Basta un instante

para saber dónde hay un ser humano :

Allí donde haya ternura

para una debilidad.

Donde haya, para un frío, un acto de calor.

Donde haya por la vida, absoluto respeto.

Allí donde haya un ser que siente la humillación

de un semejante comme su propia humillación.

Allí donde no se confunda humor con burla

ni hipocresía con amor.

Basta un instante para entender el dolor.

---------------------------------

Il suffit d’un instant

pour savoir où se trouve l’être humain :

là où il y a de la tendresse

pour qui est affaibli.

Où il y a, pour qui a froid, un acte de chaleur.

Où il y a, pour la vie, un respect absolu.

Là où un être vit l’humiliation

d’un semblable comme sa propre humiliation.

Là où l’humour ne se confond pas avec la moquerie,

ni l’hypocrisie avec l’amour.

Il suffit d’un instant pour comprendre la douleur.

Ramón Sampedro

"O Come, All Ye Faithful,

Joyful and Triumphant!"

Now, my dear Brexiteers and anti-Brexiteers, what now? The elections to the European Parliament have confirmed that the UK is not just deeply split, but that it is polarised with no reconciliation in sight. It is not good enough when each side claims victory. It is even worse when the battle lines are drawn in quasi-religious ways. What do you want? A civil war? Crucifixion? The humiliation of the other side? Finding new scapegoats? Time to wake up and get rid of the blinkers!

Auto-portrait using one daylight LED lamp. Edited in Fuji's raw converter and refined in Luminar.

“All that happens to us, including our humiliations, our misfortunes, our embarrassments, all is given to us as raw material, as clay, so that we may shape our art.”

—Jorge Luis Borges

A photo taken on the next morning of the previous photos.

Tassha (達者) is a community north of Aikawa. It has a rustic fish port filled with calm blue water. There is a public beach nearby.

Sadogashima was a setting for Kenji Mizoguchi's movie "Sansho the Bailiff (山椒大夫)" released in 1954, which won the Silver Lion for best direction in the 15th Venice International Film Festival.

The movie set in the 11th century Japan was based on a novel by Mori Ougai (森鴎外) written as an adaptation of a Sekkyou-bushi (説経節 oral lore), in which aristocratic mother and son, humiliated and separated by a conspiracy, finally reunited in Sado.

The last scene of the movie seems to have been shot somewhere in the vicinity of this photo.

Chattahoochee is a city in Gadsden County, Florida, United States. The population was 3,652 as of the 2010 census, up from 3,287 at the 2000 census. It is part of the Tallahassee, Florida Metropolitan Statistical Area. Chattahoochee sits on the banks of the Apalachicola River,

he hospital was featured in a 1989 movie, Chattahoochee, starring Gary Oldman and Dennis Hopper, in which a war hero, Chris Calhoun, is involuntarily committed to Florida State Hospital where he sees doctors at the hospital humiliating patients and experiences filth and abuse

118

Our prime purpose in this life is to help others. And if you can't help them, at least don't hurt them.

Dalai Lama

The purpose of human life is to serve, and to show compassion and the will to help others

Albert Schweitzer

Words are singularly the most powerful force available to humanity. We can choose to use this force constructively with words of encouragement, or destructively using words of despair. Words have energy and power with the ability to help, to heal, to hinder, to hurt, to harm, to humiliate and to humble.

Yehuda Berg

All kids need is a little help, a little hope and somebody who believes in them.

Magic Johnson

Friends can help each other. A true friend is someone who lets you have total freedom to be yourself - and especially to feel. Or, not feel. Whatever you happen to be feeling at the moment is fine with them. That's what real love amounts to - letting a person be what he really is.

Jim Morrison

My father wasn't perfect. He had a temper. I took some of that. He would snap, but the older he got, he started calming down. He learned about life, but the thing that he taught my whole family was that family was the most important thing and, no matter what, if a family member needs you, you go and help them out; you get there.

Adam Sandler

The fellowship of true friends who can hear you out, share your joys, help carry your burdens, and correctly counsel you is priceless. Ezra Taft Benson

I believe the world is one big family, and we need to help each other.

Jet Li

With heartfelt and genuine thanks for your kind visit. Have a wonderful and beautiful day, be well, keep your eyes open, appreciate the beauty surrounding you, enjoy creating, stay safe and laugh often! ❤️❤️❤️

Have you ever seen a gun like this?

AK-47...

Avtomatichevsky Kalashnikov...

The international symbol of guerrilla warfare and resistance...

For the burned cities and villages

For the death of our children and our mothers

For the torture and humiliation of our people

I swear revenge to the enemy

I swear

That I would rather die fighting the enemy

Than surrender

My people and my country

To the fascist invaders

Blood for blood

Death for death

Taken at Drune... After All

This immature Cooper's Hawk was having a bad morning. I saw it miss a squirrel, fly up in a tree and regroup, and then try for a coot. Missed that too. Seems it would be a little humiliating to miss a coot in the middle of a bazillion coots, but it did. It stood a moment on the ground after the coot miss, then took off here and I lost it. I sure hope it learns the ropes; there were i thought lots off opportunity for a nice meal.

“Get at the root: union with God. On these days of recollection drop everything and hide in yourself to find Him in the silence where He is hidden within you, and listen to what he has to say. There is only one thing to live for: love. There is one unhappiness: not to love God. That is what pains me on these days of recollection, to see my own soul so full of movement and shadows and vanities, cross-currents of dry wind stirring up the dust and rubbish of desire. I don’t expect to avoid this humiliation in my life, but when will I become cleaner, more simple, more loving? “Have mercy on me, O God. My sun is always before me.”

-Thomas Merton, A Year with Thomas Merton: April 29, 1947

1. "The Road Runner must remain on the road at all times. The Road Runner cannot harm the Coyote except by going ‘Meep-Meep!’"

2. "No outside force can harm the Coyote — only his own ineptitude or the failure of the Acme products." Trains and trucks are exceptions.

3. "All materials, tools, weapons, or mechanical conveniences must be obtained from Acme Corporation.”

4. “Gravity is the Coyote's greatest enemy," e.g. falling off a cliff.

5. The Coyote must be more humiliated than actually harmed by his failures and ineptitude.

~Chuck Jones: Carnivorous Vulgaris - Head Designer and Engineer

When I look at this scene, with that glorious cross of golden light projected by the rising sun, I cannot avoid a sense of awe, and the adventure of post-processing could only confirm and deepen that feeling. One could think that I could express some pride for such a work, but it would be inappropriate. Nature is the author of this wonder, and I am only an humble means to tidy it up a bit and offer its beauty to everyone would take the time to have a look. And it makes me wonder about how God sometimes reveals Himself in special moments - and we are sometimes lucky enough to be able to capture them with a camera.

At last I realized that I had this lesson by a great mentor, and I decided to tell it to those who, intrigued by the Latin title of the photo, will decide to continue reading.

"Soli Deo Gloria" is a Lutheran Latin motto meaning "Glory to God alone". Johann Sebastian Bach was a very proud man when dealing with wordly powers, but he used to put this motto at the end of his works, humbing himself in front of God. One day someone asked him how could he produce such an awful lot of great music - a provocative question, since Bach's work was on the old-fashioned side of the music of the time, to which Bach provocatively answered: "By working a lot". So he was stubborn and proud, but he was also aware that all his genius and hard work was not for his own glorification, but rather a way to induce people to perceive God, to sincerely glorifying Him. Bach made it all crystal clear in the Musical Offering BWV 1079 (1747), one of his last works and one of his very few published ones. The Musical Offering is definitely not a sacred music work, nonetheless it is a treatise about the real status of the supposed worldly glory of Man. It is formally dedicated to Frederick II the Great and is, basically, the devastating response to a humiliation that Bach had suffered at the hands of Frederick some months before. It was not simply a challenge between two quite different musical worlds, but a clash of two mutually incompatible worldviews. The Musical Offering is full of provocations and ironic remarks to the king - who, at our knowledge, was fully unresponsive to the challenge. The typical procedure is as this: while apparently celebrating the glory and greatness of the king through Latin mottoes like "Ascendenteque Modulatione ascendat Gloria Regis" (as the modulation rises, so may the King's glory), the actual music tells a vastly different story (the rising modulation, through subtle artifices, is actually perceived as descending). So, even if Frederick did not care a bit of Bach's powerful response (maybe he did not even open the luxury dedicatory copy Bach sent to him), we are left with a deep reflection about the glory and power of this world. A lesson still to be learned by the posterity.

I have obtained this picture by blending an exposure bracketing [-1.3/0/+1.3 EV] by luminosity masks in the Gimp (EXIF data, as usual, refer to the "normal" exposure shot), then I added some final touches with Nik Color Efex Pro 4. RAW files processed with Darktable 3

October 6, 1965. I see more and more the fruitfulness of this life here [alone in my hermitage] with its struggles, its long hours of silence, the sun, the woods, the presence of invisible grace and help. [This solitude by its very nature is] a creative and humiliating life, a life of search and obedience, simple, direct, requiring strength (I don't have it, but it is "given"). There are moments of frightening disruption, then recovery. I am only just beginning to know what life really is--away from all the veils, cushions, and evasions of common life [in my monastic community]. Yet I see my great need of common life. Seriously, last night at supper, a deep awareness that I need the saints and angels with me in my loneliness.

