Showing posts with label Poetry of Love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry of Love. Show all posts

Friday, 31 October 2014

A Poet and A Painter: एक कवि और एक चित्रकार


"Poetry raises the emotions and gives each its separate delight. Art stills the emotions and teaches them the delight of a restrained and limited satisfaction..."
~ Sri Aurobindo





आज से ९ वर्ष पूर्व ३१ अक्टूबर २००५ को भारत की एक प्रसिद्ध कवियत्री और लेखिका इस दुनिया को छोड़ दूसरी दुनिया में जा बसी। अमृता प्रीतम की दर्द भरी कविताओं और संवेदनशील कहानिंयों एवं उपन्यासों ने भारतीय साहित्य के अनगिनत प्रेमियों के दिलो-दिमाग़ में अपना एक विशेष स्थान बनाया है। उनकी भाव-भरी रचनाएँ और उनके शब्द उनकी स्मृति को सदा ताज़ा ही रखेंगे, और साथ ही उनकी और इमरोज़ की अनूठी प्रेम-कथा साहित्य-प्रेमियों को एवं उनको भी जो प्रेम से प्रेम करते हैं आने वाले एक लम्बे समय तक अपने रंग में डुबोए रखेगी।

अमृता और इमरोज़ के एक दूसरे के प्रति प्रेम और समर्पण-भाव की कुछ झलक हमें उनके पत्रों द्वारा मिलती है, जिन पर आधारित एक पुस्तक भी अब पाठकों तक पहुँच चुकी है। अंग्रेजी भाषा में प्रकाशित पत्रों का यह संग्रह, जिसका शीर्षक है - "Amrita and Imroz: In the Times of Love & Longing"  दिल को छू लेता है। एक पत्र में इमरोज़ लिखते हैं - प्रेम ही दुनिया में एक मात्र स्वंत्रता है। तो दूसरे पत्र में हम अमृता को यह लिखते हुए पाते हैं - तुम ही तो हो मेरे १५ अगस्त।

उमा त्रिलोक की पुस्तक "अमृता-इमरोज़: एक प्रेम कथा" भी इस कवि और चित्रकार के अनोखे प्रेम एवं ४० वर्षों के संबंध की एक करीबी छवि प्रस्तुत करती है। इस पुस्तक की एक समीक्षा आप इस लिंक पर पढ़ सकते हैं।

लेकिन इन दोनों से परे है वह एक कविता जो अमृता ने लिखी थी, बीमारी के दिनों में अपने प्रेम के लिये।  मैं तैनू फेर मिलांगी (मैं तुझे फिर मिलूँगी) - पंजाबी भाषा में लिखी इस कविता का हिंदी अनुवाद भी उतना ही खूबसूरत है।


मैं तुझे फ़िर मिलूंगी
कहाँ किस तरह पता नही

शायद तेरी तख्यिल की चिंगारी बन
तेरे केनवस पर उतरुंगी
या तेरे केनवस पर
एक रहस्यमयी लकीर बन
खामोश तुझे देखती रहूंगी
या फ़िर सूरज की लौ बन कर
तेरे रंगो में घुलती रहूंगी
या रंगो कि बाहों में बैठ कर
तेरे केनवस से लिपट जाउंगी
पता नहीं कहाँ किस तरह
पर तुझे जरुर मिलूंगी

या फ़िर एक चश्मा बनी
जैसे झरने से पानी उड़ता है
मैं पानी की बूंदें
तेरे बदन पर मलूंगी
और एक ठंडक सी बन कर
तेरे सीने से लगूंगी

मैं और कुछ नही जानती
पर इतना जानती हूँ
कि वक्त जो भी करेगा
यह जन्म मेरे साथ चलेगा

यह जिस्म खतम होता है
तो सब कुछ खत्म हो जाता है
पर चेतना के धागे
कायनात के कण होते हैं

मैं उन कणों को चुनुंगी
धागों को बुनूँगी
मैं तुझे फ़िर मिलूंगी !

