left;">Disconnecting the call, I wondered where the secretary's office, room or whatever was. Just then the insipid-looking old manservant with a towel on his shoulder entered the room. He held a tray in his hands. Walking straight up to me, his face expressionless, he placed a coffee mug on the table next to me. "Coffee", he said blandly.</span></div><p><span style="font-size: large;">I fumed at his lack of culture. I suppose I had to assume that the coffee was meant for me even though he didn't bother to hand me the coffee mug. Uncultured lot, just like Mimi!! My thoughts were rudely interrupted by a loud screechy female voice. I literally jumped out of my skin when the screechy voice screamed in a sing-song voice, "I yam heeyar..... I yam.... heeyar.....hahahaha...."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I turned towards the direction of the voice from the main door. I had to admit that I was truly awestruck by the picture that presented itself in the doorway!! Such beauty, so much charm and so much cuteness!! Gosh, I had never before seen anyone so pretty like this one. She looked very young with an air of a teenager. Was she in her 20s? I somehow found it difficult to guess her age. Fair and clear-complexioned, lustrous jet-black hair, dimpled cheeks, twinkle eyed, rosy lips.. I realised that I was reminded of the rhyme "Chubby cheeks, dimple chin..." Only this lady's cheeks weren't chubby, her chin wasn't dimpled- the dimples were in her cheeks... She sure was a head-turner. My eyes glued to her face, I was unable to take my eyes off her laughing face while flashing her dimpled cheeks and twinkling eyes. A real barbie doll she was!!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The next thing that drew my attention was the crown on her head. It looked like something she bought from Claire's. Studded with false beads and stones it was in rosy pink colour. I automatically looked at her hands to see if she carried a magic wand. Instead of which she was a holding a thick, long weird-looking stick. The stick was surrounded by strings that shone in the morning sunlight which fell on the entrance. My eyebrows knit in puzzlement wondering what the stick was.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Chi chi...." A voice muttered.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">It was the mannerless old manservant next to me. I turned to spot the first ever emotion on the old man's face. He was not a zombie after all!! The old manservant looked truly angry, his face contorted in controlled fury.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">His actions belied the anger on his face as he calmly set the tray on the table next to me. Picking the towel from his shoulder, he quickly folded it. Slowly reaching down to the floor he placed the folded towel on the ground. Holding his right knee and wincing in pain, he slowly sank down to the floor to lie down on his side, using the folded towel as his pillow. Settling comfortably the old man looked as though he was all set to fall asleep.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">His actions had me dumbfounded. Why the hell was he lying down?!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I quickly turned to Maran. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Okay bye." Maran was finishing a call on his mobile. He turned to look at the female at the entrance.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Looking serious and without a smile even Maran sank to the floor to lie down on his side. Crossing his hands across his chest, Maran looked all set for a nap.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I was shocked and petrified at the bizarre reactions of the old manservant and Maran. Why did they lie down after seeing this lady? Was the stick she was holding a machine gun??!! Was she going to fire gun shots?! It was not as though Maran or the old manservant looked frightened. They were not even in a prone position. In fact, Maran and the old manservant looked like they were lying down to rest peacefully!!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Horrified at their bizarre action of lying down, my eyes dilated in utter confusion. The lady's giggles grew louder and her anklets made deafeningly shrilly sounds as she entered the house. Skipping to where Maran was lying down the lady announced in a sing-song voice, "Eet ees okaaay....youuuuu.... caaaannn... geettt.... uuuuup!!" More giggles followed her statement.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Maran got up indifferently. Brushing his pants with his palms Maran once again reached for his mobile phone in his shirt pocket. He didn't even bother to talk to the lady or even turn to look at her. He went about his work as though she didn't exist.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Unmindful of Maran's nonchalance, the lady walked up to the old manservant and giggled and sang, "You.....caaan....alsoooo....... get.... uuuuup!!!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The old man struggled to get up. Once on his feet the old manservant angrily flung the towel on to the floor. The lady giggled and asked Maran in a sing-song voice, "Maaraan..... wheereeee..... eeeees......Meeeemeeee....Akkaaaa??"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I wondered if the lady ever knew how to talk straight. She seemed to sing her conversations!!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Already on the mobile call with someone Maran, pointed in the direction of the door which led to the inner quarters of the house without even looking at the lady.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Byeeeee...." singing aloud and giggling to nobody in particular the lady skipped towards the door that led to the living quarters. The huge stick she carried glistened with the multiple strings on it and her anklets created a cacophony as she skipped and hopped her way.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"What the hell was that??!!" Eyes wide, turning towards Maran, I demanded. My curiosity was roused beyond proportion by the novel scene I just witnessed.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">On seeing the lady leave Maran immediately switched off his mobile. Before Maran could reply to me the old manservant blurted out, "That's it!! No more, just no more of lying down whenever she comes here. This is the last time!!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My eyes shifted from the old manservant to Maran in horrified confusion. Lie down for that lady??!! But why?! What's happening.....</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The old man continued to rant, "My knees are already in so much pain. I am literally dragging myself around. I can't go down onto the floor so quickly!!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I quickly intervened, "Go down?! But why on earth??!! Why did you two lie down? Are you guys crazy??!!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Without looking at me Maran addressed the old man in mild irritation, "Nobody is forcing you to lie down. It's your take. If you don't want this job, don't lie down."<br />My confusion killing me I blurted out loudly, "What the...."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Maran turned towards me looking as though his patience was wearing thin.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">He declared, "We didn't lie down. We fainted."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"You fainted??!! It didn't look like that to me at all!! It seemed as though you both were calmly taking a nap." I protested vehemently.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Maran replied stubbornly, "No, we both fainted. We are supposed to faint whenever we see Selvarani. She is known to have that effect on people. She is pleased when people faint at the sight of her. She happens to be Madam's best friend. It is important for us to be in her good books to retain our jobs. That's why we faint everytime she comes."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Shocked, I stared in turns at Maran and the old manservant incredulously. Consumed by fascination at the heights of so much stupidity I gushed, "Hey, what the hell kind of people are you? It's so obvious even to an idiot that you both were lying down comfortably. You didn't faint." I added as a thought struck me suddenly, "Err.. did this lady Selvarani believe that you fainted?!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Maran replied irritatedly, "She doesn't care as long as we lie down. She appreciates the trouble we take to faint." He added, "And she reports well about us to Madam Mimi. And our jobs are safe."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Who is she by the way??!!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"She's a Veena player."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Wow, really??"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Maran sounded disinterested, "Ya."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"What was that in her hand, that stick."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Maran stared at me as though I took leave of my senses. "It's a Veena. What do you mean 'stick'?! Thank God, you didn't call it a stick in front of Selvarani."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">" My eyeballs jutted out, "Veena??!!" Quickly recovering I said, "Don't tell me it's a Veena!! I know what a Veena looks like. I have one at home. My Granny's."<br />Maran and the old manservant exchanged looks and burst out laughing till tears poured down their cheeks.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Your Granny's Veena??!! Nobody likes that anymore. Veena is most fashionable and comes in so many attractive shapes and sizes. Everyday there is a new development. In fact, new versions of Veena can be played while walking, standing, running and even while having conversations. People simply love the new versions." The old manservant addressed me for the first time, "Your Granny's Veena is like this" He pulled his cheeks apart and stuck his tongue out, wagging it teasingly.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Feeling offended I retorted defiantly, "Nothing like that. It sounds great."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Suddenly reminded of Selvarani's crown I asked urgently, " Why's she wearing that silly crown?!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Maran looked at me seriously, "One Swamiji recently gave her the title of 'Kaliyuga Saraswathi.' He also instructed her to wear a crown at all times." He added, "Even her fans think she's an epitome of Saraswathi."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I retorted sarcastically, "Who's Saraswathi, Mimi or Selvarani?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Maran replied wisely, "I think both of them."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I rolled my eyes in exasperation. "Does she play that stick like Saraswathi?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Maran looked at me sharply, "Actually Selvarani has a rare gift."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I drawled, "What's that?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"When she goes on to the dais smiling radiantly and sits with her Veena, people instantly feel as though they are having the Darshan of Saraswathi. Consequently, all other senses stop functioning because people's eyes gain the power of all sensory organs. The celestial sight of Selvarani with Veena is so powerful, it renders all other sensations null. This is what Swamiji said, I am not saying this."