Bangalore A.R. Ramani Ammal - A Legend In Her Own Right

A slip of my hand while driving and I ended up playing a CD I have not heard for a long time. Bangalore Ramani Ammal. I was said to have sung her songs when I was about 3 or 4, when I could hardly speak well. I suppose she must have had quite an impact on me then - at that age when vibes are at their strongest and are accepted wholeheartedly without interference of the ever analytical human mind.

Even till today, the woman's songs send an unexplainable sensation into my being (and no, I don't go into a trance as a result, just in case anyone is wondering :) ). She had this amazing voice - almost genderless I would say (not that I know what I mean exactly by that) and had the facial expression of a no-nonsense saree-clad headmistress.

(To slightly sidetrack, let me tell you that the "saree-clad" bit is necessary seeing where I come from - here in Malaysia, saree-clad teachers or headmistresses are always a sight to behold...most (being Chinese or Malays) would be in a dress or the "malay baju kurung/kebaya". In fact, teachers teaching in non-Thamizh schools hardly ever use saree to work these days. But when I was a kid, an indian teacher almost always wore a saree...complete with their bare midriff inviting the constant popping-out of eyes of the non-Indian students. Of course after a while, the Chinese and Malay students became used to the bare flesh and made less fuss...)

The one in the video was the older Ramani Ammal, I presume...she seemed to have lost some weight compared to the plump, glowing Ramani Ammal I knew (not in person of course) when I was a little kid.

All said and done, what an amazing singer she was. Classic to the core, and almost irreplaceable I must say.

A Hint Would Suffice You Know...

If You're out there listening to me,
Pray tell me which part of my misery excites You?

So I ignore You sometimes - so what?
That gives You the excuse to ignore me too?
So who is the wiser of us two - I wonder?
I am stupid and I make mistakes.
And You - the wise one - let me?
I fall, You laugh and then You help me up.
And when I am not watching,
You push me again?

Some Father You are...

Whatever happened to unconditional love, I wonder?
I love you, don't I, despite my tantrums?
I greet you every morning from my car, don't I?
That ain't enough for You?
So what is it that You really want from me?
Me all prostrated in front of You?

Do You not know that deep inside me,
I never rose from the last time I fell at Your feet...
Do You not know,
That it is in Your hands alone I believe my life to be...

How then can You watch me suffer thus?
How then can You let me fall yet again and again..
and not do anything about it?
A hint would suffice You know...

...could You not spare me even that?

A Game Piece in HIS Hands...

I could use a dose of wisdom now :)

It's that time of my life again (happens quite consistently I must admit) when I take a good look at myself and say, "hey, I don't know you anymore." Looking back at the way I had been behaving lately, I realise that I am losing track of the path I started heading towards some years back.

Distractions? I wouldn't exactly call them that. For one, I am a person who believes that every single incident in life is for some good - eventually. So nahhh...they can't possibly be distractions. Lessons perhaps? I know for a fact that the man above does have a tendency to send them in all shapes and sizes into my life. They'd come splashing into my life drowning me in ecstasy which often blinds me in the process of the reality of their identities. And while HE snugly sits up there watching me with a mocking smile, I would sheepishly fall for the "let's trick her first and teach her later" plan of HIS. Like a perfect fool that I can sometimes be, I would believe HIM, then question HIM, and then believe HIM while not wanting to, and eventually present myself as yet another win in HIS bet of my life.

Sighhhhh. Does HE not have anything better to do, I wonder?

Of course there are times when I am smarter than HE is. :) Times when I quickly pick up the signs of one of HIS games coming up, and stop myself from being dragged into it as a game piece - times when I pull myself back from the temptations with a quick slap in the face . Yeah I do that, literally. Watch me when I drive and you'd be surprised at how many times I do that :) Of course, since it's my own cheek I slap, I do go gentle on them. Not painless-kinda-gentle. But gentle nevertheless :)

But I have not been slapping myself much these days. And that's HIS victory, I suppose.

But I'll have my day soon, my good man...did YOU think that I'd fall every time? Give me more credit than that, will YOU? Did YOU not think that I'd probably have at least one percent of YOUR quick-wittedness? Can a child not have a part of the one who made her?

