Tuesday, August 08, 2006
A need for romance.
I meet this girl, who is attractive to me--an impression, no doubt, created by the fact that she deigns to talk to me (what wonderfully low esteem!). I'm conflicted--at this advanced age (actually, represents attitude fairly accurately, an attempt at humor is not being made here) caution (atleast being aware of the need to be cautious) comes pretty easily, at the same time there's an impatient part of me that wants me to decide really fast what my feelings for the girl are, and take steps towards getting into a relationship, fulfilling physical (don't say a word, I warn you) and emotional needs. The first approach, I know, is the right one, but it's the second one that seems more compelling (no brainer, I guess).
The romance I was constructing around this girl is related to the experience of a very close friend. He's now married (in fact, the ceremony took place only about 2 weeks back) to a Romanian girl he had been dating for about 4 years. There was, atleast in my mind, a very endearing devotional aspect to the relationship from my friend's side from the very beginning--without much prompting from the girlfriend, within weeks of starting to date her, he took it upon himself to teach himself her language. His efforts were diligent and now he's so highly proficient in Romanian that he can easily hold his own in any conversation with his wife's friends or even her relatives back in Romania, for that matter. That's the fantasy I was building involving this girl whose native language, not unlike my friend's case, is different from mine.
Recently, I went out for dinner with these guys and I complimented my friend on his decision to learn the language. Turns out there was more to it than what I was romanticizing it to be--he actually enjoyed learning the language independently of the fact that it was something his girlfriend wanted him to do. When I told my friend what my hopes from this girl were, he went on to add, that no relationship is as perfect as I was imagining his to be (No 'rainbows day after day') and every relationship also comes with its issues that require working out. No new stuff here, really, but it's sometimes necessary to be brought back to Earth. That's enough self-disclosure for the time being, stay tuned.
The romance I was constructing around this girl is related to the experience of a very close friend. He's now married (in fact, the ceremony took place only about 2 weeks back) to a Romanian girl he had been dating for about 4 years. There was, atleast in my mind, a very endearing devotional aspect to the relationship from my friend's side from the very beginning--without much prompting from the girlfriend, within weeks of starting to date her, he took it upon himself to teach himself her language. His efforts were diligent and now he's so highly proficient in Romanian that he can easily hold his own in any conversation with his wife's friends or even her relatives back in Romania, for that matter. That's the fantasy I was building involving this girl whose native language, not unlike my friend's case, is different from mine.
Recently, I went out for dinner with these guys and I complimented my friend on his decision to learn the language. Turns out there was more to it than what I was romanticizing it to be--he actually enjoyed learning the language independently of the fact that it was something his girlfriend wanted him to do. When I told my friend what my hopes from this girl were, he went on to add, that no relationship is as perfect as I was imagining his to be (No 'rainbows day after day') and every relationship also comes with its issues that require working out. No new stuff here, really, but it's sometimes necessary to be brought back to Earth. That's enough self-disclosure for the time being, stay tuned.
Labels: autobiographical, Reflections on life
Monday, July 03, 2006
Reporting a personal happiness.
Aaroh, the Indian classical music group I am a part of, had its first public music performance on the 29th of June at the Schlow public library courtesy of Global Connections. It was a 50 minute concert that started with a 15 minute recital of Bageshri by Sanghamitra followed by a 15 minute recital of Puriya Dhanasri by me. Mitra, who was accompanied by Murali on the Tabla, sang Kaun Karat Tori Vinati Piyarva, while I was accompanied by Piyush on the Tabla, and sang Payaliya Jhankaar. After the classical pieces each of us sang a light piece with the tabla players exchanged. Sanghamitra sang a Bengali song Dhiton dhiton Bole while I sang a bhajan in Bhairav by Surdas: Khelat Shyam Gwalan Sang. This was followed by a lec-dem by Murali and Piyush on the tablas, they would recite the bol and then play them on the tabla. The conclusion was Dama dam mast kalandar performed by Mitra accompanied mainly by Piyush, Murali and I contributed too-he played the tabla upside down like a ghatam while I provided backup vocals on the refrain--all in an effort to make the concert end on a loud and energetic crescendo.
