Somewhere in Space

It was an amazing concept. Whoever thought of conversations between wives and mistresses, or husbands and lovers was definitely more adventurous than most. And the idea of presenting two distinctly different pieces together and in quick succession - ‘The Stronger’ in English  and
‘Maranoparant’ in Hindi - was even more challenging. But it is Vinay Verma you are talking about. With the more than able Naren Yadav. The surprise package however was the girls.

Unnati Muni Ved, the otherwise quiet, epitome of cool was on fire. She slipped into her role of a dowdy wife to offset the uber chic mistress with such ease that I could easily imagine her actually strangling Sandhya Raju. And Sandhya, what a different Raju…she morphed from one expression to another without taking a breath.

Unnati was given the stage while Sandhya was given the chair (well mostly anyway). And that contrast of a rambling wife and a cornered mistress is what made the image poignant. The dialogues, well actually a monologue, was earthy and middle class and that contributed to the confrontation. The finale was Unnati coming back onstage to sip from the coffee cup…I have never seen a more elegant way of showing the other woman a finger.

If Vinay chose to give invisible cubes of territory to the girls, he took the battle into the sound of voices when it came to the boys. The deep sonorous Vinay with the young, bridled Naren. The arms close to the body Vinay gently stalking the loose limbed Yadav. Oh that was like a ballet.

And the evening was peppered by Pallavi Varma and her friend (I am sorry I forget her name) and don’t you dare say ‘Exactly’…with interesting interruptions that presented not just the plays themselves but also Sutradhar’s concept and the philosophy that drives it.

I like the way Vinay Verma always manages to do something significant for World Theatre Day and I wish him all the best in the many years to come.

It is said that when many people of Hyderabad prayed to their individual Gods and asked for help and guidance in an almost forgotten passion called Western Music, the Hyderabad Western Music Foundation was born.

It is also said that when the performers of Hyderabad, actors, dancers, musicians et al…prayed and said in one collective voice that “Give Us This Day Our Performance Space” Lamakaan was conceived and came as a blessing to the city of Hyderabad…and of course Secunderabad.

Almost from its inception, members of the Hyderabad Western Music Foundation found in Lamakaan a home, a welcome and a wonderful space. From Choir Singing to Music Appreciation…from Jazz journeys to Music based theatre, Lamakaan always came forward to host meetings, big and small. And did so every time with great enthusiasm.

So when Lamakaan celebrated its 4^th successful year of existence the members of HWMF definitely wanted to sing, with all their love and affection, a Happy Birthday song to Lamakaan and its wonderful team.

But then, HWMF cannot be HWMF without giving a twist to the song…without it adding its very own special flavor. So, on the 16^th the Lamakaan space was filled to the brim with musicians, friends, family and all things HWMF. And they participated in a bouquet of celebratory performances that were all designed to say very gratefully to Lamakaan…Happy Birthday…and wish you all the best for many more years to come.

The people streamed in…and knowing HWMF’s reputation for punctuality, they came in much before the appointed hour of seven. And they were not disappointed. Shakila’s announcements started by the clock. And the last stragglers who could find no chairs left to sit on, found places to sit anywhere they could…including climbing onto the compound wall of Lamakaan.

It was as usual, great to see that everything was in place and as soon as our very own Joe Coster, looking dapper in a black & white striped (T) shirt, finished with the introductory formalities, Chaitanya rippled, trickled and flowed into a soothing Yanni Medley. The solitary performer set the tone for the rest of the evening. Seamless transitions from one group to the other. And an effortless crossover from one number to the other.

Next up were Triveni, confidently belting out bass on her guitar, and Anupam, stoically disregarding his visual handicap and playing the keys to his tunes. Except that he needed a helping hand to get onto stage Anupam never allowed anyone to notice his blindness and what the duo created was nothing short of magic. By the time they presented their renditions of Autumn Leaves and All of Me the mood had truly set in and the pauses in the applause only reflected the non-willingness of the audience to believe that a number was over.

