I am fascinated by a Russian children's song. It is amazingly pretty. The last time I heard someone qualify a song as ‘pretty’ was about 15 years ago. A friend of mine played Colours of the Wind from Pocahontas on a piano and we had a common friend – a girl – exclaim ‘o that is so pretty’. I will admit the impact the tune made justified the use of the adjective.
The Russian song is from the movie version of Little Red Riding Hood. The image it creates is that of a little girl singing as she proceeds through the forest with the words echoing off the trees and the hills surrounding the woods. More than the words, as I do not understand Russian, it is the image that is captivating and at times nostalgic.
A wonderful chorus where the little girl and the choir go aaaaaaaaahh and then follow up with a rhythmic tune is delightful.
The combination of violins and the piano, gradually slipped into the piece create a longing for days gone by. The song was composed in 1961 and maybe reflects the kind of life lived in Russia at that time. It could also be a sample of the kind of music children liked then. I also wonder about the times these children lived in - happy, lively, sweet and innocent. Maybe magical too!
Something about the child’s voice itself is mesmerising. She sings without inhibitions. She is in her own world and the only focus seems to be her song. Her pronunciation of Russian words, which has some lovely sounds, is charming. Her own way of saying words like budu, budu and her pronunciation of words with a v and w sound are endearing.
The song creates a longing for all things childlike and beautiful. Of carefree days, dreaming, laughter, playing, vacations and school lunches. The song although from a different country and a different language left a warm glow in me during the few minutes it lasts. I heard it many times over this morning and each time it felt pleasurable. A friend of mine introduced me to it and I am grateful for her gesture. I guess the best things in life are sometimes free. There is a mention of a green parrot in the song. In Russian it is zelioni papugai. My friend likes green and this blog is dedicated to her – my zelioni papugai.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Who is reponsible?
Can the common person take a load of the government's shoulders? I mean can he/she chip in to manage a few tasks to ease the pressure of those in power? Why should we may well be the question? The government has enough people already and those in there don't do their job so why should we bother? And the people there who do, do the wrong kind of job? Bribes, and delays. So, why the ...... (the blank is for expletives) should I care?
It seems ridiculous nowadays to suggest sharing the burden with the powers that be. Anger and apathy have set in and there is no room for compassion or forgiveness.
Maybe the government did the wrong things all these years. It employed all the wrong people. Maybe it took the citizen's trust for granted. Unforgiveable errors and such blunders have forced many into mere surviving and not living. They resigned themselves saying 'this is the way things are. They will never change'.
Hmm. Valid reason for ire.
But it is not that the government has not made amends. They have and are trying.
Maybe our country is too big to right all the wrongs. Maybe too many chose a bad alternative and cannot get back on track. For them it would probably mean the risk of loss - money, status, power maybe.
Every person is entitled to a good life. The choices are however tough - luxuries or necessities. A car or a two-wheeler. An LCD or a flat screen. An i-pod or an iphone.
The buying spree is on and every new product that comes into the market is a possible 'mine-to-have'. We can say no - but that does not happen too often. Iphones, i-pods, lcds, flat screens have all been lapped up by consumers. Those who don’t buy find it difficult to not envy those who have. So, loans for home appliances become popular.
The real estate boom in Bangalore made it seem like everyone could afford a house. Many of us rushed to buy flats or at least mulled over the idea.
We are caught up in a rush to get more. It is difficult to stop and say - enough. To be different, although at times the best way out, is a tough choice.
We usually opt for the easy way out - giving in. So too, the government. Everyone succumbs, everyone makes mistakes. Credit card holders can vouch for that.
So, why are we so harsh with people in power. Somebody needs to be blamed I guess.
We need to vent our ire somewhere. That can continue, but in the meanwhile, my two-wheeler is sandwiched between two cars, three autos and a bus on a narrow street in Fraser Town. Any ideas?
It seems ridiculous nowadays to suggest sharing the burden with the powers that be. Anger and apathy have set in and there is no room for compassion or forgiveness.
Maybe the government did the wrong things all these years. It employed all the wrong people. Maybe it took the citizen's trust for granted. Unforgiveable errors and such blunders have forced many into mere surviving and not living. They resigned themselves saying 'this is the way things are. They will never change'.
