May 01 2012 Issue
She was gone before I made the association between her clear unaccented diction, rare in these rural parts, and the little girl I’d once known.
Mani handed over the fruits to Elias, his smile tinged with pity. A poor child with an absent father.
Poems by Smitha Sehgal, Amitava Dasgupta, Shruti Rao, Astha Gupta, Ananya Guha, Snehith Kumbla, Gauri Barlingay
The music will take you by the hand, ...and lead you along the many twists and turns, until you suddenly find yourself in the courtyard of the Beloved of God -- Mehboob-e-Ilaahi- - for so they call the man who has bestowed his enigma upon this place.
She was on the first floor when she saw the small folded piece of paper lying on the floor. She frowned and picked it up. There appeared to be handwriting on it. She stopped, spread out the paper and started reading.
When Mr Barua discovered that he had to buy dolls instead of cars, he discovered too, a sudden gap, a space between his wife and himself, as young Ruma stirred between them in their bedstead.
I chose Gurbani Kirtan because the gurus had always stressed upon the unity of people, because the tradition had been in my family and I had come to love and admire it, and because this music was nearing extinction. My decision was made with the intent of recovery.
Her cottage was a little away from the rest of the teachers’ homes. The ground, covered with thick green grass and wild flowers, fell steeply away right behind her house, giving it a suspended in air kind of look.
...sitting on a nice piece of rock and watching people passing by, my heart felt nostalgic even though this was my first visit. Vehicles plied on roads once built for horses and wagons.
Anthony’s orchestration never overpowered the melody, yet he created an identity for himself and left his signature on each composition
There was something about the surroundings that I had already seen and felt, long ago. The air carried snatches of sound from a distant land. It was like an old record being played after a sabbatical, one of the records from the backroom that nobody listens to anymore.
I spoke up for old film hits when they raved about the new, and for Shamshad-Geeta-Asha when admiration was fever-pitched for Lata. But I wouldn’t have survived medical studies without OP! I interned at Kolhapur, where a hire-purchased Bush transistor provided musical sustenance.
R D Burman, The Man, The Music -- reviewed by Suneetha Balakrishnan
A Life in Words -- Reading Hour review
The Silent Raga - revewed by Ritu Kaushal
These constraints synergistically create an effect of passion, obsession, even a sob or sigh! Although each new couplet begins with a first line that can traverse a different landscape of feeling, the return to refrain in the second line is like a homecoming.
When he talked about his village, the countryside, the hills around his hamlet and his small family farm, his voice took on a lilt and his face beamed with joy.