South Asia Daily

I was a wispy wave of numerous indeterminate, insubstantial positions

Over the last decade and longer I have written so much in these columns that I frequently forget a vast majority of it. It is for that reason that I regularly check the visitors’ log to my blog to see who is reading what on it.  This morning I found that someone had visited a post I had written as recently as January 16 this year but completely forgotten about it. I think it is exquisite and deserves republication.

My plan this morning was to write about why America needs at least one more political party, if not more but that some other time. So here goes:

January 16, 2019

I would rather that I was a physicist who had a measure of poetry than a poet who has some tenuous comprehension of physics. I say tenuous by my standards, having spent some four-decades with physics during which my comprehension has ebbed and flowed.

Speaking of physics and poetry, one area of physics rich with poetic possibilities is quantum mechanics because it has the appearance of profound mystery. I have written some poetry on the theme but the one that got written in English around 3.20 a.m. today has become my favorite for now.

Just to illustrate how the poetic mind works, barely within minutes of the first one the second one got written in Hindi. They both capture very different ideas.

Wave Function

I was a wispy wave

of numerous

indeterminate, insubstantial

positions

until

you engaged me and gave me

substance and existence

Then you looked away

and I ceased and returned

to the realm of

infinite possibilities

--MC

 

खुशबू

ख़ुशबू हूँ मैं

बेवफ़ा हूँ

लिपट जाती हूँ उस पर

जो भी मेरे नज़दीक से

गुज़रता है

कुछ देर साथ निभाती हूँ

फिर लुप्त हो जाती हूँ

--MC

(Below, translation from Hindi)

Fragrance

I am fragrance

promiscuous by my nature,

Attach myself to

The one who brushes past

In a short-lived embrace

And then evanesce

Mayank Chhaya

Note: The photograph has nothing much to do with the blog except since the post is about me, the self-portrait makes sense. Even the painting behind me is my version of me. 

Creative pursuits and social media interactions

Mansarovar - Acrylic on Canvas - 24X24 inches by Prakash Bal Joshi. Visit his website. 

What I find particularly joyous about social media platforms such as Facebook and Twitter is that when used well they can generate creatively thrilling interactions. A couple of them happened this morning. I mention them here only to illustrate how it has connected disparate points across three countries among four separate friends in America, Canada and India.

I happened to catch a Business Insider explainer video on YouTube about why oil paints are so expensive. I shared the video on my Facebook timeline and generally alerted my painter friends. One of them, Marie-Anne, an engineer and lovely painter based in Toronto, responded to the link saying, “Fascinating. Aren’t we lucky that, unlike artists of yore, we just get our paints out of tubes? When I look at Old Masters’ paintings, I also admire the craftsmanship of the paints they made themselves.”

To that, I said, “Absolutely. It was so much work then. Of course, the invention of portable tubes also revolutionized plein air.”

That was one thread about a creative pursuit—namely painting. Simultaneously, I saw a link on Shrikant Athlekar, a Mumbai-based friend’s timeline, of a lovely Marathi song written by the great Marathi poet Grace “Tula pahile mee nadicha kinari” (I saw you on the bank of the river) and sung by Suresh Wadkar. The first line about the poet seeing her on the bank of the riverbank triggered a couple of verses of my own with the river as the theme in Hindi.

मिलने के बहाने मिलते हैं नदी के किनारे

क्या क्या फ़साने बनते हैं नदी के किनारे

मैं भी भटक रहा था प्यासा प्यासा

वोह भी संवर रहे थे नदी के किनारे

On the excuse of meeting there, let’s meet along the riverbank*

So many stories unfold along the riverbank

I was wandering thirsty along the riverbank

You were getting ready along the riverbank

(*The original line in Hindi has two meanings. The second one is One finds many excuses to meet along the riverbank)

Dear friend, fellow journalist, writer and painter Prakash Bal Joshi joined the river thread as well when I pointed out that rivers are his favorite painterly motif. To that, he said, “Absolutely. I am preserving these lines may use in one of my exhibition with due credit.”

These two separate threads made my morning.

P.S.: As an aside, note the fact that I am jumping three languages here--English, Hindi, Marathi. 

Your beauty has been scrutinized so intensely...

तुम्हारे हुस्न को दुनिया ने इतना गौर से देखा है

की नज़रों की धार से छलनी हो गया है

Your beauty has been scrutinized so intensely

That it has become lacerated by the severe gazing

--Mayank Chhaya

That should be all for today. 