I think we all did a great job--four weeks of practice really paid off. The four of us came together about a year back and have been meeting fortnightly for informal sessions since. The idea to perform in the World Sounds at Noon was floated by Murali. We were all, I think, a little reluctant--we were not convinced that we had reached a level where we could give a public performance--but did eventually come around. Both Mitra and I have a few ragas each we are really comfortable with. In my case, Puriya Dhansri is a raag I can rely on even when I'm too tired to sing anything else, so it was the inevitable choice. After so much practice we were all quite sick of singing/playing the same pieces over and over again, so it came as a bit of a surprise that we didn't experience that ennui during the performance--I guess performing before a crowd gave the routine a novelty which had been missing the last few times we had rehearsed. I really enjoyed singing the Puriya Dhanasri--the goal, as far as I'm concerned, is to be able to feel the music and I really did. Being an amateur performer the best I can say about the performance is that I was able to do the best I can, and I feel I did--now only if I could feel this sense of complete command with Physics. Ma was able to make the trip down from Princeton for the concert, and her praise after the concert seemed genuine enough to increase the general feel-good factor.
I screwed up a little bit on the Bhairav song, I spent a beat too long a couple of times but was able to adjust as I was keeping track of the rupak by counting on the fingers. It is a bit of a handicap, I must say, to have to count on the fingers to keep track of the beat, but in my defense I have started practicing with a tabla only since we guys formed aaroh. The funny thing is that we didn't even have a name for the group till Merill, the lady who was organizing the event, asked us for one. Really happy about the name, even though, apparently, there is a more famous Pakistani group by the same name--a discovery we made a little late in the day.
The aftermath: we were at the local (NJ) Udipi restaurant the other night, and I was describing loudly the performance to Shivani and her friends when all of a sudden I found my mother talking to an attractive lady at an adjoining table (who was sitting with her equally attractive daughter-in-law). Apparently, the subject of my speech, despite the obnoxious-blowing-your-own-trumpet way it was delivered in, had interested her. Turns out that they are a Pakistani family from Karachi who like to patronize artists (obviously of all levels)--and I ended up with her phone number and an invitation to contact her if the group would ever like to perform in NJ. Now that's one of the coolest things that's ever happened to me--it's like getting invited to a conference to give a talk (sorry, limited imagination). Sigh, the future suddenly seems filled with possibilities... Pragmatism, however, suggests that I return to Earth very soon and figure out why I am not in complete command of my code on strange stars.
I think we all did a great job--four weeks of practice really paid off. The four of us came together about a year back and have been meeting fortnightly for informal sessions since. The idea to perform in the World Sounds at Noon was floated by Murali. We were all, I think, a little reluctant--we were not convinced that we had reached a level where we could give a public performance--but did eventually come around. Both Mitra and I have a few ragas each we are really comfortable with. In my case, Puriya Dhansri is a raag I can rely on even when I'm too tired to sing anything else, so it was the inevitable choice. After so much practice we were all quite sick of singing/playing the same pieces over and over again, so it came as a bit of a surprise that we didn't experience that ennui during the performance--I guess performing before a crowd gave the routine a novelty which had been missing the last few times we had rehearsed. I really enjoyed singing the Puriya Dhanasri--the goal, as far as I'm concerned, is to be able to feel the music and I really did. Being an amateur performer the best I can say about the performance is that I was able to do the best I can, and I feel I did--now only if I could feel this sense of complete command with Physics. Ma was able to make the trip down from Princeton for the concert, and her praise after the concert seemed genuine enough to increase the general feel-good factor.
