Chennai Metblogs » che_ranjitha

Purusharta: The meaning of life

che_ranjitha — Fri, 15 Feb 2008 04:20:53 +0000

Well, to be honest, I got the `time’ part of it and the `death’ and `joy’ parts of it…but for the rest, I was mostly transfixed by the truly unique performance that was the Bangalore-based Attakalari Centre for Movement Arts’ Purushartha. Performed for the first time in India (after travelling all over the world), the group was on for one-night only at Music Academy on Wednesday and left the largely appreciative audience in considerable awe.

Attakalari works with “contemporary physical expressions and digital arts” and is a form influenced by Kalarippayattu, Yoga and Bharathanatyam among other Indian movement styles, as their brochure puts it. The performance itself, was of breathtaking snippets to the tune of, well, what someone described as “atonal” music, entwined with intangible rhythm patterns, that were there yet not quite, designed by Japanese sound performer Mitsuaki Matsumoto. To add the the already intriguing mix was Kunihiko Matsuo’s visuals and Naoki Hamanaka’s stage or rather light design, all directed and choreographed by Attakalari’s Jayachandran Palazhy (his gurus, the Dhananjayans’ were there to bless him)

The performance, which is based on the concept of Purushartha, the meaning of being, is an exploration of various individuals’ versions or visions of the same in what appears to be a 60-minute linear timeframe. However, just as the dancers weaved in and out of the LED-lights, the flow of thought or being was layered, overlapping, one dilemma or situation spilling over to the next, alluring, confusing, challenging and yet unaccountably moving. Palazhy and the performers explained at the interaction in the end, that each member of the team was asked to bring forward an incident from their lives, an experience which for them framed a meaning of being. Refusing to narrate any of the stories, he asked that the audience continue thinking it through, interpreting and connecting the dots as they felt natural or likely to.

Like an open-ended novel, where the reader is asked to contribute towards its completion in a sense. Palazhy and members of the team invited the audience to collaborate on the creation of the performance, through projecting a meaning, a thought or fixing a life experience, understanding a pattern or perhaps even just leaving their cellphones on!

One looks forward to more performances from Attakalari in Chennai!

Saeed Mirza’s words against war

che_ranjitha — Fri, 15 Feb 2008 04:17:26 +0000

N. Ram, Editor-in-Chief, The Hindu, brought up the point more than once - how does the audience ask questions on a book they haven’t yet read?! Last Sunday evening at Landmark, the audience worked on it, and somehow managed to ensure a decent 90-minute interaction with filmmaker-writer Saeed Mirza, who was launching his first book “Ammi: Letters to a Democratic Mother”. (first book to be published by Landmark’s new publishing wing - Tranquebar Press)
(Personally it was the reading of the essay on the “Ham Sandwich” that had me clutching the book and waiting in queue for Mirza’s autograph in the end)

Written as a response to George Bush’s “War on Terror” and the language and words used in promoting it, Mirza’s explanation of his work which is part-autobiography, part-narrative, part-poetry, essay, letters, a mixture of several genres, is that he chose to use words, to re-define those words, use patterns and hope that the various forms and genres would come together cohesively. A book which emerged from his travels through India meeting various people, came to fruit with the war on terror being declared. “Words used were democratic vs undemocratic, modern vs old, civilised vs uncivilised. I wondered how to respond to the arrogance of these words backed by material powers..” he explained.