I'll get YOU some day...YOU can bet my life on it :)

Who Is There?

Someone knocked at the door of the Beloved and a voice from within inquired: "Who is there?" He answered, "It is I." And the voice said, "This house will not hold me and thee." So the door remained closed.

Then the lover sped away into the wilderness and fasted and prayed. After a year he returned and knocked again at the door and the voice again demanded: "Who is there?" And the lover said, "It is thou."

The door was opened.

Jalal ad-Din Rumi

The Little Girl God...

There's God in all of us, I used to think.
Not for a moment realising,
How cynical a statement that was.

That was till I saw,
God hopping before me in shining innocence one hot afternoon.
With an upturned silver plate shielding her head.
And infectious joy dancing in her eyes.

Yes, a girl god she was.
Common in your country, you say?
Should I add then,
That she looked pretty poor too.
And of course,
perfectly grubby as well, without a single doubt.
And if she weren't a god despite all those add-ons,
Then I dare say,
No god except that which appears bare in your country,
can rightly be god from now on.

Ah bliss she seemed to carry in her heart - this little girl god,
And the cheeky innocence with which she looked at people,
As she went about hopping -
Onto the steps,
Into the hearts,
Of those who cared enough to smile at her.
(not that many did)

But did the little girl god care?
No sir.
In the wisdom that's known to belong to gods alone (size notwithstanding),
She pranced away in a mocking smile,
At the people gathered there,
climbing the steps in religious fervour,
People who believed in their belief of god,
And that there was god in them.

Keep climbing, losers - her smile said
Keep climbing to that peak of falsehood,
you believe to be faith.
But mark my words, you aimless climbers.
Till the day you stop to look -
at the little gods who pass your lives,
Till then -
Neither will you be in me.
Nor me in you.

The Madman Speaks...

I bequeathe myself to the dirt, to grow from the grass I love;
If you want me again, look for me under your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am, or what I mean;
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first, keep encouraged;
Missing me one place, search another;
I stop somewhere, waiting for you.

Walt Whitman

I Am An In-betweener - Hear Me Speak...

Living in-between,
Is never for the realist.
With all its straggling from one end to the other,
It's a game only the idealist can play.

Come hear a confirmed in-between-er speak
Come hear me reveal what it’s like,
To live a life in-between it all,
To exist neither here nor there.

Try I did to stick to one end,
Neither gave me peace,
Neither justified my existence.
Not the way floating in-between did.

That gave me the balance I was not even seeking,
And helped me stay true to my self –
A self that could not choose one over another,
Or lose one to another.

A confirmed in-between-er I am,
A soul floating neither here nor there,
A soul seeking aimlessly,
that which lies in-between -
The Real and the Unreal.
The Truth and the Untruth.

To Think or Not To Think...

I am said to think too much. Perhaps it's true - to a certain extent.

I can't remember when I started this obsession with thoughts - probably when I was much younger - when thinking was seen as a healthy exercise, and was "falsely" seen as proper. Yeap, I have come to realise now, as I step into the 39th year of my existence, that my fondness for thinking, and the hundreds of thousands of thoughts the activity had generated over the years...are no longer allies, but are my follies.

Poor Rodin. Wonder if he knew this when he created THE THINKER. A nude man in deep thoughts battling with a powerful inner struggle must have been fashionable then, perhaps even philosophical. Powerful inner struggle = paranoia? I wonder. Well, go figure life!

Having thought things over, I hereby take a solemn oath to stop all thoughts and to stop thinking altogether. From now on I shall act rashly with absolutely no regard for consideration, and shall live as impulsively as life will ever take me. Afterthoughts too are banned entirely. Having said all that, I shall remain in all calmness as empty headed as I can ever be :)

Tis You Alone I Trust...

The last time I went blank in the head,
Twas not the lord I seeked,
Instead, I called upon the one - who like me,
Had no filter between his brain and his mouth.
Hail O Calvin I cried.
And in a flash he came,
Soaring with his wings of imagination.
And placed upon my head his tiny little hand,
And passed upon me,
all the wisdom his tiny six year old brain ever had within.

