ती गेली तेव्हा रिमझिम

Today, I learnt, is birth anniversary of कवी ग्रेस (Poet Grace - A Marathi Poet). Someone sent an old poem as a message on the social network. That started a chain of events that lead to this emotions-dump.

The poem was - ती गेली तेव्हा रिमझिम. It brought a lot of emotions, feelings with it. It's one of my all time favorite songs, sung by Deenanath Mangeshkar (here on youtube). Suddenly I was on youtube re-listening to the song, umpteenth of a time.

Then came the next one - भय इथले संपत नाही. Another one from ग्रेस. This one is a gem in that there is no fixed meaning to the song. It's like Schrodinger's Cat. The meaning changes as per the background, sensibilities, emotions and feelings of the reader. Here is a thread with interesting discussion about different meaning of the poem. 

Then a couple more - मालवून टाक दीप, चेतवून अंग अंग -  this one, this time, from another grand-master of marathi poetry - सुरेश भट. Sample these lines - 

हे तुला कसे कळेल, कोण एकटे जळेल

सांग का कधी खरेच, एकटा जळे पतंग

If words ever carried power to change the world, may that be of an individual at the least, these poems are living emblems of that power. 

तरूण आहे रात्र अजूनी, राजसा निजलास का रे - another grandiose masterpiece from सुरेश भट. 

Any mind sensitive enough to gauge the meaning and the depth of intense emotions in this song, will have its eyes welling up. Sample this - 

सांग ह्या कोजागिरीच्या चांदण्याला काय सांगू,

उमलते अंगांग माझे … आणि तु मिटलास का रे?

Simple words, combined to create such a highly potent mixture. This is golden. 

A few more of these -

सुन्या सुन्या मैफिलीत माझ्या

भातुकलीच्या खेळामधली राजा आणिक राणी

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.

.

Here I am sitting high up in one of the hotels on the MIT campus, the American institution that I always had highest regard for, observing the beautiful Boston skyline, overshadowed by clouds, sipping coffee and listening to these timeless classics that bring with them the essence of the home - the sensibilities, emotions, ethos of the very Marathi culture that I grew up in.

All sorts of incoherent thoughts crowd my mind. Like how these mavericks who wrote, composed and sung these songs, formed some of the best 'startups' in the yesteryears of glory of Marathi arts. Startups - because this is how a great startup team forms - all mavericks in their own domain - the best writer, the best singer, the best composer - and what you get is the best product - a timeless classic that will last generations on end. 

Had they have a big enough market, they would have enchanted the world with their artistry. If only the world knew/understood Marathi …. If only पानिपत (Paanipat) hadn't happened …. if only Abdali didn't have शतुरनाल …. Better yet, if only we were better prepared …. 

Too late … too incoherent …. 

"…. and then there was an impedance match … resonance followed …"

               -- Unknown

Nirvana

... a bass boosted Rehman unleashed through the 5-channels, typically focusing on the sub woofer and beating the shit out of it, sending you into a tizzy as you discover some beats, and some notes from the upper band, unheard so far, and the collective effect of the air and the floor subtly vibrating together due to the force the sub woofer beats at ..... boy o boy! What a morning! Pure nirvana!!

I say put these Islamist inhumans into a room, and make them listen to this Rehmanian bliss every morning on a well tuned system - anything from Roza to Bombay to Dil Se to Taal will do - and they will start to realize how beautiful life - that they are so intent on taking out in bulk - can actually be! Tie that up with Nusarat Fateh Ali with lunch and Ghulam Ali with dinner ... आणि वाल्याचा वाल्मिकी व्हायला वेळ नाही लागणार. I didn't even realise but all three of these gem of artists, incidentally are Muslims themselves. What an irony! 

5 top class artists taken out in one shot, what a loss Charlie Hebdo! Given the time it takes for an artist to learn the trade, groom himself, develop his individual style, develop his thinking and then collect all dots together - taking 5 of them out just like that, is a loss impossible to recover from ever. 

Civilians, sportsmen, scientists, businessmen, pregnant women, school girls, school children, historical art, artists ... nothing much left in the world now, is there?