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I listened to Maran, baffled. "You mean to say nobody can hear her playing."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Maran looked irritated, "Not like that... But people don't care about her playing. It's enough if they can just look at her sitting with the Veena like Saraswathi."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I shook my head in disbelief and aggravation. "I don't get this at all!! I am not happy by merely staring at BTS, even if they're the ultimate hunks. I need to listen to their music. I judge a musician by their music...."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Maran raised his hand as though asking me to stop. "Who cares about this, at least I am not interested, okay? I just need my job. Right now I badly need a coffee. Let's cut this topic and get down to business. Come I'll show you where you'll be sitting to work."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Wait." I stalled him.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Looking at him squarely, "Saraswathi or not, like you two, I am not going to lie down on the floor for this giggling lady and call it fainting. Anymore weird stuff, I am just going to walk out, I have just had ENOUGH!!" I declared on a warning note. (to be continued......)</span></p><p><br /></p><p><b style="font-size: large;">(DISCLAIMER-THE NEW LABEL "ADITI'S VIEW" IS A COMBINATION OF FICTION/ DRY HUMOUR AND SATIRE. THE ARTICLES ARE PURELY FICTIONAL AND CHARACTERS FEATURED IN THE ARTICLE ARE A WORK OF MY IMAGINATION BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO ANY LIVING ENTITY. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ANYBODY IS A PURE COINCIDENCE.)</b></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-52823506393053513562023-05-11T04:26:00.002-07:002023-05-28T07:33:34.294-07:00Sri. T. M. Thyagarajan Centenary Year <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzwC6CkGUKRbQtktU_blD3fmSxiC8imj_MNMAk8luaVOXv3gjPVIL0ZO5pmjfBkj9d3jm-jDv_Zxksvbd7NqQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>RE RE MANASA GOPALAM (RAGAM BRINDAVANI, ADI THALAM, NARAYANA THEERTHA THARANGAM- MUSIC SET BY TMT SIR)</b></span></div><br /> <b style="font-size: large;">ARCOT MUDALI STREET- (April 1986)</b><p><span style="font-size: large;">The gate creaked open and I stepped inside the compound. It was a small compound space in front of an old independent house. A small boy of 5 or 6 was running around, naked. He ran to evade his mother who was holding a bowl of food. She ran screaming behind the boy, admonishing him and trying to feed him. Oblivious to the chaos, an old woman sat on the door-step, her head bent over a large plate of some grains on her lap which she was cleaning.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I wondered if Sri. T.M.Thyagarajan lived there.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Clearing my voice I started to ask, "T.M.Thyaga..."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My words stuck in my throat as the harrassed looking mother without even looking in my direction raised a hand to point upwards. Her entire focus was on the boy. Following the direction of her raised hand I looked up to the first floor. There was a house there, but where were the stairs to go upstairs?!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Afraid to ask her one more time I decided to look around for the staircase. I self consciously walked towards the left side of the front yard and to my utter relief found a tiny staircase in the corner.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My heart raced excitedly as I climbed the staircase slowly. Reaching the house on the first floor I glanced at my watch.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">It was 4 pm, exact time of appointment fixed by Narendran for meeting TMT Sir. I was glad that I was on dot. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The main door was wide open. I stood uncertainly in the doorway as my eyes adjusted to the dull sunlight in the front room.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I found myself staring directly at the figure of the legendary composer/ singer, Sri.T.M.Thyagarajan seated on the floor. He wore a white colour veshti without a shirt. A white towel was casually thrown around his shoulders.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">He lifted his head and glanced at me. The first thing that struck me was his eyes, the twinkle in them. The twinkle spoke volumes of his characteristic aloofness born out of tremendous amount of wisdom, self-assurance, extraordinary willpower and his awareness of his own genius mind. That was my first glimpse of the man who was about to change my life through his brand of music.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I folded my hands in Namasthey. He gestured towards the wall opposite to him. Entering nervously I noticed that the room was bare of furniture. I sank to sit down on the floor in front of TMT Sir.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">He didn't talk anything and looked at me expectantly.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I started hesitatingly, "Narendran told me..."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">He cut me short, "Yes Narendran met me and told me."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Not knowing how to open the topic I said, "I am Gayathri, a veena player..."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"I know. You are well known as Veenai Gayathri", he said with a touch of amusement.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I smiled nervously, "Yes, but of late I am not happy with what I am playing. I took a break from music for almost 5, 6 years for personal reasons. I got married, went sailing with my husband who works in ships, I had 2 daughters who are 5 and 2 years old now.'</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">He nodded, watching me keenly, the twinkle in his eyes brightening by the minute.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I continued with effort, "Now I want to start playing Veena again. I am also getting many offers to perform. But I don't know what to play.....I mean, I feel kind of stuck here." I pointed to my head. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I continued, "Actually I am unable to create. I am feeling rusted without music for nearly 6 years. I need your guidance, please help me...." my voice trailed off.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Nodding in understanding he bent his head, absently reaching for his snuff box. Opening the box he took out the snuff powder and inhaled it deeply into his nostrils.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Slowly raising his head he said tentatively, "You mean you want to learn from me."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I nodded fervently, "Yes."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Is there any specific area of music you want to learn?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I shook my head, "I want to get to the bottom of music, I want to be able to create. I want to graduate to great levels in my musical knowledge."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">He nodded. "Are you in touch with your instrument?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Yes Sir. In fact my hands can play anything, problem is that I don't know what to play. My mind is kind of stuck."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"So you want to start your regular classes with me. How will you learn? Do you sing?'</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My eyes widened in horror, "No no I can't sing. I will repeat whatever you sing on Veena."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"But then, will you bring your Veena for every class?" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I asked hesitatingly, "Please can I keep a Veena in your house? It is difficult for me to carry it for every class".</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">He agreed immediately indicating a corner of the small room. "You can keep it here."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Thank you so much!!" I said fervently.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Glancing at me directly TMT Sir said, "You must learn and abide by my method of teaching, you are already well known. Will you be able to do that?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I replied emphatically, "I will follow your teachings most loyally Sir. I will learn whatever you feel is right to open up my creative channels."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">He smiled and nodded.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"What is your Sruthi?" I asked hesitatingly. "I need to change my Veena strings to your Sruthi for my classes."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">He replied, "C."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I mentally zeroed in on Veena string gauge number 29 for the main string.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Fixing up 9 am on April 18th for my first class I rose to leave.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Prostrating to him I took leave of him.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-49273471594500735052023-05-11T04:20:00.001-07:002023-05-28T07:34:07.688-07:00Sri. T. M. Thyagarajan Centenary Year <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_wrWq0r6PQ6GvugWK_ujSkBv717gqtGzK5Po4U0b6ykgVZD35O33ykQ9FrSKmqmTQDPuLBGxpURKdRfCKNc1-n4irfahMsJ1Dh1b5Q15bYFXN1KzF6rzBhZp3NGf5uZwMYMzwKmXOjB-MBvyAEPBiVpjdlSQB53GBrUuKq3KnEcuVItTIy41K9LrBEw/s929/09D36506-80C0-454E-8242-0060E05CE403.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="725" data-original-width="929" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_wrWq0r6PQ6GvugWK_ujSkBv717gqtGzK5Po4U0b6ykgVZD35O33ykQ9FrSKmqmTQDPuLBGxpURKdRfCKNc1-n4irfahMsJ1Dh1b5Q15bYFXN1KzF6rzBhZp3NGf5uZwMYMzwKmXOjB-MBvyAEPBiVpjdlSQB53GBrUuKq3KnEcuVItTIy41K9LrBEw/s320/09D36506-80C0-454E-8242-0060E05CE403.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE-LrK0EsQiQj_IM-8KZWtJQ95HL4FHlDOSBwwI3Q3ub80EjOTICQsKDDulNJICmL9rUsM37vwDucdV6j-vLsnJjyJpITaO1pCBYxtC98FaxLBP84OBBlZqG3EInrjkd6zPKiLiWArevwCdYskov-LJQrgPFwFh8zQm2hnbDrh6OOd6hdFJSbZw9GPdQ/s916/73BD67E3-82D2-48CB-8A29-AE8F3A341F88.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="556" data-original-width="916" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE-LrK0EsQiQj_IM-8KZWtJQ95HL4FHlDOSBwwI3Q3ub80EjOTICQsKDDulNJICmL9rUsM37vwDucdV6j-vLsnJjyJpITaO1pCBYxtC98FaxLBP84OBBlZqG3EInrjkd6zPKiLiWArevwCdYskov-LJQrgPFwFh8zQm2hnbDrh6OOd6hdFJSbZw9GPdQ/s320/73BD67E3-82D2-48CB-8A29-AE8F3A341F88.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>NARENDRAN AND MYSELF-CONCERT TOUR, US IN 1985, FIRST PHOTO- WITH SRI.TMT</b></span></div><br /> <span style="font-size: medium;"><b>1985, US TOUR-</b></span><div><span style="font-size: large;">I was relieved to see my good friend Narendran (Trichur Narendran) walk into the house with his luggage and mridangam. The concert had to begin in an hour's time and we had to rush to the venue.</span><p><span style="font-size: large;">I asked him anxiously, "What happened? Why so much delay?!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">He replied tiredly, "As you know this concert was a last minute inclusion and all flights are full, being weekend. At least I managed to get a ticket by a late morning flight. Pittsburg to L.A is a long flight too."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I nodded sympathetically. We rushed to the venue and finished our concert.