Savai Gandharv-India's Woodstock

There are srtiking similarites between the epic Woodstcok (69...not the shitty recent one) and the annual Savai Gandharv Sangeet Mahotsav. Music lovers of all shapes, sizes and age all rolled into one venue to savour three-four days of amazing music. The music is a common thread running through the old and young, the thin and fat, the man and woman. The degree of enthusiasm does vary, of course, because like everything else, you have the sort of people who just want to prove to the world and enhace their miserable lives by just claimimng to have been there at the event. But by and large, the music lovers have a shot at one long orgasmic session of wonderful music layed out by the finest thoroughbred muisicians music has to offer.

Savai has always had no late nightly restrictions but this year's terror paranoia has curbed that free running spirit of musical camaraderie somewhat. Events that used to go till 4 am now get done by 1 am. Trying to nudge artists off the stage or telling them to stick to a time slot is like telling a new born pup to flush after it poops. Won't happen. Still, not as bad as it could have been.

The thing with Savai is that it  allows knowledgeable people to come to a place where good music is guaranteed. No populist non sense to please the ears of those who care for nothing more than a fast beat or shockingly nasal romantic crap. Take for instance the Idea heartbeat concert where the lineup read like this: Zakir Hussain, U.Srinivas, Selvaganesh, Taufiq Qureshi and Shankar Mahadevan. Now all these musicians are of an extrememly high caliber whose instrumental skills can only be described as God like. Like good wine, they can only be appreciated by those with an idea of what classical music (or just plain good music for that matter) is.Unfortunately, many of the ticket holders were under the impression that Shankar Mahadevan would be singing Bollywood songs with the other chumps playing something or the other. Bollywood songs. Yes indeed. With Zakir??With Srinivas??With Selva and Taufiq?? Obviously the music sailed over their heads with the result that all that musical tightness, the excellent taanams from Srinivas, the ripping kanjeers solos, the brilliant vocals strained with Carnatic classical influences-all went unnoticed. What's worse, they went unapplauded. Taufiq was reduced to doing some nonsense mimmicry and that finally elicited hearty applause from the crowd. The son of Allah Rakha, brother of Zakir Hussain, scion of one of Indian music's first families-reduced to doing something as ridiculous and demeaning as that. This is a man who blows collective brains abroad for his amazing timing, odd time magic and sheer percussion ingenuity. Why then does he down grade for us, his own people? These are artists who have a tremendous following worldwide. In fact, most of their concert dates are abroad. And its not just the dollar rate that makes them play outside. Its the sheer apathy of our crowds. 

And that lends Savai its magical touch. The knowledgable crowds. 25000 people, lots of them classical enthusiaists or plain lovers of music with a certain quality. Artists confess that there is a certain pride in being invited to play at Savai because a discerning audience immediately demands quality of artistry with the result that only the best get a chance to rock at Savai. Just like Woodstock.

The artists get the appreciation they deserve, not for their popularity, but for the quality of the work they show on stage. The Savai audience is generous when it needs to be. It recognises the finer points and niceties of instrumental, vocal and dance performances. Pune is what makes the Savai. The long tradition of the Savai is rooted firmly in the audience. Try something similar in another town and you'll end up with a hall emptier than a bar right after a police raid. Pune, Chennai and Bangalore are the centres for Indian music. Everything is more conducive to good music in these places. The 'good' is highly subjective of course. 

The atmosphere at Savai is absolutely indicative of the 'music first, everything else later' spirit that we miss dearly and lack completely in today's world of corporate sponsorship. Everywhere else, the paw prints of  money sploshing companies are evident in the arrangements and even in the show strucure with their names popping up everywhere. Savai does has corporate sponsorship. But they DO NOT show movies of the God damned companies at Savai! The whole atmosphere is music oriented. People can go right upto the front row on the lowest ticket. If you do love your music enough you might just wait outside the whole night, freezing your ass off just to get a place up front. Just like Woodstock.

There are people all over the place spread out, eyes closed(don't be fooled: the noveau fan might be asleep), savouring the music. Artists put out their best performances and make sure they're perfect when they're performing at Savai. Afterall, it does have the patronage of one of the world's greatest musicians-Pt. Bhimsen Joshi.

You just can't go wrong after that.

Savai even has its own rock stars analogous to woodstockers like Hendrix, Santana or even The Who.(Its another matter that Pt. RaviShankar and Ustad Allah Rakha have also performed at Woodstock 69). Indian classical music is seen to be boring and elitist by many. Not so. Just look at  all our Pandits and Ustads. Rock stars in their own right with stage presence rivalled only by Hendrix. They can hold an audience with their swagger and charm as much as with their music.