Joe, with his characteristic sense of humor then announced that the next two on stage were a unique combination. Of a senior and a veteran, and of a young, world beating voice. As Sarosh Master and Meghna Dundi took the stage there was a breathless gasp of awe. The calm, collected Master with his acoustic guitar, and the ‘voice-from-the-belly’ Meghna meandered through their three Pop Numbers - Whats Up by 4 Non Blondes, When You Were My Man a Bruno Mars adaptation - with the lovely Maria on Clarinet and All My Loving by The Beatles - and that started off an epidemic of audience sing-along.

It was time then for Joe Koster to get onto stage and behind the keyboard as the hugely talented Raphaelle with her expressive Clarinet knocked insistently at the doors of Weber’s Concerto No.1 with Joe elegantly orchestrating (allegro) a wonderful, interactive session. You could see from the faces of both the performers that playing tonight was a joy.

And then suddenly the texture of the stage changed. Suddenly we could see a lot of brass. And behind the trumpet was Jonathan, swaying with the clarinet was Maria, and pumping the air with his shiny saxophone was George who is also known as ‘the Hull’…with Joe donning his keyboard role of being the Captain of the Ship.

This ensemble acted as a welcome platform for the inimitable Shakila who bounced up the tempo with her unique renditions of They Can’t Take That Away From Me (G. Gerswin), I Get A Kick Out Of You (Cole Porter), My Funny Valentine (L.Hart) and Just Friends (J. Klenner).

At this stage of the evening the relation between performers and the audience was highlighted when after a couple of false starts the audience graciously allowed the performers to start afresh. A lot of love and laughter was in the air indeed.

Joe came back on stage again and announced that we were in for a surprise. Programs normally start with a prayer…and prayers have evolved into different shapes and tunes the world over. But the HWMF evening was going to end with a prayer he said…and what an innovation that turned out to be…as an unassuming Dorein Christian-Rapped into a mesmerizing Don’t Waste Your Life.

The evening ended with HWMF paying floral tribute to Lamakaan and that’s when you realized that the evening was very special. The audience just did not feel like leaving. Some of them managed to leave, only to form clusters just outside…no one wanted the evening to end. But they consoled themselves with the thought that even ‘Happy’ Birthdays had ‘Sad’ endings…and it was time to go home.

Go home and think of more programs due from the HWMF team and their message of music that implored parents and musicians alike not to get stuck in the comfort zone of guitars and keyboards but to venture into the rhapsody of wind blown brass…the clarinet, the trumpet and the amazing saxophone.

The end of the magical night. The end of a rappy prayer. And it was time to say AMEN…

…and once more, with feeling…Happy Birthday Lamakaan.

One day on the terrace of Goethe Zentrum. It’s early evening. The wind is gently pushing away day and making room for the night. A motley group of poets gather.

Collected on stage are Hoshang Merchant, Volga, Usha Raman, Jameela Nishat, Anand Viswanadha and Lattu…herded together by Sridala Swami. And batoned into a command performance of multi lingual poetry. Telugu, English, Hindi, Urdu…even German poetry delivered in short machine gun bursts at an expectant audience.

And the theme…women’s day…women, activism, problems, solutions. It’s part of the German Centre’s March…and a very noble initiative. But then…

…and this is where I am confused. I am for instance an absolute novice as far as poetry goes and respond only by gut feel but I have been also accused of being opinionated and I guess I will have to depend on my goodwill and be excused if I say something wrong or out of line.

My first response to Volga is to tell her that using almost all the words in the dictionary as a technique is passé. Even in Telugu. The age of the forced metaphor, the imagery of the injected colors of passion…that’s gone…or should have, anyway. There is a raw and sometimes blunt edge that simplicity gives to writing that has in the last many years become quite acceptable. But maybe her poetry was aged and written during a different generation.

Hoshang was Hoshang. Very impassioned. Very naughtily almost tongue in cheek (no pun intended). But it was Jamila who reached out and grabbed the issue by the gonads and one could see how the vernacular was scoring over the English. It was almost as if the Hindi (also used by Laltu) was caressing one moment, squeezing the other…while English had a near ‘from the pulpit’ feel of being spoken to by a Christian on Conversion mode.

The exception was of course Usha Raman who offered a more contemporary platter. Up next, Anand’s was a valiant attempt and I can see that with some practice he will soon be able to emote as much and as well as he writes.