-Thomas Merton, The Intimate Merton: His Life from His Journals" (1999: 260)

Thank you for your kind visit. Have a wonderful and beautiful day! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

*Working Towards a Better World

Today I choose life. Every morning when I wake up I can choose joy, happiness, negativity, pain... To feel the freedom that comes from being able to continue to make mistakes and choices - today I choose to feel life, not to deny my humanity but embrace it. -

Kevyn Aucoin

Words are singularly the most powerful force available to humanity. We can choose to use this force constructively with words of encouragement, or destructively using words of despair. Words have energy and power with the ability to help, to heal, to hinder, to hurt, to harm, to humiliate and to humble. -

Yehuda Berg

Thank you for your kind visit. Have a wonderful and beautiful day! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

"Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards"

"La vie ne se comprend que par un retour en arrière, mais elle doit être vécue en regardant en avant."

-Soren Kierkegaard

now I will just say goodbye

Passerelle Simone de Beauvoir (SDB). Paris XIII . France

Nikon D300 Nikkor 75-300 VR

ƒ/8.0 185.0 mm 1/500 200

Silver Efex Pro 2

===================================================

some of you may know this swan song

"severe & very crippling autoimmune muscle disease,having lost my pictures & backup,harsh times ...

.... and remember "Carpe Diem "

===========================================

Thank you for your visit , your fave , your comments

thank you for taking some of your precious time , much appreciated !!

thank you from the bottom of my heart , for your beautiful words , you're my true friends

the Flickr spirit is still alive...

===========================================

I am absolutely unable to accept a life of recluse, without any social or cultural life and worse, I feel unable to accept becoming dependent : Loss of autonomy is a humiliating loss of human dignity

When I came back to Flickr , last year , after a long absence, I thought it could be a derivative, a way to keep in touch,and to fight my isolation since I can't have social or cultural life anymore

But it was a mistake because even the use of my PC, and Flickr sessions have become very difficult for me

And , see and admire dozens of photos on Flickr, while I can't walk, so, taking pictures is a real mental torture

.... and I have ideas, many ......: ((((((((

likewise, Summer, sunny days, so many invitations to walk:

no need to travel , I love Paris , late afternoon light is wonderful

I miss Paris .......

I was very active, I loved everything in life,

I'm not old enough

so what ?

the worst is a severe respiratory attack that is increasing more and more......I'll try to keep in touch a little longer , as long as I could . Not for a very long time , I fear ....

============================================

Thank you , my friends for the photos you have dedicated me, for the beautiful galleries, for the tributes I received, especially this one, moving =Feeling Blue for Françoise fifich@t Thank you , dear Robin

this photo is not for groups (no need to gain awards or more favorites) but only for my contacts, friends, and any Flickr member who knows me, and can understand how it feels when no treatment can bring any improvement ,and one becomes dependent , more and more

Thank you

_______________________________________

L'apartheid genré de l'islam intégriste...

"For all the violence committed on her, for all the humiliations she suffered, for her body that you exploited, for her intelligence that you trampled on, for the ignorance in which you left her, for the freedom you gave her denied, for the mouth you stopped her, for the wings you cut off, for all this: standing Gentlemen, in front of a Woman."

William Shakespeare

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Woman,_Life,_Freedom

3663_GEN

www.youtube.com/watch?v=xdG8yw5D9bA

Thursday night, everything's fine

Except you've got that look in your eye

When I'm telling a story

And you find it boring

You're thinking of something to say

You'll go along with it then drop it

And humiliate me in front of our friends

Then I'll use that voice that you find annoying

And say something like

Yeah, intelligent input darling

Why don't you just have another beer then?

Then you'll call me a bitch

And everyone we're with will be embarrassed

And I won't give a shit

My fingertips are holding onto

The cracks in our foundation

And I know that I should let go but I can't

And every time we fight

I know it's not right

Every time that you're upset

And I smile

I know I should forget but I can't

You said I must eat so many lemons

'Cause I am so bitter

I said "I'd rather be with your friends, mate

'Cause they are much fitter

Yes it was childish

And you got aggressive

And I must admit that I was a bit scared

But it gives me thrills to wind you up

My fingertips are holding onto

The cracks in our foundation

And I know that I should let go but I can't

And every time we fight

I know it's not right

Every time that you're upset

And I smile

I know I should forget but I can't

Your face is pasty

'Cause you've gone and got so wasted

What a surprise

Don't want to look at your face

'Cause it's making me sick

You've gone and got sick on my trainers

I only got these yesterday

Oh my gosh, I cannot be bothered with this

Well I'll leave you there 'til the morning

And I purposely won't turn the heating on

And dear God, I hope I'm not stuck with this one

My fingertips are holding

Onto the cracks in our foundation

And I know that I should let go but I can't

And every time we fight

I know it's not right

Every time that you're upset

And I smile

I know I should forget but I can't

And every time we fight

I know it's not right

Every time that you're upset

And I smile

I know I should forget but I can't

And every time we fight

I know it's not right

Every time that you're upset

And I smile

I know I should forget but I can't

Everyone should be free without exception!

Thank you for your kind visit. Have a wonderful and beautiful day! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

The natives are the true monarchs of our earth. They have always respected nature and treated it with generosity. Throughout our history, they have only been persecuted, humiliated, deceived and killed. I dedicate this picture of my wife to all of them.

My Insta: www.instagram.com/thomas_weiler_photography

YouPic - youpic.com/photographer/ThomasWeilerFotografie/

How could you leave so unexpected?

We waited, we waited for you,

But you just left us

We needed you, I needed you

Yo, I don't know what it's like to be addicted to pills

But I do know what it's like to be a witness it kills

Mama told me she love me, I'm thinking this isn't real

I think of you when I get a whiff of that cigarette smell, yeah

Welcome to the bottom of hell

They say pain is a prison, let me out of my cell

You say you proud of me, but you don't know me that well

Sit in my room, tears running down my face and I yell

Into my pillowcases, say you coming to get us

Then call a minute later just to tell us you not, I'm humiliated

I'm in a room with a parent that I don't barely know

Some lady in the corner watching us, while she taking notes

I don't get it, mom, don't you want to watch your babies grow?

I guess pills are more important, all you have to say is no

But you won't do it will you? You gon' keep popping 'til them pills kill you

I know you've gone but I can still feel you

Why would you leave us? Why would you leave us here?

How could you leave us here?

How could you leave us? Why would you leave us?

Oh, hey

I got this picture in my room and it kills me

But I don't need a picture of my mom, I need the real thing

Now a relationship is something we will never have

Why do I feel like I lost something that I never had?

You should've been there when I graduated

Told me you love me and congratulations

Instead you left us at the window waiting

Where you at mom? We're too young to understand where you at, huh?

Yeah, I know those drugs got you held captive

I can see it in your eyes, they got your mind captured

Some say it's fun to get the high but I am not laughing

What you don't realise and what you not grasping

That I was nothing but a kid who couldn't understand

I ain't gon' say that I forgive you 'cause it hasn't happened

I thought that maybe I feel better as time passes

If you really cared for me, then where you at then?

♫LISTEN♫

TIMOR LESTE: While today Timor-Leste is proud of being rated as the strongest democracy in Southeast Asia, yet as it prepares to receive Pope Francis, tensions between activists and the authorities are rising.

It was a nation torn limb from limb. Yet even back in 2008, it was living with hope of a new tomorrow. I was working on the creation and building of a just-peace in Timor Leste in 2006, 2007 and 2008.

Immediately prior to my visit in 2008, rebel soldiers of the Timor Leste Defence Force invaded the home of the President and shot and seriously wounded President José Ramos-Horta. Much of Dili had been arsoned. Many people had been killed and most had been compromised because of the identity based conflict. I selected some key courageous people and we trained them as peacebuilders, healing much of hurt in the process and creating in them a strengthened resolve to create a just peace. Thirteen years on I have been reflecting on those years and the wonderful outcomes. But a most poignant moment (among others) for me was when I retreated to this beach after a tension filled day. I "received" this image through my camera lens and thoughts flooded my mind.

My Reflection written in 2008:

"An acacia tree grew near the waterfront. During its early life it was sheltered by a building against which it grew. But then a long period of violence overwhelmed the community and the building was destroyed. But the tree continued to grow. Now it became the feed for the goats that roamed, and the lower foliage was eaten. The children now played on the beach and the acacia became a plaything. Children often climbed and sat on its lower branches. An occasional desperate fuelwood collector removed some of its dead wood. But the tree continued tenaciously, an ugly, distorted thing on the waterfront.

"Then after a thunderstorm, the sunset painted a pink and purple backdrop across the western sky. And the ugly, deformed tree framed the sunset for those who would see, creating a picture of glory. After the storm, even the ugly may contribute to glory, so let us envision hope. Those who have eyes to see, let them see.

"There are real signs of hope for Timor Leste especially in regard to the recent conflict between Lorosae and Loromonu allegiances. It appears to me that both sides now bear an underlying sense of shame and therefore would prefer to create peace than go onto new fighting.

"It was during one of my interviews with a young gun runner who had aided the Loromonu rebels that I realised there was a sign of hope. With the failure of the Loromonu attempt to take the President and others hostage resulting in the death of the Loromonu leader and the attempt on the life of President Ramos-Horta, Loromonu people feel the deep humiliation and shame not only of failure but that it led to the attempted assassination.

For the Lorosae people their shame arose from the slaughter of 9 Police by the pro-Lorosae army on 25 May 2006.

"That President Ramos-Horta returns to Dili with a martyr’s status reinforces this hope, especially as he together with the Prime Minister, is known to have turned away from militancy towards peaceful ways of building a democratic society."

Then after a thunderstorm, the sunset painted a pink and purple backdrop across the western sky. And the ugly, deformed tree framed the sunset for those who would see, creating a picture of glory. After the storm, even the ugly may contribute to glory, so let us envision hope. Those who have eyes to see, let them see.

"There are real signs of hope for Timor Leste especially in regard to the recent conflict between Lorosae and Loromonu allegiances. It appears to me that both sides now bear an underlying sense of shame and therefore would prefer to create peace than go onto new fighting.

