Interview with Milkmen - Redux

Hi, I got interviewed by a proper journalist properly - this lady called me up and asked me all sorts of questions regarding financial security and the like. It was great fun. I feel so celebrity-like already. Thank you, Francis, for giving my phone number to these people.

Also, Xebo (remember him?) interviewed me a couple of days back about Subtle Subramanian and other related issues. And while I stated earlier that I wouldn't let Xebo contribute to my blog again, too many people are asking me these questions, and so I thought I'd answer them here. Its only now that I realise that Xebo is always a bad idea.
***

Xebo: Good evening, Danser. Its bloody lovely to have you here...
Me: Just get through with the Questionnaire.
X: Okay. But let me go through some assurances from your side first - a) you will report everything honestly b) you will not censor anything...
M: Hey da, DansGuardian, the dreaded netnanny type thing blocks this blog within the Law School network. I have to be careful. So, all four-letter-words shall be replaced with 'Dans' and its derivatives.
X: Oh, that explains that mutilation in the first line. (Smiles all around - aandthirtyeights is happy with the non-confrontational start to the interview) Okay, first question. Initially, we were under the impression that with Subtle Subramanian, you had finally matured - that you didn't need to be inspired by your own life to write these romances. CENSORED. (aandthirtyeights laughs meanly!) DANSER, YOU DANSING SAID YOU WOULDN'T DANSING CENSOR ANYTHING!
M: Dans you. (more mean laughter) Its my blog. I am King.
X: Power corrupts. (aandthirtyeights laughts meanly again) Why don't you audition for the role of a villain in an 80s Kannada movie? That laugh goes well with your unshaven look.
M: To answer your question, I auditioned for the sequel to Sarkar Raj.
X: Oh, you wont make that. Your look's too intense for that also. But getting back to the issue of real life inspiration in Subtle Subramanian...
M: All writers have inspirations for their stories - often from real life...
X: Dans you. Answer in specifics.
M: No, there was no inspiration whatsoever.
X: No inspiration? Lila?
M: Lila?
X: Yes, Lila.
M: I'm going to censor you.
X: No, I was talking of the more obvious inspiration, not the really subtle one that even you didn't notice!
M: Who?
X: Tanvir Gill.
M: Tanv... What nonsense... T-T-That was just a... um, a coincidence.
X: You watch her three times a day. Google her every time you get bored, and then you write a story about a hot newsreader.
M: Dude, it was Dansing coincidence. Lila in my head looked very different from Tanvir Gill.
X: What did Lila look like?
M: Hmmm. I never described her in the series, except in vague superlatives. I think I want to leave her look a little ambiguous. People have imagined Lila in their own ways. I don't want to spoil it by setting a look now.
X: Translation for readers - "She looks just like Tanvir Gill, but our man doesn't want to admit it." Is it also true that you left her a message on Facebook telling her that she was really pretty?
M: Would I do something like that? I mean, what do I look like?!
X: Are you denying it?
M: Categorically.
X: I can prove it.
M: How?
X: A criminal always tells people of his crimes.
M: Danser, what are you talking about?
X: Tra-la-la...
M: Danser...
X: People will believe me anyway, because you're the kind of guy who'd think leaving such a message is romantic.
M: It is, in a way...
X: Its creepy. Not romantic.
M: How would you know? No one leaves you any messages. On anything.
X: Lets take independent opinion, Creep. People, readers, don't you think its creepy?
Readers: Of course. Especially if it comes with aandthirtyeights' Facebook photograph.
M: What's wrong with my photograph?!
X: It features a guy with sunken eyes and a evil half-grin. Creep.
M: Dans you.
X: Haha, your biting wit and retort has given way to a series of 'Dans you'. Haha. You're under pressure. Khair, lets talk of your upcoming ventures. What's this Love Theme in Ritigowla?
M: Point number one: you just used the term 'khair'. You're turning into You-Know-Who. Point number two, yes, I'm planning to serialise and extend Providing Apt Support, and the series will be called The Love Theme in Ritigowla.
X: Ah. Suggested reading, guys - here. And suggested listening - here. So, dude, again its something inspired by real life...
M: What'd'ya mean?
X: I mean, again, there's the same trail - smite, Googling, unanswered Facebook message, and now serial...
M: Dude, you have to be careful of what you say. Even when you talk nonsense, everyone believes you. People trust you more than they trust me...
X: What a sad cover-up!
(At this point, the subject of the interview inflicted horrible physical damage on the interviewer and left the building. The interviewer struggles in hospital for his life. No, the interviewer is just lying - he is in grave danger of losing seventeen skin cells on his neck, and a nerve that controls his sense of direction. Dans you. I am struggling for my life. Dans you, too. The next time you see the aandthirtyeights, please ask him about Facebook messages. If you do, I'll inflict horrible pain on you.If you don't believe me, you can ask the recepients. You know who they are!)
***
"Doctor, is Xebo alright?"
"Xebo cant Dans, saala."

