Monday marked the official end of summer. In the tennis world, it also marked the end of an era, of Andre Agassi. In a simple, eloquent speech, he said: “Over the last 21 years I have found loyalty; you have pulled for me on the court and also in life. I have found inspiration.” While many may forever mark him in the shadow of Pete Sampras, no other men’s player since Rod Laver has won all four Grand Prix titles, not even Roger Federer, who many consider to be the greatest tennis player, ever. He is also the oldest player to have been ranked No. 1.
I needed the long weekend. Work and lack of sleep had tired me. We ate lots of good food and caught up with old friends: David from Magic who I had not seen in over 6 weeks, Shubda/Srinath who we’ve not met in a few weeks and Ashish with whom brief lunches have been the norm in recent times owing to his activities.
One such activity was practising for a concert staged by him and a few of his friends about the poetry of Sahir Ludhianvi. For those of you who are unaware of Sahir, he was one of the preeminent lyricists of Hindi film music. If you grew up in India, you probably have a few of his songs in your reportoire of favorites. Kabhi Kabhie, Chalo Ek Baar Phir Se Ajnabi Ban Jaye Hum Dono, Aap Aaye To Khayale. What was unknown to me was that he was also a well-respected poet. The evening was organized around reciting a few of his poems interlaced with some of his more film songs. Since Urdu is pretty much the lingua franca of Hindi poets, Arvind, the host, also provided the meanings of the difficult Urdu words as he recited the poetry.
Words can be like wine. Savored one syllable at a time, swirled around in the mouth, stretched to suck out as much pleasure as possible. Add to this their mellifluous sound and you have veritable music. Some languages sound much more sweet to the ears than others. To me, Urdu is such a language, filled with words that seem to capture every nuance of an emotion. Having some of the meanings explained took away some of their charm to me just as explaining a magical act takes away some of the magic. But, if line after line is filled with such words, it is impossible to find a bridge to use to understand some of the words. So, the explanation of each word was in some sense essential. I didn’t particularly care for being told how beautiful some line was every so often. They seemed reminiscent of laugh tracks.
Rajesh, Ashish’s friend, was a revelation. He sang beautifully and evocatively and was the star of the evening to me. Upbeat songs like “O Meri Zohra Jabeen” or melancholic like “Kabhi Khud Pe, Kabhi Haalat Pe” were rendered almost effortlessly. Madhuvanti was another star performer, blessed with a sweet voice, though she made quite a few mistakes. The tabla and harmonium players were also very impressive, showing how a strong rhythm section can sometimes make up for a less strong main act. Ashish sang about four songs, a tad self-consciously. He did a marvelous job of the last song “Laaga Chunari Mein Daag Chupau Kaise”. It was a rousing end to the evening. Four hours went by, almost midnight by the time it was over, and what a credit to all the artists and the poetry, that little did we notice the passage of time.
Shubda appears to be another hidden talent amongst our friends. She quilts and podcasts. Pictured here are some of her creations, the second one showcasing five of her finest creations 
. Her podcasts are on Sequencing, the term used to describe parents who tackle jobs and parenting in sequence rather than all together, as many of us do.
Ananke, her eldest daughter, seems a budding artist as well, as can be gleamed from this picture of her painting.
We had dinner with them on Sun evening. Shanthala had Shubda change her plans of making “just” bhel puri and so she cooked a minor feast. Since our return, we haven’t really connected back with all of our friends. We hung out a while after dinner talking about various things with Shubda and Srinath.
Rounding up this bi-weekly report is the Gowri pooja at our cousin’s place. Ranjani invited us to a Gowri pooja, a rather important festival performed in conjunction with the more popular Ganesha pooja. Not many people in North India seem to be aware of this festival, though. Typical, one might think, given how patriarchal the northern part of India is in comparison to the South. Here are some pictures taken at Ranjani/Santosh’s place.