Hmm. Valid reason for ire.
But it is not that the government has not made amends. They have and are trying.
Maybe our country is too big to right all the wrongs. Maybe too many chose a bad alternative and cannot get back on track. For them it would probably mean the risk of loss - money, status, power maybe.
Every person is entitled to a good life. The choices are however tough - luxuries or necessities. A car or a two-wheeler. An LCD or a flat screen. An i-pod or an iphone.
The buying spree is on and every new product that comes into the market is a possible 'mine-to-have'. We can say no - but that does not happen too often. Iphones, i-pods, lcds, flat screens have all been lapped up by consumers. Those who don’t buy find it difficult to not envy those who have. So, loans for home appliances become popular.
The real estate boom in Bangalore made it seem like everyone could afford a house. Many of us rushed to buy flats or at least mulled over the idea.
We are caught up in a rush to get more. It is difficult to stop and say - enough. To be different, although at times the best way out, is a tough choice.
We usually opt for the easy way out - giving in. So too, the government. Everyone succumbs, everyone makes mistakes. Credit card holders can vouch for that.
So, why are we so harsh with people in power. Somebody needs to be blamed I guess.
We need to vent our ire somewhere. That can continue, but in the meanwhile, my two-wheeler is sandwiched between two cars, three autos and a bus on a narrow street in Fraser Town. Any ideas?
The Bangalore news photographer
I saw a picture this morning of last night’s rains. People wading through knee-high water. Great effort by the photographer I thought! Perched comfortably on the contraption built to facilitate a human’s morning dispatches I looked at the newspaper's front page again. Many citizens would have had similar thoughts, scanning newspapers from similar contraptions or at the breakfast table. Options vary for newspaper readers although I suspect the toilet seat is a popular choice.
What of the snapper - what kind of response did the display in the morning newspaper cause?
My guess is the person would not have seen the paper at all.
In all probability our snapper was huddled under a blanket. Laid low by shivers, brought on not merely by last night’s outing but from a month-long period of crazy schedules, irregular diets, working in an understaffed office and under demanding bosses. The fickle Bangalore climate would have contributed its share as well. I suspect the city’s weather switch is controlled by a kindergarten kid or an adult with an obsessive compulsive disorder. Rain, heat and cold come and go so quickly it is hard for the human system to adapt. Even a seasoned Banglorean cannot acclimatise that fast. So, a Bangalore newspaper snapper with a complicated life style cannot be expected to.
The possibility of a public display of their work is just not motivation enough for a newspaper photographer to make the trip from the bed to the doorstep. The thought of having to head out later in the day maybe for an assignment similar to last night’s outing kills all other intentions. Staying under the covers is more desired. If the photographer is really fortunate it may be a day off. Off-days for newspaper photographers however, are akin to winning the lottery, so our snapper, if one goes by the frequency of winning lottery tickets announcements in the country, is certainly on an assignment later in the day. So this morning, the journey to the doorstep would have been ruled out.
The rain started at 10 pm last night. It was also raining at Nottingham and the start of India’s Twenty20 cricket match against Ireland was delayed. It was the perfect news to trigger panic in a newspaper editor. If the match was called off, an optional picture would be needed for the front page. The rains were a godsend. Our photographer must have been reviewing the daily album when the night shift editor would have approached the photographer’s cabin. The editor’s call had gotten through. Bangalore’s telephone company is better prepared for the rains nowadays. Telephone cables snap less frequently in thundershowers. Maybe they are stronger or more trees have been cut as a preventive measure – whatever the reason – communication is easier for the newspaper editor than it was for his father, when the latter ran the organisation.
So, our photographer prepares for the assignment and there is a phrase which briefly flickers in the recesses of memory ‘I would not send a dog out on a night like this’. It vanishes as quickly as it surfaced as the sight of vehicles moving slowly through the fierce showers just outside the office catches our photographer’s eye. The camera is whipped out and the shots are taken, but of course these are just a back-up. The low-lying areas of the city are where the action is. Newspaper offices can afford cars nowadays, so our photographer heads out to the action in the four-wheeler. The venue is well-known, years of facing such emergencies having acquainted our snapper with stock locations.