The German Poem read out in German by Merle and the young lad did what the young Slam Poet did at Taramati a few months ago…left me unmoved…simply because I do not understand the language. While I keep promising myself that this is an area of concern and that I should get down to learning the language I think perhaps we should work more closely with Goethe Zentrum to develop a more engaging model of German/English Readings. Maybe the trick is in translating bits and reading out section after section, perhaps even using the Urdu style of repeating lines for emphasis and meter.

Very endearing were the girls who came straight from school and read out their chosen poems with naïve intensity…with their Class Teacher capturing their performance very diligently on Mobile. And Sridala’s mother who came on with all the enthusiasm of a teenager.

Every evening needs to have a lighter moment and I think the lighter moment that evening was provided by Sanjay Gadhalay who got confused between Robert the Bruce’s ‘Try, Try and Try again…till you succeed’ and Harvanshrai Bachchan’s ‘Koshish Karne Walon Ki’ and showed off the 54th Battalion’s ‘Bash on Regardless’ spirit with flair and persistency.

But hey…I find myself getting serious and almost critical. It was in all fairness a pleasant evening. The weather was on good behavior…and the bhel puri accompaniment was a master stroke. I only wish there was no time limit…somehow I got the feeling that everyone was looking at their watches more than necessary. And poetry readings should be perhaps more open ended. With more chai doing the rounds (Hint Hint).

 

Advertising is perhaps the one science that provokes the maximum feedback. More people comment about advertising than on any topic in the world…possibly because it is the one subject where everyone, simply by being a consumer of sorts, assumes that he is King and a virtual SME (Subject Matter Expert) in this domain.

So we have people objecting to everything from ‘the objectification of women’ to the ‘misrepresentation of stereotypes’ to ‘misuse of language’, immorality and what have you. Some of the objections are reasonable and they are often acted upon. We have seen several examples of the Advertising Standards Council banning ads for their implied bigotry, for their dependence on the color of skin, for poor taste and so on.

But inspite of the industry watchdogs we do have several ads that slip past our controls and encourage ridiculousness in the name of creativity. This is primarily because Advertising worldwide depends mainly on self legislation and censorship.

And that puts a huge responsibility on the industry and the people involved with it.

Now I will be the first to admit that perceptions differ from society to society…that different people react differently to different provocations…that what I see as a joke, may actually be hurting someone’s sentiments across the globe.

But when an advertiser, seemingly ignores the fact that there is world of consumers out there who may be privileged enough to be intelligent, then I tend to take offence.

A recent Coke Ad featured on a blog maintained by my friend Vijay Shetty (Advertising ka Kamaal) got my hackles up. Take a look at it…

http://youtu.be/kCv-wmnaNk0

and then tell me if the ad makes any sense.

A randy Princess in bed…a white and soft glow ambience…enter a stable boy…don’t miss the entry of ‘lower class’ and rawer sexuality (horses)…before you know it, they are, as this generation likes to call it, ‘making out’…very sensuous, very sexy…suddenly the love making has a new sound track…it is the gurgling sound of a liquid being sucked through a straw…the sync between the sound and the couple’s oral movements is deliberate…only as the kissing gets more urgent and the clothes are deftly removed from the frame, do we see a ‘joker’ in a red track suit, naughtily sipping a soft drink through a straw…his expression that of an unconcerned voyeur…the stable hand then pulls the girl out of frame, leaving very little to the imagination as to where his mouth is headed next.

Now tell me, is that the best Coke can do to represent its ‘Opening Happiness’ line?

When a small town ice cream manufacturer thinks of showing off his chocobar or ice cream cone being lovingly licked by a bimbo I can perhaps excuse his baser instincts and allow him to let his fantasies rule. But Coke!!!

It’s a much bigger brand. It should represent better values. And in all fairness it does, most of the time. Perhaps and just perhaps this is an example of a bad one that escaped scrutiny. I don’t know. But I sure hope so.

Amen !!!

The picture above is from a Google Image Search and is there for representative purposes only. The people featured are not involved with my blog in any way.

It’s bright and early in the morning. The traffic has a bounce as if reacting to a good night’s sleep and to the sudden shower that cooled down the city last night. Providing a rhythm that vacillates between a purr and a staccato, motor cycles and scooters weave their erratic mood swings into a lane system that’s gasping from the strain of maintaining its dignity.