Naushad on mind this morning

For absolutely no reason the brilliant Hindi cinema composer Naushad is on my mind this morning. In particular, two of his rather unusual compositions for the 1968 movie ‘Saathi’.  I say unusual because Naushad, who was steadfast throughout his glorious career in sticking to the Indian classical raags and Indian folk music as the base for his songs, chose what he told me in 1986 was “very deliberate Western orchestration.”

Naushad had a keen understanding of both Indian and Western classical music but almost entirely stayed away from the latter because of his passion for the former. He was truly among the giants of Hindi cinema music which if Hindi cinema had any sense would find time and imagination to celebrate the 100th anniversary  of his birth on December 25 this year.

Dear friend and fellow journalist Shireesh Kanekar and I interviewed Naushad at his bungalow along Bombay's Bandra Seaface sometime in 1986. He was already 67 then and well past his prime but had not lost any of his verve for music. I have a distinct memory of him illustrating his ease with the piano when he, in fact, played a bit from one of the two songs from ‘Saathi’ that I have been thinking about this morning. It was “Mere Jeevan Saathi, Chali to Main To Pyasi’ and the brilliant transition at cue 1.53 in the linked video of the song from the accordion to the saxophone to the piano.

He hit a few bars while making the point that although he almost exclusively based his compositions on the Indian classical and folk music, ‘Saathi’s score was his way of his illustrating that he could do Western orchestration just as easily. “Woh film ki bhi maang thi is liye maine kiya (The film also demanded it and hence I did it),” he said.

The other song from ‘Saathi’ that has been playing alternately this morning is “Mera Pyar Bhi Tu Hai.” Both these songs have decidedly Western orchestration that Naushad said he derived great joy composing. I always play them together.

'Mrs. Lowry & Son'

Timothy Spall as L S Lowry in Adrian Nobel's 'Mrs. Lowry & Son'. All other frames from the movie trailer.

My response to the frame above

I get inordinately excited about movies based on painters’ lives. The one currently occupying my mind is ‘Mrs. Lowry & Son’, directed by Adriane Noble featuring Vanessa Redgrave and Timothy Spall. For me the immediate draw in the trailer is its striking cinematography by Josep M. Civit. If a less than two and half minute trailer can offer five memorable frames, it is already excessive—excessive good, I mean. Even if one factors in the fact that a trailer has to offer the most captivating aspects of any movie, one can see from Civit’s cinematography that he knows his craft.

The movie is about L S Lowry (Spall) 1887-1976, now considered one of Britain’s greatest painters, and his touching relationship with mother (Redgrave). Spall, who was brilliant as J M W Turner, by considerable consensus Britain’s greatest painter, in ‘Mr. Turner’ directed by Mike Leigh, strikes a very different note as another great artist. Of course, Turner and Lowry were separated by over a century in terms of their births; Turner was born in 1775. That fact does create two different canvases as it were,

Apart from ‘Mr. Turner’ and ‘Eternity’s Gate’ directed by Julian Schnabel featuring Willem Dafoe as Vinvent van Gogh, I also frequently watch Stanley Tucci directed ‘Final Portrait’ about another great artist and sculptor Alberto Giacometti (Geoffrey Rush). I just get lost in the visual flair of these movies accentuated by the fact that they are about extremely visual people.

In ‘Mrs. Lowry & Son’s trailer I found these five frames rather captivating. 

Here is To Sunil Gavaskat at 70

Sunil Gavaskar, one of the five greatest batsmen of all time, turns 70 today. For Indian cricket admirers of a certain generation—that would be me—great batsmanship meant Sunil Gavaskar. Diminutive in stature but gigantic in cricketing genius, Gavaskar was a picture of pure elegance.

It would seem as if his career was predominantly in the Test cricket format even though he played nearly as many one day internationals. Between March 6, 1971, when he made his Test cricket debut at Port of Spain in the West Indies, and March 13, 1987 when he played his last Test at Bangalore against Pakistan, Gavaskar played 125 matches, 214 innings, scored 10,122 runs with 34 centuries and 45 half centuries. His highest test score was 236. He played 108 one day internationals, 102 innings, scored 3092 with the highest being 103. His Test average was 51.12 and one day average 35.13. He took 108 catches in Test cricket and 22 in one day games.