"It was during one of my interviews with a young gun runner who had aided the Loromonu rebels that I realised there was a sign of hope. With the failure of the Loromonu attempt to take the President and others hostage resulting in the death of the Loromonu leader and the attempt on the life of President Ramos-Horta, Loromonu people feel the deep humiliation and shame not only of failure but that it led to the attempted assassination.

"For the Lorosae people their shame arose from the slaughter of 9 Police by the pro-Lorosae army on 25 May 2006.

That President Ramos-Horta returns to Dili with a martyr’s status reinforces this hope, especially as he together with the Prime Minister, is known to have turned away from militancy towards peaceful ways of building a democratic society." Ian

... I see things, I see them move about your streets

in rhythms of supplication, sweet humiliation

of self devouring figures

like in mirrors. The maiden

has aged but her body

is still sweet, a reading that takes time

and when it arrives speaks only to strangers

or stays silent, closes her eyes and, standing still,

seems to dance alone. She’s rare,

each of her gestures is almost historic...

[from "Lisboa" by Diogo Vaz Pinto}

my textures

what is bodyshaming?

Since the 21st century, bodyshaming has been a term used to describe forms of discrimination, insults, bullying or humiliation of people because of their external appearance; especially with regard to an ideal of beauty.

so it is described in wiki.

i myself do not correspond to the ideal of beauty in industry and many people. those who know me know. bodyshaming is one of the worst insults i have ever experienced. so what? i don't have a size 32. what? I don't want to have either! I am at peace with myself. even if it took a while, but i LOVE my curves! each! If you don't fit, you should look away. BUT stop judging people by their appearance! How do you want to know whether the extra weight (I find this word much better than being overweight as many people call it) that someone is not health-related? many simply label people with the phrase 'he / she eats too much'. but this is only true in a few cases. NOT in all!

personally, i even eat little, my friends and family say. i never ate much. I still wear size 50. So what? I am proud of it and live healthy with it!

And it affects not only people who are overweight, but also those who are underweight. they suffer as well!

so please: stop the bodyshaming! it hurts everyone. some suffer extremely as a result. others fall into depression and find it difficult to get out.

keep it simple and accept people as they are!

#bodyshaming #bodyshamingiswrong #everyonelooksbeautiful

in this pics you see me in the middle and my sis ever (left) and my sisi stellar (right)

"My love and care for children doesn't end

At my own child

At my own religion/

At my own skin color

It has no borders or boundaries

No qualifications, no conditions

It is boundless and infinite and includes/ every precious baby in this world." msrachelforlittles ▪️ "Israel handcuffed, detained, humiliated, and subjected us to strip searches-all for carrying baby formula and daring to speak out against genocide."

MEP Emma Fourreau ▪️▪️▪️Esso, Felin-wen, Sir Gaerfyrddin (Carmarthenshire)

& easily wooed

into amusement

& wear Happiness

like a mauve gause

over the too-small leotard of

my impostor syndrome

& I know how deep

the Forest Pool is-

& I know how haunted

& I know the names of the naiads

who run their tongues

down the length of this Solipsism

& I know some Humiliations

will never touch the bottom

Ultima foto con Anna (a sinistra)

Ho sceso, dandoti il braccio, almeno un milione di scale (Xenia II, 1967) Eugenio Montale

Ho sceso, dandoti il braccio, almeno un milione di scale

e ora che non ci sei è il vuoto ad ogni gradino.

Anche così è stato breve il nostro lungo viaggio.

Il mio dura tuttora, né più mi occorrono

le coincidenze, le prenotazioni,

le trappole, gli scorni di chi crede

che la realtà sia quella che si vede.

Ho sceso milioni di scale dandoti il braccio

non già perché con quattr’occhi forse si vede di più.

Con te le ho scese perché sapevo che di noi due

le sole vere pupille, sebbene tanto offuscate,

erano le tue.

"HO SCESO DANDOTI IL BRACCIO" DI EUGENIO MONTALE English translation by francesca ciambella

I went down a million stairs, at least, arm in arm with you.

And now that you are not here, I feel emptiness at each step.

Our long journey was brief, though.

Mine still lasts, but I don't need

any more connections, reservations,

traps, humiliation of those who think reality

is what we are used to see.

I went down a millions of stairs, at least, arm in arm with you,

and not because with four eyes we see better that with two.

With you I went downstairs because I knew, among the two of us,

the only real eyes, although very blurred,

belonged to you.

The Battle of Teutoburg Forest was a battle between the Roman Empire and a alliance of Germanic tribes led by the chieftain Arminius (aka Hermann the German). The Germanic tribes destroyed three Roman legions and their auxiliaries that were led by Publius Quinctilius Varus. After the battle, humiliated by his defeat Publius committed suicide. The Roman empire never again tried to conquer the Germanic lands east of the Rhine river. Arminius' victory has been regarded by many historians as "Rome's greatest defeat." and as one of the most decisive battles in history.

Arminius in centuries to come had become a symbol for German unification during the late 1800s and a symbol of triumph.

La violenza sulle donne è antica come il mondo, ma oggi avremmo voluto sperare che una società avanzata, civile e democratica non nutrisse le cronache di abusi, omicidi e stupri.

Helga Schneider

Violence against women is as old as the world, but today we would have liked to hope that an advanced, civil and democratic society would not feed the news of abuse, murder and rape.

Helga Schneider

Per tutte le violenze consumate su di Lei, per tutte le umiliazioni che ha subito, per il suo corpo che avete sfruttato, per la sua intelligenza che avete calpestato, per l’ignoranza in cui l’avete lasciata, per la libertà che le avete negato, per la bocca che le avete tappato, per le ali che le avete tagliato, per tutto questo: in piedi Signori, davanti a una Donna.

William Shakespeare

For all the violence committed on her, for all the humiliations she suffered, for her body that you exploited, for her intelligence that you trampled on, for the ignorance in which you left her, for the freedom you gave her denied, for the mouth you stopped her, for the wings you cut off, for all this: standing Gentlemen, in front of a Woman.

William Shakespeare

Consonance and dissonance.

I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.

I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.

Vincent Gomez :

I admired the singing and voice of Vincent Gomez, who was a choir singer in a local church. Those days, every singer dreamt of becoming a playback singer, and Vincent did accomplish that at a young age. In my childhood, I used to see him ply through the city roads riding a Vijay scooter, wearing a cap with its side flaps let loose that they look like drooping puppy ears.

In my teenage, I was active as a singer and also as a photographer. Photography with film being an expensive hobby, I was eager to contribute my service for free if someone solicits my help to cover events and rituals. While they pay for the film roll, developing and printing, I found out that I can experiment and learn, as well as help them. Hence, I have covered many weddings, baptisms and funerals at the local church where he sings the choir. As I viewed him in recognition of his outstanding achievement as a playback singer, we exchanged greetings when we meet as he knows me as a singer.

He would be at the choir-aisle with methodical movements as required in a choir. Though busy, he often acknowledges my presence with a slight bow of his head. We seldom got the time or chance to talk. His voice is very familiar to me that I can hear him sing right when I remember him.

He looked handsome, but he never cared for his looks. Many singers of those days were envious of him, and some of them mistook his staid attitude as arrogance and ego.

Vincent was busy with choirs and devotional songs when he received the breakthrough in 1988. He got the chance to succeed as a playback singer with a song written and composed by the legends in the Malayalam filmdom. The song 'Number Lesham', written by P. Bhaskaran, had music composed by G. Devarajan for the movie 'Athirukal'. The song situation being comical; the music director wanted him to sing it with apt expression and feeling. He did his job pretty well, but unfortunately, both songs in the movie flopped, including the other one sung by the great K.J. Yesudas. The green-eyed lot who earlier lost their sleep at his accomplishment gleefully celebrated the failure. They jibed that the lyrics of the song has come true. The verse "Entey jeevitham naaya nakki" many times repeated in the song, roughly translated, means, "My life is licked by a dog", else "My life has gone to waste". I am unsure whether he took the mocking and teasing seriously, but I heard that he subsequently led a disquieted life though he remained busy with choirs.

Many years later, when his son, a Popular cricket player, proudly and joyfully called home to share the greatest achievement of his life, Vincent was found dead hanging himself.

Aazhathil Ninnu : Aazhathil Ninnu

"Out of the depths I cry to you, Lord. Let your ears be attentive to my mind's wail."

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© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.

All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed,posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.

Consonance and dissonance.

I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.

I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.

Prakash Sathyan:

Prakash is the eldest son of the legendary Malayalam film actor Sathyan.

I met him first at Tharangini Studio (the music company owned by the great musician K.J.Yesudas). I used to visit Tharangini Studio for recordings and meet some artists, and it's there that I entered a studio console for the first time in my life. Prakash occupied the studio's front desk, and though nearly blind, he could easily recognize anyone from their voice.

Tharangini Studio was doing peak business those days, and Prakash was quite busy from early morning till evening. He lived alone in a room that is a portion of a house at Plamood in Trivandrum. Though much senior to me, within a short time, he considered me his best friend.

He had a fascination for colourful poster calendars, as he can see large pictures if held close to his face. I used to collect colourful posters from wherever possible and hand them over to him when I meet him.

His mother, Jessy Sathyan, stayed with his younger brother at his parental home in Manacaud, about 5 km away from where he stayed. As I had a vehicle, I visited the studio and took him to his mother whenever he wanted to meet her. By around 6 pm, he would say, " Anuj, it's 6, right?" and prepare to wind up his work and leave. On the way, we stop at Eastern bakery in East Fort, from where he buys cupcakes for his mother. After spending some time talking and having tea with her, we return, and I leave him back in his room. On the way back, seldom he asked my assistance to visit a tailor but has never sought my help to buy provisions, visit a barbershop or even consult a doctor.

