Wednesday, April 08, 2009
John Wooden: Coaching for people, not points
With profound simplicity, Coach John Wooden redefines success and urges us all to pursue the best in ourselves. In this inspiring talk he shares the advice he gave his players at UCLA, quotes poetry and remembers his father's wisdom.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Friday, January 02, 2009
Intoxicating - Music is !
Phir Bhor Bhayee Jaga Madhuban.
I have been listening to this beautiful composition by Zakir Hussain from the movie Saaz.
Devaki pandith's soulful voice and flawless rendition, what ease and precision !
It is this weird feeling of overjoy which turns into envy on how can one make such beautiful music and sing so beautifully.
Listen to it here
I have been listening to this beautiful composition by Zakir Hussain from the movie Saaz.
Devaki pandith's soulful voice and flawless rendition, what ease and precision !
It is this weird feeling of overjoy which turns into envy on how can one make such beautiful music and sing so beautifully.
Listen to it here
| Phir-Bhor-Bhayee-J... |
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Auron ko hanste dekho Manu, Hanso Aur Sukh paavo
Sukh ko aur Vistrit kar lo, Sab ko sukhi banao
-Jaishankar Prasad
औरों को हँसते देखो मनु, हंसो और सुख पावो
सुख को और विस्तृत कर लो, सब को सुखी बनाओ
-जैशंकर प्रसाद
Sukh ko aur Vistrit kar lo, Sab ko sukhi banao
-Jaishankar Prasad
औरों को हँसते देखो मनु, हंसो और सुख पावो
सुख को और विस्तृत कर लो, सब को सुखी बनाओ
-जैशंकर प्रसाद
Starry Night
I heard this composition, soothing and at the same time stirring in some strange way by Don McLean during my college days.
Lyrics and background Credits : http://www.vangoghgallery.com/painting/starrynightlyrics.html
Starry, starry night.
Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer's day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land.
Starry, starry night. Flaming flowers that brightly blaze, Swirling clouds in violet haze, Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue. Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain, Weathered faces lined in pain, Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.
These are references to other Van Gogh paintings. # Flaming Flowers: The Sunflower Series # Swirling Clouds: Starry Night # Field of Amber Grain: Wheat Field with Crows # Weathered Faces: The Potato Eaters.
For they could not love you, But still your love was true. And when no hope was left in sight On that starry, starry night, You took your life, as lovers often do. But I could have told you, Vincent, This world was never meant for one As beautiful as you.
This is Van Gogh's tragic Death. Even though he loved painting, his paintings could never love him back.Van Gogh attempted suicide by shooting himself in the chest, which ultimately led to his death two days later.
Starry, starry night. Portraits hung in empty halls, frameless head on nameless walls, With eyes that watch the world and can't forget. Like the strangers that you've met, The ragged men in the ragged clothes, The silver thorn of bloody rose, Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
Van Gogh's artistic legacy is contained within his paintings, drawings and writings. They are everlasting and will never "forget" the style that created them. They are Van Gogh's eyes that watch the world. This is all metaphorically speaking though.
Now I think I know what you tried to say to me, How you suffered for your sanity, How you tried to set them free. They would not listen, they're not listening still. Perhaps they never will...
Finally we come to the conclusion of realizing Van Gogh's eternal struggle with insanity.
Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer's day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land.
Van Gogh's inspiration for the painting. However, one line says : "Look out on a summer's day." which is a false statement as Van Gogh was in an asylum at Saint-Remy, and was not able to paint picture from an actual view point, it is strictly from his mind.
Starry, starry night. Flaming flowers that brightly blaze, Swirling clouds in violet haze, Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue. Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain, Weathered faces lined in pain, Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.
These are references to other Van Gogh paintings. # Flaming Flowers: The Sunflower Series # Swirling Clouds: Starry Night # Field of Amber Grain: Wheat Field with Crows # Weathered Faces: The Potato Eaters.
For they could not love you, But still your love was true. And when no hope was left in sight On that starry, starry night, You took your life, as lovers often do. But I could have told you, Vincent, This world was never meant for one As beautiful as you.
This is Van Gogh's tragic Death. Even though he loved painting, his paintings could never love him back.Van Gogh attempted suicide by shooting himself in the chest, which ultimately led to his death two days later.
Starry, starry night. Portraits hung in empty halls, frameless head on nameless walls, With eyes that watch the world and can't forget. Like the strangers that you've met, The ragged men in the ragged clothes, The silver thorn of bloody rose, Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
Van Gogh's artistic legacy is contained within his paintings, drawings and writings. They are everlasting and will never "forget" the style that created them. They are Van Gogh's eyes that watch the world. This is all metaphorically speaking though.
Now I think I know what you tried to say to me, How you suffered for your sanity, How you tried to set them free. They would not listen, they're not listening still. Perhaps they never will...
Finally we come to the conclusion of realizing Van Gogh's eternal struggle with insanity.
Lyrics and background Credits : http://www.vangoghgallery.com/painting/starrynightlyrics.html
Saturday, December 06, 2008
Saturday, November 08, 2008
Bharat Ratna - Pt Bhimsen Joshi
A close encounter with Pt. Bhimsen Joshi. The name synonymous to Indian Classical music, a true god gifted artist who was honoured with the highest civilian award, given to any Indian, The Bharat Ratna.I was about 6 or 7 years of age, not much sense of notes nor beats but a liking for music for it was part of the family. My parents take me and my sister to this concert. The venue 30 miles away, here starts my vague recollection where we meet the doyen of classical music Pt Joshi at the inspection bungalow.There was brisk activity in this big hall, we enter and see panditji I bow down and touch his feet as instructed by parents. Parents exchange greetings and continue with conversations, panditji enquires about my grand parents. Only years later I learnt that Pt Joshi and his family have been family friends going back to my grand parents. There was also a story about how Panditji relished "Mandige" a sweet cooked at my grand parents house .
Truly blessed to have seen and heard Panditji.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Sunday, October 05, 2008
late night melody
Only because I recorded this late in the night ...
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Thursday, October 02, 2008
Thursday, September 04, 2008
The Mannequin World
Peeping into a window I saw ....
A woman, A man and their children two,
All seem happy, they did yesterday too,
they wore the same clothes and the smiles,
they always looked bathed, without any spoils.
Their neighbors were the other kind,
young, hip and ready for party fun,
be it morning, evening or the afternoon sun.
Then there were some around the block,
some standing, some running but still was their clock,
No smiles or cries nor faces to put them on.
They all looked out of the window and saw the moving mannequins,
Wondered, there is change but saw there was pattern.
Things move but they repeat,
Things after all were not very different.
A woman, A man and their children two,
All seem happy, they did yesterday too,
they wore the same clothes and the smiles,
they always looked bathed, without any spoils.
Their neighbors were the other kind,
young, hip and ready for party fun,
be it morning, evening or the afternoon sun.
Then there were some around the block,
some standing, some running but still was their clock,
No smiles or cries nor faces to put them on.
They all looked out of the window and saw the moving mannequins,
Wondered, there is change but saw there was pattern.
Things move but they repeat,
Things after all were not very different.
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