Dylan's new

All Apologies

Apologies heal but some fail and some even affront…I have seen it happen. A gamut of emotions involved… indignity, guilt, embarrassment….
The simplicity of the deed to seek for forgiveness, the unprompted munificence and forgiveness on the part of the slighted….

Paris....

Paris…..never been there….but still tops my wish list. People who’ve been there, at times don’t speak too highly of it… too crowded, overrun by Senegalese, don’t get duped by the movies, so on so forth…yet my yearning to go to Paris is undiminished.
Maudlin as it may sound, it’s the sweetened romanticizing in the movies that has done me in...
‘An American in Paris’ a 50’s classic….Gene Kelly and Leslie Caron…great Parisian locations, banks of the Seine, French impressionist paintings…and of course “I got star light”
“Gigi” another musical fare with Leslie Caron.
“Love in the Afternoon” with virtuous Audrey Hepburn…Paris looks gorgeous in b/w.
“Forget Paris” Billy Crystal’s trademark….with a few scenes of wintry Paris…
“Bourne Identity” …car chase through stunning Paris.
‘Day of the Jackal”
And of course everybody’s favourite French film “Amelie”

PANIDEAN

PA = Padma

NI = Nitin

DE = Deepak

AN = Anuj

What is common between a Power company VP, a software engineer, a researcher and an MBA student? Well we all love movies, short films in particular. Not exactly as the hors d'oeuvre but as the main course. We are working on scripts, of course ideas, funds and technical/artsictic help are all welcome. Premieres could be at friends living rooms!

DJ

A few years ago, in my chaperoning obligations I came across DJ, a remarkably bright child. Despite some altered aspect of his life at such a tender age he was surprisingly a cheerful kid.
His level of prudence was astounding, the kind of sagacity I probably never had when I was a kid, I am sure not many of us did.
But then most of us didn’t have to go through what DJ went through. I am not saying that in compassion of his situation.

I was fortunate to have spent some delightful moments with the kiddo. He had this wonderful ability to find glee and amusement in small things, no gizmos for this kid, a falling leaf, a piece of paper would have him abuzz with curiosity. His seemingly hastened maturity didn’t annihilate this.

Today is his birthday; he will be all of 8. So Happy B’day DJ, I am sure you will grow up to be a fine young man.

Angels and Bitches contd...

“Sara”
Sara, Sara
Whatever made you
want to change you mind
Sara, Sara
So easy to look at,
so hard to define.
Definitely one of Dylan’s “Angel songs” after ‘Sad eyed lady from the lowlands’, Sara was his wife.

“Dirge”
I hate myself for loving you and the weakness that it showed

You were just a painted face on a trip down to suicide road

The stage was set, the lights went out all around the old hotel

I hate myself for loving you and I'm glad the curtain fell.
……The naked truth is still taboo whenever it can be seen
Lady Luck who shines on me, will tell you where I'm at
I hate myself for loving you but I should get over that.

Obliviously a “Bitches song”. Could it be for his wife after the divorce, or just his discomfort with the ‘voice of the generation’ mantle, he so wanted to shake off? Whichever way, a great song for spewing rancour and indignation to the bitches of the world….way to go Bob!!!

Willie Mae "Big Mama" Thornton

I could rattle out quite a few male blues harp players, from Sonny Boy Williamson, Sonny Terry to Paul Butterfield and Little Walter.

When it comes to woman harp players I know only one, as a matter of fact I’ve heard only one…..Willie Mae ‘Big Mama’ Thornton.

I had first heard her in a rock n roll compilation album, the unprocessed original version of “Hound Dog”….Elvis’ far more familiar rendition seemed totally watered down after that, not putting down Elvis and his enormity as an artiste.

Ok, but Janis Joplin’s version of Big Mama’s ‘Ball and Chain’ is a different thing altogether, Joplin made it sound like a raw private anguish…brilliant rendition. I have to verify this but I do remember reading somewhere that ‘Big Mama’ dedicated this song to Joplin after her death.