Ah - the ecstasy of thinking with a six-year-old mind.

How wilfully I bequiled my writing faculty thereafter,
With the many tricks my manaseega guru zapped into my brain.
Thoughts I had many,
None of which I had really thought over.
They rolled forth as they were,
Untouched by the hypocrisy of conformity.

Ah - the ecstasy of writing with a six-year-old mind.

Where has thou disappeared to, O Great One?
Were you frightened away by the recent hullabaloo in my life,
That forcefully dragged me into the other side of life,
(much unlike the one you and i know to be real)'
One in which I had to act the adult that I am supposed to be,
Adulterating the very principles you and I hold close to our hearts.

Come do your zapping bit once more, won't you Calvin?
I cannot go on this way -
All blank in the head.
My blog as barren of posts
...as my mind is of ideas.

Come soaring O Great One,
Tis you alone I trust.

Blinded by Truth...

The blind one woke up one day to find,
that her eyes could finally see,
all that she wanted to ever see.

The blind one was elated.
That all the dreams she had dreamt for decades,
would no longer remain mere dreams...

The blind one swam in her ecstasy.
The blind one relished it all.
The blind one felt utterly blessed.

Days passed, and one day, the blind one got restless,
She couldn't understand it at all.
She sobbed - as she closed her eyes that one night...

The blind one woke up the next day,
to find that the world had come to a standstill.
And darkness was everywhere in sight.

Thinking that the world around her had gone blind,
The blind one got up, and went on with her life.
Believing that the world had indeed lost it...

And that she alone had not.

Happy Birthday, My Good Sir...

O Bearded One...

Your name I have heard from my early days.
But all I knew then was that,
You were this majestic looking man.
Your name was Rabindranath Tagore,
And yes - that you wrote poetry.
A line here, a stanza there -
I read as I dabbled in poetry, as I analysed them.
But understand you I could not,
Not for the life of me, I could.

But now - as I read your poems
Your message reaches me as voluntarily as breeze.
Leaving me soothed, refreshed, and pleasantly surprised.
I asked myself many times,
How could something so complex suddenly appear simple.
Just now, just as I started writing to you,
The answer came upon me.
Like the very breeze -
You have been sending to touch my face, of late.

I can almost hear you answer me -
In the breezy way you do in your poems.
Of why you had stood at a distance -
as I was reaching out to touch you.
True, my good sir,
How could I have known and understood you then,
When all I did was to analyse you.
Can divinity ever be analysed?
Can wisdom ever be studied?

How inappropriately ignorant I had been.

But you see, my dear sir,
It was not until recently that I started living poetry,
And that is why,
It was not until recently that I really understood you.
I know now sir,
That you only speak your breezy language,
To those who reach out to you from the heart,
To those who wish to feel you without any pretence.

And to those you will send -
Your breezy wisdom,
That you so beautifully crafted into lyrical masterpieces.

Happy Birthday, my good sir,
My loving wishes to you.

On Giving Unconditionally...

I was leaving after withdrawing money at an ATM near where I live. A middle-aged indian man caught my eyes and asked if I could help him use the machine. I obliged, and asked him how much was he planning to withdraw. RM 10, he answered taking me by surprise. Not that I thought nothing of RM 10 which can easily buy one a decent meal, small though its value may be in the present day. But people hardly withdrew RM 10 from ATMs these days. ATMs too are not RM10-friendly here - request for a single RM 10 note and you will find a message on the screen that they only dispense RM 50 notes.

And so, after telling him that, I was going to suggest that he withdrew RM 50 instead when I turned to the screen and found a message that said his balance wasn't sufficient. I told him the machine could not dispense the RM 10, and he responded with a blank look on his face. There was no sign of disappointment in the man. He just took the card, thanked me and walked away.