Quite without debate Gavaskar was India’s first truly great batsman. The best way to prove that one is a great batsman is to score runs consistently—his average of 51.12 bears that out—but also the fact that he was the first to get 10,000 runs and 30 centuries. Essentially, in every fourth Test Gavaskar scored a hundred. He made a habit of it.

Although he was known as an immaculately defensive player, Gavaskar was equally captivating as an aggressive batsman. As an opening batsman, it frequently fell on Gavaskar’s shoulders to carry India’s load. People speak of the near presumptuous self-assurance of the new age Indian cricketers but it was Gavaskar who first gave Indian cricket a powerful sense of self-assurance through his own prolific run-scoring in all conditions. The man gave a measure of his genius at the very outset in his 4-match debut series against the West Indies in 1971, scoring 774 runs in that series with an astonishing average of 154.80.

For a long time it was thought with some literary exaggeration that Gavaskar got out only when he chose to get out. His career is replete with very long stays at the crease. For me personally as an avid  cricket follower,  for the entire duration of Gavaskar’s career I was almost exclusively invested in his performance. Although cricket is a team sport, I was focused solely on his career.

I met Gavaskar only once, less than two years before his retirement. It was towards the end of 1985 or perhaps early 1986. Dear friend and fellow journalist Shireesh Kanekar, who is also widely respected cricket writer, knew Gavaskar reasonably well then. It was courtesy of Shireesh’s that we were granted an interview at Gavaskar’s office at a company called Nirlon where he worked. I use the term “worked” generously because by that time he had already been an international cricket superstar in the league of Sir Don Bradman for a long time. It was an honor for any company to just have him on the payroll.

I do not remember much from the content of that interview except asking him about his much-reported disagreement with another Indian cricket great, Kapil Dev. When he dismissed the reports, I persisted saying, “But there is no smoke without fire.” To which he smiled indulgently and imitated me with perfection repeating, “No smoke without fire, uh!” Incidentally, he is quite a mimic. 

The great Mirza Ghalib had once said about the caliber of his own poetry:

“है और भी दुनिया में सुखनवर बहुत अछ्छे

कहते हैं के ग़ालिब का अंदाज़-ए-बयाँ ओर”

There may be many great poets in the world

But it is said Ghalib has a unique expression

One can say the same about Gavaskar and other cricketers. Speaking of uniqueness, in my book Gavaskar’s cover drive and straight drive have no rivals. They are an art form.

Here is to Sunil Gavaskar at 70 for his unmatched cricketing elegance.

There are several videos of Gavaskar's brilliance but try this one as an illustration. 

I will pay attention to you if I find time from paying attention to me

As it often happens with me, I woke up with these two verses fully constructed. These should be enough for today.

खुद से फुरसत मिले तो मैं तुम्हे देखूं

थोड़ी सी बरकत मिले तो मैं तुम्हे देखूं

सूरज को तुम्हारी ज़ुल्फ़ों ग्रहण लगा है

थोड़ी सी रौशनी मिले तो मैं तुम्हे देखूं

--Mayank Chhaya 

And the rough translation, which I warn may sound somewhat overwrought.

I will pay attention to you if I find time from paying attention to me

I will pay attention to you if I catch a lucky break 

The sun has been eclipsed by your tresses 

I will pay attention to you if I catch some light

'You made a sale'

Cocoon wrap 'Women' by MC at VIDA

Some six years ago when I began dabbling in digital sketching and painting first my intention was to create a portfolio of digital artworks that could be merchandised. The easy portability of a Portable Graphic Network or PNG file and a JPEG/JPG or Joint Photographic Experts’ Group file offered a great convenience. Early on, my plan was to start my own design line—and it still is—but that would require investment in sourcing fabric, printing it and making various merchandises as scarves, clutches, T-shirts, ties and so on.

Two of my early scarves printed as a test in Ahmedabad.

In fact, as a test run I did get half a dozen scarves printed in Ahmedabad to test how well the designs transferred to various fabrics and how good was the resolution. It all seemed to work very well but the question of capital to start my own line still stood in the way. Then the advent of an online fashion label VIDA some three or so years ago changed it all for me. The platforms lets people like me upload their artworks to create a range of merchandise which they manufacture employing artisans across the world. My role ends at uploading the artworks. This is yet another glorious example of what the confluence of technologies can do. 

