You live in my heart,where no one sees you.
That vision becomes this art.

Rumi.

Creating Love(Part 2-Haiku)

a Repetitive Cognizance,
to my half drenched heart..
Crushed to ashes,
these pieces-
Glass.

Stories in a Song

Stories in a Song

Conceived by Shubha Mudgal and Aneesh Pradhan. Accounts of music making in India, and stories of the struggles and hardships faced by musicians both real and imaginary, lay the foundation for a collage of dramatized episodes that blend theatre, music and literature. Several forms of theatre in India make abundant use of music, but Stories in a Song takes the help of theatre to tell stories of musical forms such as kajri, thumri-dadra, khayal, remixes and more.

• 120 mins (also at 3.30 pm on Sun)
• English-Hindi
• PW: Written by: Pervez/ Purva Naresh/ Ashok Mishra/ Anil Deshpande/ Vikram Phukan
• Dir: Sunil Shanbag

Miss Sadarame

Event Details

Eminent theatre person K.V.Subbanna improvised the story of Sadarame as Miss. Sadarame, which was originally scripted by Bellave Narahari Shastry. The story revolves around an innocent middle class girl Sadarame, where a prince got attracted to her and wanted to marry her, sacrificed his kingdom to his greedy father-in-law and left the kingdom along with the newly wed Sadarame. Unknown to the new world, Sadarame was exposed to difficult circumstances from the cunning travelers of the story. By her extravagant intelligence Sadarame managed to escape from all troubles and finally remains as Miss. Sadarame.
Written by: K V Subbanna
Directed by: Manjunath L Badiger




Courtesy:http://bangalore.burrp.com/events/ranga-shankara_miss-sadarame_jp-nagar_bangalore

Prayer Wheels

Om Mane Padme Hyung

Diamond

Shine on,
You Crazy Diamond.

Creating Love

In my non essential
capture of these,
Necessary lives-
I try praying,
so deep-so keen-
And in all,
Of my conscious,
Subconscious,
Thoughts-deliberate and not theirs;
You continue to exist.
Your face of anger,pain,
Sorrow and
Gleeful laughter.


A Repetitive cognizance,
to my half-drenched
Heart.
Often too afraid
to admit, its odd fortunes-
The duplicity,
of choices,
I may be called,
Upon, to make-
To live a life,
Subdued for,
Survival.
Nay, for my,
ever longing,
soul's outreach,
To be with you.
When-then-
shall we
ever be
together,
my beautiful
Dear.
You who
continue
To fear.

Solitary Splendor

Read Me a Lesson, Muse

Read me a lesson, Muse, and speak it loud
Upon the top of Nevis, blind in Mist!
I look into the Chasms,and a shroud
Vapourous doth hide them,-just so much I wist
Mankind do know of Hell;I look o'er head,
And there is sullen mist,-even so much
Mankind can tell of heaven;mist is spread.
Before the earth,beneath me,-
even such,
Even so vague is man's sight of himself!
Here are the craggy stones beneath my feet,-
Thus much I know that, a poor witless Elf.
I tread on them; that all my eye doth meet
Is mist and crag,not only on this height,
But in the world of thought and Mental Might!

3rd August 1818
  
John Keats' Sonnet.

On the poet-
John Keats(1795-1821) came from a family of modest condition faced with the early death of his parents. Attacked by consumption and agonized by a hopeless, unrequited love, Keats died young in 1821.

Autos

                                                               

                                                             Black and Yellow.

                                                             Yellow and Black.

                                                               Just Right.

Excerpts from "Eleven Minutes'

HYMN TO ISIS
For I am the first and the last
I am the venerated and the despised
I am the prostitute and the saint
I am the wife and the virgin
I am the mother and the daughter
I am the arms of my mother
I am the barren and my children are many
I am the married woman and the spinster
I am the woman who gives birth and she who never procreated
I am the consolation for the pain of birth
I am the wife and the husband
And he is my rejection
Always respect me
For I am the shameful and the magnificent one.

At every moment of our lives we all have one foot in a fairy tale and the other in the abyss.

How is it possible for the beauty that was there only minutes before to vanquish so quickly?

Sometimes you get no second chance and that it’s best to accept the gifts the world offers you.

If I must be faithful, I have first of all, to be faithful to myself.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Courtesy: ELEVEN MINUTES by Paulo Coelho.

'C' for Clothes!

Kadleikai

Significance

[Sanskrit]
Mamavatu Sri Sarasvati
Kamakoti peta NiVasini
Komalakara Saroja Drita Veena
Seematita Vara Vak
Vibhushani
Rajadiraja Poojita Charane
Rajiva Nayane
Ramaniya Vadane
Sujana Manorata poorana Chature
Nijaguna shobhita manimaya haare
Ajabhava vandinta
Vasudeva
Charanarchita Sakala Veda Sara

(Saraswati
You who reside in the temple of Kamakoti
Rescue me

Bearing lotus and veena
In your beautiful hands
You give truth to speech
Your feet are worshipped by Emperors and Kings
Your eyes are as wild as Rajiva flowers
And your beauty bewitches

Garlanded with gems
You fulfill the desires of the good
Indra himself bown down before you
I, Vasudeva, am your servant
For you are the divine word in its essence)
[Lyrics Courtesy-"Mamavatu" By Susheela Raman"]

For the M-Monkey in you.