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Nine years ago from today, on 31st October 2005, an eminent Indian poet and author left this world to make her abode elsewhere. With her emotion-rich and heartfelt writing Amrita Pritam has made a special place for herself in the hearts of countless lovers of Indian literature. While her heart-touching poetry and sensitive portrayals will keep her memory alive, the one-of-a-kind love story of Amrita and Imroz will also keep enthralled, for a long time to come, the lovers of literature as well as all those who are in love with love.

The special bond of love and surrender to each other that Amrita and Imroz shared can be seen through the numerous letters they wrote to each other over the years. A book based on these letters is now also available for interested readers. Published in English, this collection of letters titled "Amrita and Imroz: In the Times of Love and Longing" is a delight. In one letter, Imroz writes to her - "Love is the only freedom in the world," and in another we find Amrita writing - "You are my 15th August".

Uma Trilok's book "Amrita-Imroz: A Love Story" presents a rare account of the unique love between a poet and a painter, and a special bond they shared for about 40 years. The book is available both in English and Hindi. A Hindi review of this book may be read here.

But beyond either of these books is that poem penned by Amrita herself, while she was very sick in later years of her life. The poem titled, Main Tenu Phair Milangi (I will meet you yet again) expresses so tenderly and beautifully what love meant to this poet-painter couple. Here it is in English translation, done by Nirupama Dutt.

I will meet you yet again
How and where
I know not
Perhaps I will become a
figment of your imagination
and maybe spreading myself
in a mysterious line
on your canvas
I will keep gazing at you.

Perhaps I will become a ray
of sunshine to be
embraced by your colours
I will paint myself on your canvas
I know not how and where —
but I will meet you for sure.

Maybe I will turn into a spring
and rub foaming
drops of water on your body
and rest my coolness on
your burning chest
I know nothing
but that this life
will walk along with me.

When the body perishes
all perishes
but the threads of memory
are woven of enduring atoms
I will pick these particles
weave the threads
and I will meet you yet again.


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You have now read the poem in Hindi and/or English. But nothing beats listening to the poem in its original language. And nobody recites Punjabi poetry better than Gulzar.

अब आप हिंदी अथवा अंग्रेजी में इस कविता को पढ़ चुके हैं। पर कविता का वास्तविक आनन्द तो उसकी मूल भाषा में ही मिल सकता है, और वो भी अगर गुलज़ार जैसी शख्सियत की आवाज़ में उसे सुना जाए। 




Image source: here
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Linking this with ABC Wednesday, P: P is for Poet, Poetry, Painter

Sunday, 12 October 2014

Song for Sunday


A new post in the series - A Poem and A Song

It is actually quite amazing when you find the same thought being expressed through a picture, a poem, a song, or even a gesture. Perhaps it happens because the thought has sunk deep into you, at least for the time being, and you just view a certain picture, read a certain poem and hear a certain song as expressions of that singular thought. 
Or perhaps they really are conveying the same thought, but in different shades and hues. 
And it just so happens that when that very thought captured your attention, certain pictures, poems and songs also appeared before you allowing you to delve deeper into the thought and let it reveal its deeper essence to you. 
Regardless of how it happens, it is always a moment to relish and cherish the beauty. The beauty of the picture, the song, the poem. The beauty of the experience. The beauty of the moment.





If you have visited this blog often or even only occasionally, you know music gets its due share on this blog. In fact, a few of my recent postings (see here and here) have been about some of my all-time favourite songs.

So go ahead, ask me. Ask me if there is a particular song that I am enjoying today. Ok, don’t ask me. I will tell you anyway.

Yes, there is.

After a long time I listened to one of my favourite songs today. And of course I listened to it many times, over and over. Don’t know why I hadn't felt like listening to it for so many days, weeks. But today being my first Sunday back home after being away for three weeks, this somehow turned out to be a perfect song for the day. Lingering, melodious, captivating, almost compelling the listener to slow down and go with the flow, flow of music, flow of the words, flow of the heart. 

Listen and you might agree. 

Singer/Composer: Jagjit Singh, Lyricist: Gulzar


And then to make the experience of the song even richer and fuller, I was reminded of the following lines by Rumi:

When I am with you, we stay up all night,
When you're not here, I can't get to sleep.
Praise God for these two insomnias!
And the difference between them.

