Today’s Web Discovery : 24th November 2009

Last few days have been a bit hectic at work and so did not really get much time to discover new things via the web. So this post is a bit short and includes some discoveries over the last couple of days.

Bhimsen (Prem Panicker) : Prem Panicker, the former editor of India Abroad and a long time voice on Rediff, has been working on this brilliant project – retelling the Mahabharata through the eyes of Bhim, the second Pandava. Inspired by a Malayalam work Randhamoozham by MT Vasudevan Nair (MTV he calls him), Prem insists that “this is not a translation or a transcreation” but a re-telling and I quote :

What it is, is a re-telling, in which— with profound respect for one of my favorite writers—I intend to stay faithful to the central narrative and its governing emotional undercurrents, but manipulate time lines and incidents, and where necessary even chapter progressions, to suit my own narrative.

So why does he want to do it and what is it that is about the Mahabharata? I suggest you read on.

Reward of Service – Elizabeth Barren Browning (Veritas) : This is a blog that brings a lot of joy every day. Its Poem of the Day pops up in my Google Reader and immediately takes me away from the duniyadari into another world of reflection, peace and quiet. Today it features a poem by “Portuguese” as Robert Browning used to call her. The full poem and many other poems are there on the blog. Here are a couple of lines from this one:

Thy love shall chant its own beatitudes,
After its own like working. A child’s kiss
Set on thy singing lips shall make thee glad;
A poor man served by thee shall make thee rich;
A sick man helped by thee shall make thee strong;
Thou shalt be served thyself by every sense
Of service which thou renderest.

That’s all for today.

Poetry Posts: Emily Dickinson & Walt Whitman – 1

Today, Sanjeev explored Walt Whitman and one of my favourite poets, Emily Dickinson. Here are his tweets:

WW, the first modern US poet, “broke the new wood” (Pound), freed us from rhymed verse, & of modern men he sung!

Walt embraced “teeming worlds of nature, humanity & self.”  The Whitman Archive

From anonymous 1855 1st ed to hooplah in 1990s as Clinton’s gift to Lewinsky, Leaves of Grass, a seminal book of poetry.

“I am with you, you men & women of a generation, or ever so many generations hence.” – Crossing Brooklyn Ferry

She never met WW, nor likely read his #poetry, but ED crafted her own independent spirit & inner life into ~1800 poems

Though often difficult for me, ED opened up “entire worlds of intense emotion & experience in miniature” in her sparse hyphenated poetry

WW kept adding poetry to later editions of LoG; Public-shy ED published merely 10 poems before her death. 597 poems here

One of her most famous poems “Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me.”

Parting is all we know of heaven, And all we need of hell  Indeed! ‘Parting is such sweet sorrow’

His tweets made me reach out to the two volumes on my shelf – The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson and Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass. First Emily Dickinson

I have this wonderful volume by Avenel Books – it compiles from three previous publications Poems, 1890; Poems, Second Series, 1891 and Poems, Third Series. The introduction is by George Gesner who narrates the story of the enigmatic and reclusive Emily Dickinson. In 1862, TW Higginson received four poems from Emily – he rejected the poems even though they represented “a new, free and unorthodox style of poetry“. As a result, George Gesner writes

It may very well be that the rejection and criticism of her poetry pushed Dickinson back into obscurity and kept her name as well as her poetry unknown during her lifetime. It may also be true that since there were no publication pressures and restrictions, Dickinson was able to write in an unhampered, intense and original style.

The story goes that her poems were published four years after her death in 1886. Her sister found hundreds of her poems. The same TW Higginson worked with Mary Loomb, wife of a local professor to bring out the various volumes in 1890, 1891 and 1896.

I will quote the poems on the jacket sleeves of the book (as they are meant to attract the potential reader to buy the book)

The Storm

It sounded as if the streets were running
And then the streets stood still
Eclipse was all we could see at the window
And awe was all we could feel.

By and by the boldest stole out of his covert,
To see if time was there.
Nature was in her beryl apron
Mixing fresher air

This is from the backside of the book

Untitled

This is my letter to the world,
That never wrote to me, -
The simple news that Nature told,
With tender majesty.

