Bombay Jayashri

I have no Music knowledge. Can't identify the Ragas like Venkat and don't know the difference between the thalams. In fact there is a complete ban on my singing at home, apparently my singing does not sit in sur(am), don't know what that means either!

But, what I know is that I Love Music, almost of all kinds (except Rap and the technosounds that are unfortunately being bandied as Music). Like most of you, some song keeps going on inside my head all the time.

Bombay Jayashri is one of my favorite singers, I have tons of her songs (thanks to Visu for some of those CDs) and she keeps us company when we have this torturous travel to and from office, fidgeting inside the metal cage. I simple love her dark and husky voice, which is very different from most of the classical singers (which is fairly exploited by Harris Jayaraj and co). At the same time she easily scales those highs too, with the clarity and crispness of the winter breeze. There is a soothing, soul stirring quality to her voice. Listen to her sing Ehi Murare or Katyayini and you will understand what I mean (btw, the complete Salokyam album is outstanding and so meditative).

So, when my friend Prashant informed about a Bombay Jayashri concert and offered the tickets, I was ecstatic, to put it mildly.

We left early to hold on to the best seats, up close and bang in front. I could literally see the whites of the artists' eyes. The hall was very basic, but it did not seem to bother the singer or the fans. The program was scheduled to start at 5:15 and it did start precisely at 5:15 and for the next 3 hours we (the Rasikas!) were transported to a different world. A magical world that was full of joy, spirituality and wholesome goodness. During the entire duration, she did not say a word (except for some polite conversations with the accompanying musicians); she did not pause to take a sip of water. She just came, sang, conquered and left.

Pictures here are some that I managed to sneak during the program - the light was not very good and I was nervous, to be sitting just in front and shooting with a camera (even if I was really careful not to disturb).

The Fight

There is savagery

in their bloodshot eyes.

Dilated to see it all,

In those eyes you search for fear.

They go around each other

One waiting for the other.

Waiting to kill,

It’s a fight to finish.

As the volcano erupts,

You see blood on their hands.

Is it the other man’s blood?

Or, his own? You’ll never know.

This urge to succeed

The lust for power

The power that grabs you

Like quick sand.

It’s a search of glory

The glory that’s brought by gory.

This is a battlefield

We mindlessly walk through.

We prepare

To give everything

Including our last breath

For that gloomy Nothing.

Sitting around in the arena

With great delight

We watch, as the Romans did.

We haven’t changed much.

The cry of the dying man

Suppressed by the howl of the survivor.

Sounds stained by blood.

This is our history.

He now waits to take another

And so it goes on

Until everyone is taken,

And till the last one falls.