So if the question for the day would be - Is there a poem and song for the day for you? My answer would be - yes, there is.

How about you, do you have a song for the day?

Image: Painting by Bindu Popli

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To see the previous post in this series, click here.
To see all the posts in this series, click here.

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Wednesday, 4 June 2014

Of Cracked Pots, Longing, and Impermanence

http://blog.blogadda.com/2014/06/14/spicy-saturday-beautiful-read
This post is a Spicy Saturday Pick by Blogadda, June 14, 2014.

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The other day I passed by this roadside shop which sells terracotta pots, pitchers, vases, urlis, diyas, wind-chimes and all such beautiful earthen goodies. Seeing some new stock in the shop, I was tempted for a few minutes to buy another pitcher for my kitchen, for storing and cooling the drinking water. Realizing that I already have the necessary pitchers and containers, I walked away from the shop but the beautiful feel and essence of the earthen pottery remained with me for a while. 




There is something so mystifying, real and beautiful about the terracotta pottery, as if reminding us to stay grounded, to stay close to the natural earth and yet transform ourselves into something more concrete, to become individualized yet always ready to unify and merge with the original source, to face the fire and heat and become useful for a specific purpose yet always remain vulnerable to cracks and scratches.

So much the humble pot says, if we listen.

And what of the water that is stored in an earthen pot?

Like the pot, it too speaks. Of its fluidity and its impermanence, its readiness to quench the deepest thirst and its inability to stay in one place, its readiness to transform and its ever-present essence of being the source of life itself. And when the sounds of water in an earthen pot are heard and expressed through the pen of Amrita Pritam, the result is something that comes from another realm of knowing and being.

Give it a read, decide for yourself.

This is my first attempt at translating a Punjabi poem. I have in the past done a few Hindi-to-English translations, but only smaller pieces and passages. I have just now started translating a full Hindi book. Not easy at all, especially if the book is a dense one full of deeper feelings of devotion and love for the Supreme. I have only done 2 pages so far, God only knows how much time it will take! But what is life without a good challenge?

Back to Amrita Pritam and her lovely poem, speaking of cracked pots, longing, and impermanence.

Ve mai tidke ghare da pani
Kal tak nahi rehna

I am the water, as in a cracked pitcher
Will not last till tomorrow.

Ve mai tidke....

Es pani de kann tirhaye
Treh de hothan wangu
Oh mere thande ghut dia mitra!
Keh de jo kujh kehna

Even the drops of this water are thirsty
Like the lips of the thirst itself
O my friend, you who are like a sip of chilled water
Tell me all that you want to, speak now.

Ve mai tidke.....

Aaj da pani keekan lahve
Kall di treh da karja
Na pani ne kanni bajhna
Na palle wich rehna

How will the water of today
Quench the thirst of tomorrow?
Neither this water can be strung on the side
Nor can it be stored in a sari’s pallu

Ve mai tidke....

Vekh, ke teri treh vargi
Es pani di majboori
Na es teri treh sang turna
Na es aithay behna

Look here, like your thirst
This water too has its compulsion.
Neither will it go with your thirst
Nor will it stay back here.

Ve mai tidke....

Aaj de pinde pani lishke
Treh de moti warga
Par aaj de pinde nalo kall ne
Chippar wangu lehna

Today this water shines on the body
Like the pearls of thirst itself
But tomorrow in place of this shining body,
All will remain is a clump of dry clay, dry thatch.

Ve mai tidke ghare da pani
Kall tak nahi rehna

I am the water, as in a cracked pitcher
Will not last till tomorrow.

Ve mai tidke....


A poem has to be read aloud to be felt, to be taken in. And when someone like Gulzar reads it for us, the effect is....well, I can't think of words to say what kind of effect it is. Let the listener decide for himself/herself. I simply share it below....



This video is courtesy of youtube, the poem 'Ve, mai tidke ghade da paani' is recited during the first 2.20 minutes, the second half of the video features yet another poem of Amrita Pritam recited by Gulzar. Maybe I will translate that some other time, if inspired!


Sunday, 30 March 2014

The Blue Period





Sometimes that's all you need....a little blue rose and some great music to put you in that mood.