Having arrived at one such location, raincoat and all, a good angle is scouted for. The options are to stand on the roof of the car, the roof of a house or wade knee-deep in water. Our photographer uses all three options, the excitement of exercising a craft suddenly taking over and negating all considerations of possible risks. The rain continues to beat down but our snapper clicks away – unmindful of the drenching. After about 30 minutes, our cameraperson returns to the car and heads back to the office. The sneezes have begun as have the complaints. The driver and the snapper exchange gripes about their seniors, colleagues, editor, salaries, politics and the miserable state of the city, the country and the world. Our snapper reaches office, downloads the pictures, edits on photoshop and transfers it to the city desk.
The match has meanwhile started and pictures flood in on the ticker of Zaheer Khan’s wicket-taking action. Our photographer is watching the match on the office television and cheering on the Indian team unmindful of whether the rain picture will appear on next day’s page or not. That decision is left to the night shift editor.
Zaheer Khan picks up four wickets and India restrict Ireland to a low total. Our snapper decides to head home as the sneezes get more frequent. Home is ten kilometres from the office. The rain has reduced, but ten kilometres in a Bangalore drizzle is still an unpleasant thought. Not too many options for our snapper.
I, meanwhile, surfed the internet, watched India score a comfortable win and crashed. I woke up to see today’s shots of rains on the front page of the newspaper. Maybe the night-shift editor was a kind soul. Maybe further conversations between our snapper and the driver would be less acerbic. Maybe a Bangalore newspaper snapper can hope for a day off soon and maybe announcements of lottery winners will be more frequent.
What of the snapper - what kind of response did the display in the morning newspaper cause?
My guess is the person would not have seen the paper at all.
In all probability our snapper was huddled under a blanket. Laid low by shivers, brought on not merely by last night’s outing but from a month-long period of crazy schedules, irregular diets, working in an understaffed office and under demanding bosses. The fickle Bangalore climate would have contributed its share as well. I suspect the city’s weather switch is controlled by a kindergarten kid or an adult with an obsessive compulsive disorder. Rain, heat and cold come and go so quickly it is hard for the human system to adapt. Even a seasoned Banglorean cannot acclimatise that fast. So, a Bangalore newspaper snapper with a complicated life style cannot be expected to.
The possibility of a public display of their work is just not motivation enough for a newspaper photographer to make the trip from the bed to the doorstep. The thought of having to head out later in the day maybe for an assignment similar to last night’s outing kills all other intentions. Staying under the covers is more desired. If the photographer is really fortunate it may be a day off. Off-days for newspaper photographers however, are akin to winning the lottery, so our snapper, if one goes by the frequency of winning lottery tickets announcements in the country, is certainly on an assignment later in the day. So this morning, the journey to the doorstep would have been ruled out.
The rain started at 10 pm last night. It was also raining at Nottingham and the start of India’s Twenty20 cricket match against Ireland was delayed. It was the perfect news to trigger panic in a newspaper editor. If the match was called off, an optional picture would be needed for the front page. The rains were a godsend. Our photographer must have been reviewing the daily album when the night shift editor would have approached the photographer’s cabin. The editor’s call had gotten through. Bangalore’s telephone company is better prepared for the rains nowadays. Telephone cables snap less frequently in thundershowers. Maybe they are stronger or more trees have been cut as a preventive measure – whatever the reason – communication is easier for the newspaper editor than it was for his father, when the latter ran the organisation.
So, our photographer prepares for the assignment and there is a phrase which briefly flickers in the recesses of memory ‘I would not send a dog out on a night like this’. It vanishes as quickly as it surfaced as the sight of vehicles moving slowly through the fierce showers just outside the office catches our photographer’s eye. The camera is whipped out and the shots are taken, but of course these are just a back-up. The low-lying areas of the city are where the action is. Newspaper offices can afford cars nowadays, so our photographer heads out to the action in the four-wheeler. The venue is well-known, years of facing such emergencies having acquainted our snapper with stock locations.