We never talked about his late father, who is one of the greatest actors in Malayalam cinema. In fact, we never discussed movies as he probably might have rightly guessed that I'm not much fascinated with the topic. Yet, one day while talking about music, I mentioned certain marvellous pieces in movies that went unnoticed without receiving the attention they deserve. He grew curious and asked me to name one. I referred to the short song 'Mahal-thyagamey ' from an old Malayalam movie 'Snehaseema' (1954) and a few other songs. Snehaseema is a Malayalam movie based on a Malayalam novel retelling Alfred, Lord Tennyson's 'Enoch Arden'. The mentioned piece is depicted as a background song in melancholy by an empyreal disembodied voice glorifying sacrifice out of love. In astonishment, he asked how I know such old songs, which were released decades before I was born, and apologetically he admitted that he doesn't remember such a song even though it's from a hit movie with his father in the lead. All attentive, his face turned towards me, as his drooping eyelids looked like he's watching the floor; he asked, " Anuj, can you please sing it?". Usually, I never sing if people request me out of the blue, but I sang the first few lines in a soft voice, stopped, and asked him whether he can remember the song. He said, "No, please sing the full song". I sang with my eyes closed, and once over, I opened my eyes to see him weeping. As if I didn't notice it, I diverted the topic to something cheerful before I left his room.

My visits to the studio and our visit to meet his mother continued for a long time, but eventually, I often got busy with my studies, travel and many other activities that I couldn't meet Prakash as I used to. He called my number, and though I got the messages that he conveyed, I couldn't meet him in person for some time. He even left messages hinting at golden opportunities and breakthroughs for me.

On returning home after a long trip, I glanced through the day's newspaper, and right on the front page, I saw the headline, "Jessy Sathyan no more".

Few days after the funeral at LMS church, I visited Tharangini Studio inadvertently at about 6 pm to meet him. As he's always at the reception desk facing the entrance, visitors to the studio may think he's watching them. I approached him and, standing a few meters away, facing him, asked, " Do you remember this voice?". He mumbled, "Anuj", and following a pause, he asked, "Anuj, it's 6, right?" and extended his hand. Without uttering a word, he stood holding my hand. Often, a sigh speaks volumes. He released my hand with a sigh when someone interrupted. I left, promising him that we shall soon meet again. That didn't happen as I was too busy with my activities.

Prakash Sathyan died this day ( 15 April ) in 2014.

Mahal-thyagamey : Mahal-thyagamey

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All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed,posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.

Consonance and dissonance.

I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.

I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.

Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This):

In my teens, pretty engaged with professional singing, I was eager to try anything that would help me improve.

It was indeed a challenge to stretch my vocal cords in a residential area, and so I decided to give it a try at the local beach. That didn't work, as I soon realised that it's absurd to sit somewhere at the beach and sing aloud. I even doubted that fishers and other visitors to the beach would drop coins near me if I dare try. Finally, I managed to find the right place. Yes, in a boat!

I started visiting the local boat club all alone, hire a rowing boat and row it in the backwaters, as far away as possible from the shore. It became a routine that I would reach the boat club by 3 pm and return by 5 pm.

Most often, I would be the only rower at the specified time slot. The audience consisted of cormorants, egrets, cranes, ducks and moorhens, and I believe I was not a trouble for them. Occasionally a train would vroom through the railway overbridge far above the lake.

The songs I used to scream/sing were ' Sweet Dreams ' and 'Missionary Man'. As my countertenor is close to Annie Lennox's contralto, I preferred singing those Eurythmics songs. Both of them have a punchy rhythm that perfectly goes along with the rowing tempo. In between, 'Let it Be' or 'Eight Days a Week' by The Beatles, 'Still Loving You' by Scorpions, 'Rosanna' by Toto or 'The House Of The Rising Sun' by The Animals, once a day. Occasionally, I 'tried' a few songs of Freddie Mercury and M.K.Thyagaraja Bhagavathar (mostly Amba Manam Kaninthu).

My rowing wont continued for several months till about the onset of the monsoon rains.

Being a daily visitor, the secretary of YMCA who is in charge of the boat club used to have friendly chats with me and once I revealed my honest intention to him, as he drew curious to know why I'm rowing all alone.

Those days, I have often seen a lady, probably in her late forties, at the boat club premises. Sari-clad and carrying a handbag, she had a charming, graceful face. I saw her eagerly observing my activities and watching me until I moved out of sight from the coast. Seldom when I return, I could see her waiting at the shore as if she's expecting someone.

One cloudy evening as I reached the boat club, as usual, I saw her sitting at the shore gazing at the lake. After signing the register at the office, I walked towards the boats, with the oars handed over to me from the office. On seeing me, she stood up and hesitantly approached me with a smile. Though she had her head covered with the palla of her purple sari, a sudden heavy breeze blew a wisp of her hair on to her forehead. Clearing her forehead and adjusting the drape, she asked," Son, where are you from?". When I introduced myself, she apologised for dawdling my time and politely asked me whether I can spare some time to lend an ear to her. I said it's all right, and she said, "Please come," and walked towards a large tree in the compound. We sat on the concrete around the tree seat, and straight away, she asked, "Son, you come here to sing, right?". While I smiled, she continued rather hastily, "Do you know the song 'Manjil Virinja Poove '? " I said, "Yes, I sing it", and I could see her face brighten. She said, " I don't want to waste your time." Pointing to a spot bit far from the shore, almost below the railway overbridge, she said," Many years back, a person dear to me drowned there. He loved this place, and he used to sing. Today is his birthday. Can you please do me a favour?". Perplexed, before I could answer, pointing to the spot that she showed earlier, she continued," When you reach that spot, can you please sing that song for him?. It was his favourite song." As I sat stupefied for a while, I even forgot what I am there for when she abruptly shook my shoulder and repeated the question. I said, "Don't worry, I'll do that", and I could see her soul through her tear-filled eyes. I got up and walked towards the boat as I saw her whimpering uncontrollably.

I know the song very well, and I often sing it, but I have never sung any song in such an exigent situation. Oblivious of what I am doing, I unfastened the boat and set off from the shore with involuntary movements. Even though I was far from the coast, I didn't sing my usual songs.

I could see the dark clouds looming, along with heavy winds.

In a soliloquy, I asked," Does Nature read one's mind?" and I turned to check whether she is watching me from the shore. No, she's not there. Perhaps she's communicating with her beloved, else crying her heart out. I nearly reached the place that she pointed to, and I sang the song in my sonority. Felt that my regular audience is more attentive than usual, felt everything around, and the whole eternity is listening keenly. As I stopped rowing, the vessel just drifted along the lake. Back to my senses, I took control of the boat and thought of returning.

I was pretty sure that she would be waiting underneath the tree, awaiting my return and was keen to inform her that I fulfilled her desire. Eager to see her smile, quickly I fastened the boat to the shore and hurriedly walked towards the tree. No, she was not there. It started drizzling when I came out of the office after handing over the oars. With the song still reverberating in my mind, I left the place as the drizzle turned to a downpour.

The next day, another sunny day, I reached the boat club as usual and set out with my routine exercise. I sang my songs aloud as always and returned by about 5 pm, as earlier. That day, I inquired about her to the secretary. He said she's a frequent visitor and usually keeps gazing at the lake for hours. Though not clear about the circumstances of the death of her lover, he's sure it's drowning, and it occurred rightly at the spot that she pointed. He said that she remained a spinster following the death of her beloved, and people say she's mad.

I continued my routine for a few more weeks, and I nevermore saw that lady again. Soon the monsoon showers followed, and my rowing and singing practice stopped forever. Later one day I visited the boat club and found a new secretary has taken charge. I walked towards the lake and found that the rowing boats have vanished. It was a sunny day, and the lake appeared to be smiling in glee.

Very soon, the sky turned dark and cloudy. A heavy wind blew away dead leaves and fallen flowers from the ground as I walked back humming 'Manjil Virinja Poove '.

"Sweet Dreams are made of this, Everybody's looking for something."

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Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This): Sweet Dreams

Manjil Virinja Poove: Manjil Virinja Poove

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Anuj Nair's Official Blog

www.anujnair.net

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© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.

All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed,posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.

Consonance and dissonance.

I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.

I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.

M. K. Arjunan ( Arjunan Master)

One of the legends in the Malayalam filmdom, he has composed more than 500 songs for movies and more than 800 songs for dramas. Most of his compositions turned into hit songs.

I first met Arjunan Master in 1998 while recording my song 'Priya Ragam' in the studio run by his son Ani Arjun. A soft-spoken gentleman, he laughs loud and heartily, even for small jokes and quirky incidents. Without a doubt, he is the most humble senior musician I have ever met in my life. Despite knowing the faults in my work, without interfering, he encouraged me and just provided suggestions to help me improve.

Those days, he had the habit of placing chewing tobacco beneath his lower lip. He would occasionally move out to spit into the flowerpots kept at either side of the studio door. Once, while standing at the entrance, I saw a young musician doing the same. The next time when Arjunan Master came out to spit, I told him that youngsters admire him and so they are imitating him. After his hearty loud laugh, he went inside, and I accompanied him. There were only three people inside, and in all seriousness, addressing them, he said, "I have a bad habit, and I am stopping it. Those who imitate me have to do the same".

He has often narrated many incidents about his bitter experiences in the industry. Once, he mentioned that the director of a movie doubted his talent and suspected whether he's having the compositions done by somebody else. To validate it, he was provided with a room to compose the songs. After describing the required song situation, the director left, locking the room from outside. He didn't have food or even water, and yet, when the director turned up, he was ready with the compositions. Those songs later became big hits.

He composed the song 'Chembaka Thaikal ' in ghazal form without knowing what ghazal is. He had never heard a ghazal before when he made it, and yet his composition is so beautiful that it's one of my favourite songs.