You know, that slight mood of blues that is not really sad and depressive type of blues but only with a little tinge of melancholy that doesn't feel bad, it actually feels like just the mood you want to be in. And who better to put you in that mood than the amazingly versatile Ustad Shujaat Khan with his sensational Sitar playing and singing of some Amir Khusrow classics.




Perhaps it is for music like this that T.S. Eliot wrote those lines...

"....music heard so deeply
That it is not heard at all, but you are the music
While the music lasts."

Such soulful music puts you in the moment, with the moment, and yet with an awareness that this moment is both temporal and eternal. Such music envelops you and puts you in touch with that deep feeling inside... something that feels like sadness yet isn't quite sad, that feels like pain but isn't quite painful either. It is not ha-ha happy kind of feeling but still carries within it something that makes you feel quietly content and full. You may name it whatever you like. But in its essence it is nothing but a tiny taste of bliss, I feel. Bliss that carries within it a strange blend of feelings that may feel like love and longing, togetherness and loneliness, union and separation, all thrown together, but is actually none of these. Bliss that is perhaps a result of all of these feelings and more, and yet transcends all of them. Bliss that is of that one moment, the moment that will last for ever. One small taste of bliss, that will last for all moments to come. 

Yes, that's the kind of blues I am talking about.

Click here for the previous post in this series.
Click here for all the posts in this series.

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Linking this to WriteTribe's Anything Goes on Sunday - 4

Wednesday, 26 March 2014

Mr. Keats and Ms. Brawne

Remember this post I did about a beautiful photograph? And how on some quick search it turned out that the photograph is a still from a film called Bright Star based on the love letters written by John Keats to his beloved Fanny Brawne in the last four years of his life? Well you may read about all of that discovery process here if you have forgotten. I, of course, remember the photograph and where and how it led me, very clearly in my mind.

Yes, I also remember that I also wrote at the end of that post that I may do a follow-up after watching the film. And this is that follow-up post, finally :)

I watched the film soon after that post, in fact watched it twice in the same week itself. Yes, it is that good. Beautiful actually, if you ask me. The beautiful love story between the brooding and aloof English poet of beauty and his lady love, the charming and full-of-life Fanny Brawne. The way their love begins, blossoms and matures, the pain of separation and the depth of longing, the tragic loss of one's beloved to disease and death, the frailty of emotions and the delicacy of the moment, all is captured beautifully by Jane Campion.

And oh, all that beauty of English countryside around them! Campion has masterfully created a visual poetry in this film, with some valuable help from the beauty of Keats' poetry as well. May be it is her feminine sensitivity or her love for Keats' poetry or Romantic poetry in general, whatever it is the result is an absolutely delightful treat. As a reviewer wrote, "if Campion intended to inspire an appreciation and rediscovery of Keats' poetry, she has not only succeeded but herself created an artistic monument to his life, love, poetry and soul". The way the change of seasons is depicted through the changing colours, light and all other moods of nature is absolutely gorgeous and brings such a sense of deep beauty all over you. You just have to watch those scenes in silence and let the beauty take you by hand into itself.

I am not exaggerating. If you have seen the film, you know that already. And if you haven't, you may see for yourself in some of the still shots I share below. (And I hope by now you have already seen the photograph with which this whole journey of discovering this beautiful film started for me. So you already have some idea of what to expect).

 




John Maguire in his review of the film captures beautifully the beauty of the film in these words:
[Fanny’s] emotional journey becomes the engine of the film, as the poet and his poems fill the wondrously detailed background. This delicate treatment extends to the intimate pacing, which is carefully graduated to allow the chaste lovers to come together naturally. We know their love affair will not last, but Campion presents their joy in each other in such a precise and vibrant manner, that knowledge doesn’t intrude on the story.
There are poetic graces too in the telling, with Campion’s static camera searching out stolen frames of everyday life in the household, piling on the detail to create an immersive world. These moments are counterpoised with grand dramatic sweeps that climax in heaving gulps, a sun-dappled kiss, a heavy loss, a long separation. Campion favours a striking image to a page of dialogue, so conversations are short and sparse. Saying that, there is a fascinating scene early in the story where Keats responds to Fanny’s sincere questions about the proper understanding of poetry that seems to capture the meaning of the film itself. “A poem needs understanding through the senses”, the poet tells her. “The point of diving in a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore; it’s to be in the lake. You do not work the lake out. It is an experience beyond thought”. It’s not being overly lyrical to suggest that the same is true of Bright Star. 
Yes, it is true. The film does feel like an experience beyond thought. At least to me in felt that way. As I am about to end this post, I am thinking that it might be time to repeat that experience...soon. And maybe another post will follow!