Having arrived at one such location, raincoat and all, a good angle is scouted for. The options are to stand on the roof of the car, the roof of a house or wade knee-deep in water. Our photographer uses all three options, the excitement of exercising a craft suddenly taking over and negating all considerations of possible risks. The rain continues to beat down but our snapper clicks away – unmindful of the drenching. After about 30 minutes, our cameraperson returns to the car and heads back to the office. The sneezes have begun as have the complaints. The driver and the snapper exchange gripes about their seniors, colleagues, editor, salaries, politics and the miserable state of the city, the country and the world. Our snapper reaches office, downloads the pictures, edits on photoshop and transfers it to the city desk.
The match has meanwhile started and pictures flood in on the ticker of Zaheer Khan’s wicket-taking action. Our photographer is watching the match on the office television and cheering on the Indian team unmindful of whether the rain picture will appear on next day’s page or not. That decision is left to the night shift editor.
Zaheer Khan picks up four wickets and India restrict Ireland to a low total. Our snapper decides to head home as the sneezes get more frequent. Home is ten kilometres from the office. The rain has reduced, but ten kilometres in a Bangalore drizzle is still an unpleasant thought. Not too many options for our snapper.
I, meanwhile, surfed the internet, watched India score a comfortable win and crashed. I woke up to see today’s shots of rains on the front page of the newspaper. Maybe the night-shift editor was a kind soul. Maybe further conversations between our snapper and the driver would be less acerbic. Maybe a Bangalore newspaper snapper can hope for a day off soon and maybe announcements of lottery winners will be more frequent.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Introduction
The title of the blog sounds like the name of a Chinese restaurant. It was not my intention to conjure up images of an Oriental eating place. 'The Hungry Dragon' is a metaphor for writing.
I am writing again after a long break and will need to do so constantly in this space. If I do not, 'the hungry dragon' could inflict great harm. With great hunger comes great anger!
Hopefully, I can strike a deal with the fire-breathing monster, like Dennis Quaid did with Sean Connery in that movie, and the dragon and I can live happily ever after.
My sincere apologies to those of you who thought this was the blog of a Chinese restaurant and are looking for a menu card. A sorry also goes out to the Chinese or even people from other nationalities who were keen to use this name for their restaurant's blog.
I am not in competition with any of you and my desire was not to steal your title, infuriate you and start a world war. I have nobler goals than that. I am a strong advocator of save the earth campaigns - saving water, electricity and going vegetarian. So, the last thing I would want to do is to start a war (although I suspect such attempts are being made everyday).
During these difficult times please look kindly on my small aberration.
Maybe the title could be up for grabs in the future if I get tired of it. Do not however pressure me into business deals for it. I may just give in. But think on this - you will have forced me to live with the guilt of selling my idea for money (I presume cash is what you do business with).
It is not worth condemning another human being to live with guilt for as long as he lives even if a barter ensures that one meal of Chinese food a day is assured for the rest of his life.
PS: If the market situation does not improve and you can come up with some decent offers, I am willing to relax my moral stand on the barter issue.
I am writing again after a long break and will need to do so constantly in this space. If I do not, 'the hungry dragon' could inflict great harm. With great hunger comes great anger!
Hopefully, I can strike a deal with the fire-breathing monster, like Dennis Quaid did with Sean Connery in that movie, and the dragon and I can live happily ever after.
My sincere apologies to those of you who thought this was the blog of a Chinese restaurant and are looking for a menu card. A sorry also goes out to the Chinese or even people from other nationalities who were keen to use this name for their restaurant's blog.
I am not in competition with any of you and my desire was not to steal your title, infuriate you and start a world war. I have nobler goals than that. I am a strong advocator of save the earth campaigns - saving water, electricity and going vegetarian. So, the last thing I would want to do is to start a war (although I suspect such attempts are being made everyday).
During these difficult times please look kindly on my small aberration.
Maybe the title could be up for grabs in the future if I get tired of it. Do not however pressure me into business deals for it. I may just give in. But think on this - you will have forced me to live with the guilt of selling my idea for money (I presume cash is what you do business with).
It is not worth condemning another human being to live with guilt for as long as he lives even if a barter ensures that one meal of Chinese food a day is assured for the rest of his life.
PS: If the market situation does not improve and you can come up with some decent offers, I am willing to relax my moral stand on the barter issue.
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