BANANARAMA.


http://www.flickr.com/photos/amruthabushan/3759098372/sizes/z/in/photostream/

A dance Around the memory Tree

Words we have said
Grew in my head
Colored my thoughts
Sang me to bed

Lost memories
Grew into trees
Covered the doors
Swallowed the keys

Winters have come and gone
You know
Winters have come and gone
You know
But I'll meet you young and free
For a dance 'round the memory tree

Said I forgot
But I did not
Dreams we have had
Play in my head

Did we believe
The cry of the leaves?
Did we regret?
Would we forget?

Winters have come and gone
You know
Winters have come and gone
You know
But I'll meet you young and free
For a dance 'round the memory tree

('A Dance Around the Memory Tree' -OREN LAVIE)

Being and knowing

The city of men and women. Young and old. All knew the Koel. Ebony feathered, plain, morbid. With her small sweet voice and common appeal. She could more than sing. She would talk to everyone in the city. About real things. Things that really really matter. Groceries, bills, business deals, jobs, and important things. The koel had more to her than her small sweet voice. She had societal understanding and impact. Sadly for the koel, there came a day that a Nightingale befell the city - of the young and old. Of men and women. She drew their attention with her massive charm beauty and melody. But the nightingale could but only sing. She could but only be. Like the naive self absorbed frog in the well. She could be in both land and sea. Like a mythical creature. For she swam like a fish, lest like the mermaid. The nightingale would sing. All day all night. She would sing for love. She would sing for joy. She would sing for her own melody's sake. The city was drawn to her rare being. She sang songs for no reason. With no purpose. With no intentions. Neither for praise nor attention. Neither for them nor the koel. She sang her way. Her, her melody and the existence merging as one. She sang for all of life. The city of the young and old- men and women- the city of people with purpose, could not comprehend the purposeless creature. Their only bond with the nightingale was their 'amusement'. Their 'curiosity'. Which only lead to more curiosity. Questions- like- where is she from? Why does she claim to be unlike us? Why wont she talk like the rest of us? Eventually the koel heard of her too. The koel thought to herself - the nightingale was a joke. A silly myth. But after seeing the nightingale, the koel began pondering like the rest. Thus the koel went on to call the nightingale- A farce. A non comprehensible creature demanding attention. A creature worthy of contempt. A show of ridicule. She conviced the city dwellers of the same. She promised them welfare in the form of undue wealth and credit. Some of which were rightfully the nightingale's. Under the condition that the nightingale be gotten rid of. She had begun to eat away the koel's peace of mind, with her controversial fame and attraction. But the koel within her deepest self, a place of conscience knew better. The koel tried with much desperation and exasperation- to do all things the nightigale did. She mimiced the nightingale endlessly. In vain. The koel knew. The koel knew. Like she knew from the beginning. The koel knew.

Once

Are you really here?
Or am i dreaming..
I cant tell dreams from truth.
For its been so long, since i have seen you- I can hardly remember your face anymore.
When i get really lonely, and the distance causes only silence. I think of you smiling, with pride in your eyes, a lover that sighs.
--chorus--
are you really sure, that you believe me...
When others say i lie.
I wonder if you could ever despise me, when you know i really tried...
--- ---
i'd do what you ask me, if you let me be, free...

Lyrics courtesy- Marketa irglova and Glen Hansard(if you want me)

As without, so within

When you look up at the clear sky at night, you may easily realize a truth at once utterly simple and extraordinarily profound. What is it that you see? The moon, planets, stars, the luminous band of the milky way, perhaps a comet or even the neighbouring Andromeda galaxy two million light years away. Yes, but if you 'simplify' even more, what do you see? Objects floating in space. So what does the universe consist of? Objects and space.

If you dont become speechless when looking out into space on a clear night, you are not really looking, not aware of the totality of what is there. You are probably only looking at the objects and perhaps seeking to name them. If you have ever experienced a sense of awe when looking into space, perhaps even felt a deep reverence in the face of this incomprehensible mystery, it means you must have relinquished for a moment your desire to explain and label and have become aware not only of the objects in space but of the infinite depth of space itself. You must have become still enough inside to notice the vastness in which these countless worlds exist. The feeling of awe is not derived from the fact that there are billions of worlds out there, but the depth that contains them all.

The Upanishads, the ancient scriptures of India, point to the same truth with these words: "What cannot be seen with the eye, but that whereby the eye can see:know that alone to be Brahman the spirit and not what people here adore. What cannot be heard with the ear but that whereby the ear can hear: know that alone to be Brahman the spirit and not what people here adore.... What cannot be thought with the mind, but that whereby the mind can think: know that alone to be Brahman the Spirit and not what people here adore."
- Excerpts from A NEW EARTH. (Awakening to your life's purpose)

The Frog and the Nightingale

'Dearest frog,' the nightingale Breathed:'This is a fairy tale- And you're Mozart in disguise. Come to earth before my eyes.' 'Well, I charge a modest fee.' 'Oh!' 'But it wont hurt, you'll see.'

Now the nightingale,inspired, Flushed with confidence, and fired, With both art and adoration, Sang- and was a huge sensation. Animals for miles around, flocked towards the magic sound, And the frog with great precision, Counted heads and charged admission.

Though next morning it was raining, He began her vocal training.
(BEASTLY TALES from here and there- by Vikram Seth)