Describing the book as a personal journey set against the background of ideas, with what appears to be a great deal of experience and humour, Mirza worked on trying to make the `novel’ “as inclusive as possible without losing out on the integrity of thought or idea…”

Ram and members of the audience raised queries on the authors views on intolerance, religious extremism and like. Mirza’s responses pointed back to the book (in a sense, I guess we had no choice but to buy it :-P) However, two points were of interest - the filmmaker who walked away from filmmaking in 1995, ended his first literary work with a film script as an epilogue, with the exhiliration of having “discovered a path that he could travel for a long time.” The second that, the writer who responded to the arrogance of the statements supporting, what in many senses is a fundamentalist’s war, ends his book with an elation that the world has not given up on hope…

Celebrating Sara!

che_ranjitha — Fri, 15 Feb 2008 04:13:33 +0000

Chennai is “Celebrating Sara” was a message that percolated through three different newspapers and one magazine, over the weekend, so V and I decided to succumb to the silent urgings of mass media and track down this Samukha Art Gallery (right before Raintree evidently) and take a peek at the private collection of an extremely intriguing individual.

Geeta Doctor’s book, sharing the title of the exhibition, which welcomes visitors at the entrance of the gallery (located in the same compound as a gorgeous house) describes the collector, Sara Abraham as a variety of things, but we sorta hastily dropped the book at the mention of her “withering glance”!

Abraham, who started off as an artist (her sketches of her grand children and historical personages like Einstein and Nehru - who have also autographed the pictures are also on display) at the Madras School of Arts and Crafts, went on to become an art connoisseur, collector and promoter. She created Kalayatra, a travelling exhibition, aimed at exposing people from across the country to art from various parts of it based on a suggestion of M.F. Hussain, a friend.

Indeed there are two levels of awe involved with this exhibition - one, the expected awe and delight at being able to glimpse at the work of some of the finest contemporary Indian artistes, ranging from Hussain, to Tyeb Mehta, Gogi Saroj Pal, Laxma Goud, among many others. The other level of awe comes from the glimpses at letters written by artistes like Goud to her, with little illustrations on the side, with the velvet encased portrait of her done by Hussain especially for her 60th birthday, with the brand new paintings that have been sent over the past weekend as presents for her 80th birthday…

The lady at the gallery told us that Ms. Abraham is extremely possessive of her collection and was persuaded to reveal some of the treasures as part of a celebration of her 80th birthday. One is grateful to whoever succeeded in the persuading - personally I know little of art, but you don’t need to be Einstein to appreciate beauty. Drop by Samukha, where “Celebrating Sara” is on till Feb 23rd. It’s a rare treat worth the visit.

Team Banyan’s running at the Mumbai Marathon!

che_ranjitha — Wed, 16 Jan 2008 10:19:43 +0000

In a few days now, (ulp!) I’ll be among close to 40,000 people running for charity as part of the Standard Chartered Mumbai Marathon. And from the Chennai part of it at least, I won’t be alone. The team, consisting staff, residents and friends like Khushboo, Rohini, Revathy, Vivek Oberoi (you may have seen the hoardings) are all running to raise funds.

Our cause? The Banyan, an organisation I chose to work for because I realised that sometimes, my own hold on sanity seemed tenuous at best, and with one in four individuals likely to suffer from some form of mental illness in their lifetime, who’s to say that that wouldn’t be me? That it wouldn’t be me wandering on the streets, homeless and destitute not because I’d be unloved but merely because wandering is just another symptom.

The Banyan is home to 360 such women, most of them from the poorest of families across India. Through its rural and urban outreach operations it reaches out to more than 1000 people every month. People who may just need some treatment to return to being productive, people who just need some support to get back on their feet, people who just needed some answers and someone to talk to before shouldering their way through yet another day.

The Banyan needs me. And you. Our time, effort, support, sensitivity and yes, of course the money. Which brings us back to the marathon.

Team Banyan is running to raise enough funds to meet at least some part of our monthly deficit of Rs. 13 lakh. Support me, support The Banyan by pledging on me online at http://www.giveindia.org/give/pledgepage/BanyanFR or sending us cash/cheque in the name of “The Banyan”, The Banyan Centre, 30/109, Halls Road, Kilpauk, Chennai - 10. Or call 044-43532324.