About Angels and Bitches

Dylan has recognized only two kinds of women: "angels," whose function was to save man (from the women themselves as often as not), and "bitches," whose function was to let him down, if not by overt attempts to ruin and confuse, at least by their failure to save. The bitches enjoyed their heyday during the "Just like a Woman" period, of course, and their prominent return on Blood on the Tracks was one of the principle reasons why that album was believed to be a return to the golden age. The angels dominated from Nashville Skyline to Planet Waves, and there is reason to believe that Dylan still holds onto something of that vision: "Sara," one of two songs on Desire which he wrote alone, again speaks of his wife as a "sweet virgin angel." – Rolling Stone review of Desire (1976)

Whoa! Pretty strong statement, that one. Considering Dylan’s intricacy as an intriguing songwriter, I feel the critic over-simplified his appraisal about the women in Dylan’s songs.

There is this song that comes to mind, “North country blues” , a bleak folksy song about the trial and tribulation of a young mother in copper country no ‘bitchiness’ here no beatific charm.

Well, there is "I don’t believe you" which is an opinion about double standards; I don’t think there is a direct assault on “bitchiness”.

“ I’ll be your baby tonite” and “All I really wanna do” are yearnings to get into her pants, almost a cunning plea, bereft of any macho thing going.

“Boots of Spanish leather” Dylan accepts the going away of his beau, without reprove. In other words he does not call her a bitch for abandoning him!!!

Even seemingly caustic songs like “ It ain’t me babe” speaks of the individual’s shortcomings in the relationship, but then again this could be Dylan’s outburst to his 60’s fans who almost deified him.

With a Dylan song you never know.

Stay phunny!!!

Man it really helps to retain your sense of humour even in the midst of misfortune. Ok misfortune here wouldn’t really mean life or death circumstances, but those kinds where you meekly gulp and say ‘shit happens’ and frenziedly try to move on.

So when ‘shit happens’ to keep a firm grip on things and keep away from slithering into despair, humour comes in real handy.

To laugh at our own foibles can be genuinely hilarious, I tell you. Honest humour discloses weaknesses that’s holding back happiness, but without disdain. It’s like this pointer of our inadequacies, not a censor of it. The intent is to fortify, not to injure. Like a shock absorber that makes it easier to get over the jolts and bumps in life.

I have noticed those with a fine sense of humour (not essentially malicious sarcasm); have a good sense of life too.

A dear friend whose adversity makes mine look absurdly stunted and puny, has this rare ability to guffaw through her problems. She is most definitely a rare breed….and a happy one indeed.

Debut

+vely 4th Street

You got a lotta nerve /To say you are my friend /When I was down /You just stood there grinning
You got a lotta nerve /To say you gota helping hand to lend /You just want to be on/ The side that's winning
You say I let you down / You know it's not like that / If you're so hurt / Why then don't you show it
You say you lost your faith / But that's not where it's at / You had no faith to lose / And you know it
I know the reason / That you talk behind my back / I used to be among the crowd / You're in with
Do you take me for such a fool / To think I'd make contact / With the one who tries to hide / What he don't know to begin with
You see me on the street / You always act surprised / You say, "How are you?" "Good luck" / But you don't mean it
When you know as well as me / You'd rather see me paralyzed / Why don't you just come out once / And scream it
No, I do not feel that good / When I see the heartbreaks you embrace / If I was a master thief / Perhaps I'd rob them
And now I know you're dissatisfied / With your position and your place / Don't you understand / It's not my problem
I wish that for just one time / You could stand inside my shoes / And just for that one moment / I could be you
Yes, I wish that for just one time / You could stand inside my shoes / You'd know what a drag it is / To see you

Man…. This song really cheers me when I am in a sour disposition. Even though the ruefulness and bitterness of the betrayal/ wrongdoing is unadulterated…..you have to hand it to Dylan for keeping the humour strong. I read somewhere it was directed towards the editor of “Sing out” who tore Dylan for going electric.
This witty insult can be cathartic for anybody betrayed/cheated.
Could work well as an astringent dedication to low down and rotten bitches of the world.