I thought of him, prepared this text late at night yesterday, and woke up to hear that he passed away this morning.

Chembaka Thaikal : Chembaka Thaikal

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Anuj Nair's Official Blog

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© 2019 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.

All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed,posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.

Speravo che stesse per involarsi, invece...ma l'ha fatta in testa, l'uccellaccio!

Mai mi sono sentito così mortificato in vita mia!

I hoped he was taking-off, instead...he did it to me, bad bird!

I had never been so humiliated in my life!

Consonance and dissonance.

I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.

I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.

K.P. Udayabhanu:

Popular Malayalam playback singer and music director K.P.Udhayabhanu is one of the most humble musicians known to me. Had been fortunate enough to work with him for his 'Old is Gold' programs which introduced and provided opportunities for many budding singers to meet and sing along with him and other senior artists like P.Leela, Madhuri and C.O.Anto.

'Kili Chilachu', a film song composed by him, is one of my favourites since childhood.

Though he's very amiable, he is solemn during song rehearsals and had greed for perfection. Some naive newcomers mistook his serious demeanour as ego and used to gripe that he's conducting music shows to earn big money while not paying much for their work. They didn't know the modesty and magnanimity of this great artist. In 1965, he was at the height of his career when music director K.V.Job invited him to sing two songs for the movie 'Rosy'. The great singer K.J.Yesudas, then a novice, was assigned to sing one song. After recording his song, while Yesudas was biding his time playing cricket with a group of boys at a ground near the studio in Fort Kochi, he was asked to report back to the studio. When he reached the studio, he realised that K.P. Udhayabhanu, who is assigned to sing two songs, insisted that Yesudas should sing one of them. He believed Yesudas is the right person to sing that particular melody. The music director heeded his demand, and Udhayabhanu was happy and contended just with the other song, which is a duet. The song 'Alliyambal' offered to Yesudas later became a huge hit.

From the year 2000 onwards, I often met Bhanu sir at M.G.Road, right in front of the Government Secretariat or at the nearby Sivan's Studio entrance. Whenever I meet him there, it's always the same routine. He invites me for tea; we walk towards Hotel Arul Jyothi and has some small talk with tea. Once we leave the hotel, he inquires about a printing press in Ernakulam. He was pretty impressed with the printing quality of my album sleeves and posters and wished to contact them for some of his work. I provide him with the name, address and location of the printing press before we part. It happens precisely in the same order, the next time too. Finally, one day I told him that it's the umpteenth time that I'm telling him the address. He held my hand and said, "please come," and led me into a side road towards a parked sedan. His driver came running from nowhere, and Bhanu sir asked him to get him a notepad kept in the glovebox. He handed it over to me and asked me to note down the details. After writing the particulars, I said, "Sir, I won't give you these details if you ask me again", and we had a hearty laugh before we parted.

Unfortunately, my fortuitous quip came true. Afflicted with Parkinson's disease, he couldn't visit his favourite place anymore. Being away for a while, I lost touch with him, and when I returned, I didn't see him at the usual spots. Later, when I visited his residence, he was bedridden and couldn't even remember me. He breathed his last on 5 January 2014.

Kili Chilachu: Kili Chilachu

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© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.

All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed,posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.

Consonance and dissonance.

I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.

I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.

Thunderbirds Babu:

Thunderbirds Babu is the brains and brawn of the first Popular music troupe, rather Ganamela troupe in Trivandrum. He named it Thunderbirds, and hence he came to be known as Thunderbirds Babu. His name is familiar to most senior musicians in Kerala. He preferred to render the old Hindi melodies of Kishore Kumar, Muhammed Rafi, Mukesh, Manna Dey and Saigal. But, more than his singing abilities, his acuity in introducing ingenious ideas and his efforts to implement them is what I admired the most.

It's a fact that most musicians are tender-hearted and Babuchettan, as I called him, is no exception. Despite being a humble, loving, poor soul, many people despised him for unknown reasons.

I realize that he lived at least 25 years ahead of his generation. Those jealous of him taunted him openly and in hiding. He often got blamed for others' mistakes, and the gentleman turned out a reprobate to many people who had only heard about him. Though I found him cheerful and lively, I have noticed that he often appeared lost in thoughts. I suspected his 'hyperactivity' to be his way of dealing with some problem or difficulties that occupied his mind, which probably kept bothering him.

I met him when he formed 'The Rubbish Orchestra'. Rubbish is the name suggested by the great Indian sculptor Kanayi Kunhiraman when we approached him seeking a name suggestion for a music troupe that sings Indian language songs and plays Western instrumental music. Without a second thought, he quipped, " Rubbish", and it got stuck. Being active and dynamic, Babuchettan had the knack to approach the right people the right way, so there was no shortage of programs.

I was one of the two tenderfoots in the team, and I met most of the senior artists of those days through Rubbish Orchestra. Being very elder to me, probably my father's age, he considered me a child and yet regarded me like all the other artists. Still, I have noticed that he was a bit careful and seldom reserved when communicating with me.

Once during a rehearsal break, when other artists left for refreshments and smoking, I asked him why he couldn't try 'Mere Naina Sawan Bhado', which is one of my favourites. With a mischievous look and a smile, he turned his head to gaze outside through the window. I thought he either ignored my question or got distracted by something when he suddenly started humming to set the correct pitch. He sang it beautifully without any accompaniment as I listened and watched in awe. Once over, I shook his hand, and he said that it was the first time he was singing it for a 'listener'. As he rendered it superbly, I requested that he add the song to his song list. He refused as he considered his rendition of that song not up to the mark.

'The Rubbish' slowly disbanded following an album release, on which some members of the band suffered substantial monetary losses. Being the production organizer, he was blamed for that too, and he slowly vanished from the scene. I thought he would soon rise like a Phoenix, but while travelling on a bus, somebody hurled a stone that hit his eye, and he lost vision in one eye. He stopped singing, and the bright, vivacious man lived a detached, secluded life consequently.

Later in life, when he badly needed someone's care, a lady less than half his age fell in love with him, and they started living together. Of course, he was ridiculed for that too. Eventually, he died without making headlines. Nobody cared.

Mere Naina Sawan Bhado: Mere Naina Sawan Bhado

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Anuj Nair's Official Blog

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© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.

All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed,posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.

Consonance and dissonance.

I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.

I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.

When you sing you begin with Do-Re-Mi:

There are several entertainers that I have met or rather seen in the early stages of my life. As a household with numerous servants and helpers, there was one character even to chase away stray cats. His name is Bhaskaran, but he is called Pakkaran. With his threadlike moustache, whiskers and hairy pinnae, the child viewed him as a tomcat. Pakkaran himself took over the mentioned task, probably because of boredom or out of ailurophobia. In the late evening, he used to roam around the property to hit the poor cats that are peacefully napping. One day he took the child along to demonstrate his prowess, and the child didn't find it amusing.

Yet, the child noticed and admired the talent possessed by some of those servants and helpers. A boy named Prabhakaran was a good singer and an instant poet who created and recited limericks at ease.

In earlier days, there was a character called 'Hanuman Pandaram'. Dressed as a monkey, he once a while visits the palace and some significant households. Have heard that he visits shouting, "Are there any kids who do not listen to parents?", "Are there any kids who do not behave?". If children misbehave, parents threaten that they would call Hanuman Pandaram and hand them over to him. When the child was about two years old, he once saw a big monkey tail protruding out from a nearby gate while he was taken back home from somewhere. Those days, the servants, aides and the workers who serve the household used to address the child with a respectful title "Kochangunnu". On that occasion, he heard one of them shout, "Hide fast, Kochangunnu is coming", and glimpsed a figure with a big tail sneak inside the nearby gate. After a few years, once the child asked his mom about that big-tailed monkey, she wondered how he remembered something that happened when he was too young to memorise. I was not fortunate to see them again as that 'species' later went extinct.

I have watched lots of Kathakali performances, and the child loathed it. Often, he's taken to the periodic performance at Victoria Jubilee Town Hall, probably because he didn't reveal his disinterest. He would be carried on the shoulder by one of those aides to return home, as his dad is keen to watch the whole episode, and the child would be dozy by the time the show gets over.

There were some unique, entertaining visitors whom the child eagerly awaited. One of them is 'Bhagavathar', an entertainer who sings and dances. He acts as a jester too. He entertains the kids in the palace and visits us about once a month. His costume is a mix of traditional and Western. A khaki suit jacket above a white shirt on top and a white dhoti (thar mundu / anthareeyam) below had a tonsured head with a long tuft of hair left on top, folded and tied. He sang songs without any significant meaning and danced in a circular motion, as the kid watch, amused, with a smile. I only remember the line "Manjulangi kunjulangi" of the lyrics. After his performance, he's served lunch, the same food that we have at home. Following the lunch, like a vote of thanks speech, he showers praises on mom and equates her to Goddess Lakshmi (Goddess of Wealth and Beauty).

The other favourite visitor is an old lady. Probably an octogenarian; she's very fair and has snow-white hair. She was the music teacher at Satelmond Palace. I still don't know her real name as I called her 'Gunavati'. Gunavati means a lady with all goodness. Whenever she visits us, as a ritual before leaving, she too spends some time praising mom, and the child usually hears her repeatedly say 'Gunavati'. Initially, he assumed she's calling her Ganapati, the elephant-headed Hindu God. He thought, like Bhagavathar calling her Lakshmi, she's calling her Ganapati until it was cleared and explained by his mom. Gunavati used to cuddle the kid and sing songs meant for girls, so it's evident that her students in Satelmond were girls.