This morning when I received an email from VIDA saying that I had made a sale of a cocoon wrap based on my design my mind went back to six years ago. This particular wrap is, of course, a collage of actual acrylic paintings on either canvas or paper of women in different situations. I think the sale yesterday brings the number of this particular cocoon wrap titled ‘Women’ is the fourth of the fifth. The particular wrap is priced at $110. I grant that it is not a number to celebrate as a sound business model but the idea that there are at least five women somewhere in the world who spent $110 apiece to occasionally throw a wrap around themselves with my paintings is a happy one.

The royalties from such sales are so laughably small that unless they sell in very large volumes that I would never quit my day job that I do not have in the first place. My main calling, in an ideal world, would remain that of a journalist reporting big stories, something I have done for a long time. The next would be to be a full-time writer, something I do as well. For now though the survival comes from ghost-writing books of which I have done eight so far apart from my own three and another four in the pipeline. Add to that my feature-length documentary ‘Gandhi’s Song’ that does get some pays-per-view. But together they do not add up more than creating a barely subsistence level revenue source.

The only hope for now is that as I sharpen my rather thin skills as a painter and produce a few works that sell for a lot after my death. That way, the auctioneer may have a compelling enough biography of a struggling writer and painter to draw upon.

A poet of lost verses

Over the decades of writing poetry, I have a fair amount of unattached verses that did not find full ghazals to fit in to. Although as a rule a Misra or a verse in a ghazal has the virtue of being able to stand on its own merit, it is always nice if it finds a poetic home to live in. So far, I have not attempted to rehabilitate these singular verses floating around leading their lonely existence. One main reason that I have not done so is because more often than not they do not rhyme with each other, a requirement in a ghazal.

Going through some of them this morning, I feel like offering a few here.

भटके मिसरों का शायर हूँ मैं

जो गुमराह हुआ मेरी ग़ज़ल बन गया

I am a poet of lost verses

Which meandered into my ghazals

यूंह तो वोह दीवार गिरती न थी

गनीमत है सायों के बोझ से गिर गयी

The wall may not have collapsed otherwise

But for the weight of the shadows

अब्रों का भी मेरे यार सा है,

गरज़ते तो हैं, बरसते नहीं

Clouds are like my beloved

They often thunder but don’t rain

मेरी अक्ल कुछ जुगनुओं सी है

जब रोशन हो तब ही दिखती है

My intelligence is quite like fireflies

It is evident only when aglow

इतना कद्दावर सुखनवर हो गया हूँ मैं

के लोग ग़ालिब के मिसरे मेरे नाम से चला देते हैं

I have become a poet of such stature

That people recite my verses by attributing them to Ghalib

In which Sadhana unfurls the red flag or red sari as it were

Sadhana in the 1969 'Intaquam'

It has been quite a while since I offered an utterly gratuitous analysis of a Hindi movie song. That was a feature of this blog in its early years.

This year marks the 50^th year of the wonderfully groovy song ‘Kaise rahun chup” from the 1969 movie ‘Intaquam’, composed by Laxmikant Pyarelal, written by Rajendra Krishan and sung by Lata Mangeshkar. It features an ensemble of characters headlined by the ever-fetching Sadhana, Ashok Kumar, Rehman, Jeevan, Rajendra Nath, Asit Sen, Helen and Sanjay Khan.

From the theme of the scene—I have not watched the film—it appears that Sadhana, playing a character named Reeta Mehra, has unfurled the red flag or red sari, as it were, against some sort of a sinister patriarch. That patriarch appears to be embodied by the ever-dignified Rehman. The way she chooses to rebel against whatever she is rebelling against is by getting very drunk at a party and sway and sing seductively much to Rehman’s chagrin and embarrassment. But Rehman, as was his wont, keeps his disgust understated.

A quick study of the reactions of these assorted characters reveals these traits in them. The inimitable Jeevan is both enjoying Rehman’s discomfiture even while pretending to be outraged while simultaneously stoking Rehman’s anger. Ashok Kumar seems to genuinely enjoy Sadhana’s rebellion, almost saying a version of 'You go, girl', along with Rajendra Nath with his trademark buffoonish bafflement at life. Sanjay Khan is caught between his dickish father Rehman and his lover Sadhana. Helen is there to just chill with a glass of whatever alcoholic beverage they are consuming. Asit Sen does his thing of exploring possibilities if he could ever score with the woman in his mildly creepy avuncular way.

I told you this was going to be a gratuitous analysis. The song, of course, is brilliant and always works for me.