Feeling the Gamakam

As I stopped at the Bhashyam Cirle signal on my way to T.M. Krishna at Gayana Samaj, I ejected the O.S.Thyagarajan tape that I was listening to for the last five drives, and fished out a KVN at San Diego from the dashboard. The tape started off somewhere in the middle of his simmering pallavi in Bhairavi. It took me hardly three seconds to figure out what taalam, and where the pallavi started - it was a simple adi taalam, with the pallavi starting on the beat. The pallavi reminded me that one doesn't need to sing in Sankeerna Jati Ata Talam, with the pallavi beginning three and three-quarters beats into the talam, and changing to tishram in the middle for four and two-thirds of a beat, to create riveting music. Simplicity has its own beauty. And this was as beautiful a Bhairavi as one can come across.

The swaras were reaching their crescendo, and I had Ctrl-C ready in my mind, waiting to pounce on the mukthaayam, when the tape stopped. The tape was over, and when it reversed to the other side, the concert would start again. I found myself in the middle of a nasty Cottonpet traffic jam. Surprisingly, I hadn't even realised that I had endured all that traffic near 8th Cross, Nataraj theatre, Rajiv Gandhi Circle, Swathi Hotel and the Railway Station! It was only at Cottonpet when the tape stopped playing, and I was robbed of my Bhairavi that it mattered!

The tape reversed, and KVN announced, "I shall start with a varnam by Pacchimirium Adiyappier..." I was stunned. Bhairavi again! Pacchimirium Adiyappier's Viribhoni. His story is a fascinating one - the composer of Carnatic music's most famous and arguably its greatest varnam is known for nothing else. I've heard that he spent years composing Viribhoni - and it shows. There is enough in that varnam to be studied for a lifetime. Nearly every phrase in Bhairavi finds a place in that Varnam. Every gamakam, and every nuance of every gamakam is explored. Adiyappier composed nothing else of note in his life, but has ensured himself of immortality with this monument of a varnam.

I reached Gayana Samaj and found parking, but waited for the varnam to end before leaving the car. At the concert, T.M. Krishna started with Bhairavi again!
***

When the concert ended, I went for a dinner with three other flutists - my teacher, a 'boy' from the US who's a fellow student, and a Western Classical flutist who's spending some time in India learning Indian music, and trying to find peace and quiet in Srirampuram to finish some composing assignment. At the end of an enlightening discussion on the two forms of music, he said, "Yeah, I can play a couple of simple geetams on the bamboo flute now." I smiled, and he continued, "For the first time in my life, I felt a gamakam on the flute. I've never been this happy!"

I remember that feeling all too well. On the flute, you're taught Mohana Raagam before anything else, and two weeks after picking up the flute, I was playing Ninnukori like it would have been played on a harmonium. It was only when I reached geetams that I felt my first gamakam - it was the first slide in Padumanabha - the ri that had to rise from the depths of the da. From there, to handling the GmR in Kanada has been a long and enthralling journey, but the joy of feeling my first gamakam remains unsurpassed!
***

Snippets from Yesterday: 2 Nos.

First, A Phone Conversation with a Good Friend

"Macha, I really like that song from Jaane Tu Ya Jaane na..."
"The Aditi song?"
"Yeah - I mean, there's something about songs with people's name in them..."
"Hey Mickey, You're so fine..."
"No da."
"The Obama Song by the Obama Girl?"
"Hey..."
"Monicaaaaaaaaa, O My Darling!"
"Wait..."
"O Raveena raveena raveena oooooo."
"Dai..."
"Oye Raju, pyaar na kariyo, dariyoooo, dil toot jaata hai."
"Um, I was thinking more along the lines of 'Dil Kya Kare', or 'Tu hai Meeeeeri Kiran!' or 'Meri Bheegi Bheegi Si...'
"My name is Manjeetttu."
"Hey da, something like 'Onnavidaaaaa'!"
"En peru Padaiyappa..."
Click.
Jokes apart, there is something about songs with names in their titles. Like right now, after listening to the Aditi song six times in a row, I want to find an Aditi and sing it to her. (No, I didn't feel similar reactions with the Mickey song.)
***

Second, The Day of the Freaks

(Yes, yes, that title is inspired by this. Yes, yes, I haven't read it yet.'Yet' being the crucial term. Just acquired a copy. Also, this is a long and rambling post. You are warned.)