Waffles Discovered!

che_ranjitha — Wed, 26 Dec 2007 13:54:32 +0000

I’d like to thank every single person who so kindly suggested spots to find waffles for breakfast after reading my post on my failed quest! (Yes, Nandhu, I know that was aeons ago!) Well, you’ll all be pleased to note that I found my waffles after a friend (tried of my endless wheedling, no doubt) took me to the Park Sheraton breakfast buffet.

(At this point I would like to place on record, that all this searching for waffles and breakfasts has skewed my sleep pattern considerably and I’m still known to be a tad irritable :-P)

Back to the buffet. V took pains to call up Park Sheraton the night before to make sure that waffles were part of the spread and so we toppled out of bed by 8 on a Sunday morning and sped over lest they shut shop (Tis between 7 and 10 am).

K and I were given strict instructions to try, eat and enjoy EVERY edible item in sight. This included a variety of cold cuts, eggs to order (however eccentric the order, they manage to take it with a straight face), a variety of cereals, toast, pancakes and waffles with maple syrup, ice cream or whatever your wee heart desires. Several things we’d only read of and salivated over while flipping through the Famous Five, were also eaten by us. There also existed an Indian section of Idlis, Payya, sambar and the like that V determinedly did justice to as part of her three-course breakfast.

The bill for three (which given our extremely disheveled appearance, they provided in somewhat of a hurry/worry) was about Rs. 1400 after taxes - so I suspect that at a rate of less than Rs. 500 per head for a meal that had us stuffed the entire day, it isn’t such a bad deal.

P.S. On the note of waffles (which I again have a craving for), I would like to introduce the readers of Chennai Metblogs to a very unique individual who shares the name, though for slightly different reasons. Anyone whose visited The Banyan would realise that a)we have alot of dogs, b)most of those dogs have `food names’. The `dada’ of the lot is Waffles, a brown-eyed beauty, who knows how to use her charm. Found by Vandana Gopikumar (one of The Banyan’s two founder-trustees) as a pup, mangled in a wire fence, Waffles cannot use her hindlimbs and two years ago, needed to get one of them amputated. But in spite of that, she barely waffles through Adaikalam (our transit care centre in Mogappair), if anything she zooms! The kind of spirit that keeps the staff and residents going, come rain or shine :-D

Breakfast at Tangerine

che_ranjitha — Sun, 25 Nov 2007 15:20:47 +0000

Forgive the uninspiring title, I was thinking of Breakfast at Tiffany’s. It was a rather unusual Sunday, not only was I awake in the a.m. but was up and about. In search of waffles (somewhat affordable but not sad ones, I mean) V and I tumbled into the car and wandered off to Tangerine, the sizzler place. We’d heard they did Sunday brunches which included waffles and thus the early waking and what not.

Evidently too many people hadn’t heard of Tangerine’s brunch because we landed up to find the place empty (relief since it made parking easy!), darkish though sun-speckled. Brunch included both a pick-what-you-will menu and a huge combo type thing (Non-Veg -Rs. 160 including fresh juice, fruits, cereal, eggs, choice of meat, hash brown, and coffee/tea/hot chocolate). After confusing the poor waiter in an attempt to cover the highlights of the entire menu which further included baked beans/mushrooms on toast and pancakes, we settled down to bask in the silence. Though the quiet and lack of people was soothing, the holes in the menu - listed items absent, was annoying. Then again in all fairness, perhaps they’d try harder if there were more people to feed. The unkindest cut however was the absence of the much-craved waffles. Sigh.

The eggs (made to order also when the order is ummm forceful enough), sausages, salami, hash brown, grilled tomatos, mushrooms on toast, juice, fruits…Yeah, we kinda starved for the rest of the day…The lack of waffles though left V and me intent on meeting that craving. So next week, we’re upping the ante and trying out another Sunday brunch. Will keep y’all posted!