When he was two or three, he was taken to the movie theatres to watch rereleased great old classic movies like 'The Sound of Music, Mary Poppins, Samson and Delilah, and African Safari'. That duty assigned to one of his uncles, who was then in his teens. The very next day after watching 'The Sound of Music' for the first time (I have watched it three more times later), as the child was sitting under a table at home humming 'Do-Re-Mi ', he saw his dad with an amused smile, gesturing to mom to listen.

Once in a while, dad takes the child to the British Library. The child loved the smell of those new books and calmly watched his dad choose the right books, like Super Duck, Plastic Man and Pinocchio. Later, the stories are read aloud by his dad, and the child eagerly peeks at the illustrations in the book and pictures them in his imagination.

There's a large wooden chest at home to store rice and provisions, which also acts as a seat and platform. When the child was four years old, he was made to stand on it one day and dressed in new outfits. Then, both parents happily announced that it would be his first day at school.

At the nursery of Holy Angels Convent, the child found the liveliness interesting but got irritated with those weeping and wailing kids around. The doors, windows and the lower half of the white-washed walls were painted in deep green enamel. The place had a mingled smell of milk, plastic, lacquer and fresh paint. There were brightly coloured cubes and cones, colourfully lacquered rings of different diameters, rocking toy horses and duck boxes, a sandbox with small red pails and spades, and many other toys. Everything fascinated the child, but like at home, he found a window at a corner as his favourite place. It faced a granite wall a few feet away, with a view of some greenery of moss and weeds. More than the toys, he was more interested in watching the ladybirds in the moss-laden wall and the bugs, beetles and butterflies in the plants below. After tasting a strip of peeled green paint from the window, the child was busy till noon, observing the 'wildlife' outside.

He was taken home at lunch break. As in the morning, his beaming parents lifted him to stand on the storage chest and asked him whether he liked the place and want to go there again. He said "Yes" and saw them elated at the reply. But, for the poor kid, his experience at the place was utterly disappointing in the afternoon. All the kids were made to lie down on the floor, on straw mats, and compelled to sleep. Sister Atlee was in charge, and she held a wooden ruler in her hand with which she would tap if anybody raises their head. Sister Atlee looks very much like Oliver Hardy in nun's attire. From the ground zero perspective, the child could see her towering figure holding the ruler in her right hand, like a music conductor with a baton, waving both hands and loudly singing, "Rain, rain go away, little Johnny wants to play".

Exasperated, the child slept quietly in soliloquy singing, Sister Atlee go away; this little kid doesn't want to kip.

The Sound of Music : Do-Re-Mi

Now, please don't miss this: The Sound of a Pandemic .

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© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.

-------------------------------------------------------

www.anujnair.net

Anuj Nair's Official Blog

________________________________________________

© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.

All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed,posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.

For a long time, many people have been requesting me to pen down the experiences and noteworthy incidents in my life.

'I' the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.

I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.

Consonance and dissonance.

John (Baldie Uncle):

My father used to take me to the best store in town in my childhood, and standing right in front of the glass shelves that tidily display all those enticing toffees and chocolates, he would ask, "Which one do you want?". I would say "No, none, nothing", even if he repeatedly ask the same.

I didn't have toys and was not at all demanding. The shop owner used to remark that he had never seen such an 'undemanding', rather considerate child.

Those days I depended on the radio and an old HMV gramophone to listen to music.

One of my uncles ran an electronic goods shop just outside my school compound wall. The shop had a music section, an air-conditioned soundproof cabin stacked with LPs and SPs. I frequently visited the shop with my dad and used to linger around the 'Record Players' on display and the music room where the records are stacked. I knew the disappointing fact that it's not possible to play those 33rpm LPs and 45rpm SPs on my gramophone. So, the routine was to visit the music room, watch and listen to the latest releases, come outside, stick around the beautiful stereo and mono record players on display, and reluctantly leave along with my dad. All the way, I would be vehemently eulogizing the advantages and performance quality of those record players with a scant hope that he may ask me whether I want one. That never happened, and day by day, the strong desire kept growing till I could no more repress it.

As always, the child presented the subject to his mother but couldn't succeed in convincing her. Yet, he didn't give up hope and kept reminding her, day in and day out. The mithering took a new turn when the child learned the politics of applying sentiments. I whined that I have never demanded anything in my life, and yet the good boy is treated without mercy or solicitude. No, that didn't work too. Every day started with the image of those record players doing a slide show on my mind till I sleep at night. For a long time, though I wanted to learn music, my wish was ignored and denied because my parents thought it would affect my studies. In a trice, the child got a new idea. I told my mother that the constant thought of procuring a record player is interfering with my studies.

Woohoo! It worked! Father took me to the shop that day itself, and though I revealed my inclination for a stereo player, I got an HMV Fiesta Popular mono record player. Only after the purchase did I understand the coming problem. Those LPs are very expensive for me, but I didn't want to trouble my father anymore. So I planned to save money to buy disks. Anyway, my father was generous enough to let me choose an SP record of my liking, and I bought my first Vinyl record then itself. It's the single 'Summer Night City' by Abba, with a medley of "Pick a Bale of Cotton", "On Top of Old Smokey", and "Midnight Special" on side B.

This long introduction is necessary to introduce Mr John. He's the one who managed the music room of the mentioned shop. I found him to be a gentleman who spoke with the manners and mannerisms of a European valet, and he reminds me of Jeeves in the Wodehouse series and Nestor in Tintin comics. He used to call me Sunny.

After procuring the record player, I frequented the music room of the shop to check the latest releases and listen to some of them. Mr John was glad to introduce all the latest arrivals, and he was way too eager to play them till I leave. Occasionally, I would buy an SP record which cost around Rs.18 those days, which is quite a high amount for a kid. I often visited the shop on my return from school in my school uniform. As I knew many popular songs of those days and many old hits, Mr John was quite keen to discuss music. On many such visits, he told me that he knows most of the early Western dance styles and assured me that he would train me if I am interested. I told him that though I'm curious, I need permission from home, which is doubtful. He used to be extremely polite with my father, that he was shy or very anxious even to face my father, not to mention talk with him.

Anyway, when my dad visited the shop the next time, he gathered the courage to approach him and said, "Sunny has a good sense of music, and I understand that he's interested to learn classical Western dances. If you permit, I shall train him for free". That's what I heard from my father, and he also told me that he retorted, " What is the advantage that you think he could attain if it shouldn't be considered a waste of his time?"

Even being just a child, I had the freedom to move around freely, go to the theatres to watch movies, dine from outside and go for evening walks. With the subject already presented to my father, I decided to proceed as he did not object. I discussed the matter with one of my close friends, and he was thrilled with the idea of learning something new. So, I informed Mr John, and we fixed the following Sunday for the first visit and the class.

Mr John was the adopted child of an Anglo-Indian lady who lived in an elegant grand mansion with a beautiful garden at General Hospital Junction in Trivandrum. Remember the big gate and the topiaries leading to the patio of the beautiful bungalow in British colonial architecture. She lived alone in the old house, and he was provided accommodation at a separate home adjoining the property. He stayed alone in his house with his dogs Tresa and Charles. He says he served the Indian Army, and I have heard that he was a cook in the Army. Anyway, he had excellent culinary skills.

The sessions started with Foxtrot and Waltz, followed by the primary steps to sway, and later to Cha-cha, Jive, Rumba, Samba, Swing and Twist. Few girls from the neighbourhood joined us as it necessitates a partner to do most of the specified dance forms, and I grew accustomed to the smell of those colleen cosmetics. I came to know that Mr John is known more as Baldie uncle. Though I never addressed him with a name or any formal honorific address, we used to say 'Baldie uncle' when we talk of him elsewhere.

Baldie uncle used to organize a get-together of some Anglo-Indian families at his home, at least once a month, and he taught us the etiquettes of the ballroom. He solely used to make preparations for the occasion. He would polish the floor using Mansion wax and cook the food for the guests. Being a teetotaller, he didn't allow alcohol consumption or smoking inside his house and didn't invite those who can't give it a miss.

With his consent, I invited one of my friends who could strum the guitar at one such bash. He plays it quite well and has turned up number one in most competitions in which he had participated. I very much love the title music of the classic hit film 'Sholay' . I love it because, like a smile that hides pain, it has something hauntingly melancholic about it, concealed by the peppy rhythm. It's the clever use of an arcane style by the composer R.D.Burman, which I later assayed in my song 'Dad'. I often used to make my friend strum the rhythm of that piece while I sing "La la la" for the entire lead. We performed that number, and the people assembled appreciated it very much that they requested me to sing a few more songs. We were not prepared nor have done much practising, as I invited him to play just a couple of solo instrumental pieces. Since he knew the chords of 'Magic Is The Moonlight' by Cliff Richard and 'Norwegian Wood' by The Beatles, I sang them both, and the guests showered praises to encourage us. It was one of the guests, Mrs Rodricks, a beautiful, graceful lady, who suggested I take singing seriously. That's the first time I sang for a gathering and the reason for me to venture into the music field.

When I turned to music, I couldn't visit Baldie uncle as frequently as earlier, and gradually the visits stopped.

Many years later he died on a Christmas day.

Bésame Mucho was one of his favourite songs.

________________________________________________

Bésame Mucho: Bésame Mucho

Title music of Sholay: Title music of Sholay

Thanks Yatra Music Studio.

------------------------------------------------------

© 2019 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.

-------------------------------------------------------

Anuj Nair's Official Blog

www.anujnair.net

________________________________________________

© 2019 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.

All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed,posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.