Her message is committed
To hands I cannot see;
For love of her, sweet countrymen,
Judge tenderly of me!

The classic Simon & Garfunkel “For Emily whenever I may find her” is a tribute to her. I found this excellent post on the blogosphere.

Now, it would be injustice to write about Walt Whitman here. So I will do a part 2 of this post tomorrow.

Jai Ho – Why Gulzar is nominated for the Oscars

Let’s start by posting the lyrics of Jai Ho (in poetry form)

Jai Ho, Jai Ho, Jai Ho, Jai Ho
Aaja Aaja Jinda Shamiyane Ke Tale
Aaja Zariwale Nile Aasman Tale
Jai Ho, Jai Ho, Jai Ho, Jai Ho, Jai Ho, Jai Ho

Ratti Ratti Sachi Maine Jaan Gavayi Hai
Nach Nach Koylo Pe Raat Bitayi Hai
Akhiyon Ki Neend Maine Phoonk Se Uda Di
Neele Neele Tare Maine Ungli Jalayi Hai

Chakh Le, Ha Chakh Le, Ye Raat Shahad Hai…  Chakh Le
Rakh Le, Ha Dil Hai, Dil Aakhri Had Hai…  Rakh Le
Kala Kala Kajal Tera Koi Kala Jadoo Hai Na
Kala Kala Kajal Tera Koi Kala Jadoo Hai Na

Kab Se, Ha Kab Se Jo Lab Pe Ruki Hai.. Kah De
Kah De, Ha Kah De Ab Aankh Jhuki Hai.. Kah De
Aisi Aisi Roshan Aankhe Roshan Dono Bhi Hai Hai Kya

Aaja Aaja Jind Shamiyane Ke Tale
Aaja Jariwale Nile Aasman Tale
Jai Ho, Jai Ho, Jai Ho, Jai Ho
Jai Ho, Jai Ho, Jai Ho, Jai Ho

So what’s the big deal about these lyrics? Right, let’s analyse. I am not much of a Hindi widhwan but I will give it a shot.

The slum boy spends his life without a roof over his head. All he has is the sky. The sky that is alive with stars and planets and galaxies and is his roof (zinda shamiana); the sky that looks like a gold threaded blanket (zariwale neele aakash)

The boy lives his life through bit by bit (ratti ratti); Spending his nights (raat bitayi) after surviving through all possible ordeals (nach nach koylo – dancing on coals) ; He has dismissed all sleep and rest (Ankhiyon Ke Neend Main Phoonk Se Uda Di – just like blowing out a candle); And burnt himself trying to catch his stars, his luck, his fortune (Neele Neele Tare Maine Ungli Jalayi Hai)

Now that victory is here, it is time to taste sweet success for the first time (Chakh Le… Ye Raat Shahad Hai); Finally, it is the heart (Dil Aakhri Had Hai) that keeps one going (Rakh Le)
- Danny Boyle’s view of the slum life – spirit of life that keeps people going

What you wanted to say for a long time, was on your tongue for ever (Jo Lab Pe Ruki Hai), let it out now that there is someone waiting for it in complete surrender (Aankhe jhuki hai)
- in these two lines, the entire romance of Jamal and Latika is described.

Gulzar is the master of the Hindi metaphor – No high sounding Urdu or big words – simple common street language but used as metaphors for describing a world beyond. And this song is an excellent example of his craft. My favourite is of course the main two lines with the zinda shamiana and zariwale neele asmaan.

The Oscar might well be his. And deservedly so.

Happy Birthday John Keats

Updating the post:::

My wife, Amrita adds

Give Me Women, Wine, And Snuff
by John Keats.

Give me women, wine, and snuff
Untill I cry out “hold, enough!”
You may do so sans objection
Till the day of resurrection:
For, bless my beard, they aye shall be
My beloved Trinity.

On the occasion the 210th birth anniversary of John Keats, a few random readings

Ode to a Nightingale

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
‘Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness,–
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease

Ode on a Grecian Urn

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,–that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”

On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer

Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-brow’d Homer ruled as his demesne;
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He star’d at the Pacific – and all his men
Look’d at each other with a wild surmise –
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

More about John Keats? Where else but wikipedia