Make Music, Not War!

Back in 2001, when I was in my hostel, there was a guy who was absolutely in love with music. A delicate strumming of guitar, a finely touched key of the harmonium or the slightest wind blown in the flute and you would automatically see him present there, at that very place where the that sound originated, with a trance-like expression on his face. And then one day, as I was humming in the hostel bathroom, he was right there standing outside with his toot brush! As soon as I came out of the bathroom holding the bucket in my hand, he came forward and looked straight towards me.

'have you learnt music?'

I didnt deny and he said.
'For the next 'god knows' how many years in this lonely hostel, in this tedious college, in this deserted town, in life's most unfriendly moments, promise me that you will sing. You will sing to your heart's content'.

I was elated. Not that someone asked me to sing, but for a junior student, who had to put up with that hostile atmosphere of that god-forbidden hostel and had to face those draconian ragging sessions, those intimidating senior students and a hell lot of extra-convoluted diagrams to be drawn in someone else's journals, that statement was a respite. I didnt particularly dislike singing, but that guy's encouragement was enough for me.

On the Freshers' Party day, the same guy turned out to be the host of the function and when my turn came on stage, as every junior is asked to perform some or the other thing, he asked me in simple words: 'Son, you need to sing!'

The professors, the academicians, the principal, the seniors all of them were there in that auditorium, 'singing here would mean that one will get a permanent tag of being a performer on the college stage', I certainly didnt need that tag - but when the same guy turned out to be the host and his request and that anticipation in his eyes, I knew that come what may, even if the whole auditorium is bored to death, I will sing for this one person.

I sang to my heart's content and got a tag of 'Bhaand' from the senior students for the coming next four years of graduation. Thus, the professors knew that when a Chief Guest of a particular function gets late, its time to call 'the Bhaand' on stage and ask him to sing or perform. In a way I loved the idea of being on stage and performing, whether people liked it or not, but I loved singing in that hostel lobby. My voice would hit those semi-plastered walls and create resonance, it would pierce through the hollow bricks and seep into the rooms, it would make the pillars sway as if they were intoxicated and for all the Aurangzebs it would provide an excuse to get out of their rooms and curse me. This is when I thought that I was good, but not so sure about the present.

That guy was in a way responsible for the name of this blog. He accidentally gave birth to 'bhaand'. But why him here, read on.

Recently, almost every netizen has been following the progress of a phenomenal show, conceptualized and made in Pakistan called Coke Studio. To know what Coke Studio is, click here.

Names like Abida Parveen, Atif Aslam, Rahat Fateh Ali Khan, Ali Azhmat, Sahi Zahoor, Shafqat Amanat and many more are performing on it and creating a whole new pallet, coloured with amazing fusion elements. The fantastic combination of live folk instruments, passionate singers, amazing musicians and contemporary sound makes this show extremely popular. Once upon a time, I had overheard my uncle telling it to someone: 'the power that Sufi music has it, is possessed by none in the world - its a straight connection to the almighty'. My uncle often sings Qawaalis for his connection to that force.

Uncle, you were absolutely right! At the cost of sounding a little off-beat, but have you ever felt like closing your eyes and keeping a particular song on 'repeat' in your playlist? And even after hearing it for the umpteenth time, you would still not feel like opening your eyes. OR If you felt that your feet have suddenly got rhythm and you circle around the speakers as if it was a holy shrine.

'ho wanga chada lo kuriyon,
mere daata de darbaar diyaan'

Translation: 'Put on your bangles, girls
Those that you brought from Master's shrine'

These words when sung, takes me to that kind of trance. I need not go to any temple or bow before any god or idol, such is the purity of the language, such is the purity of the sound emerging from Arif Lohar's throat, such is the purity inside me when I hear this and I sincerely hope that 'Daata' gives me that purity If I ever try to sing this!

Hear the sound below and feel elated. esp after 5min: 30s. But I suggest you hear the whole song to feel how it would be to be inside the singer's heart while he must be singing this. Also on youtube you have the translated subtitles! And not to mention, do observe the musicians while they play the instruments, its as if they are having a ball while playing this, its that emotion that music needs to bring inside you.



Now being inside some of Bollywood's music studios and seeing a few songs being recorded you come out feeling cheated. 'Are these the same songs we humm, the radio channels continuously play and they instantly become chartbusters? Why do they record everything separate, wont it be amazing to have all of them sitting together and doing the harmony?.
'Kya hai, thoda mehnat hi padega na, lekin socho kitana Anand milega dil ko.

