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Monday, January 18, 2010
Baulsphere
the only baul album i have heard is "real sugar", paban das with sam miller. and watched paban das perform with the state of bengal in tolly club, calcutta many years back. so when a friend asked me to watch this video of gaur khepa, i was not really 'keen' keen. and then i watched it. and then i loved it. and then i shared it with you.
please watch the entire video. once the pretty song gets over, begins the fun bit. tee hee.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vUjwg1e1j04
PS i borrowed mimlu sen's 'baulsphere' from the said friend and am reading it now.
please watch the entire video. once the pretty song gets over, begins the fun bit. tee hee.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vUjwg1e1j04
PS i borrowed mimlu sen's 'baulsphere' from the said friend and am reading it now.
Slip sliding away
well, literally so.
i once prided myself for being sure-footed. during those treks in the nepal himalayas (which seem like past-life experiences to me now) i was the mountain goat that sprinted down the slopes singing "There she goes again". when everyone succumbed to tibetan foot baths to heal their aching ankles and knees, i was tucking in another rosti. and the rickshaw queens of the world looked at me bounding down the muddy slopes of 'rupsechhara' in amazement.
and so when we decided to stay in a duplex, the perils of a staircase running down the house were unknown to me. till today. today the ibex became an iberian midwife toad (i chose this animal only because it begins with 'i' and sounds lumpish) when she fell down three steps and landed maladroitly on the fourth. she was only trying to follow into her husband's footsteps quite literally. the little entourage led by O with chang on his lap froze in horror and i must have screamed. i have no memory of it, but i must have. because the next minute i found myself surrounded by chhobi mashi with her grease-dripping-khunti ( a flat triangular dipper), gomti with her jhadu (the broom) and selvi with her round kohl-lined eyes devouring the rest of her face. goddesses all, with their weapons, to chastise the evil staircase.
i did what i do best. cried and yelped for all of two minutes followed by a brave and loud, "ha, no broken bones" followed by a hysterical laugh. meanwhile O took the opportunity to teach chang a lesson on 'being careful while negotiating the stairs, otherwise he would be "boom" like mamma'.
thereafter, O left for his office, the house settled back to its regular morning chores, chang made sure every time he raced to his mamma, he would slam right into the epicentre of the bruise and gomti's advice for the day was, "please madam, to see your face on mirror every morning. that way, good day, yours, bad day, also yours." go figure.
P S yours truly is currently nursing a bruised left thigh and finding succour in some generous portions of unadulterated milkmaid.
i once prided myself for being sure-footed. during those treks in the nepal himalayas (which seem like past-life experiences to me now) i was the mountain goat that sprinted down the slopes singing "There she goes again". when everyone succumbed to tibetan foot baths to heal their aching ankles and knees, i was tucking in another rosti. and the rickshaw queens of the world looked at me bounding down the muddy slopes of 'rupsechhara' in amazement.
and so when we decided to stay in a duplex, the perils of a staircase running down the house were unknown to me. till today. today the ibex became an iberian midwife toad (i chose this animal only because it begins with 'i' and sounds lumpish) when she fell down three steps and landed maladroitly on the fourth. she was only trying to follow into her husband's footsteps quite literally. the little entourage led by O with chang on his lap froze in horror and i must have screamed. i have no memory of it, but i must have. because the next minute i found myself surrounded by chhobi mashi with her grease-dripping-khunti ( a flat triangular dipper), gomti with her jhadu (the broom) and selvi with her round kohl-lined eyes devouring the rest of her face. goddesses all, with their weapons, to chastise the evil staircase.
i did what i do best. cried and yelped for all of two minutes followed by a brave and loud, "ha, no broken bones" followed by a hysterical laugh. meanwhile O took the opportunity to teach chang a lesson on 'being careful while negotiating the stairs, otherwise he would be "boom" like mamma'.
thereafter, O left for his office, the house settled back to its regular morning chores, chang made sure every time he raced to his mamma, he would slam right into the epicentre of the bruise and gomti's advice for the day was, "please madam, to see your face on mirror every morning. that way, good day, yours, bad day, also yours." go figure.
P S yours truly is currently nursing a bruised left thigh and finding succour in some generous portions of unadulterated milkmaid.
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