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Post concert buffet was a nice spread of home cooked South Indian vegetarian food. Caught up with tuning my Veena and preparing for the concert I could not eat anything after an early brunch. My stomach growled midway of the lengthy 3-hours concert. I was ravenous and glanced eagerly at the tempting spread.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The organisers led Narendran and me to the buffet table. I helped myself generously and was about to taste my first mouthful of aromatic avial, my favourite dish.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"At which age did you start learning Veena?" A lady standing next to me asked me eagerly, her eyes shining with adoration.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Trying to swallow quickly I answered, "At 5 or 6. I don't remember."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I eagerly lifted the second spoonful.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Who are your Gurus?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I answered patiently, trying to ignore my protesting stomach, "My parents."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Her eyes widened in delight, "How nice!!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Gayathri!! Can you remember me? Tell me who I am?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">A voice asked from behind me.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Placing the spoon on the plate I turned around to see an old man. He looked familiar and I looked at him puzzled.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"What was the song you played after Kalyani?" Plate in hand one lady from the other side was asking me ardently.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Next to her was another lady who held my right hand tightly, "Do you remember Uma, your mother's student? I am her Aunt. I live here in L.A." She said, beaming.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I spotted another group of people approaching me, plates in their hands. Gazing longingly at my plate I heaved a sigh of despair.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Narendran was next to me, "I want you to meet somebody."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">He led me to a far corner which had 2 chairs and we sat down with our plates.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I asked curiously, "Who did you want me to meet?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Nobody! I lied just to make you escape from that group, so that you could have your dinner in peace. Even I am too tired and hungry."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I laughed in relief. "Thanks so much! Really, I'll tell you, I was about to faint with hunger. Last thing I needed was to be bombarded by questions. My goodness!!" I rolled my eyes.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">We ate in silence. We started our conversation after the initial hunger pangs started to subside.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Narendran, I feel very stagnated. Feeling stuck in my mind musically. You know I was away from music for nearly 5 years. I went sailing with my husband for 2 years and after that my daughters were born. I became too busy with my personal life. I somehow feel my link has been cut off from music. I am feeling inadequate, I am unable to feel fully satisfied with what I am playing."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Narendran listened attentively. He ate a few spoonfuls in silence.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Lifting his head he said, "I think you must go to TMT."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My brows knit in puzzlement. "TMT?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"T.M.Thyagarajan." He added, "I feel TMT is the only musician who can tap your creativity and release you from the stagnation."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My eyes grew big, "You mean learn from him?!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Ya, that's what I meant." He nodded .</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My mind worked on the idea, and it began to grow in my thoughts. Even before the end of my concert tour I found myself impatient to reach India to meet the great legend-TMT.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p></div>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-28644817952277420502023-05-10T21:06:00.006-07:002023-05-10T21:15:50.062-07:00In All Dignity...........<iframe frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://youtube.com/embed/tVlf7OiiTJE" width="480"></iframe><div><b>ELECTRIFYING SCENE FROM THE MOVIE BEN-HUR (1959).</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Just this scene is enough. It speaks volumes of the spiritual grasp of the Director of American epic religious film Ben-Hur (1959) William Wyler. God in the above scene is aptly portrayed as Supreme Power beyond human comprehension. The countenance of God is not free-for-all. Only the karmically chosen few are awarded a glimpse of His countenance. The layman who's fortunate is awestruck by the glow in the devotee's eyes lighting up at the sight of God. Brilliantly enacted by Charlton Heston, this is a goosebumps scene......</span></div>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-28408245439173194512023-05-08T20:34:00.000-07:002023-05-22T20:38:59.592-07:00Incredible Cello......<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwjwzRk9aFq0sHiyCXtFM3UznsozihTJeuBhuhHF1KGV-kTo4tDYrZRP61Vtfr-ZlD8NkXjJ1Deda72QUFGgQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>CELLIST SHEKHAR</b></span></div><div><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;">My good friend and colleague in the film industry, Cellist, Shekhar (son of legendary Kunnakudi Sri. Vaidyanathan) is one of the senior most, topranking and highly sought after Cellists in the cine field. We both recorded our respective instruments together as part of many orchestras for innumerable film recordings and re-recordings for many years. While I branched out into the field of Carnatic music Shekhar continues to play the Cello for leading music directors in the South Indian film industry even today.</span><div><span style="font-size: large;">In the above clipping he has rendered 'Manasa Sancharare' on the Cello. It's an unheard of feat. Performing the main melody, and that too a Carnatic piece and so aesthetically!!! I am baffled and speechless to say the least. Mind-blowing!!</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0raWnIoFEbJBnSDRA_5HXmEOwGzt8ctS6-fy7gpd60IyIQkDUidgtZW26tX9lYqwWn_lMsrZvNRLvgmn0jbM-TO5pMCXPn3UZjtqV3Ds7At5eFrIly69ifspOb4sroKURvgBfV0ISRQng9mK8tHPQqk-hOMjFbM0hWI4_sL9ZtLOcA7i1cJhUV9g3mA/s1200/INTERNATIONAL-CELLO-DAY--1200x834.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="834" data-original-width="1200" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0raWnIoFEbJBnSDRA_5HXmEOwGzt8ctS6-fy7gpd60IyIQkDUidgtZW26tX9lYqwWn_lMsrZvNRLvgmn0jbM-TO5pMCXPn3UZjtqV3Ds7At5eFrIly69ifspOb4sroKURvgBfV0ISRQng9mK8tHPQqk-hOMjFbM0hWI4_sL9ZtLOcA7i1cJhUV9g3mA/s320/INTERNATIONAL-CELLO-DAY--1200x834.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>CELLO</b></span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /> <p></p></div>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-39406262579180983972023-05-08T02:26:00.011-07:002023-07-28T08:06:50.050-07:00THE PILLAR LADY - (6)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT2L2sIcIxzHdAyxmX14nEEDSzqxMaJNuaryr64FnVSkPj2s3rTiYrxWGe7DHy0JqkPkzZPKHJkAoVjn6f214pCh1vyRW_22dCycrMS2TF2xkPCHveOswndUSC4X5_aKQr5j8WXmyEjNLeJBLZuo7XFk_YMc-aUzdYW9qH4qncJoVIbWww8G4HY81Pqw/s626/7C9A703C-F2BC-4D71-B669-D93A8F3809A2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="626" data-original-width="461" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT2L2sIcIxzHdAyxmX14nEEDSzqxMaJNuaryr64FnVSkPj2s3rTiYrxWGe7DHy0JqkPkzZPKHJkAoVjn6f214pCh1vyRW_22dCycrMS2TF2xkPCHveOswndUSC4X5_aKQr5j8WXmyEjNLeJBLZuo7XFk_YMc-aUzdYW9qH4qncJoVIbWww8G4HY81Pqw/s320/7C9A703C-F2BC-4D71-B669-D93A8F3809A2.jpeg" width="236" /></a></div><br /> <span style="font-size: x-large;">The telephone rang loudly from the side room. Maran was about to rush to answer the call, as an afterthought he paused and looked at me. Gesturing elaborately towards the room from where the phone rang, he turned and smiled at me. </span><p><span style="font-size: large;">He said in a charitable tone, "You might as well answer the phone. It's going to be your duty anyway."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Hesitating, I looked at him, "I don't know who it is."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">He said in a wise tone, "You will learn as you answer." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I walked hesitantly towards the room. Entering the room I found a maroon telephone on a glass table. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Picking up the receiver I answered tentatively, "Hello?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Audit.... tea.... audit.... tea...." A female voice whined from the other end. Her shrilly voice cried out as though in pain.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I replied anxiously, "Hello, who's this? What??!!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">In reply the female on the other end whined even louder, "Audit...."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Abruptly placing the receiver by the side of the phone I rushed outside, looking for Maran.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">Maran asked, "Who's it?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I replied hurriedly, "I don't know!! Some lady is crying on the other end. She's talking about auditing... can't understand what the hell she's saying."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Looking concerned Maran walked quickly towards the room.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">A few moments later he came out laughing loudly, "That's Angayarkanni. Madam's secretary who's on leave. She called to talk to you. She's pronouncing your name as Audit-tea!! Hehehehe.." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">His laughter scraped on my nerves.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"But why's she crying??"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"She's not!! She has this appealing tone which mesmerises people. That's not called crying." He added, "Please go, she's waiting on the line."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I rolled my eyes in reply.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Never imagining the first part of my name to sound like 'audit', I was bemused. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">As someone who loved playing with English words, my mind sought the apt word for my present condition- 'Oddity!!' </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Oddity" was the right word to describe my odd situation.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Walking back into the room I picked up the receiver. I couldn't conceal my irritation and snapped, "Hello".</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Angayarkanni whined, "What Pa Oddity, why did you put the phone down Pa?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Bewildered at being addressed as Pa I replied, "Sorry, I didn't know who it was."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"That's okay Pa. How are you Pa? I am Angayarkanni, I am sure you know me Pa."