Imagine the harmonium keys giving way to an acoustic guitar and the singer observing that transition and looking at the music director who in turn instructs the Arranger and the later asks the Flautist to join in and you standing behind that glass wall and not able to contain your excitement?

You dont believe me? Watch this Rahat Fateh Ali Khan performance at Coke Studio and most of you will gift your right hand to have a voice like that. esp hear from 3 mins to 6 mins and I assure you, you will be a changed person at the end of it.



And for Atif Aslam fans, here is his tribute to Nusrat saab's Aur Pyar Ho Gaya number 'Ek Din kahin' and truly a deserving tribute at the end of this amazing Atif aslam number 'Jal Pari'. For the tribute hear from 4 mins 30s
but again I suggest, you hear the whole performance.




I can now understand how that guy felt so lonely amidst those crumpled walls and a deserted town without music, without the fountain of life. After hearing the Coke Studio sessions, one thing that I felt honestly is: forget getting up early morning to exercise, tomorrow onwards I will get up early and sing. Sing to my heart's content. Sing as if I am back in my hostel, sing as if that guy is hearing me. I know wherever he is, he is all ears for me. We went to the Rahman concert together in West Delhi. Ah, the joys of knowing that wonderful permutations and combinations of those seven letters: Sa Re Ga Ma Pa Dha Ni Sa.

Amit Trivedi, are you gonna go to Coke studio? You would be our best export combined with a folk artist from the hinterlands of Gujarat, Rajasthan or Bengal.

Thank you Rohail Hyatt for continuously putting up such wonderful performances and getting the best artists from all over. Your country needs more people like you. And so does our television producers instead of making a 4 year old sing: 'breathless' on national television and terming him or her as 'Chotte Ustaad' and making their parents go hysteric over it.

And to the neighbours, one simple message - 'Lets make music guys'. Easier said than done though, ah those Rediff commentators-wala India!


By the way did I tell you I fell in love with that girl who features near 5:21 in the 'Jal Pari' video.

© Copyrights 2009 www.bhaandgroup.blogspot.com. All Rights Reserved. Hardik Mehta

The curious case of Samresh Painter and one strange night before the final exams

A short story

There's something about the half-neurotics that amuses me but at the same time also gives birth to a strange aversion towards them. Now, what exactly is a half-neurotic? I dont have a dictionary definition for that, but its just that when you come into their contact, when one comes face to face with them, one tends to just know. It can also be a case of- since what is normal for a certain individual is not the same for other. Granted. But then opinions and choice is what makes us an individual different from other and thus the 'half-neurotics' according to me. Is it getting too "wannabe intellectual"? Cut the crap, lets jump to the story.

Now, I tend to have very mixed reactions to some kind of half-neurotics, sometimes its pure curiosity of what is going through that cracked nut's mind? and at times there is a feeling of jealousy that why cant I get into that kind of a realm where they don't give a fiddler's fart to the surroundings and carry on with their 'good life'. Yesterday night as I sat under a starlit sky at what one could label as the cleanest part of Juhu beach, my mind went back to one such half-neurotic I had met. Samresh. Reserved, almost to himself most of the times but was always a part of a group. You wont find him talking to all, but neither would you find him sulking alone and taking up his own corner in the hostel bed. The class knew that he had failed last year and was a year senior to us. But the circumstances under which he had failed were quite mysterious. There were rumors. Some say, he was suffering from malaria, some say, he didnt study at all and some say, he couldn't grasp the subjects. One fine day, he suddenly joined all of us in the class and a popular gossip went around saying: he was home practicing astrology and now when the semester began, he is back to the campus to repeat the year. Maybe he will leave engineering and join astrology. Samresh lived in a town that was some 70 odd kms from the campus in a different district altogether. Remember this piece of information.