One guy is already making his work calls. Prepping up a value chain that will serve as a route map for his day. Another is puffing on that last cigarette for the forenoon, cursing an industry that does not allow smoking within a clinical campus. The third fellow is squirming. His underwear is not fully dry and there is a sense of wet discomfort around his groin. And the girl he is giving a lift to doesn’t seem to be the kind who will take too kindly to him singing the ‘Scratchman’ tune.

Like a flock of birds in windswept motion the motley group swings to the left, finding a gap in the traffic and instantly responding to the line of least resistance. The smirks on their faces, directed at the lumbering cars’ is there for all to see. When one of the car drivers begins to make a face of anger one of the bikes swings even closer to the offending car and almost kisses it, while the rider pouts his lips and makes an obscene sound. The loosely bonded gang giggles and they race towards the traffic light…

…where a police squad is waiting. They’ve all had their tea and morning ‘nashtha’. Just the SI who is on his rounds is late and starving. And naturally, breakfast arrangements for him have to be made.

The shoal of bikers slow down at the junction, some even spot the waiting cops but they have done nothing wrong. And guilt free, they prepare to race off into the open stretch ahead.

The cop looks at them lazily and it looks like he is after bigger fish…possibly the SI’s breakfast is more of a delicacy than a biker can afford…

Suddenly his eyes sharpen…his hand goes up and knots up into a pointing finger…and one bike rider is suddenly the target, the prey, the hunted, the ‘bakra’…

“Why me?” his expression seems to say as he pulls over. His mind has already calculated how much money he has in his front pocket. He doesn’t want to pull out his wallet…there is too much cash there and has to be hidden from the greedy cop’s view.

And mentally, he is running through a checklist…License – Check. Insurance – Check. What could be guilty of he wonders…and is astounded when he hears the constable growl…Helmet…

But…what about my friends…the others…he begins to protest. Then he stops…as he sees from the policewalla’s face that he is not going to be treated special or lenient.

So there is a HELMET Compulsory Rule that is valid in the city. And it is a rule that is mostly ignored. But it is a rule and a rule that allows the constable and the inspector to deal with offenders as they deem fit.

Yes, a hundred bikes with their riders happily astride without helmets can go by, but suddenly, once in a while, a poor random sod, maybe you, will get pulled up…fined, scolded and harassed.

What makes him different? What makes him special? Is it a look of a person easily bullied? Is it more cash potential? Or is it a simple quirk of probability? We’ll never know.

But the idli, dosa, puri and upma combo that the SI enjoys with his hot tea and betel red paan will. And laugh as the bike rider silently curses Why Me, GOD!!!

A few days back, in an earlier blog I had clarified that I was more fascinated with the lesser known heroes, people whose achievements were largely unsung. And I am fairly certain that mundane things like money and power did not enter any equation on the basis of which I measured some of the heroes. (Do read my blog http://vjmarur.blogspot.in/2014/02/kaam-dhaam-satya-hai.html).

What I perhaps did not mention, is that I have always been someone who looks beyond the obvious and finds heroes who exist beyond the set canvas. Quite a lot of my writing has had to do with this unique facet of mine. What makes me very fortunate is that I am surrounded by friends and family many of who are indeed special and quite often unsung by choice.

Imagine my pleasure and absolute delight when I approached Premier Liquor Manufacturers Pernod-Ricard (Ballantine’s, 100 Pipers, Blender’s Pride, Absolut Vodka, Fuel, Jacob’s Creek, Nine Hills Wines etc) and found that for a new, exclusive and premium variant of their 100 Pipers Whisky they had as their Brand Persona, Bob Geldof and their Brand Mission was to Remember People for the Good that they do.

As part of a digital campaign to promote their exquisite whisky they wanted to create an online community which in turn would point us in the direction of several local citizens who were quite the unknown, unheard of heroes and also could be considered to be the True Legends of Hyderabad.

Our discussions have been going on for a few months now and there has been a lot of debate on who should be entitled to voice his opinion, how, when…and also what kind of traits we were looking for in the leaders to be identified, recognized and acknowledged if not rewarded.

When the debates were leading to standoffs with everything from personal bias to brand dictates clashing, the client came up with a brilliant idea.