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My patience wearing thin, I lifted my eyebrows in aggravation. I replied in a deceptively nonchalant tone, "Of course, I heard a lot about you."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"I will come back in 6 months Pa. Till then if you need any clarifications, please call me Pa."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Don't worry, I'll find my way around." I couldn't imagine coordinating with a whining female on top of dealing with mad Mimi and her Man Friday Moron.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"No, no. I am saying this because I don't want any changes made while you're there Pa. I will come back in 6 months and I want things to be exactly the same way when I left."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">It suddenly dawned on me! Angayarkanni was worried that I may work my way into replacing her as permanent secretary of Mimi. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I smiled, "Don't worry. It's a big doubt if I'll stick around here for 6 months. You are welcome to get back even before 6 months is over." I added as an after thought, "In fact, I would welcome that."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Angayarkanni whined loudly, "Noooooooooooo, please don't say like that Paaaaa!!" I held the receiver away from my ear, unable to take her screeching voice.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Angayarkanni continued, "I can't come back within 6 months." She went on to describe the reason for her taking off from work. She was duty bound to personally take care of her mother-in-law who was recouping from some serious ailment. She said she didn't trust her co-sister-in-law who wanted to be the one to take care of her propertied mother-in-law.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Disconnecting my mind from Angayarkanni's gibberish, I allowed my thoughts to drift away to last week's poolside party at Hemani's place. What fun!! The food was great, music was awesome and the dancing was wild. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My attention was drawn to the present moment as Angayarkanni whined, "Oddity, Pa, are you listening?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Rolling my eyes I drawled "Yeah...." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Angayarkanni finally ended her lengthy description of her leave-period, "Not everybody is genuine like me Pa, What do you say Pa?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My patience stretched to its limits, I screamed in my mind, "Shut up Pa!!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Finally I cut through her whining in a loud tone, "Okay okay okay!!! I get your point. I'll keep in touch okay?? BYE!!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Without waiting for Angayarkanni's reply I banged the receiver in its cradle.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Maran was waiting for me with a twinkle in his eyes and a smile on his lips. "So, what did she say?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I shot him a fiery look, "Why the hell is she calling me Pa?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Throwing his head back Maran laughed aloud. "Angayarkanni calls men as Ma and women as Pa."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My eyebrows knit in genuine confusion, "Why the hell is that??!!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Maran replied offhandedly, "Just to make people feel homely."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Homely?! What the .." I cut out the expletive.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Maran continued, "People who come to meet Madam adore Angayarkanni. They love her homely attitude, her way of talking.."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I cut in "And her calling dudes as Ma and chicks as Pa??"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Dudes and chicks??!!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Maran laughed uncontrollably, "You are just the opposite of Angayarkanni."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My mobile rang loudly. It was Hemani. I picked up the call. Feeling driven, I imitated Angayarkanni as I whined, "Helloooooo..... 'Oddity' here....."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Out of the corner of my eye I saw Maran doubling up with laughter.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Aditi?" Hemani sounded bewildered.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Whaaat Paaaa??!!" I whined.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Dude! What's wrong with you?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"I am in Mimi's office Paaaaa." I whined in reply.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">After a moment's silence Hemani replied, "Hardly 24 hours of working for Mimi and you have changed so drastically!! Can't imagine your state after 6 months with your bhajan-boss!!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Hemani insisted on calling Mimi as Bhajan lady even though I clarified that Mimi was not a bhajan artist.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Hemani's declaration wiped out the smile from my face. "I was only joking Dude. I wanted to see how you felt to be addressed as Pa."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Why??!!" Hemani's voice revealed her confusion.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Did you feel homely?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Why the hell should I feel homely?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"To be called as Pa..."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"I don't feel homely in my own house." Hemani's parents were divorced. Hemani who lived with her father hardly got to see him. He travelled round the globe as head of some thriving business.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">After some thought Hemani replied drily, "To be called Pa?! Homely my foot, it gives me the creeps!!" Continuing, Hemani said impatiently, "Cut the crap Aditi. I called to talk about something exciting." (to be continued.....)</span></p><p><b style="font-size: large;">(DISCLAIMER-THE NEW LABEL "ADITI'S VIEW" IS A COMBINATION OF FICTION/ DRY HUMOUR AND SATIRE. THE ARTICLES ARE PURELY FICTIONAL AND CHARACTERS FEATURED IN THE ARTICLE ARE A WORK OF MY IMAGINATION BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO ANY LIVING ENTITY. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ANYBODY IS A PURE COINCIDENCE.)</b></p>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-28430206129046725442023-05-06T04:39:00.007-07:002023-07-28T08:06:53.574-07:00THE PILLAR LADY -(5)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1tT43DOdWMuOI7F2LoPrHFYKx0M-uY6BSPec-0FvSpISv3Z4MC0kvJKILktoRUYpW7EnPWCWiBT-wnbNF0SzhdhqUpd0a5-L1ShmM4RULcWqsBVPgG1SWor4E8thf_hvu2CLg5f30a-5YHYbjtoPgZ-3gxnXSCaAzaPsU4n8sntcA4EtporsX1q_ufA/s1280/D4D5BD1D-1764-4E5A-A2F5-80DBDA3B77A6.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="510" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1tT43DOdWMuOI7F2LoPrHFYKx0M-uY6BSPec-0FvSpISv3Z4MC0kvJKILktoRUYpW7EnPWCWiBT-wnbNF0SzhdhqUpd0a5-L1ShmM4RULcWqsBVPgG1SWor4E8thf_hvu2CLg5f30a-5YHYbjtoPgZ-3gxnXSCaAzaPsU4n8sntcA4EtporsX1q_ufA/s320/D4D5BD1D-1764-4E5A-A2F5-80DBDA3B77A6.jpeg" width="128" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>DRAWING BY TK SHREEYA</b></div><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">It was Mimi's voice! Where did she come from suddenly?! I turned back swiftly in surprise.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I didn't find Mimi. Except for the old, haggard looking hyper-female who was jumping around the furniture there was no other female in the room. While my gaze searched for Mimi, the old woman snapped her fingers to attract my attention. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Aditi, I am right here!!" The old woman said in a stern voice.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> My gaze riveted to the old woman and my mouth opened in shock and fascination. Is this old woman Mimi??!! Goodness gracious..... I was flabbergasted! Ma's Goddess Saraswathi who jumped over furniture and cackled like she lost it?! Is this Mimi?!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I stared at the old woman's face. Her face was without a trace of makeup...err....warpaint. Beneath the warpaint Mimi was a shade darker than wheat. Never mind the dark complexion, in fact I loved dark complexion. Minus the warpaint her face gave away her character or the lack of it. There wasn't an ounce of spark that came out of common sense, if not from genius, on Mimi's face! Ma treating this feather-brained lady as "Avatara of Goddess Saraswathi" was simply too much!!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I wondered if Ma knew the other side of this croaking sensation called Mimi. The other side like jumping over furniture and chasing an elderly man who was obviously at Mimi's mercy. I briefly wondered if Mimi was an eccentric. I quickly corrected myself. Eccentricity is a perk reserved for genius art. Obviously she's not an eccentric. Mimi's true self was crazy. Evidently some twist in planets in her horoscope chart could have made her so famous!! Probably Ma is right in going gaga over astrology. I suddenly found myself thinking favorably of a subject I hated.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My voice faltered as I said," Errr .. I was looking for Mahalakshmi."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Beginning to hate my situation I waited for Mimi's response.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">As though taken aback for a moment, Mimi suddenly roared with uncontrollable laughter, tears almost flowing down her cheeks.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The man who stood in silent respect till then, started to rock back and forth with laughter all of a sudden, as though he found something very hilarious. Seeing right through his pretence I understood that he laughed only to please Mimi. My gaze threw daggers at him before I turned towards Mimi. She stopped laughing abruptly. The man followed suit and there was a momentary silence.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Looking stern Mimi raised an eyebrow questioningly, "Couldn't you place me?! You met me only yesterday in the party!!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Flustered and not wanting to offend Mimi I said, "I could place you, but you seemed err... busy."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Mimi looked serious and almost angry as she pressed home the point, "So you could make out that I am Mahalakshmi."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I noticed that Mimi turned from friendly to high and mighty. Determined not to yield to Mimi's tactics, my mind-voice said, "Hey you want to play the game of 'no-smile', I am all for it you dumbo. You are going to lose heavily, croaking chick!!' Looking Mimi in her eyes challengingly I nodded. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">As though losing interest in me and the situation Mimi turned quickly to go inside. Throwing me an off-handed look over her shoulder while walking, she drawled, "Maran will tell you what to do. I am awfully busy today. I'll have a detailed talk with you tomorrow on why I have appointed a social activist-journalist as my secretary. I have a lot of expectations. Start getting familiar with your routine duties today".</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Mimi walked out of the room, her head held high in what was meant to be a regal stride. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Exasperated I looked at the man called Maran who till then played catching game with Mimi. Maran was bowing down in respect to Mimi's receding back as she walked out.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Maran's eyes lit up in obvious relief as he turned towards me. With the weight of severe stress lifted off from his face, he actually looked years younger than while he was running around the furniture with Mimi. He looked as though he was unshackled from invisible iron chains which imprisoned him in Mimi's company.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Laughing delightedly Maran held out his hand, "So nice to meet you!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Stretching my hand I answered with a tight smile, "And you too Maran." I silently added - "Moron". (to be continued......)</span></p><p><b style="font-size: large;"><br /></b></p><p><b style="font-size: large;">(DISCLAIMER-THE NEW LABEL "ADITI'S VIEW" IS A COMBINATION OF FICTION/ DRY HUMOUR AND SATIRE. THE ARTICLES ARE PURELY FICTIONAL AND CHARACTERS FEATURED IN THE ARTICLE ARE A WORK OF MY IMAGINATION BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO ANY LIVING ENTITY. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ANYBODY IS A PURE COINCIDENCE.)</b></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-27443425385786810262023-05-05T21:30:00.012-07:002023-06-02T01:57:49.891-07:00In The Capital - Memories from 2010<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LTUqQyhVeM4/TLPkdyFxfLI/AAAAAAAACn4/NN6EzehMyp8/s1600/ImageLoader.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527012368027057330" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LTUqQyhVeM4/TLPkdyFxfLI/AAAAAAAACn4/NN6EzehMyp8/s400/ImageLoader.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 350px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 264px;" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Late Ghatam Vidwan, Sri. T.V.Vasan passed away in New Delhi on the 29th of September. He had accompanied me on the mridangam and ghatam for several concerts and I have known him since my Baby Gayathri days. An extremely knowledgeable and versatile musician, he was also a great human being</span>. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Destiny brought us together for an official assignment during the last two days of his life. The conference that lasted for nearly 8 hours on both days had many unforgettable moments. Excerpts from our conversation:-</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">SEPTEMBER 27TH, 2010. 9.50A.M </span>Walking out of the lift I stared at the long, dark corridor which reminded me of a scene in a Japanese horror movie. Not a soul! Was it the wrong floor? Puzzled, I walked slowly past a row of rooms. I was unable to find the name board of the official I was scheduled to meet. Deciding to call the officer I reached for the mobile in my handbag.<br />
"Gaay! Gaay! We are here!!" There was only one musician who called me by that name. Instantly recognising the voice I turned to look behind.TV Vasan was waving at me from the end of the corridor, a broad grin on his face. Feeling relieved I quickened my pace towards him, my footsteps echoing in the hallway.<br />
"Hello! How come I didn't see this room?!"<br />
Preceding me into the room, T.V.Vasan said, "We are the first ones to arrive here!"<br />
Nadaswaram vidwan, Seshampatti Sivalingam was seated in a sofa. Raising his hand in greeting Sivalingam asked me in chaste tamil, "Sowkyama Amma?"<br />
Amidst exchange of pleasantries I learnt that T.V.Vasan and Seshampatti Sivalingam were sharing a hotel room in Karol Bagh.<br />
"If not for Vasan Sir I would never have agreed to come to Delhi. I cannot manage here alone without any knowledge of English or Hindi." Sivalingam said with an innocent smile.<br />
"You know Gaay, I told his wife that I would be his bodyguard in Delhi. I promised to take care of her husband's safety." T.V.Vasan laughed, shaking Seshampatti Sivalingam's hand playfully. Seshampatti Sivalingam nodded his head in innocent fervour.<br />
I watched their exchange in amusement, marvelling at the naivette of the veteran Nadaswaram Vidwan.<br />
Turning towards T.V.Vasan I asked,"Oh, so your wife is staying with her brother and family?"<br />
"Ya!"<br />
Wondering about the others who were going to join us I asked,"Who are the others?" The other artistes arrived one by one and we were all shown our assigned seats.T.V.Vasan bent to touch Sri.G.S.Mani's feet,"Namsthey Guruji!"<br />
T.V.Vasan was shown the seat right opposite to me and typically he became the life of the meeting. His anecdotes about musicians, his experiences in the music field and his mimicry of artistes had us in splits.<br />
"Gaay, have you heard Pantula Rama? Her music is superb."<br />
I looked up from my file,"Yeah, I saw her perform on SVBC. Real neat!"<br />
"You know how the announcer in AIR struggled to pronounce her surname?! You Andhra artistes sure have surnames like tongue-twisters. Thank God you call yourself E.Gayathri. What does "E" stand for anyway?" T.V.Vasan asked with a wide grin.<br />
"Echampati".<br />
"Better don't use it! They will call you E Chapathi Gayathri" which drew laughter from everybody including myself.<br />
"Sir, madam, can we see this?" The official smilingly drew our attention to the job on hand.<br />TV Vasan remarked, "R.K.Srikanthan Mama is out of the world! What a voice he has at his age!" <br />
I countered, " Kalpagam Swaminathan is like him in veena."<br />
Laying down the pen on his papers, T.V.Vasan stood up and joined his hands, prostrating in respectful acceptance of Smt.Kalpagam Swaminathan's vidwat.<br />
Picking at his lunch, T.V.Vasan asked in general,"Did you know, they spotted a snake at the CWG village?"<br />
"Ya, I read about it in today's paper." I replied.<br />
Evening by 5 p.m. I waved bye to T.V.Vasan, he replied in turn,"Come a little late by 10.15, why hang around here? I will come only by 10.30!"<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">SEPTEMBER 28TH, 2010. 10.15 A.M</span><br />
The next day as I walked in by 10.15 in the morning I was surprised to find T.V.Vasan and Seshampatti Sivalingam already seated in the room. Raising my eyebrows I asked, "I thought you said you would be coming only by 10.30!"<br />
Laughing sheepishly T.V.Vasan replied, "No Gaay, I found transportation immediately after breakfast. Instead of waiting in the hotel we both decided to come here and do the waiting."<br />
Sivalingam nodded in agreement.<br />
The work proceeded smoothly, punctuated by T.V.Vasan's jokes and anecdotes, with G.S.Mani contributing his share to the conversation.<br />
Lunch was ordered from Saravana Bhavan and not from the canteen like the previous day.<br />
"What a relief! I am starved." I opened my parcel. Watching T.V.Vasan pick at his food, I told him assuringly, "It is from Saravana Bhavan. You will like it."<br />
"I know, but don't know why, no appetite."<br />
After lunch I proudly showed my grand daughter Shreeya's photo which was on my mobile to T.V.Vasan.<br />
He looked at the photo with a smile, "Looks a lot like your daughter Deepthi."<br />
"Deeptha", I corrected.<br />
"Ya, I remember Deeptha used to come to office with your mother. Your grand daughter looks cute. What's her name?"<br />
"What?! Gayathri has a grand daughter?!" G.S.Mani asked in surprise. I passed my mobile to Sri.Mani with a smile.<br />
Post lunch dragged on. Narendran's heart surgery was brought up in discussion.<br />
"I saw him just 4 days back, before leaving for Delhi. He is recovering well." T.V.Vasan said.<br />
"Gaay, I heard your mother's student! What an expert your mother is in training students to concert level!"<br />
I raised an eyebrow, "Even after she has switched loyalties and changed her style?!"<br />
T.V.Vasan looked at me sharply, "However hard she may try, she cannot conceal all the benefits she has derived from your mother over the years!"<br />
I smiled resignedly. G.S.Mani was telling the group about the power of affirmations.<br />
"I am in my perfect health! I am in my perfect weight! Keep repeating this to yourselves and just watch how your health improves. You will not even put on weight."<br />
"Oh wow!" I said.<br />
The conversation shifted to the untimely demise of Trivandrum Sri.Venkataraman, the great veena vidwan.<br />
"I always used to tell him to get himself a Santro. But he was loyal to his fiat. He used to chide me,'Arre what do you know about my car, just get inside and let me drive you around. You will then know about the greatness of a fiat car!' " T.V.Vasan imitated late Sri.Venkataraman and went on to describe the fatal car accident of Sri.Venkataraman.<br />
"Ya,his accident was horrible! What a loss for the field of veena!"I said and T.V.Vasan nodded fiercely.<br />
Glancing at my watch I saw that it was nearing 5.pm. I was impatient for a long walk to exercise my limbs and to breathe in fresh air.<br />
Shivering, I asked, "Isn't it freezing in here?"<br />
"Wait, let me adjust the temperature." T.V.Vasan went to the window a/c, shutting off the cooler and allowing the fan to run. Looking at me he asked,"Is it better?"<br />
"Ya, now it is better, thank you" I said gratefully.<br />
We signed the register and got up to leave. I told the official, "Please drop me at Khan Market. I want to walk."<br />
The officer looked at me doubtfully,"Do you know your way from there to India International Centre (the place of my stay)?"<br />
"Ya, I know." I assured him.<br />
T.V.Vasan got up and stretched, looking at Seshampatti Sivalingam he asked, " what shall we do today? Even I feel like walking."<br />
"You want to join me for the walk?" I asked T.V.Vasan.<br />
"No, I have a slight catch here (indicating the right side of his lower back), I can't walk too much."<br />
"Oh is it?" my brows knit in concern, I added "Please take it easy. I will see you tomorrow, bye!" I walked along with the official, waving at T.V.Vasan.<br />
I opened the door,"Gaay" T.V.Vasan's voice stopped me in my tracks.<br />
I turned behind to look at him.<br />
"Want me to pick you up tomorrow?"<br />
I thought about it before asking tentatively,"Won't it be difficult for you? You are in Karol Bagh and I am this side in Lodhi Garden."<br />
T.V. Vasan looked thoughful. I assured him,"Please don't worry, I will hail a cab. There are plenty near IIC."<br />
"Ok." As an after thought he added, "Call me if you change your mind."<br />
"Sure". Not knowing that it would be my last glimpse of him, I smiled at him, "Bye!"<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">SEPTEMBER 29TH, 2010. 10.10 A.M </span>Almost expecting to find T.V.Vasan and Seshampatti Sivalingam, I was surprised to find only two vidushis seated in the room.<br />
"How come T. V.Vasan has still not arrived?!" I asked them.<br />
They nodded in agreement, "Ya even we were saying the same..."<br />
""Did you hear what happened??!!" An anxious voice cut into our conversation. We turned to look at the official who rushed into the room. His face was ashen and his eyes bore the expression of shock and sadness.<br />
We asked in unison, "Yenna, what happened?!!"<br />
"Vasan has had a massive heart attack and is admitted to a hospital!"<br />
"Where?"..... "When?"..... "How?"...... our voices collided with each other in our anxiety.<br />
"This morning, even I haven't got the exact picture. Seshampatti is with him in the hospital. Doctors are giving only 1% guarantee, God.......... I can't believe this!" The official sank into his seat, a look of acute pain across his face.<br />
Trying to digest the news I spoke automatically,"I want to go to the hospital, where is it?"<br />