In the meantime, let me re-read Keats' poem, Bright Star.

Bright Star

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art-- 
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors--
No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever--or else swoon to death. 
~ John Keats

(All pictures courtesy of Google)


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Linking this poem with ABC Wednesday, K is for Keats.


Monday, 17 February 2014

Alone and Together


Without You
Photo by Lafugue Logos. Sourced from here



Fifty-two years. Together.
Today is fifty-third. 
Alone. 

Emptiness. Sadness. 
Memories. Thoughts. 
Emptiness.

Can't speak of this. Why speak. 
The children grieve. Don't speak. 
Silence. Mourning. 
Alone and Together. In Silence. 

She lives. In children.
In me. With me. 
In Sounds of Silence. 
Thoughts. Memories.

Fifty-three years. Together.
Alone. Together. 



Poem by Gulzar. Read by Nana Patekar


Linking this post to DPChallenge: The Sound of Silence

Sunday, 26 January 2014

Love, the Beautiful

 A new post in the series: 
A Poem and A Song - XII:  A Series to Celebrate Art in All Forms 
It is actually quite amazing when you find the same thought being expressed through a picture, a poem, a song, or even a gesture.
Perhaps it happens because the thought has sunk deep into you, at least for the time being, and you just view a certain picture, read a certain poem and hear a certain song as expressions of that singular thought.
Or perhaps they really are conveying the same thought, but in different shades and hues. 
And it just so happens that when that very thought captured your attention, certain pictures, poems and songs also appeared before you allowing you to delve deeper into the thought and let it reveal its deeper essence to you.
Regardless of how it happens, it is always a moment to relish and cherish the beauty. The beauty of the picture, the song, the poem. The beauty of the experience. The beauty of the moment.
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Earthly Love and Love for the Mother Earth. 

Love for the Nature, Love for the Beloved, the Marriage between the Two  - these are expressed here beautifully and with sensitivity, through the mode of new arts, and the old.  

A work by an Austrian digital artist, verses by a Chilean poet and a melodious composition by an Indian musician....all combine here to speak of a simple and profound truth - Love makes all things beautiful. Beautiful is the beloved, Beautiful is the Earth, when seen in Love and with Love. 


Digital Artwork by Christian Schloe, via


In You The Earth

Little
rose,
roselet,
at times,
tiny and naked,
it seems
as though you would fit
in one of my hands,
as though I’ll clasp you like this
and carry you to my mouth,
but
suddenly
my feet touch your feet and my mouth your lips:
you have grown,
your shoulders rise like two hills,
your breasts wander over my breast,
my arm scarcely manages to encircle the thin
new-moon line of your waist:
in love you loosened yourself like sea water:
I can scarcely measure the sky’s most spacious eyes
and I lean down to your mouth to kiss the earth. 



Composer: R.D. Burman


Can love stay beautiful, always? How? Perhaps love alone can answer. 

Previous posts in this series:

What Might Have Been?        Fly Away              Which is Sweeter?       Life, a Song of Love and Memories
Diwali with a Modern Indian Poet and a Legendary Indian Musician            Of Temples, Poetry and Life
Remembering the Mother               On the Road               Who is that Presence?             Only You
Reckless Lovers

Tuesday, 17 September 2013

Led by a Photograph


Yes, this is the photograph. The photograph that led me to an interesting and beautiful discovery.

I first came across this photograph a few years ago on some website but didn't really bother to read anything on that page and was simply mesmerized by the picture itself. Or perhaps at some level I was also somewhat aware of what this picture seemed to be doing to me -- inviting almost to just experience it on some level. There was something so genuine, so tender, so sweetly real about this picture, at least to me...so I just downloaded it and saved it on my computer in my already-brimming folder of inspiring photographs I find on the web. 