🎶🎶🎶

Inside the doors are sealed to love

Inside my heart is sleeping

Inside the fingers of my glove

Inside the bones of my right hand

Inside it's colder than the stars

Inside the dogs are weeping

Inside the circus of the wind

Inside the clocks are filled with sand

Inside she'll never hurt me

Inside the winter's creeping

Inside the compass of the night

Inside the folding of the land

Outside the stars are turning

Outside the world's still burning

Inside my head's a box of stars I never dared to open

Inside the wounded hide their scars, inside this lonesome sparrow's fall

Inside the songs of our defeat, they sing of treaties broken

Inside this army's in retreat, we hide beneath the thunder's call

Outside the rain keeps falling

Outside the drums are calling

Outside the flood won't wait

Outside they're hammering down the gate

Love is the child of an endless war

Love is an open wound still raw

Love is a shameless banner unfurled

Love's an explosion,

Love is the fire of the world

Love is a violent star

A tide of destruction

Love is an angry scar

A violation, a mutilation, capitulation, love is annihilation.

Inside the failures of the light, the night is wrapped around me

Inside my eyes deny their sight, you'd never find me in this place

Inside we're hidden from the moonlight, we shift between the shadows

Inside the compass of the night,

Inside the memory of your face

Outside the walls are shaking

Inside the dogs are waking

Outside the hurricane won't wait

Inside they're howling down the gate

Love is the child of an endless war

Love is an open wound still raw

Love is a shameless banner unfurled

Love's an explosion,

Love is the fire at the end of the world

Love is a violent star

A tide of destruction

Love is an angry scar

The pain of instruction

Love is a violation, a mutilation, capitulation,

Love is annihilation.

I climb this tower inside my head

A spiral stair above my bed

I dream the stairs don't ask me why,

I throw myself into the sky

Love me like a baby, love me like an only child

Love me like an ocean; love me like a mother mild

Love me like a father, love me like a prodigal son

Love me like a sister, love me like the world has just begun

Love me like a prodigy, love me like an idiot boy,

Love me like an innocent, love me like your favorite toy

Love me like a virgin, love me like a courtesan,

Love me like a sinner, love me like a dying man.

Annihilate me, infiltrate me, incinerate me, accelerate me, mutilate me, inundate me, violate me, implicate me, vindicate me, devastate me

Love me like a parasite, love me like a dying sun

Love me like a criminal, love me like a man on the run

Radiate me, subjugate me, incubate me, recreate me, demarcate me, educate me, punctuate me, evaluate me, conjugate me, impregnate me, designate me, humiliate me, segregate me, opiate me, calibrate me, replicate me

Lyrics from Inside - Sting

at *Entressღnhღs* in Second Life

Celebrating 50 years since joining the navy. Speaking of leggings, here they are, a spectacle of white canvas that served no purpose other than tradition and humiliation of the recruits. They were, however, one incentive to get through the training, relatively easy compared to the Marine and Army boot camps.

Wee Flea looks absolutely despondent dressed in a Santa outfit in front of the tree. I shot a series of images with her dressed like this as test shots fot this year's Christmas card. While I was at it, though, my youngest came along and told me he wanted our more traditional family shot; that he actually liked the record ot them. That was encouraging because the boys are less enthusiastic sitting for me these days. This weekend, then, I will dig all the gear out and try to conceptualize something new for us in 2015. Flea may, however, have to endure this outfit one more time during that shoot.

I am finding too that the d750 isn't handling the way I expected it to in low light situations. I had the ISO AT 1600 and the f stopped down to 1.4 on the 50mm. Many of the photos came out blurry as the lens was not able to freeze Fleas eyes at these settings. I had noticed similar effects shooting in twilight too. I am hoping to gain some better mastery over this camera in low light, without flash or tripod. I know both could be employed to better results but one doesn't always have the luxury. Having written that, though, I also know that when I do have the time and inspiration, I will need to also get a better grip on what settings are more effective under optimal conditions and with the full kit set up.

Consonance and dissonance.

I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.

I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.

Suresh Pattali:

Suresh Pattali, a film and theatre activist, or as Paul Zacharia, the Editor of Economic Times and his former colleague rightly stated," a film buff and libertarian"; worked as a producer in Asianet when I met him.

Suresh assisted the renowned Indian filmmaker Muzaffar Ali in making classic movies like 'Gaman' and 'Umrao Jaan' and has worked with noted singer Kishore Kumar and Popular music director Salil Choudhury. He was too humble a human being to read one's character and get close within no time.

I met him first, in 2000, at his office in the Asianet Studio complex at Puliyarakonam in Trivandrum. He was very eager to listen to my album 'Simple Truth' and knew it was in the final stage of completion. He was too busy in the studio that I waited from 4 pm to about 6 pm as he occasionally makes an appearance and apologizes for making me wait and leaves after making sure that I am comfortable. Someone would want him when he joins me, and as I was not in any hurry, I asked him to take his time. When he hastily joined me at about 6 pm, I told him that I have a rough copy of 'Simple Truth' in my car. The moment he heard that he just walked out of the studio with his hand on my shoulder. He sat beside me in the car, we closed the doors, and I played the tape.

Before the music started, he asked, "What about a ride?". I nodded, and we drove out to the nearly desolate roads in the suburbs of Trivandrum. When the music started, I noticed that he is gazing at my face. With a smile, when I turned and looked at him, he asked," You did this ?". I said "Yes", and his astonished expression is the first and best compliment I ever received. I drove aimlessly while he keenly and mutely listened to all the 12 songs in the album. Later I dropped him at his house, which is just about a kilometre away from his workplace.

The very next day, I received a call from him inviting me to his house, and I visited him sometime in the afternoon. His interest in music and his memory amazed me as he started describing how he visualized one of the songs that he heard the previous day. It was late afternoon, and he was yet to have his lunch. I understood he's drunk, but he appeared perfect and very much in his senses. I told him that I would wait until he has his lunch. Within a few minutes, he returned with an egg omelette for me. I didn't refuse as I knew he prepared it just for me. It was too salty to consume, and when I was struggling with it, he joined me munching his omelette and said, "Too much salt, right? I don't have any more eggs left, else I would have made fresh ones". After spending some time discussing the script, I left following his assurance to contact me soon. The next day he called me for further talks, and we fixed a local club for the next meeting the same evening.

He ordered a few drinks and narrated his Mumbai cinema experiences. The modesty of the Popular singer Kishore Kumar, the friendliness of the great musician Salil Chowdhury, and the simplicity of the renowned actress Smita Patil. The humbleness of Kishore Kumar during recordings and the prowess of Salil Chowdhury to compose 'boatman' songs.

He respected and appreciated me for being a teetotaller, and never did he behave drunk with me. I reminded him that it's getting too late and offered to drop him at his house. On the way back, he asked, "Anuj, which is your most favourite song? ". I replied that it's a tough question as I have so many favourites." My favourite English song is, 'Still I'm Sad' by Boney M", he said. After a pause, he continued, "Do you know ' Chingari Koi Bhadke '?". I said, "Yes, I love that song." He asked, "Can you sing it ? "and I replied, " Sorry, I have never tried it". Again after a pause, he said, "Please hum it ". I hummed the tune in its original pitch, and he started singing along in a feeble voice. I drove listening to his rendition, which was indeed beautiful. He remained quiet after that, and I dropped him home at about midnight.

Within a few days, he invited me to judge a talent search programme conducted by Asianet for college students, named 'Talent Scan 2000'. I accepted the request and appeared for the programme at Victoria Jubilee Town Hall on the stipulated date and time. He introduced me to the crew, and my role was to judge Western Music. After the programme, he thanked me and promised to be in touch.

He called me after a few days and asked me whether we shall meet sometime in the evening. I agreed, and he said he would call later to fix the venue and time. He called again in the evening to tell me that he's having one of his old friends along with him and asked whether it's fine with me. I said it's all right, and I invited him to one of the most prestigious clubs in town, where I have a membership. I booked a table on the lawn and waited for him.

He had few drinks like earlier, but his friend started gulping like a thirsty cow, loudly declared that he's a Maoist, and proudly started to swank his profanity proficiency. While Suresh commanded him to behave, in an attempt to move his chair backwards, the dhoti-clad Maoist fell aback bare, along with his chair. The waiters on duty are used to such displays, but they appeared shocked as they never expected such guests with me. I asked Suresh whether we shall leave. I have never seen him angry, and he didn't lose his cool even when his friend irritated him. He said we would move, but his friend refused to come. I thought of seeking help from the waiters and security to carry him to the car.

Finally, he agreed to move when Suresh 'promised' to take him to some distinct wine bar.

I was a bit apprehensive whether he would attempt to jump out of the moving car as we proceeded towards the hotel where he stays. Once we reached the hotel, he refused to get off the car. Suresh somehow managed to pull him out, and on the street, he loudly started to demonstrate his imprecation skills. I saw Suresh with a grim face for the first time, but still, he didn't lose his cool. Swiftly, he hopped into the car and signalled me to accelerate fast. I did that, and his friend was staggering from behind, trying to chase us as we sped away. Suresh didn't utter a word after that. I dropped him home, and though he didn't apologize, I could see that apologetic look in his weary eyes when he bid me goodbye.

I phoned him early in the morning to check whether his friend is all right. He told me that his friend was nabbed by the police the previous night, and he has to get him released.

I asked him to relax and promised to call him in the evening.

I called him in the evening, and an unfamiliar voice picked up the call.

I asked, " Suresh, Is that you? ".

The stranger from the other end replied, " Suresh passed away. He vomited blood, and we took him to the hospital but couldn't save him".

"माझी जो नाव डुबोए

उसे कौन बचाये"

("If the boatman drowns the boat, who can save it ?")

Chingari Koi Bhadke: Chingari Koi Bhadke

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© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.

-------------------------------------------------------

Anuj Nair's Official Blog

www.anujnair.net

________________________________________________

© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.

All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed,posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.

