It was my Dad’s idea to name his son as Arjun. He wished that the name not convey an identity of N/S/E/W Indian-ness. There is a lot of pressure when you’re name is Arjun; not because of any demigod predecessor whose shoes are asking to filled in, but because of the unnecessary comparisons with the mythical character that your 3rd uncle pulls you into that you are expected to fulfill. Like shooting an arrow; or being fearless; or having Partha for a nickname.
My exposure to Mahabharata was grossly limited. Besides the episodes that played on Sunday mornings when I was 8 years old (remember that title song: yatha yatha hi dharmasya?) and the 3 verses that we read from the Bhagvadgita during school assembly, I never had the slightest inkling to look into the story of Mahabartha. Early one morning in 1998, the Sanskrit teacher announced that there would be a competition (some written exam) on the Ramayana and the Mahabhartha. One could choose which topic they wished to attempt. Now, this was an optional exam. When I saw nearly 80 percent of the class sign up in one or the other, I signed up too. You know that highly over rated thing called peer pressure. What was I thinking? You could have put on a fingernail the amount I knew about either of the epics. And since I was signing up for this examination, my teacher says “You are Arjuna! Neenu Mahabharata exam baribeku (You should write the Mahabharata exam).” Remember that unnecessary- comparisons-with-the-mythical-character-that-your-3rd uncle-pulls-you-into thing? Yes, exactly.
Long story short, I did not study for this exam (I mean, who in their right mind would have?). The exam was on a Sunday at 10 am. On the previous night, my Grandpa handed me his treasured copy of the Mahabharata yellow pages. I mean, not the Yellow Pages. I read the first 10 pages: the conversation between Valmiki and Ganesha. Call it the preface if you want.
In the paper the following morning, there were all kinds of questions: long ones, short ones, match the following, filling in the blanks – what difference did it make to Arjun? He saw stars in any case.
2 Weeks later: 17/100. I stood second from the bottom. I’m sure my mythical namesake is out hunting to shoot me down with his bow and arrow.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
5 men and 2 lessons
Times of India’s Heart Beat Concert that happened last night at the Central Auditorium of the University of Madras featured the very best of the very best - Zakir Hussain, Shankar Mahadevan, Shivamani, U.Srinivas and Selva Ganesh. To say the very least, what a treat!
I’m not going into the sing-song of praises for the musicians because everybody knows them and their talent. But I can say this: Zakir Hussain’s fingers flow. I mean, they literally flow. Shivamani is insane. U Srinivas is “one of the greatest instrumentalists of all times”, according to Zakir Hussain who said that during the course of the performance. Sivaganesh is nothing short of a genius, for only someone like him can create such an array of beats with one drum. And Shankar Mahadevan’s vocals sound exactly like on the records, I mean, the guy is good!
But as the concert went on, I watched some very interesting things happen on stage that got me thinking about music and musicians. In my experience, I have noticed that almost every human being that plays an instrument really well, or in other words is a musician of some form or another, is a person of humble nature. I don’t understand this, but I sure appreciate it. You know what I mean. If you can wake up a guy or gal from sleep in the middle of the night, and they’re able to 5 minutes of coherent music groggy-eyed, chances are 9 out of 10 that he or she is your “down-to-earth” person. Maybe, all those endless hours of practice and hardships make you refined when you come out on the other side.
Here’s another thing I noticed on stage. During the solo performance of each artist, the remaining 4 had their eyes fixated on the performer and provided him much valuable feedback through hand gestures and mainly just by their body language. You could say that the guy playing was literally drawing energy from the 4 other champions on stage. And this happened in turns with all the 5 under the spotlight at different times in the evening. This brings me to another conclusion. Musicians respect other musicians. Only one instrumentalist knows what goes into the making of the other instrumentalist. When Shivamani stands and applauds for Selva Ganesh, that’s an applause of respect. When I stand up and applaud for Selva Ganesh, that is applause out of hollow excitement and recognition for a man that can play ‘an instrument’. I have absolutely no idea what has gone into the making of this A-class drummer. And so, by the time he gets off stage, my applause for him is gone and I’m now excited to clap for the next guy. But when Shivamani claps for Selva Ganesh and viceversa, there’s mutual respect in it. And I think, that’s a healthy lesson we can take and apply it in our lives and to the people that we come in contact with – recognizing and applauding for people’s talents, irrespective of what it is and how much we like it.
I’m not going into the sing-song of praises for the musicians because everybody knows them and their talent. But I can say this: Zakir Hussain’s fingers flow. I mean, they literally flow. Shivamani is insane. U Srinivas is “one of the greatest instrumentalists of all times”, according to Zakir Hussain who said that during the course of the performance. Sivaganesh is nothing short of a genius, for only someone like him can create such an array of beats with one drum. And Shankar Mahadevan’s vocals sound exactly like on the records, I mean, the guy is good!
But as the concert went on, I watched some very interesting things happen on stage that got me thinking about music and musicians. In my experience, I have noticed that almost every human being that plays an instrument really well, or in other words is a musician of some form or another, is a person of humble nature. I don’t understand this, but I sure appreciate it. You know what I mean. If you can wake up a guy or gal from sleep in the middle of the night, and they’re able to 5 minutes of coherent music groggy-eyed, chances are 9 out of 10 that he or she is your “down-to-earth” person. Maybe, all those endless hours of practice and hardships make you refined when you come out on the other side.
Here’s another thing I noticed on stage. During the solo performance of each artist, the remaining 4 had their eyes fixated on the performer and provided him much valuable feedback through hand gestures and mainly just by their body language. You could say that the guy playing was literally drawing energy from the 4 other champions on stage. And this happened in turns with all the 5 under the spotlight at different times in the evening. This brings me to another conclusion. Musicians respect other musicians. Only one instrumentalist knows what goes into the making of the other instrumentalist. When Shivamani stands and applauds for Selva Ganesh, that’s an applause of respect. When I stand up and applaud for Selva Ganesh, that is applause out of hollow excitement and recognition for a man that can play ‘an instrument’. I have absolutely no idea what has gone into the making of this A-class drummer. And so, by the time he gets off stage, my applause for him is gone and I’m now excited to clap for the next guy. But when Shivamani claps for Selva Ganesh and viceversa, there’s mutual respect in it. And I think, that’s a healthy lesson we can take and apply it in our lives and to the people that we come in contact with – recognizing and applauding for people’s talents, irrespective of what it is and how much we like it.
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