Pandit Ravi Shankar : Oh Man, What A Life!

Robindro Shaunkor Chowdhury

(B. 1920)

The Young Ravi Shankar

Ravi Shankar posing as an old man along with his legendary brother Uday Shankar in a Bhil Dance (1937)

He moves on the stage like a semi-divine being. Believe me, there are still some beautiful things left in this world..

~ James Joyce on Uday Shankar

My dada (Uday Shankar) was the first one to direct my attention towards stagecraft, showmanship, manners and discipline on the stage. And yes, his insatiable passion for women and sex influenced me greatly in my life too!

~ Ravi Shankar, in his autobiography, Raga Mala

Baba always said that music is not meant for commercial purpose. Music is like worshipping, and through music you worship God. However, like many other people's, mine is an imperfect quest... We can never count on quite getting there..

~ Ravi Shankar, in his autobiography, Raga Mala

Without Ravi, I would have ended up a boring old fart. Some people may still say I'm a boring old fart, but atleast my life was enhanced and given much more depth..

~ George Harrison

Norah Jones (b.1979) with her sister 

Anoushka Shankar Wright (b.1982)

I remember when I found out that John Coltrane had come to my Dad once to study... That impressed me at the time, more than the George Harrison thing just because I was such a jazz nerd.

~ Norah Jones

I felt I could be in love with different women in diferent places. It was like having a girl in every port - and sometimes there was more than one!

~ Ravi Shankar, in his autobiography, Raga Mala

My love life now evokes in me is a mixed feeling, you know. I am grateful for everything that I got, but I had to pay for it with pain and torture. Many of my lady loves are now dead and gone. A couple of them I still meet and try and be friendly with. With some, of course, things are not good..

~ Ravi Shankar

Her instant reaction was one of shock heart wrenching loss. But soon it gave way to tears. I let her sob hard in the hope that it would offer her natural catharsis..

~ Rooshi Kumar Pandya, present husband of the 83 year old Annapurna Devi, one among the estranged wives of Ravi Shankar

He was 58 when we got married and told me he couldn't change. I realised I was too much in love... I really couldn't care. Even if he gave me a few days in a year, I was fine. That experience would help me tide over a whole year. He was a gypsy. I wanted to give him the home he never had.. 

~ Sukanya Shankar

When I am gone, don't wait too long to be born again for me..

~ Ravi Shankar to Shukanya Shankar

Singing In The Rain ~ Gene Kelly

Singing In The Rain

Doo-dloo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-dloo-doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-dloo-doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-dloo-doo-doo-doo-doo...

I'm singing in the rain
Just singing in the rain
What a glorious feelin'
I'm happy again
I'm laughing at clouds
So dark up above
The sun's in my heart
And I'm ready for love
Let the stormy clouds chase
Everyone from the place
Come on with the rain
I've a smile on my face
I walk down the lane
With a happy refrain
Just singin',
Singin' in the rain

Dancin' in the rain
Dee-ah dee-ah dee-ah
Dee-ah dee-ah dee-ah
I'm happy again!
I'm singin' and dancin' in the rain!

I'm dancin' and singin' in the rain...


~ Gene Kelly

The Art Of Poetry ~ Jorge Luis Borges

The Art of Poetry

To gaze at a river made of time and water
And remember Time is another river.
To know we stray like a river
and our faces vanish like water.

To feel that waking is another dream
that dreams of not dreaming and that the death
we fear in our bones is the death
that every night we call a dream.

To see in every day and year a symbol
of all the days of man and his years,
and convert the outrage of the years
into a music, a sound, and a symbol.

To see in death a dream, in the sunset
a golden sadness--such is poetry,
humble and immortal, poetry,
returning, like dawn and the sunset.

Sometimes at evening there's a face
that sees us from the deeps of a mirror.
Art must be that sort of mirror,
disclosing to each of us his face.

They say Ulysses, wearied of wonders,
wept with love on seeing Ithaca,
humble and green. Art is that Ithaca,
a green eternity, not wonders.

Art is endless like a river flowing,
passing, yet remaining, a mirror to the same
inconstant Heraclitus, who is the same
and yet another, like the river flowing.

~ Jorge Luis Borges 

      (1899 ~ 1986)

Borges, at the age of three

The younger Borges

Borges visiting the Galleria Nazionale, Palermo (Italy) in 1984 

(Photograph : Ferdinando Scianna)

Ganapathim Bhaje

Karpaga Vinayagar, Pillaiyar Patti

Muthuswamy Dikshitar's Vatapi Ganapathim 

Rendered By MS Subbulakshmi

Pallavi:

Vathapi Ganapathim Bhajeham

Vaaranaasyam Vara Pradham Sri

Anupallavi:

Bhoothaadhi Samsevitha Charanam

Bhootha Bhautika Prapancha Bharanam

Madhyamakala Sahityam:

Veetharaaginam Vinutha Yoginam

Vishwakaaranam Vigna Vaaranam

Charanam:

Puraa Kumbha Sambhava Munivara Prapoojitham Trikona Madhyagatham

Muraari Pramukhaadhyupaasitham Moolaadhaara Kshetrasthitham

Paraadhi Chathvaari Vaagaathmakam Pranava Swaroopa Vakrathundam

Nirantharam Nithila Chandrakandam Nijavaamakara Vidhrutekshu Dandam

Madhyamakala Sahithyam:

Karaambujapaasha Beejaapooram Kalushavidooram Bhoothaakaaram

Haraadhi Guruguha Toshitha Bimbam Hamsadhwani Bhooshitha Herambham

I sing in praise of Vatapi Ganapati, who has the face of an elephant, and who is a giver of all boons. All the living beings worship His feet. He transcends the past, the future and the universe, comprising the five elements. He is devoid of passion, and is saluted by the Yogis  He is the cause of the  creation of the world and He is the remover of all obstacles.

In ancient times, He was worshiped by Saint Agastya (born out of a pot). He resides in the middle of the mystic triangle. He is saluted by the prominent Gods, Vishnu and Others. He resides in the Mooladhara Chakram (cosmic circle). He represents the four forms of speech, beginning with the inaudible Shabdam namely Paraa. His trunk is curved in the form of the sacred syllable Ohm. He is eternal, and His forehead bears the crescent moon. In His left hand He carries the stack of  sugar cane. He also carries a noose and a pomegranate fruit in His lotus-like hand. He is of an immeasurable form, and He is faultless. He is the protector of the meek, and His figure is adorned by the Hamsadhvani Raaga.

e.e.cummings

Somewhere I Have Never Traveled

somewhere I have never traveled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which I cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though I have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, I and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(I do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

~ e.e.cummings