Borrowing someone's bathing soap, detergent, hair oil, hair shampoo or other toiletries was one such passion for him. Not that he couldn't afford, maybe he couldn't. But in a boys hostel, going from room-to-room and checking out everyone's hair oil daily, is something that he purely indulged in. But what made me put him into one such 'cracked nut category' was that, unlike others who would go to borrow stuff from fellow hostel mate's room, he would just barge in with a towel wrapped around and go straight to the wooden cabinet and casually pick up the brand of hair oil or soap and then go to the next room and pick up the bucket after choosing from the two or three available options and then maybe to the next room to pick up his choice of tumbler and then rush towards the bathroom. Others who if wanted to borrow something from someone's room would casually come and strike up a conversation or two for some minutes and then gradually come to the topic of borrowing or if were in hurry would come straight to you and ask for the 'washing powder or detergent'. But for Samresh all rooms were alike. He didnt have to bother, if someone is snobbish, or selfish or doesn't-share types or a spoilt rich kid, he just had to casually come and before you know, he would be on his way with one of your toiletries. At times, I thought, he even didnt remember to which room did he go to, to take a particular hair shampoo, coz while returning from his bath, he would forget and thus someone's shampoo landed in someone else's cabinet. Now boys hostel is like that small town in Maharashtra where they do not have locks on their doors. Thus, Samresh would have a wild hunting ground if someone weren’t in his room. The best part, as the legend goes, he would never even look towards money or curiously look for other things lying around that could have got anyone's attention, his target was toiletries, almost always. At times, after bathing, he would go to the other side of the hostel or on a different floor for testing the deodorants or after-shave or if the room occupant is rich then hair gel. He sub-consciously knew almost everyone's brand preference, but interestingly would forget where did he pick Parachute from or where did the Gillette cream come from. Does this make him half-neurotic? There's more to come.

If one would find him walking on the campus road and ask him: "Samresh, where are you going?
He would reply pretty nonchalantly: "just ahead"

Like hello!! That we know that from wherever you are standing you would be going ahead. Even humanity is going ahead. But what response was that "just ahead". I thought maybe he himself at times didn’t know where he was walking to and thus the casual answer: "just ahead"
So many times had he told this to his fellow classmates that at times when I would confront him on the campus road, I would tease him: "Samresh, you must be going ahead, right? And he would start walking expressionless.

One personality trait of his that I appreciated was he had an amazing curiosity for new English words and during those times, a few of us in the class had started preparing for the GRE exams for a 'better' future ahead in the USA. Thus, any and every kind of new English word were welcome. Suddenly he would turn up and ask the synonyms, antonyms or meaning of words like: "loquacious", "taciturn", "hypochondriac". But the irony was, if he started speaking English, it would come out as a marriage of not-knowing pronunciations and not-knowing how to construct sentences. A professor could loose his/her patience if Samresh would stand up to give an answer. After a while, he would be asked to reply in 'hindi'. Not that he was such a pitiable character, but he would make things difficult for him, as if he had failed one year to test himself. Does this also make him half-neurotic? There's more to come.

One day, just a couple of hours before the internal 30-marks exam was about to start in the afternoon, some students spotted Samresh packing up his bag and heading out of the hostel. A curious classmate confronted him near the lobby, as Samresh continued walking from the lobby to the lawn and to the main gate.

Classmate: "Samresh!!, where are you going? Its 12 30, we have an exam at 2".
Samresh looked as if he was in a hurry.
Samresh: "ya I know, I will be back by then".
The classmate was not satisfied from the answer.
Classmate: "No, but why are you leaving now? Have you prepared for the exam? Have you studied the Boltzmann's constant?
Samresh: "No, I have not read that, but please allow me to go, I will be back by 2.
Curious classmate: "But where are you going with a bag and all?"
Samresh stunned the classmate with his answer.
Samresh: “I am going home, but will be back”.
Another classmate had by then joined in cajoling Samresh. Both of them were now trying to ask him that why does he need to go home, right now, just before the exam.
Second classmate: "Samresh, why home now? Do you need something? Is everyone okay back home?
Samresh: "I said, I will be back. I just need a 100-rupee note from my home and I will be back for the exam."

Both the classmates stopped on the gate and looked at each other. This guy who could borrow anything from anywhere as if the hostel was his ancestral property is now going home for a hundred bucks and that too before exam! They thought its better to return to Shri Boltzmann and his equation then bothering about this cracked nut. As the class was writing the exam, Samresh did return, albeit a good 20 mins late. Does this also make him half-neurotic? Well, it does in a small way. But there's more to come. That strange night of the final examination.

To be continued…


© Copyrights 2009 www.bhaandgroup.blogspot.com. All Rights Reserved. Hardik Mehta