I tell you, I was so tempted to offer him a RM 10 note - but stopped myself because I did not want to hurt his ego. What if he got offended? Even as I got into my car and saw him at the carpark getting on his bike, I wanted so much to give him the RM 10. Again, my fear of offending him stopped me and I drove away. My heart reached out to him despite the fact that I had smelt alcohol in his breath as he talked to me. Yeah, he could have desperately needed the RM 10 for a quick booze. He probably had drunk all his cash away, thus the insufficient balance. He could be dying because of the amount of alcohol he had been consuming all these while.

He could be this and that. But he needed that RM 10 and I could have given it him.

People tell me all the time - don't encourage addicts by giving them money when they ask you. But really - is an alcoholic or an addict any less a person than he was before he became one? Who am I to decide what's right for him? What is right and wrong really? Yeah drinking is bad, and I would not encourage anyone to, being a teetotaler myself. But my rationale is - when one approaches me for help, I would help regardless of the background of his request. My duty - in fact one of the reasons for my existence, is to help - and when approached I believe in doing that unconditionally.

I wish the man at the bank had looked a little longer at me to reassure me that he needed the money. I wish I had asked him at least with my eyes if he needed further help. Had I tried, I am sure he would have responded with an answer though his eyes, glassy though they appeared...

Every man is involuntarily urged to act by the qualities which spring from nature. He who remains inert, restraining the senses and organs, yet pondering with his heart upon objects of sense, is called a false pietist of bewildered soul. But he who having subdued all his passions performeth with his active faculties all the duties of life, unconcerned as to their result, is to be esteemed. Do thou perform the proper actions: action is superior to inaction.

He who, sinfully delighting in the gratification of his passions, doth not cause this wheel thus already set in motion to continue revolving, liveth in vain.

He hath no interest either in that which is done or that which is not done; and there is not, in all things which have been created, any object on which he may place dependence. Therefore perform thou that which thou hast to do, at all times unmindful of the event; for the man who doeth that which he hath to do, without attachment to the result, obtaineth the Supreme.

Even if the good of mankind only is considered by thee, the performance of thy duty will be plain; for whatever is practiced by the most excellent men, that is also practiced by others. The world follows whatever example they set.

But the wise man also seeketh for that which is homogeneous with his own nature. All creatures act according to their natures; what, then, will restraint effect? In every purpose of the senses are fixed affection and dislike. A wise man should not fall in the power of these two passions, for they are the enemies of man. It is better to do one's own duty, even though it be devoid of excellence, than to perform another's duty well. It is better to perish in the performance of one's own duty; the duty of another is full of danger.

Throwing every deed on me, and with thy meditation fixed upon the Higher Self, resolve to fight, without expectation, devoid of egotism and free from anguish.

(Excerpts from Bhagavad Gita)

A Song That Walked Through My Being...

I look straight at you - unable to move,
My body frozen - mind alert.

You enter through my eyes - in a flash of light.
And - with that same flash of light burning bright within you,
You find your way within me.

Walking through the dense jungle within,
You - totally unfazed,
Slash your way through,
Bent on clearing that which stands in your way.

And I - frozen as I already am,
Watch you walk within me, toward me,
Your hands and feet hard at work,
But your eyes - steadily looking into mine,
Hypnotising me into a meditative trance,
Drumming into my mind, heart and soul,
Your powerful sparks of wisdom -
Infusing within my nerves -
Your radical Puthiya Aathisudi.

achcham thavir.mp3

Download it at mp3space.com

That's Life For You...

My Songs Taught Me Lessons and Showed Me Secret Paths...

Ever in my life have I sought thee
with my songs. It was they who led
me from door to door, and with them
have I felt about me, searching and
touching my world.

It was my songs that taught me all
the lessons I ever learnt; they showed
me secret paths, they brought before
my sight many a star on the horizon of
my heart.

They guided me all the day long to
the mysteries of the country of
pleasure and pain, and, at last, to
what palace gate have they brought
me in the evening at the end of my
journey ?


Gitanjali-101
Rabindranath Tagore

In the Honeyed Calmness of Your Mellifluous Voice, I Lose Myself...

I know not what your song is about,
I know not what the mood of the song is.
With a voice as divine as yours,
Need one know anything at all,
Except to just lose oneself,
In the honeyed calmness of your mellifluous voice...