HBW 😊😊😍

The importance of family is a given and yet, here in the USA parents of 545 children separated at the border cannot be found! This is a crime! I am a mother of 5 and a grandmother of 9 and I simply cannot fathom how this is possible in this country? We CAN and MUST fix this and do better from now on!!!

New York Times

www.nytimes.com/2020/10/21/us/migrant-children-separated....

Washington Post

The parents of 545 children separated at the border still haven’t been found. The pandemic isn’t helping.

www.washingtonpost.com/nation/2020/10/21/family-separatio...

Thank you for your kind visit. Have a wonderful and beautiful day! ❤️❤️❤️

Visit this location at Humiliation Island in Second Life

in fiction the author can really tell the truth without humiliating himself :-)

― Eleanor Roosevelt

sarah p duke gardens, duke university, durham, north carolina

"SRENGGENGE (Javanese language) MATAHARI (Indonesian language, Mata=eye, Hari=day: becomes Day Eye or SUN in the English sentence. This describes the sun or life in 2022. A picture of 4 human characters (on the island of Java known as Punakawan,Javanese shadow puppet) symbolizes the four characters of the human form around the world who are never afraid to face all the trials in the world, with full enthusiasm, a giant image as a symbol of disasters that come and go like power from the world of darkness and we will always be calm in dealing with them." rant January 06.2022

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NEW YEARr, NEW YEARNING

A new year bestows hope

Promises new pages

Sliding on a salient slope

Where the wise earn deserved wages.

A new year erases mad memories

Folks would rather forget

As they pen in their dainty diaries

‘Don't entertain in the new year a regret secret.'

A new year opens vistas

Teeming with profound possibilities

For folks to metamorphose into stars

Provided they make good the propulsion probabilities.

A new year affords a chance

To grace, bless and to assess

The right wrong balance

In an effort to forestall any further stress.

A new year swings into action

An opportunity to recast lives

Into the right direction devoid of malefaction

As the dawn of hope arrives and thrives.

A new year whips sorrow

Into submission and humiliation

So long as society seizes tomorrow

To spread affection, benediction, restoration and cooperation.

by John Sensele Thursday, December 28, 2017

Consonance and dissonance.

I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.

I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.

P. K. Reghukumar Varma (Raghu master):

Reghu Master is one of those great artists who didn't get the recognition he deserved. Many people in Kerala who hum and sing his songs have probably not heard of him. A gentle soul, always with a smile on his face, he didn't care or crave publicity.

In my teens, we had a Ganamela troupe (a music band that renders Popular Indian language film songs) named 'The Symphony'. The practice, or rather rehearsals, is conducted at the Band's office near my residence. It's a room in a lodge that provides accommodation for bachelors.

Reghu Kumar, or Reghu Master as we call him, used to visit the place during rehearsals. Fair-skinned, his cheerful, beaming face always looked blushed.

Though I was just a youngster then, he never showed any supremacy or reservations to me. During the rehearsals, he cared to listen, even if I express doubt about any arrangement in a song. Once while practising an old classic Malayalam song, I pointed out that I always feel there's something wrong with the original recording. The other artists, all of them relatively senior to me, felt uneasy that some of them initially just sported a mortified smile. Reghu Master suddenly turned solemn that he asked to repeatedly play that specific part (beginning of the song). After playing it numerous times, he asked all the artists, "What do you think? ". While most of them became doubtful and confused, few agreed there's something wrong. Then he turned to me and asked, "What do you think is wrong?". I said that I have always felt that the song begins with the pitch dragging. With a stern look, he said, "You are right. Wonder why nobody noticed it earlier". After that incident, to my embarrassment, most of those artists depended on my confirmation to tune their musical instruments.

Probably to provide me confidence, I remember he once told me that he started his musical journey in his childhood, and in his early twenties, he was part of the chorus that sang the Tamil song'Ondrey Kulamendru Paaduvom ' sung by K.J. Yesudas. Though it's not his composition and there are so many hit songs ('Koottil Ninnum ', 'Chembarathi Poove Chollu ', Pon Veene etc.) composed by him, I remember this song when I remember him.

Raghu Master died prematurely on 20 February 2014.

------------------------------------------------------

© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.

-------------------------------------------------------

www.anujnair.net

Anuj Nair's Official Blog

________________________________________________

© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.

All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed,posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.

Consonance and dissonance.

I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.

I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.

Arthur Retton Gopal:

Garbed in an untucked aquamarine full sleeve shirt buttoned at the cuff and brown pants with a patchwork on the knee done with a strip of check-designed cloth, he could be lingering aimlessly along the streets of Trivandrum, like a vagabond. He very much resembled the infamous dictator Idi Amin of Uganda. A slow walker, he moved as if he's labouring to carry along his potbelly.

In earlier days, Trivandrum Corporation used bullock carts to clear litter on the streets. It's known as a curious spectacle to the people of those days that the bullock stops on their own whenever they see garbage. Like those bullock, Arthur Retton Gopal used to stop right in front of those 'Adults Only' movie posters at the roadside and appear lost staring at them, while passersby giggled and laughed at him. He's never in a hurry, and I am sure he was rambling aimlessly.

Not many know that he's a great pianist. The great musician K.J. Yesudas who identified his talent, brought him to Trivandrum from Chennai to work as a tutor in his Tharanganisari School of Music. I have heard that he lost his balance after his dear wife ditched him and fled with her lover, following which he turned to intoxicants and womanizing. Some say she gave him the elbow, fed up with his bad habits. Anyway, I have never found him drunk, though he 'appears' inebriated. He lost his job in Tharanganisari School, accused of 'misbehaviour' with his female students, and though exceptionally talented, he lived alone in poverty.

At that time, one day, I got a call from Trivandrum Doordarshan (T.V. service broadcaster run by the Government of India) asking me whether I am ready to do a Western music program for them. I agreed, and as I met the producer, I suggested some variety to the show by introducing my Nigerian friend Chima and my dance tutor Mr John. Chima Nokenne is a Football player and musician who can play the guitar and croon, while Mr John, known more as 'Baldie uncle', is familiar with old songs. Chima selected the song ' Ready Steady Go', released as a single by a Nigerian Band named The Semicolons, which incidentally has the lead played by his guitar tutor. Baldie uncle selected the 1940 song 'Besame Mucho', the 1945 song 'The Falling Leaves', and the Jerry Vale version of 'Always In My Heart'.

Chima provided me with an SP record of his song to prepare the sheet music for the orchestra.

Then came the unsought obstacle. Though I am familiar with the songs and Baldie uncle can sing his songs, we didn't have a copy of all the three songs he selected. When it dawned on me, and as I almost decided to forgo the plan to include those old three songs, I suddenly remembered Arthur.

Eureka! I am sure he knows all those old melodies by heart. I set out to find him. My search started from the streets, where I usually see him ogling at movie posters. The person always sighted on the roads suddenly appeared to have vanished. Subsequently, I came to know that he's then working as a piano tutor in the Indo-French cultural centre of the French Embassy. I succeeded in meeting him and informed him of the help that I need from him. I told him that I would be back within a couple of days, and he assured me that he would be at his workplace in the daytime and join me whenever I find it convenient. He kept asking me whether I could find a young female crooner to complete some work he's assigned to do for Kerala Tourism. I was very well aware of his 'notoriety' that even being just a teenager; I didn't believe his assignment story.

The next task was to find a piano that works well in an ideal place. I remembered a sweet Anglo-Indian girl who had a crush on me and recalled that she had once invited me home to see her old grand piano. Contacted her, sought her dad's permission and fixed a date for the recording.

All set, I approached the Indo-French cultural centre office and sought permission to meet Mr Arthur. To my dismay, they informed me that he left the job the very next day I met him.

Crestfallen, I caught an autorickshaw and proceeded towards the house where I planned the recording. Since they were waiting for me, I have to tell them of the dropped plan. Dazed in confusion and disappointment, I didn't see the road that we drove through. Abruptly I notice that the rickshaw has reached the place where I usually see Mr Arthur. There he is! Ogling at a large, lewd poster of some third-rate movie from close quarters!. I screamed "Stop!" that the startled driver nearly lost control of the vehicle. The vehicle screeched to a halt, and clinging to it; I pulled Arthur inside. Before he could understand what's happening, we reached the house, just a few meters from where I found him.

Baldie uncle was eagerly waiting for us at the house, along with the family.

Arthur got seated right in front of the piano, and I had the recorder set to record the music. His fingers brushed the keys, and he scoffed that many keys are out of tune. To and fro, his fingers wafted over the keys like a butterfly as we watched in awe. I made the singer Baldie uncle sit right beside him.

We started with 'Always In My Heart ', and to my embarrassment, Baldie uncle kept singing without checking the tempo. Before I could stop the recording and request a restart, I saw Arthur's right hand in a flash fall on Baldie uncle's thigh, and along with a spank yell, "Stop, you idiot!". Red-faced, Baldie uncle felt badly insulted as it happened right in front of many people. As they started arguing, I donned the role of a referee in the boxing ring.

Arthur stated that he would leave if Baldie uncle opens his mouth to sing again and Baldie uncle, to save his face, declared, "I won't sing if he plays the piano". What a relief! I did the recording without vocals, thanked the family, and left the house with Arthur. I took him to a vegetarian hotel where he had a set of Parotta, Vada, and tea. I asked where I should leave him. From his body language, I knew that he didn't have an answer. Yet, he mentioned a rookery, where I dropped him before dropping Rs.50 (about a dollar those days) into the pocket of his favourite or probably his only aquamarine shirt.

A few days later, I heard that the second time too, he lost his tutor job accused of misbehaving with female students. People avoided him, and he lived secluded, the rest of his life.

Many years later, or rather a few years back, his death was reported in mainstream media with the prominence it deserved.

Always In My Heart : Always In My Heart

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