three little birds

sidhu and shanu and kempaiah.
sat on a wall.

hoo dawgies!

met this stellar specimen of the canis familiaris at a traumatic cricket match that i was party to. apparently i dropped a catch in the first over of the game and as the adage continues, consequently the match too. the paaji whose catch i dropped went on to despatch the ball over the fence repeatedly with disdain. also did i mention i never got to bat or bowl. in our beautiful kannada language there is a saying - aatak untu. lakak illa. one big sad smiley here.



however mustafa here (i christen all unfamiliar animals mustafa), kept me entertained through most of an otherwise forgetable day, an error in my life. i supplied him and his friends with biscuits (stolen from the cricket team's supplies) and he couldn't stop smiling as long as the biscuits kept coming. incidentally the same paaji who'd massacred us with the bat and proceeded to take a few wickets too (gurpreet was unofficially declared man of the match), came up to me and queried, "full puppy love?"

marauding mughal memorial

he chose to sing one last thumri. apparently as a show of strength. though i was never there, i know the scene. prayer mat in one corner of the hospital room. packet of wills navy cut on a side table. always within reach. a shehnai too. and then with chest heaving, entwined in a million govt. paid ventilator tubes. hands outstretched with a citizen watch gleaming in the dour hospital room light. a century old voice in one last act of defiance.
i think an XL sized tear welled when i heard he'd passed on. bismillah khan. and inconsequential as it may seem, the ustad remains the only person, who's feet i touched in humble reverence. and it was impulsive. i met the man. in another dour room. on another day. and i knew instantly. i was touched by genius.
i will never forget.

tagged! me three!

tagged by browne.

"So, this is what you're supposed to do.

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
5. Don’t you dare dig for that "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest.
6. Tag five people."

An assured balladeer, he could contribute sensual solos and melody readings as much as swinging medium-tempo solos and was a fine ensemble player. Gonsalves from time to time ventured out from behind the Ducal ranks to make appearances and albums under his own name, including Gettin' Together (Riverside, 1960) and Salt 'n' Pepper (with Sonny Stitt) (Impulse!, 1963), but his major defining achievements lie within the Ellington arena. He died in 1974, just two months after Ellington.

Jazz Legends of Style, Keith Shadwick, The Apple Press

Passing on the joy. Tagging...
hari potter, nishi, tharunya and two other people who voluntarily tag themselves.

when you drop a piano...

...on an army camp, you're left with a??? flat major. that and every other sad piano joke ever conjured saved my life last night.



i recall a conversation from a few years ago, with herman leonard - this super brilliant jazz photographer. and he shared a conversation he'd in turn had with nobody lesser than dizzie. So dizzie and herman were in a limo cruising though paris. PERFECT. and on the radio there was a sax blower blowin it up. so herman asks dizzie if that was charlie parker. and dizzie says, he's charlie parker. but he's not charlie parker. he's a kid who's studied in a music school. he's got his technique down to a 't'. you'll never catch him making a mistake. but he's not charlie parker. he didn't learn from the street. you'll never catch him making a mistake. he has no soul.



and so it happened, i don't care if bebop means a systematic chord progression with improvised layers all floating forward with 'emotional kinetic energy'. i don't care for all the pop babble that you can spew. i don't care if your music's got no soul. i don't care if my english teacher said don't use no double negatives.

one massive thumb down!!

epigram

bow wow yow.

kachua chaap

as a kid i believed two things. god was a plant. and tawtuses ate mosquitoes.

nyctophilia

i've always watched darkwing duck with a certain amount of fascination. so i'd like to think that the slow shutter freezes are second nature to me. and i don't even want to discuss my new found philias. recovering from a weekend of debauchery and joy. the sun shines again. even in the nights.



i hate this self conscientious and continuing block of blogspot by my isp at work (cityonline i think). it doesnt really suit my liking, to blog and not be able to see. a-n-n-o-y-i-n-g. last weekend was also about rediscovering old friends. there is a certain comfort in gossip.



motion blurs are the way forward. phantasm. i have strange obsessions these nights. and i nurture them i think. it's a strange place. this.



old book haunts look spookier still in the still of the night.



i love it when car headlamps throw my light meter out of gear. i dig it when the mist fogs up my view finder. i am the terror the flaps in the night. i am the terror that causes many a fright. i am ... darkwing duck!
(drumroll)

night train

baby give it up or turn it a loose
uh ha baby gives it up or turn it a loose
starting over again
baby, give it up or turn it a loose
oh ha baby, give it up or turn it loose
oooooh all right

bylablue in my shoe

and so we stumbled upon a lost, mystical lake swarming with keelbacks. jack was quick to the shutter. i was still reeling from the last blaze. robin, frown in tow, went pish pish pash pash through the lichens. the snake raised its head in alarm. it was our moment of truth. for all the miles we'd done between us, we couldnt tell a keelback from a cobra. and so we decided to hare it. read more. and pics more.

neil the terribeil

i'm now uncle dundee.