I spent a fruitful last evening eating cheese sandwiches, with homemade ice lemon tea and watching two sporting freaks weave their magic around much-fancied opposition - the first was a 22-year-old upstart with a forehand that caused many tornadoes, none bigger than the one yesterday; and the second was a, um, a spinner (in the most liberal sense of the term), who reminds me of a Mak Lubricant advertisement with the tag line, "Legspin, Offspin, aur yeh bowled!" I watched a lot more of the Spaniard than the Lankan.

I was nervous even before the evening started. I felt underprepared for the final, and that was largely because I had watched only one Federer game this year, and that was his first round match against Hrbaty. A the first set got under way, and there was this torrent of whirling topspinners, scurrying, indefatigability and improbable angles, the nervousness grew. Federer wasn't playing all that badly, but Nadal still got his nose in front. Federer gave it his all, to be fair, but Nadal made him play one extra ball each time, and the errors came. The second set was more of the same angles, the body-serves, the gruelling down-the-line backhands. I could feel it two continents away - the champion's will weakened, as breakpoint after breakpoint slipped through his fingers.

At two sets down, depressed as hell, I switched to the cricket. Sehwag - 59 off 33, the TV read. I was stunned! Along came Mendis bowling his Right Arm Guile - for that's what he bowls. And its not just variations in direction of turn, but in length, flight and pace. One over, and Sehwag and Yuvraj were out. Before I could digest that news, Raina and Sharma fell. Now, both channels were depressing.

I switched back to the tennis and watched Federer grind out service games, and spill chances on Nadal's serve. It was going well till the ninth game. After looking comfortable for most of the set, Federer got himself into 15-30. He barely wriggled out of that when the rain came. I gathered that Nadal had chased down each ball, and used the wind to his advantage to disturb Federer. And Federer refused to play the slice return. I was aghast, and needed some consoling. I called a friend, great Federer fan, but he sounded gloomier than me. Vijay Amritraj spoke of mental blocks. I logged on to orkut, and checked out the Federer community. That was most distressing - most people were already speaking of revenge next year (often in Portuguese). What gave me confidence was the Goran-Henman game in the 2001 semifinal. Goran came back a different player after the rain break.

Federer, too, came back with a vengeance. He played a few brilliant points, as he had done in the game until then, but ensured that he didn't allow his serve to be broken. After playing a solid tie-break, he unravelled more drama in the fourth. On each Championship Point, I felt more nervous than I had ever done in my life. And when he saved one with the shot of the match - a bachkand down-the-line, I was convinced that he would win.

The fifth set, all was even, when rain came again. The Borg-McEnroe tiebreak aptly played in the break. The second break hadn't changed the tense atmosphere - it was gloomier than ever before, and the players produced tennis that only they could produce. This rivalry beats all that I've seen in my life. Sampras-Agassi was a stop-start, and there were times when one was better than the other. On Sampras' home turf, Agassi couldn't make a dent. In this rivalry, Federer doesn't have a home turf anymore. And Nadal sits proudly on two thrones. Just last year, people spoke of invincibility, ultimate greatness and everyone on the men's tour fighting for second spot. Only a fool or an optimist would do so today.

What makes Nadal so special? He's got this style that's entirely his own - I don't think there is a single player with that forehand, with that superhuman athletic ability and the sheer tenacity to gnaw away at a player's will. He's also got this uncanny court sense - he sees passes and winners that others cant see, he is excellent at guessing where the next ball will come, and when the rallies get longer, he uses this same court sense to small dents on the opponent's hits until he creates a chance for a winner. Above all, he hits the ball so bloody hard. So, if his unorthodoxy doesn't trouble you, the weight of his hitting sure will.

All unorthodox players need a second, more consistent, weapon to make up for players getting used to their unorthodoxy. Nadal has two - his backhand that hardly ever fails him, and his ability to retrieve. Anil Kumble, another bowler who would fall under the category of Right Arm Guile had many such weapons - his accuracy, his lionheartedness, his love for the longest spells, and his supremely sharp brain. Mendis needs to develop these weapons to sustain himself over a period of time. In the one-day game, when players are trying to take him on, he might get away easier. But in the Test matches, when a Rahul Dravid decides that he will wait endlessly for the bad ball and just block everything else, or a Laxman begins to read his mysterious fingers like he read Warne's, he might not be this effective.

The true test of an unorthodox player comes then - when he has to adapt to newer parameters and better opponents. Nadal came out with flying colours yesterday, when he showed why he was better than an unorthodox Fabrice Santoro, and put his name amongst the greatest in tennis history. Kumble did it when he picked up all those wickets on a comeback in Australia. Chanderpaul has been doing it for nearly two seasons now scoring runs everywhere and against everyone. Mendis, therefore, has a fair distance to go.