The officer stopped me,"No point, he is in ICU and we will not be allowed to go inside to see him."<br />
G.S.Mani spoke assuringly, "He will be fine and they will bring him to the ward. Let us all go to see him as soon as he is brought to the ward."<br />
A second official voiced his support,"Nowadays everything is diagnosed as heart attack. A heartburn is interpreted as a heart attack for commercial gains. Vasan was so lively and vibrant! Nothing will happen to him. He will be fine, it must be a case of acidity."<br />
A pall of gloom descended on us and we sat in silence, deeply absorbed in our thoughts about T.V.Vasan and the two days we had spent in his company. The silence was punctuated by phone calls from the hospital and enquiries from well wishers.<br />
Time seemed to drag on indefinitely and at a point I saw the official seated next to me rushing out of the room, the mobile ringing in his hand.<br />
He returned and collapsed in his seat next to me. His attitude and body language confirmed our worst fears.<br />
Holding his head in his hands he whispered,"Vasan passed away."<br />
All of us stared at each other in utter disbelief. Turning my head, I looked at the seat right opposite to me. It seemed to echo with T.V.Vasan's laughter and chatter, his smiling countenance flashing before my eyes.<br />
T.V.Vasan's offer to pick me up on his way to office still ringing in my ears, I prepared to go to the hospital with the group of officials and artistes. The bumpy ride to the hospital in an old car with all the men squeezed together in the back seat seemed to stretch endlessly. I glimpsed at my raw silk saree, which looked glaringly incongruous in the given situation."Ek Do Teen............" the song playing on the sound system blared loudly, scraping on my nerves. Something snapped within me and I turned sharply towards the car driver. Sensitive to my gaze he explained, "Wo gaana bahar se hain, gaadi ke andar nahin."<br />
Walking like a zombie along with the group through the hateful hospital corridors, I reached the ICU where T.V.Vasan had been struggling for his life for the past few hours. I could not believe the sight of his lifeless face, slightly darkened by the pain and struggle of the past few hours.<br />
Aware of his soul hovering near the body, I tried to communicate, "You are with God."<br />
I found his dazed wife, leaning against a wall in the far end of the hospital corridor.Tongue-tied and speechless with grief I managed to press her hand silently as she gazed at me, her eyes vacant.<br />
Back in the office, at 5 pm after signing the register I eagerly turned the pages backwards.<br />
The official tried to take the book from my hands, explaining "No need Madam, those are yesterday's papers."<br />
Taking the register back from his hand I said, "I know that, I just wanted to look at T.V.Vasan's signature."<br />
The official nodded sadly as he handed me back the register.<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">(Sri.T.V.Vasan told us conversationally that he would wake up at 2.30 in the morning in his hotel room to do abhishekam for "saligramam" , sandhyaavandanam and other pooja routine. He had obviously completed his pooja routine even on the day of his demise. Soul departing from the northern region of human body attains "Urdhva Lokas" [residence of the Devas] according to our Upanishads.Sri T.V.Vasan passing away in the northern region of our country and so close to the "Deva Bhoomis" [Haridwar, Rishikesh etc.,]is a sure indicator of his soul's after-life journey.)</span> <span class="post-author vcard"><br /><span class="fn"></span></span><span class="post-timestamp"><a class="timestamp-link" href="http://egayathri.blogspot.com/2010/10/in-capital.html" rel="bookmark" title="permanent link"><abbr class="published" title="2010-10-02T08:03:00-07:00"></abbr></a></span><span class="reaction-buttons"></span><span class="star-ratings"></span><span class="post-comment-link"></span><span class="post-backlinks post-comment-link"></span>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-64615688862724332432023-05-04T22:59:00.000-07:002023-06-02T01:57:53.616-07:00Blissful Seva<iframe frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://youtube.com/embed/EfCVpE-T9nw" width="480"></iframe><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">This blessed couple and their sweet baby Aindra lead a blissful life of 'seva' in my most favourite place in the whole world-Vrindavan. This Russian gentleman and his wife, previously a Ukrainian model lead a life filled with golden moments of service to Krishna devotees and cows and other animals. Watching their 'seva' is absolutely blissful...... (courtesy- Krishna's Food&Travel). </span></div>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-34372391853838974102023-04-29T21:12:00.016-07:002023-07-28T08:07:00.590-07:00The Pillar Lady - (4)<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJNX94JA95nx_BDdrRMCbZypW7lmsVP65-PrkwvQhrt-jAvLYoP2fWpYuE3xEncyWvIWXerrZI3oL7hP47cScWigxdwM82I_gSxUfRHtaoZhR7QHXK3eo4Gjr-oE9BemW2SdWGMOmplLk4OhA9XCp1Ztfi7VKhlrrgvqYKjyEgaac_ub9lLEtL1AIyxw/s1280/4183E4EF-F97D-4A6D-998E-5079DBF59904.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="510" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJNX94JA95nx_BDdrRMCbZypW7lmsVP65-PrkwvQhrt-jAvLYoP2fWpYuE3xEncyWvIWXerrZI3oL7hP47cScWigxdwM82I_gSxUfRHtaoZhR7QHXK3eo4Gjr-oE9BemW2SdWGMOmplLk4OhA9XCp1Ztfi7VKhlrrgvqYKjyEgaac_ub9lLEtL1AIyxw/s320/4183E4EF-F97D-4A6D-998E-5079DBF59904.jpeg" width="128" /></a></p><p><b>DRAWING BY TK SHREEYA</b></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">It was a high-end apartment complex. The lift reached 9th floor. Exiting the elevator, I found myself facing an ornate teakwood door. Mimi's name was glittering in golden letters on a rich black nameplate on the side of the main door.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Taking a deep breath I recalled last night's events. After the party fiasco Ma and I went home. It was fireworks all the way home and even after reaching home. Ma was furious with me for 'misbehaving'. She said I should have been humble, friendly and respectful to Mimi. Instead, she said I behaved arrogantly and rudely to Mimi. Ma said all her friends and Mimi would have thought that my upbringing was not good enough and that I caused so much embarrassment to Ma and blah blah. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I maintained silence all through knowing that nothing was going to stop the barrage of accusations Ma kept firing at me.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Ma continued to scream, "And despite my telling you repeatedly you wore jeans to meet somebody like Mimi, that too torn ones. Are you a beggar or a pauper to wear such clothes??!!"... She continued, "Don't you know that much?! I told you time and again that you must dress up like a decent South Indian girl..."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My patience wearing thin, I cut in, "You want me to wear 9 yards to please that lady? No way Ma!!" I added, "In any case I have decided that I am not taking up this job of secretary to a crazy looking female. I don't care anymore for the trekking trip, okay?! I am done!! So, you can stop lecturing me on how to dress up, how to behave etc. I can't imagine getting an earful from you every day when I go to work for Mahalakshmi", purposely refusing to mention her short name which I thought was disgusting.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Ma dropped the handbag with an elaborate thud on the sofa. Coming close to me face to face she pointed her forefinger at me. She stated emphatically, "You ARE going to work for her. How can you say you have decided NOT to go?! I have given my word to Mimi and each and every friend of mine knows that Mimi has accepted to take you as her secretary. After all this you can't back out and make me look like a fool!!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">As always Pa had to step in to pacify Ma and me. Finally, an agreement was reached that Ma will not nag or criticize me and that I was going to dress up the way I like going to work for Mimi.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Ma gave in grudgingly.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">So, here I am in front of Mimi's house. Finding the doorbell below the nameplate I pressed it tentatively. Waiting for half a minute I listened intently for footsteps to approach the door. Squeals of laughter and guffaws of male and female voices floated across from inside the apartment. The female voice was the dominant one, screaming delightedly in the middle of hysteric laughter. Wondering about what was happening inside the apartment and why they were laughing, I reached out to press the doorbell one more time, The door was flung open immediately. An insipid-looking staff member with a towel thrown casually over his shoulder opened the door. I opened my mouth to tell him that I had an appointment with Mimi. Before I could speak, he gazed listlessly at me and turned back to go inside.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">Closing my mouth I realised that it was left to me to see myself inside. I was struck by the lack of culture in welcoming a guest. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Squeals of laughter became louder as an elderly man and an elderly woman came running into the drawing room. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The woman was running behind the man to catch him. They ran around furniture and the woman kept picking up cushions from the sofa to aim and throw them at the man one by one. In turn the man picked up a few cushions to aim and throw at the woman which made her double up with laughter.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Catching sight of me midway, the running man stopped briefly. His laughter subsiding, he tried to make himself heard, "Somebody is here. Who's this?" The hysteric woman shot me a careless glance over her shoulder. Pausing only for a brief moment she continued to run around the furniture, challenging him loudly, "You cannot escape me!!" The woman's gesture indicated that my presence was irrelevant to her.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Despite feeling pinched I couldn't help gaping open-mouthed at the incredulous scenario that was unfolding in front of my eyes. The man looked like someone in his 50s and the woman looked older than him and haggard. Both the man and woman seemed vaguely familiar. Was he one of the musicians who accompanied Mimi?! And was the woman head of working staff or was she related to Mimi? She kinda resembled Mimi.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Trying to think hard about who they could be, I couldn't believe my eyes that they were playing catching game cum pillow fight at an age like theirs! And that too first thing in the morning!! While the woman looked as though she was having fun like a kid in Disneyland, the man was obviously only humoring the woman. I was astute enough to make out that the man was not enjoying the game, but merely trying to look happy to please the woman. He kept throwing glances at me trying to distract the woman, but nothing seemed to deter her while she looked possessed by the bizarre fun of throwing cushions at an obviously uninterested person. Was the woman so insensitive not to notice the man's lack of interest or was she selfish and absorbed in her own weird fun? I somehow believed the latter to be true.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My horrified fascination slowly took shape of anger aimed at Ma. I couldn't believe Ma got me to work in a lunatic asylum or according to Ma- Goddess Saraswathi's abode, I thought vengefully. My breath came out in fast, hot billows of fury and I declared to myself, "This is it!! I am absolutely done!".