Think of 10 or 12 people that YOU (that’s me) KNOW and respect as people with that extra special something which makes them noteworthy heroes and possible legends in their own right…and let us see if we can get some inputs from them, maybe they will help us establish parameters and mechanisms to action the campaign.

As I said, I am fortunate that I have many among my friends who I admire, and my admiration has never been covert. So it took me very little time to put together a list. And we all met up in the charming Cabinet Room at the ITC Hotel Kaktiya one evening. And to quote one of the inimitable invitees…it was a business party where all we had to do was drink scotch, eat kebabs and give out Gyan to each other…

Ashok Agarwal, the educationist, the pioneering entrepreneur behind successes like SQL Star, PC Quest, the man who ran Engineers Without Borders and one of the senior most BITS Pilani Graduates.

Suheim Sheikh, the man whose programs power most of the stock exchanges in the world and whose passion ranges from wild life photography to watersports.

Mani Shankar, my childhood friend, film maker, political campaigner, religious expert and columnist. Innovator beyond par.

Shankar Melkote, my Godfather, my Mentor. A Corporate Honcho by Light, A Theatre Veteran by Camera and a Film Star by Action. A Shakesperean by speech, a Faizian by lifestyle and a Littérateur by passion.

Narender Luther, a retired Bureaucrat, a historian, an author, a humorist, an activist and a true blue Hyderabadi gentleman. A person I have had the good fortune to witness in action from my very childhood.

Sairam Mocherla, a financial whiz-kid who is poised to be the single most significant man involved with India’s Infrastructural Road Map, a young Director of a popular public sector bank and a visionary who thinks beyond profit.

Joe Koster, the man who is single handedly allowing Hyderabad to rediscover the magic of classical Western Music, Choir Singing while quietly working as an NGO to better the lives of many.

Jean Manuel Duhaut, the Hindi Speaking French Director of the Alliance Francaise whose responsibility is to bring together Hyderabadi and World Culture using French as a medium.

Prshant Lahoti, the art collector who hides behind his self effacing smile an entrepreneurial drive that is powering local magazines, real estate ventures, art galleries and foundations, a hardware and software background.

Md. Ali Baig, a film maker turned theatre revivalist who has, riding the fond memory of his late father, brought about in Hyderabad a veritable rediscovery of heritage and culture.

Suresh Kochattil, a healthcare and media professional who squeezes into his clock the role of an adventure enthusiast, a rock climber, a proud parent, a quizzer, a philanthropist and an activist with aplomb.

Srinivas Krishna of Pernod Ricard very kindly sat in as a kind of unofficial moderator.

What was discussed, what directions were explored, what templates considered…is all something that will become obvious in the next few weeks as the Facebook Page “True Legends of Hyderabad” goes live and begins to reach out to the very people whose voice it aims to be.

It shall be a privilege for me to work with 100 Pipers XII YO on this initiative and I shall look forward to reaching out to my friends again and again for help and advise.

Until then, do watch out for the Facebook Page and as they say in FB Parlance…LIKE IT

Whatever happened to my old favorite joints? Ever since my health took a turn for the dicey a few years ago, I have been kept away from haunts like the Kabab-e-Bahaar at the Taj Banjara, my all time favorite lake side kebab place and Kebabs & Kurries at the ITC Kakatiya which along with its south Indian specialty restaurant Dakshin took up most of my free evening-feeling like some good food days…albeit once upon a time.

After ages I went there last night and I must say it was like a homecoming. My hosts were obviously pretty popular with the hotel and the red carpet was laid out for us in style. But the food, that was just so predictably and familiarly special that … “pate to saala bhar gaya, but dil jo hai, khushi say ubhar gaya” if I’ve managed to get my Hindi right

Kebabs & Kurries which is a reinvented version of Peshawari still has the open kitchen-raw & rustic-eat with your hands kind of appeal that Gautam Anand had first defined. I remember the hours of tasting, the consultations on seating and the menu card with great affection and satisfaction.

Same with the case of Taj Banjara whose lakeside kababs & roti counter has been legendary, especially when the wind is in your favor

With all the new restaurants and specialty cuisine destinations, have these two old war horses taken a back seat? I wonder…

And I think it’s a real pity…because these two places are truly something else.