Ravi Shankar was a Beatles favorite, teaching George Harrison to play the sitar. He was in on the flower power trend and was a womaniser too. Apart from being a God on the sitar of course. Zakir Hussain has killer stage presence and a crowd capturing ability that would make quite a few rockers jealous (along with being a huge Doors fan). Also, he's probably the best tabla player alive. Pt. Bhimsen Joshi was a huge drinker in his middle age. He also loved driving cars fast and had a liking for them, a-la John Bonham. Kishori Amonkar is famous for the high handed in manner in which she walks off stage for decidedly petty reasons until the organisers and audiences beg her to come back. Apart from being a sublime vocalist. Who says our musicians aren't rockers in their own right? That's even before we come to their music. Listen to it. It'll blow your brains out your butt.

So, this more of a romantic analogy for those of us who weren't around during Woodstock '69. This is our chance to relive the the magic...year after year. Only this is better.

Money boner

History has served us crap loads of examples which tell us how women haven't exactly been scrupulous in their choice of matrimonial partners. Oh yes they do make up one hell of an act of righteousness and serve you the old everythign-for-love tosh. But their final actions amount to some wholly different outcome. The poor idiot who actually believes he's got a cleopatra incarnate as his girlfreind and future life partner is in for a shock. All the reasons she 'loved' him vanish faster than booze at a free for all when she finds a fish fatter in the wallet  than he is. It wouldn't be an issue at all if they came clean about it. I mean everygirl does it; everyone knows it, and yet that veil of righteousness tries to block out all questioning glances. We've taken it for granted now that a girl is going to give you the beans when she finds a richer prick. Love can take a hike; accompanied by character and looks. Anna Nicole Smith rears up over the horizon as a prime and shining example. That whore (with 75% fake body parts) married a freak sixty years her senior...the sort of guy who'd probably forgotten what an erection felt like. Girls would justify this 'noble' act as one filled with love...love that is blind to age, infirmity and absolute sterility. True... but her love wasn't blind to the fact that he was an oil billionaire and that he probably had three breaths and half an erection left in him. So he pops it and his newlymarried bride is left widowed!!!Oh no...girls please weep for this calamity...how could God have been so evil to an angel with such cuute and shweet intentions? Now the newly widowed bitch cries and shit , then inherits his billions. Catch her crying after that. I'd say Anna Nicole Smith's episode brings Danny Ocean to his knees...praying to the Godess of chicanary hoping to get proselytized to a girl.

She was clever and probably had a Mensa ass kicking iq of 220. But then her intelligence suddenly left her and she od' d at some orgy and joined her husband.

Guys go to great lengths to show off their various riches...because they know what it takes to get the birds in the bag. At least they're sincere about it. Girls go"look at that show-off" and actually think "oooh...i could show that off". Procreative urges begin and end with money for the finer sex. Which is fine. Absolutely. I mean survival of the fittest is a rule apt for our times. Earlier it used to be the biggest caveman who scored repeatedly. Now its the cave man with the biggest piggy bank. The only difference is, the women then didn't pretend about affections they were faking to cover themselves with a veneer of goodness and charity. They found the best, they did it, they bore his kids and everyone turned out better today thanks to them. Now, though, a woman tries to make a man feel unclean and corrput for ogling and doing a girl curvier than her. The chicks keep blithering about men looking only at physical aspects of women. Fair enough. No man ever denied it. But that's the point, men are honest enough to admit it. Whereas it is actually they who are nobler than the wenches after money. The men ogle at the women for something that is decidely 'her', re her features or wotever. Not her money...not a secondary characteristic that cannot be attributed to her individual allure. The girls ogle at the father's money.

Just drop the act of purity and come clean. That's all that is asked of women. We know you're after the money. You know you're after the money. And you know what? It's absolutely fine. Just don't pretend to be noble and accuse men of being horny for other females. At least they're horny for her and not for her money.

All symbols of wealth invoke a tingle in  all lady gardens.

Sports cars for example: phallic symbols notwithsatnding, what is it that nudges girls to look at sportscars? What attracts them to these engineering marvels? Is it the guarantee that the fat cat who bought it is probably going to be a better provider for the  kids she sub consciously nurses a desire to bear? if so, then it just goes to show how complex the desires and motivations that make the world go around are. but here's what gets me thinking: when you look at people ogling at the car, you notice a sort of reverential look in their eyes. For people who love cars  the look is but natural. They're fascinated by the inner workings and the intricate mechanisms involved in  powering a car.But i always wonder what brings on the look in the eyes of the weaker(but actually waay stronger) sex. they don't really care for the power coursing throught the object.they couldn't care less for its state of the tires or for the beautiful bodywork.so what is it that hits them hard between the eyes? its actually the sub conscious realisation of the spending power of the owner that gets their juices rolling.he's going to give your stillborn rugrats a better life than the impecunious lad you're courting currently.next they ruminate over the best technique to get mr. moneybags into the sack and mating.Lastly, they figure out a way to throw the prick out and fight till they own half his fortune.a simple, three step technique guaranteed to give satisfaction and wealth.true wealth management schemes these.for more details, contact heather mccartney, 'screwing and chucking wealth generation schemes'.

jigrrr...