Every few days I would simply open this file and take in the beauty of this picture for a few minutes...not at all trying with my mind to decipher what was going on in this image. I would just simply look at it...merely to enjoy it, if you will. During a few fleeting moments however, the photograph did reveal some meaning or message, and in fact on a couple of occasions I even used that "meaning-laden" version of this picture as part of my presentations or classes for my teaching work. But for the most part, I simply enjoyed the beauty and gentleness of whatever feeling or emotion this picture was trying to represent or perhaps even create for me at that moment in time.

I didn't have any curiosity to know anything about this picture, where it came from, what was it about, who was the photographer, nothing...just that this picture existed was enough. 

Until today....

Today I finally used the trusty Google Image search engine and was delighted to find that this picture is actually a shot from a 2009 film based on the letters written by the great English poet, John Keats to his beloved, Fanny Brawne during the last three years of his very short 25-year-long life. Don't really know why I got curious today, but I did. And of course, I am now quite curious to watch this film, titled after one of Keats' poems, Bright Star! But what I find so gratifying right now is that the picture I have enjoyed for last several years without knowing anything about it actually does have such wonderful context around it. Joy of spontaneous discovery, I suppose!

I wonder however, if after watching the film, and particularly the sequence where this particular shot appears, the photograph will still continue to retain that unspoken mysterious appeal for me as it did until today. Maybe I will come to the conclusion that perhaps sometimes we don't really need to know! But who knows, maybe I will find the photograph even more beautiful after I watch the film. Maybe John Keats did say it right when he said - "A thing of beauty is a joy for ever". But speaking very humbly, I am now also quite curious to see if he was indeed right about this :) 

I can see that a sequel to this post might be on the cards soon!

A Thing of Beauty (Endymion)


A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: 
Its loveliness increases; it will never 
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep 
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep 
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. 
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing 
A flowery band to bind us to the earth, 
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth 
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days, 
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways 
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all, 
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall 
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, 
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon 
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils 
With the green world they live in; and clear rills 
That for themselves a cooling covert make 
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake, 
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms: 
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms 
We have imagined for the mighty dead; 
An endless fountain of immortal drink, 
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink. 

~ John Keats


Postscript: The sequel to this post did come about after watching the film. You may read it here.


Monday, 5 August 2013

Reckless Lovers

A Poem and A Song - I: A Series to Celebrate Art in All Forms 

It is actually quite amazing when you find the same thought being expressed through a picture, a poem, a song, or even a gesture.
Perhaps it happens because the thought has sunk deep into you, at least for the time being, and you just view a certain picture, read a certain poem and hear a certain song as expressions of that singular thought.
Or perhaps they really are conveying the same thought, but in different shades and hues. 
And it just so happens that when that very thought captured your attention, certain pictures, poems and songs also appeared before you allowing you to delve deeper into the thought and let it reveal its deeper essence to you.
Regardless of how it happens, it is always a moment to relish and cherish the beauty. The beauty of the picture, the song, the poem. The beauty of the experience. The beauty of the moment.



Dream by M.A.R. Chughtai

How does one write anything about a piece of art like this? It captures the essence of love between a lover and beloved, between two souls merging to become one, become earth and sky, become Radha and Krishna. No words are necessary. Only a feeling. Or if you must have some words, let them be of Rumi. Or of Amir Khusrow.

Love is reckless

Love is reckless; not reason.
Reason seeks a profit.
Love comes on strong,
consuming herself, unabashed.

Yet, in the midst of suffering,
Love proceeds like a millstone,
hard surfaced and straightforward.

Having died of self-interest,
she risks everything and asks for nothing.
Love gambles away every gift God bestows.

Without cause God gave us Being;
without cause, give it back again. 



Singer: Ustad Shujaat Khan, Lyrics: Amir Khusrow, 1253-1325


Friday, 19 July 2013

"Song is Divine, but More Divine is Love"


Artwork by Manu Martin

“Song is divine, but more divine is love.”