</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Turning on my heel I prepared to leave.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Aditi, wait!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">It was Mimi's voice.......(to be continued…..)</span></p><p><b style="font-size: large;">(DISCLAIMER-THE NEW LABEL "ADITI'S VIEW" IS A COMBINATION OF FICTION/ DRY HUMOUR AND SATIRE. THE ARTICLES ARE PURELY FICTIONAL AND CHARACTERS FEATURED IN THE ARTICLE ARE A WORK OF MY IMAGINATION BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO ANY LIVING ENTITY. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ANYBODY IS A PURE COINCIDENCE.)</b></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-36654621133489976032023-04-27T06:30:00.005-07:002023-07-28T08:07:04.848-07:00The Pillar Lady - (3)<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ZsrUdF-DpKSX5dpLDDAf583EpWPMH73H1S15HKIN-okdyYnYYpDs37DH3_hTbGmVfxf9xB-lQffNUh90IwxG5pYt145F7GBIBjn_c1XjZCqKUz8HzDzCCR-0WwvCWJuavHcpMhE7-ycZYKvU3V86y3PcFL5pY7CnjXBia55dlN8BvsqPl1lVV-YrfQ/s1280/A0308221-E710-4FF2-831D-6A4090850983.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="526" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ZsrUdF-DpKSX5dpLDDAf583EpWPMH73H1S15HKIN-okdyYnYYpDs37DH3_hTbGmVfxf9xB-lQffNUh90IwxG5pYt145F7GBIBjn_c1XjZCqKUz8HzDzCCR-0WwvCWJuavHcpMhE7-ycZYKvU3V86y3PcFL5pY7CnjXBia55dlN8BvsqPl1lVV-YrfQ/s320/A0308221-E710-4FF2-831D-6A4090850983.jpeg" width="132" /></a><b>DRAWING BY TK SHREEYA</b></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">Recalling events that landed me in the present soup is not going to help matters. Trying to get a grip of the situation I watched helplessly. My mobile buzzed while Mimi sauntered towards me looking like a pillar entwined by jasmine creepers.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My attention was drawn to the mobile. Hemani was messaging me-</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Dude, howz it going?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My thumbs hit the keys quickly , "Yea like I am in heaven."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"😂😂😂😂..."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"😡😡😡😡😡....."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Sorry sorry... howz your Momo? Hehehehe... Mimi?!" Hemani knew I hated momos and nicknamed Mimi as momo...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"I'll tell you in person dude. I thought she was a pillar..."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"😲😲😲😲😲😲....wwwwhat??!!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Hey, Ma is calling. Bye. Will call after this sick party is over."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Ma whispered harshly in my ears, "Aditi!! Aditi!!! stop texting, say Namaskaram to Akka, touch her feet and take her blessings." Ma's anger at me conveyed itself through her grip of my hand.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Giving Ma a look of exasperation I tried to wrench my hand free from her grip. My face mirrored my resistance as I refused to budge.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Shrewdly guessing that I was unwilling to prostrate and touch her feet Mimi saved herself the embarrassment by declaring to Ma in a generous tone, "No, no..... don't force the child Shalu!! You must allow children to feel free, never force them." Her statement won adoring looks from guests who stood surrounding us, as though Mimi was a Goddess of compassion!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I thought to myself heatedly, "Like hell I am a child"! At 22 I was proud of my maturity and IQ levels. Making waves in relevant circles as a dynamic journalist and social activist I was fairly wellknown for my debates and the manner in which I took up social causes. I was smarter than Mimi and knew she said that to win my trust and love.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Momentarily throwing daggers at me with her gaze Ma turned towards Mimi, her melting tone giving me the creeps, "Ayyo Akka, you are the benevolent Goddess of music!! The epitome of music! Aditi is your child. You must guide her Akka!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My cheeks flamed with embarrassment and shame at the way Ma was appealing to Mimi. I wished the ground beneath my feet would open and swallow me up.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mimi patting Ma's shoulder, "Don't worry. She's such a sweet child, she'll learn in no time."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I fumed within myself as I mentally addressed Mimi, "Learn what?! And from a nincompoop like you??!!".</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Mimi stretched her hand towards me, "You can call me Amma!" her face creased into what was meant to be a smile.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I decided to be forthright and looked Mimi directly in her eyes. My voice firm and defiant, "I don't even call my mother Amma."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Ma gaped at me in horror.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Taken aback for a fraction of a second Mimi quickly covered her shock by throwing her head back, her wide mouth opening wider in ripples of false, loud laughter. People around us laughed loudly along with Mimi as though out of respect for her.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Mimi screamed in exaggerated delight, "I like it, I simply love it! This is how a secretary should be!! That's why I wanted a revolutionary journalist and activist to fill in for Angayarkanni (her regular secretary who took a break for 6 months). Dynamic, individualistic and innovative!!!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My mind went into a maze of confusion as I wondered to myself- "What was revolutionary, individualistic, dynamic and innovative in not calling Ma as Amma?!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Looking utterly relieved Ma threw anxious glances at Mimi.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Call me whatever you want child..." As an afterthought Mimi waved her hand in the air dramatically, "Call me Mimi if you like. As long as you are happy with what you call me."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">With mouths open, people around us and Ma stared at me unblinkingly. Fascination and admiration were writ largely on their faces. Disbelief reflected in their eyes that Mimi was actually asking a young girl like me to call her by her name!!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">All of a sudden there was a huge gush of whispering voices and an old lady approached me, "Do you know how blessed and fortunate you are??!! The incarnation of Goddess Saraswathi is asking you to call her by her name!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I saw more men and women approaching me to congratulate me for being given the exclusive permission of calling Mimi by her name. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Amidst the chaos I spotted Ma holding Mimi's hands, tears of joy and adoration running down her cheeks.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Feeling sick I told the surrounding group of Mimi followers, "Er... I need to use the rest room."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Turning back on my heel I escaped from the claustrophobic atmosphere. My mobile kept buzzing incessantly. I knew it was Hemani. (to be continued.....)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><b style="font-size: large;">(DISCLAIMER-THE NEW LABEL "ADITI'S VIEW" IS A COMBINATION OF FICTION/ DRY HUMOUR AND SATIRE. THE ARTICLES ARE PURELY FICTIONAL AND CHARACTERS FEATURED IN THE ARTICLE ARE A WORK OF MY IMAGINATION BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO ANY LIVING ENTITY. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ANYBODY IS A PURE COINCIDENCE.)</b></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-83998659992409302052023-04-25T20:13:00.018-07:002023-07-28T08:07:09.595-07:00ADITI'S VIEW<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghlcMrXCbwiwtsMU279JaHGzV_e4EI1FFCYs1FM-0PDUTUrJ9BAilzC9h5yObzjLV-x92g4cNB7F5-rnx0VuaqVarkGRfxWiCWMb-E7A1pKuDqhwP6CD5t9vhA1c2SABnMACf_LYwDgw8ab7Cw6SltpWCBXU_5efFZZ7-OgokDSk_Nwj0vHlvpXnuljA/s1280/51E7CADE-AF55-418E-8E81-4CA133F30C61.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="510" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghlcMrXCbwiwtsMU279JaHGzV_e4EI1FFCYs1FM-0PDUTUrJ9BAilzC9h5yObzjLV-x92g4cNB7F5-rnx0VuaqVarkGRfxWiCWMb-E7A1pKuDqhwP6CD5t9vhA1c2SABnMACf_LYwDgw8ab7Cw6SltpWCBXU_5efFZZ7-OgokDSk_Nwj0vHlvpXnuljA/s320/51E7CADE-AF55-418E-8E81-4CA133F30C61.jpeg" width="128" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>(PICTURE DRAWING BY TK SHREEYA)</b></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large; text-align: left;">The label, Aditi's View as the name suggests is the world seen through Aditi's eyes. Expressions, slang, feelings and emotions are in tune with young Aditi of the present age.</span></div></div><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>(DISCLAIMER-THE NEW LABEL "ADITI'S VIEW" IS A COMBINATION OF FICTION/ DRY HUMOUR AND SATIRE. THE ARTICLES ARE PURELY FICTIONAL AND CHARACTERS FEATURED IN THE ARTICLE ARE A WORK OF MY IMAGINATION BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO ANY LIVING ENTITY. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ANYBODY IS A PURE COINCIDENCE.)</b></span></p><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-75072236111804349332023-04-23T21:25:00.023-07:002023-07-28T08:07:13.389-07:00The Pillar Lady - (2)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjut4_bdy4bL0IUg3sEM13F0c5VvmtJ9-xGc6vEYWFlhyi8CtZowhbmSAA1X6xWfaJSXm-GjQCzVWM5E-J-GWxaIfr5qpWYWBTg8jvcueXm6DWGLDXkepGDYDC1Qe6ZdQhcN6fuR1-1sUlh_TsLR0x6Wl7JrQZaOAkiL981ZJB5bCLcWwIcj23N92-Yg/s3086/E4159346-DA9D-47BC-A00C-5FEAF1B1075D.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3086" data-original-width="1979" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjut4_bdy4bL0IUg3sEM13F0c5VvmtJ9-xGc6vEYWFlhyi8CtZowhbmSAA1X6xWfaJSXm-GjQCzVWM5E-J-GWxaIfr5qpWYWBTg8jvcueXm6DWGLDXkepGDYDC1Qe6ZdQhcN6fuR1-1sUlh_TsLR0x6Wl7JrQZaOAkiL981ZJB5bCLcWwIcj23N92-Yg/s320/E4159346-DA9D-47BC-A00C-5FEAF1B1075D.jpeg" width="205" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-large; text-align: left;">It was a lazy summer afternoon. Hemani and I were sprawled over the beautiful lawns of Hemani's farmhouse.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">The tranquil scenario did little to ease my tension. My mind was disturbed thinking of the trekking trip. I was hell-bent on going on this trip with a trekking group towards the end of the year.</span></span></div><p><span style="font-size: large;">Money was the problem, Ma and Pa felt the cost of the trip was too high. I inwardly agreed with them, but my heart gnawed at the idea of making this trip happen. Water rafting, hiking, trekking and bungee jumping, not to mention the rolicking fun for 20 straight days in and around Rishikesh!! The package included food and stay. And, most of my buddies were in the group, how could I miss it?!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Ma came with a crazy idea of how I could fulfill my desire of going on this trip. She asked me to fill in for a devotional singer's secretary who was going to take a break for 6 months. I was horrified. Not even in my wild dreams did I consider myself as someone's secretary, that too for a bhajan singer. And worse still, I hated her singing and would ask Ma to lower the volume every morning when she played her CDs at home.