Dogs style

A friend of mine had sent me a FWD, one of those with cute adorable pups pics tagged with sappy homilies about friendship and sacrifice.

This had me reminiscing about the canines (I mean real ones, not the bitches!!!) that I had as pets.

I never had a snooty breed but scores of mutts, some flea infested strays that I used to clutch home, which of course horrified my mother. Poor woman.

Not surprisingly one thing great about mixed breed mongrels is that they rarely fall sick, must be those robust street genes they have. And boy they have character and attitude. Not just tail wagging and face licking.

Some are dignified like war heroes, loyal like an old friend. Those kinds sit near you content and at ease, no tail wagging exhibition of faithfulness. Almost like buddies, no master and pet chain of command for them.

Some are scheming; I had a bitch whose mate selection skills would put some of her human counterparts to shame.

As in humans some are downright stupid, I had a pup which would lose itself under the bed and howl till someone retrieved it.

And there was this hilarious mutt who had the habit of peeing every time the doorbell rang. I have heard of Dr Pavlov’s experiment, where ringing bell meant food for his experimental dog. So the ringing bell would make the dog salivate. But for our mutt, I fail to understand the stimulation. That too totally different ends!!!

Of all the dogs no one rescued me from flaming buildings and raging rivers, like Lassie would have. But boy they were fun to be with.

Altruism and the 100 rupees note.

Somebody I once knew, drove back 5 km, to hand a gloomy looking sad-eyed tramp a 100 rupees note. Smug with ‘feel-good’ benevolence she sped away.

Is there such a thing as absolute altruism? I mean an act of kindness bereft of any personal motive. Well, not even that ‘feel-good’ reward, no craving for ‘karma’, nothing….just pure kindness.

Studies (in psychological annals) have shown that people who have recently committed a misdemeanour, more readily, help others. This private balancing of guilt and good actions can very well be subconscious, without us even realizing. It also means that it will make us feel less guilty after an act of kindness, even if the endeavour is unrelated to the primary guilt causing offence. Guilt, after all is an unrelenting emotion.

The 100 rupees note must have bought her the ‘karmic brownie’ she was seeking …..

that hormonal thingie

This is sombre science.
Here goes….a published study in a peer reviewed journal found that women with high concentrations of the hormone oestradiol were most liable to flirt, kiss and have flings outside an ongoing, evidently steady relationship. The study goes on to advocate, that such women are incited to relinquish a secure relationship — to seek a more affluent partner.
Darn the hormone….

Anjana

Last weekend I went to meet my favourite couple….Anjana and Suvarna….
Anjana is expecting.
She now shuffles around with a basketball stuck in her tummy and a 100 watt smile. She always had the smile but now the radiance is twofold.
I know this is a normal but challenging biological task, my young friends are thoroughly enjoying this fundamental need. Their transition to parenting will be pleasant I am sure…..good for them.

Al fine

It had almost been 6 year, just a few months shy. We have seen the best of each other the worst of each other. We have parted now, she with new her aficionado and me all by myself.
I remember the time I first saw her, sparkling, luminous……resplendent. A few shamelessly drooling encounters followed, every time I had to mollify my heart that she was above my league, and that on no account would she acquiesce to my gambit. I have had my share of russet coloured counterfeits, but she was the real deal.
Finally perseverance and fortitude paid off, and we were together…. ecstatically. Melody, a song the right annotations…strummed caressed, plucked, wafted. Downy and velvety…..scandalously bawdy and raunchy at times. I loved her in the mornings, she was raspy and vaguely off key.
It would be disingenuous to say that to say everything was perfect. We had our moments of dissonant and jarring cacophony. But we survived it all…..
Now she lies nestled in someone else’s arm. Having said that, I secretly know full well, that no one can tweak her to tune like I did....

I know selling my old guitar has not been easy on me.......