I screwed up a little bit on the Bhairav song, I spent a beat too long a couple of times but was able to adjust as I was keeping track of the rupak by counting on the fingers. It is a bit of a handicap, I must say, to have to count on the fingers to keep track of the beat, but in my defense I have started practicing with a tabla only since we guys formed aaroh. The funny thing is that we didn't even have a name for the group till Merill, the lady who was organizing the event, asked us for one. Really happy about the name, even though, apparently, there is a more famous Pakistani group by the same name--a discovery we made a little late in the day.
The aftermath: we were at the local (NJ) Udipi restaurant the other night, and I was describing loudly the performance to Shivani and her friends when all of a sudden I found my mother talking to an attractive lady at an adjoining table (who was sitting with her equally attractive daughter-in-law). Apparently, the subject of my speech, despite the obnoxious-blowing-your-own-trumpet way it was delivered in, had interested her. Turns out that they are a Pakistani family from Karachi who like to patronize artists (obviously of all levels)--and I ended up with her phone number and an invitation to contact her if the group would ever like to perform in NJ. Now that's one of the coolest things that's ever happened to me--it's like getting invited to a conference to give a talk (sorry, limited imagination). Sigh, the future suddenly seems filled with possibilities... Pragmatism, however, suggests that I return to Earth very soon and figure out why I am not in complete command of my code on strange stars.
Labels: autobiographical
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Brooke Burke.
Ma is visiting, she's been around for a little more than three weeks or so now. Before she arrived, I had to, obviously, conduct this massive clean-up/organization operation so that she would not (I have to be careful about how I phrase this as she's one of the two regular readers of this blog!) go into this gung-ho, no-holds-barred, clean-up mode and end up making me feel like an awkward teenager again, which, hold your breath, did nevertheless happen.
Anyway, one of the fine-tuning issues was to decide whether or not to remove the almost-nude Brooke Burke poster in the bedroom. The poster is a hand-me-down which previously belonged to a roommate of a friend Neeraj (a long standing MIA by now) when these guys were relocating. I'd always admired the poster when it was in its original home for its cleverness with regards to being titillating without being tasteless, so when the change of ownership offer was made I accepted. I consider my parents fairly liberal by the standards of average middle class Indian couples of their generation, so I decided that in all probability my mother should be okay with it. And I thought I was in the clear when she did not comment on it upon entering my room for the first time. I now know that feeling triumphant about my assessment of the situation having being proven right was a little premature, for when I got back from school the next day the poster was off (she didn't rip it off, merely put it out of sight). It was amusing. I was thinking about this while in LA, a trip made in the very recent past, and decided that this DOES NOT prove that my mom is not as liberal as I imagine her to be. It's a question of stereotyping--a laissez faire (if that's the right phrase) attitude to semi-nude women might be a sufficient condition to being liberal but certainly not a necessary one.
There, I've done it again, created a post with very little substance!
Anyway, one of the fine-tuning issues was to decide whether or not to remove the almost-nude Brooke Burke poster in the bedroom. The poster is a hand-me-down which previously belonged to a roommate of a friend Neeraj (a long standing MIA by now) when these guys were relocating. I'd always admired the poster when it was in its original home for its cleverness with regards to being titillating without being tasteless, so when the change of ownership offer was made I accepted. I consider my parents fairly liberal by the standards of average middle class Indian couples of their generation, so I decided that in all probability my mother should be okay with it. And I thought I was in the clear when she did not comment on it upon entering my room for the first time. I now know that feeling triumphant about my assessment of the situation having being proven right was a little premature, for when I got back from school the next day the poster was off (she didn't rip it off, merely put it out of sight). It was amusing. I was thinking about this while in LA, a trip made in the very recent past, and decided that this DOES NOT prove that my mom is not as liberal as I imagine her to be. It's a question of stereotyping--a laissez faire (if that's the right phrase) attitude to semi-nude women might be a sufficient condition to being liberal but certainly not a necessary one.
There, I've done it again, created a post with very little substance!
Labels: autobiographical, Reflections on life
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