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Thinking of the trip I sighed longingly. Chilled lemonade, 'Butter' by BTS playing mildly on Hemani's mobile phone, the soft rustle of leaves on shrubs surrounding the sapphire waters of the inviting swimming pool set the mood for soulful conversation.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Balancing the glass of lemonade in one hand I shifted to my side to face Hemani. Propping up with the support of my right hand while holding the lemonade in my other hand I glanced at Hemani. She appeared to be in slumber. She was also humming softly along with the BTS number playing on her mobile.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Clearing my throat I said tentatively, " Dude, I want your opinion about something."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Shoot", she replied without opening her eyes, her tone sleepy.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I cringed, "What do you think of being secretary to a devotional musician?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">Hemani became fully alert. Turning towards me quickly she gave me a quizzical look, "Who? Me??!!" Her tone was incredulous.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Feeling embarrassed I said softly, "No, me."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Hemani widened her eyes dramatically, giving me an exaggerated look of disbelief.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">All of a sudden she burst out laughing uncontrollably, wrapping her stomach with both hands and rolling from side to side.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Annoyed I turned away to lie down on my back. Regretting my question I said defiantly, "It's not funny okay! Stop laughing dude! Sorry I even asked you", the hurt in my voice reaching out.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Hemani abruptly stopped laughing and turned towards me appealingly, "Dude, I didn't mean to make fun. But believe me, can't imagine you hovering behind a bhajan singer. Aditiiiii it's so funny!!" Bubbles of supressed laughter made her voice shaky. A smile escaped my lips despite my remorse.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">As I started to explain Hemani's expression changed from mirth to thoughtfulness.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"I think you must accept it. After all you are looking for the money and it's only for 6 months dude." Hemani declared practically.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I looked at her in surprise, "You really mean it?!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Of course I mean it." Hemani said emphatically.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My brows knit in mild protest, "But I can't stand her singing. Worst singer!" I exclaimed irritatedly.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Hemani retorted, "Since when is a secretary expected to run her boss's fan club?!. Just keep your opinion to yourself and do your job as a secretary honestly and with integrity." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Glancing at my remorseful face Hemani added, "It's not a secretary's job to sit and drool over her boss's singing."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">That made sense. I nodded in agreement. I said lamely, "Only that I feel so goddamn embarrassed dude."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Hemani waved her hand carelessly, "Just don't be. Enjoy your salary."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Come get up", getting up on her feet Hemani dragged me up. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Let's dive dude." I quickly gulped down the lemonade to race towards the pool with Hemani. (to be continued.....)</span></p><p><b style="font-size: large;">(DISCLAIMER- THE NEW LABEL "ADITI'S VIEW" IS A COMBINATION OF FICTION/ DRY HUMOUR AND SATIRE. THE ARTICLES ARE PURELY FICTIONAL AND CHARACTERS FEATURED IN THE ARTICLE ARE A WORK OF MY IMAGINATION BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO ANY LIVING ENTITY. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ANYBODY IS A PURE COINCIDENCE.)</b></p>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876476586808141865.post-35380329700945158952023-04-22T23:13:00.026-07:002023-07-28T08:07:17.401-07:00The Pillar Lady- (1)<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJetpFR6IxwSynR5rZt8J-mK7mscr7t2YTTeBQQpt6c_69aOHMDtuBl1sVGnCVaWgBU4ahH1-6uFf-0a8mX1hAW554ORJuXAhweQ9cQavPbfwsftGnQCtp0CCzo9KcV_c27OPbmy8XWvTreeAoolM_f79UO39rQlQKzNgL09bE-K1FZ4wOmzpyd0XWdw/s3086/11985D08-8F0F-4A67-8ED8-A38EF57D2711.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3086" data-original-width="1979" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJetpFR6IxwSynR5rZt8J-mK7mscr7t2YTTeBQQpt6c_69aOHMDtuBl1sVGnCVaWgBU4ahH1-6uFf-0a8mX1hAW554ORJuXAhweQ9cQavPbfwsftGnQCtp0CCzo9KcV_c27OPbmy8XWvTreeAoolM_f79UO39rQlQKzNgL09bE-K1FZ4wOmzpyd0XWdw/s320/11985D08-8F0F-4A67-8ED8-A38EF57D2711.jpeg" width="205" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I am about to meet my new boss, a female devotional singer. She’s is so popular- thanks to public relations, but I thought that her singing sucked. (My opinion of her singing always and forever signaled a raging war between Ma and myself).</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I am to be her secretary for 6 months while her regular one took a break for some reason. Ma (my mother, who I call Ma because "Mummy" made me feel like a nitwit and "Amma" is painfully primitive. Ma sounds cool and casual with no senti-strings attached) set me up with her iconic singer.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Ma revelled in being on close terms with most of the divas in the devotional music field. Not that I cared, it was the 6-month package deal that drew me to the assignment of secretary to the bhajans singer. I simply needed the dough to cover my elaborate holiday plans that included water rafting, bungee jumping, trekking and hiking in exotic locales of the North.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Taking a deep breath I stepped into the room. The party had just begun. I glanced around, trying to find my new boss.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">It was a sprawling, attractive hall. There was a pillar-kind-of-thing in the middle of the room. One was immediately drawn to the pillar. One couldn't miss it! The pillar didn't touch the ceiling. It seemed bigger in size than me with many jasmine strands covering its top portion!! My eyes dilated in wonder. It looked awesome. And its fragrance wrapped the entire hall in its headiness.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Brows knit I wondered why everybody stood around the pillar gazing at it in respect and admiration!! Was it some sort of a monument?!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Hello my dear!!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">A voice boomed from the pillar. I jumped out of my skin. Was it a magic pillar that could speak like a woman?! But bad voice... I wrinkled my nose. I prided myself with some taste in aesthetics of voice. Actually I could even sing better than most of the divas Ma worshipped.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">People who were staring at the pillar till then turned to look at me in awe for being the special recipient of the pillar's greeting.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I stood rooted to the spot, my mind racing about how I should respond to a pillar.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">All of a sudden the pillar moved towards me and my heart leapt into my mouth!!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"My dear, you're younger than I expected....!" The voice drawled from the pillar in a patronising tone.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Ma rushing towards me hastily, concern writ largely on her face.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Looking at the pillar my mother appealed reverentially, "Akka, this is my daughter Aditi."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Stunned and wide-eyed I looked from Ma to the pillar. Why the hell was Ma talking to a goddamn pillar?!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I almost fainted when a bejewelled hand snaked out from the midst of jasmine strands enveloping the pillar.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Gaudily painted false nails with each wrinkled finger decorated by enormous gold rings embedded with precious gems, the hand daintily reached up to separate a few jasmine strands on top of the pillar. Through the jasmine strands a heavily kohled eye stared at me dramatically. Baggy and lined with age, the thick kohl and eye shadow around the eye enhanced its age. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I gasped in shock, stepping backwards.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Gripping my hand tightly Ma whispered to me in exasperation, "For heaven's sake stop looking as though you're about to faint!" For everybody's benefit Ma beamed and announced in a loud voice, "Aditi darling, meet the Queen of devotional music Mimi! Touch her feet and take her blessings darling!!" Ma urged, literally pulling me forward to make me prostrate.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Mimi, short form of Mahalakshmi. A huge number of her dumb followers fondly called her 'Mimi'. I frowned distastefully at the sound of the name.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Just yesterday I told Ma, "Why is it Mimi for Mahalakshmi, it should be Mami!"......."And she looks like one", I added sardonically,with a smirk.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Ma promptly admonished me, "Remember, you are going to work for her. She's an avatara of Saraswathi" Ignoring my eyes rolling heavenwards Ma continued sternly, "so stop being disrespectful!!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Coming back to the present I was furious and embarrassed by Ma's public display. I pulled back vehemently, refusing to prostrate to the pillar-lady. I realised why Mimi appeared like a pillar!! That was because every inch of her body was either covered in silk or jewels or jasmine strands. Mostly it was the jasmine strands that covered her from her head to the middle of her torso. Amazingly a few strands were even thrown across her face!!! She gave the appearance of a decorated pillar because nothing of her body was visible through all her adornments!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My mind was dealing with the shock that the pillar was none other than my new boss who appeared like a pillar covered by jasmine strands. I tried to wrench my hand free from Ma's grip. Feeling trapped, it dawned on me that I unwittingly gave my acceptance to be the secretary of a weirdo. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">My thoughts went back to events that landed me in the present predicament..... (to be continued....)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>(DISCLAIMER-THE NEW LABEL "ADITI'S VIEW" IS A COMBINATION OF FICTION/ DRY HUMOUR AND SATIRE. THE ARTICLES ARE PURELY FICTIONAL AND CHARACTERS FEATURED IN THE ARTICLE ARE A WORK OF MY IMAGINATION BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO ANY LIVING ENTITY. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ANYBODY IS A PURE COINCIDENCE.)</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p>Veenaagayathrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870493124318092517noreply@blogger.com0