Reading this brilliant line in Sri Aurobindo’s play, Vasavadutta, reminded me of two most beautiful songs. How? Why? Don’t know...but what difference does it make?  

One was: 



What beauty! The composition, the singing, the filming of the sequence, and of course, Madhubala. It is the delicacy and gentleness that somehow touches me the most, even though the passion portrayed here is unmistakable. I find here an appealing attempt to harmonize what may seem contradictory – passion and poise. And perhaps this too is the reason why something feels beautiful – when it finds a way to quietly integrate within seemingly diverse elements in a manner which creates a sense of wholeness that is soft yet compelling, gentle yet persuasive. 

The other song that came to my mind was:


The portrayal of love as the flame of the oil lamp in a temple (mandir mein lau diye ki) is so uniquely Indian in its essence. The ideal of complete surrender of the lover and the beloved to each other and the purity and selflessness that can raise human love to its divine potential give this song its essential  beauty and timelessness. Kind of like the timeless beauty of that single line from Sri Aurobindo that inspired this post in the first place.

Click here for the previous post in this series.

Friday, 12 July 2013

Yeh Raat...This Night and the Thought of Kalidasa



Love Blooms, Water Colour on Paper, Artist: Bindu Popli, original in my home.


Three songs. One theme – Love.

First up....


This song recently came up in a conversation with my father, who among many other valuable loves in my life, gave me the love for old Hindi film songs, Hemant Kumar and Dev Anand. As I heard this song a few times that evening a few more songs with the same soft and romantic feel and starting with the same phrase “Yeh Raat” came to mind. 

Like this one...



And this one with “raat” in plural...



Who wouldn’t love the way the lover-heart’s seeking for the beloved is so indulgently and beautifully intertwined in these songs with the soft, sensuous and aesthetic portrayal of the nature – the pleasing night, the cool moonlight, the gentle breeze, the shimmering trees, the shining stars, the dancing river...all this tenderly but surely intensifies and enriches the emotion of love and at the same time lifts it up from the level of ordinariness by adding the element of Mother Nature’s loveliness.

Three words come to mind – Beauty, Charm, Elegance.  One theme – Magic!

Co-incidentally (but then perhaps not), the conversation about the Hemant Kumar song “Yeh raat yeh chandni” with my father happened in the evening of the same day that I spent reading about the poetry of Kalidasa and how his work reflected the time and age in which he lived and wrote. Kalidasa was “the supreme poet of the senses, of aesthetic beauty, of sensuous emotion.” He, according to Sri Aurobindo, was a true son of his age – an age that many historians have referred to as the classical age of Indian civilization – in his “dwelling on the artistic, hedonistic, sensuous sides of experience” (Collected Works of Sri Aurobindo, Volume 1, pp. 162-163).

The sensuous and aesthetic appeal of these songs, including the way they are filmed, brings to mind this thought that perhaps something of that age continued (and perhaps to this day continues) to linger on in some corners of the Indian mind which time and again expresses itself in such songs. If Kalidasa was predominantly a “poet of love and beauty and the joy of life”, surely something of the great works he left behind has continued to influence – covertly or overtly – some of the romantics of the classical age of Hindi cinema! This may be a rather big leap of imagination, nonetheless….

But what made Kalidasa a truly remarkable poet-dramatist and uniquely Indian was that he also made “his intellectual passion for higher things, his intense appreciation of knowledge, culture, the religious idea, the ethical ideal, the greatness of ascetic self-mastery” a part of the beauty and interest of life and saw them as admirable elements of the complete and splendid picture of the spirit and form of his age (Sri Aurobindo, CWSA, Volume 20, p. 361). If these songs could somehow remind me of the genius of Kalidasa, perhaps it will be an interesting and revealing exercise to do a close reading of some of the classic films of yesteryears and explore if they too were in some ways able to reflect a Kalidasian-style complete picture of the beauty of life where a refined sensuality co-existed harmoniously with a dignified self-restraint, the flaming passion purified itself in the light of calm reason, and the seeking for delight was accompanied by a quest for a higher and nobler truth. 

An exercise worth the effort, in my opinion, at least! 

Click here for the previous post in this series.