Ummm…ecstasy…

che_ranjitha — Fri, 26 Oct 2007 20:59:31 +0000

Ok, so we would be late for the movie. But it was right there, people bustling past its steamy windows and we could never quite resist the lure of that ole brown stuff…

The automatically opening glass doors (a convoluted phrase from my childhood, when four year olds would step in front of and away from the doors just to watch them open and close) at Satyam’s Ecstasy (by Mickael Besse) ushered us into the modish room, with its stunning paper-shredded (it looked like it!) lights and yes, that so-comforting brown.

Oddly, enough, for such a warm yummy place, the chairs were annoyingly loud and rattly (painful when as a gang of girls you tend to be rather clumsy). We also embarrassingly knocked one of the glass panes on the side of room, freezing pink momentarily as the noise traveled across the room. Mercifully, comfort was close, in the embracing nuggets of (yes, finally) brown. (Are the little sample chocolates a standard there?) Anyways, we tucked in like greedy squirrels before gamboling down the aisle towards, the oh-so-pretty display of international desserts at the counter (the menu has more intriguing items listed).

A went for a fruit tart, V for the Tiramisu and me for the extremely picturesque Mikata. (All about Rs. 100 plus). While Ecstasy, serves up some truly creative and unique dishes, the taste…well…let’s see. The fruit tart was way too sweet.

The Mikata which was figs and some sort of cream thingy, came with a rose icecream and tasted sorta like air… The tiramisu though was spot on. As were the Mango smoothie and Cappucino…

Perhaps the allure is the experience in itself. And the extra dish of complementary chocolates… ;-)

Kovalam Kathai

che_ranjitha — Thu, 18 Oct 2007 21:39:00 +0000

Hunger led us to the nearest potti kadai, of the kind, I’d seen only in my childhood - of almost endless depth but extremely limited width. Butter biscuits, stale murukku, and camarkat toyed with our imagination before we saw it swing gaily in front of us. `Gud Look Superstar’ captured our attention, as Rajnikanth’s face grinned alarmingly out at us. Rice puffs for Rs. 1. With `Superstar’ branding. Welcome to Kovalam.

A small little fishing village about thirty kms from Chennai just off the East Coast Road, Kovalam mostly means a work destination for me, but on that particular Sunday, we were enjoying some employee perks with The Banyan’s (where I work) community workers showing us around.

As little kids waved, we navigated the car through the dense lanes, past the Dargah till we glimpsed children swinging against the sky and endless blue framed by boats conjured by the Tsunami.

More children (they were everywhere) gathered round the car, peering curiously as we waited for our guides and grinning as we distributed candy (dangerous habit of theirs to accept actually)…

Moorthy and Chitrasenan, our guides had it all planned out. Life jackets were distributed, people were penguined, and a boat rustled up for a miniature sailing expedition. A relief, truly, given the profusion of crap speckling the shore.

“Does anyone want to jump in?” Now there’s a thought. A and V had had their minds set on this and soon clutching a rope, they took the leap. Or rather toss. A lost her watch, thought the boat was dunking her and then realized the virtues of simply floating. Meanwhile, the others looked out at the grey creamy layers fold into the others and melt and quiver and spill and fold. By the time we returned, silhouettes were the guides away, the sky a shot of orange before sighing into a tranquilising purple-blue.

Stumbling back the car, we found the children still waiting, mother in tow. “Do you want some prawns?” she beams as the kids get underfoot. Guilty nods result in a steaming dish of shrimp swirling in a tame red. Eyes water and noses run, as fingers claim the treat greedily. Moorthy and Chitrasenan, wait patiently till we’re done and then gently prod us towards the final treat of the day - their Rajini imitations over special fried fish observed by a formidable little boy near the shy temple guarding the shore.

More eye-watering and nose-running later, fingers soaked red from digging into hot, delicate fish that resonates on taste buds well into the city, MGR songs fill the air and it is time to go home.

The car winds through the village and soon the salt leaves your hair. Quiet follows the way till bright buildings and red lights enfold you on return. A day well spent. Work at Kovalam is never the same after.