Hey there. I happen to have a privelege pass and ring side seat to watch the events of CYG. Well no, not the sporting events but the more interesting backround rumblings that have resulted in the IOC, MCB, XYZ (and other faceless organisations relying on acronyms to assert their power) giving man birth to the phenomenon we call CYG. The child they gave birth to turned out to be malnourished, underweight and retarded. But everyone's relieved that atleast it managed to burst through and stare into the midwife's eyes(unless it's blind too). In the ensuing relief, all the 'minor' fallacies of the baby have been overlooked. And I am a fully paid member of the faction that professes relief and showers praise on the acronyms that made it possible(somewhat). You see for a city like Pune to get off it's haunches and launch into rapid action is something stupendous. Don't go cribbing about the fact that they did nothing for a year and a half! They mobilised their generally lethargic arses into severe action and managed a job in two months. The roads, for instance, were nothing short of a miracle. They hastily smashed bordering structures( read: buildings, shops etc) and managed to widen roads, lay the tarmac, put in the dividers and throw in a few flowerpots and flags for the beatufication bit. All this in two months. Never mind what the road users went through for those two months. Suddenly the vehicle owners found their suspension bits acting up and their vehicles aging faster than their fat arsed wives. Two wheeler riders found they needed a new spine and pedestrians...well they just stopped travelling without gas masks. But that is a small price to pay for the elysian roads which now await those same users. Until the next monsoon atleast. And the poor things try not to take credit for it...modesty forbids such travesty. Just a couple of hundred posters with their mugshots on it posted at strategic points which just happen to constantly remind you of who's trying to hog the limelight. Besides, it's kinda nice to have their ugly mugs splattered across your field of vision every hundred meters or so. It makes you feel good about your own profile. Thoughtful touch that. How can you criticise such noble intentions? Also, the stadium ticket fiasco. Everywhere you go, tickets are sold out. That would have been ok, had the stadii not been as empty as a sixtyfive year old whore's client list. Camera pan shots showed the different coloured seats, which would be fine, again, but the problem happened to be that events were on and the only people s\cheering were the contestants themselves. This infuriated Kalmadi(president of an acronym) and he started letting people in gratis. School kids were forcefully brought in to add to the body count. Letting people in free is fine, but this was exasperating for people who had paid hundred, five hundred and even five grand to watch the events. Poor chumps. They over estimated the enthusaism of our amazingly responsive public. Unfortunately, this was no Bollywood dance show and the masses of people expected to flood the arenas, never showed. Instead locals and school kids tried to replicate the vociferousness of a crowd of thousand...and failed miserably. Tennis refs had a hard time cos the local saps didn't think it necessary to let the opponent serve by shutting up. Constant shouts of a Wimbledonesque "Quiet please" were clearly lost on a crowd bent on some sort of gladiatorial display. They probably wanted the opponents to sock each other with the rackets. Oh and they were all cheering for their one and only hero Shivaji Maharaj, though i can't figure out which event he was taking part in.
People cried about bad organising and shoddy volunteering work and other uncomplimentary things. But living here has taught me one thing-we should be thankful that despite all the best efforts of all the officails involved to scupper up the event, it still took off and has been going quite soundly. An unwritten law states that the number of officials involved is directly proportional to the probability of event failure. And to budget overruns. We have been taught amd trained to live in a state of constant compromise. Compromise that tries to compensate for the absloute inadequacy of our administrative bodies. Their slipshod, last minute job has been largely ignored because of the sheer relief of the people for having got to witness the event.
There are talks of Delhi wanting to host a formula 1 grandprix in three years time. It can be done. Eliminate all bureacratic interludes and hand the job over to professionals. Not to people who can't even figure out where their own backsides are and who're out there only for a rapid windfall. Bastards all...

Friends, Indians and countrymen...lend me your ears(and your doubled over bottom if ur a girl of nubile age). This is my first blog...be nice to the virgin. I dunno if it helps for you to know but most of the time I'm a of sort ranting, whining arse wipe. In other words, all you'll probably read off this page are complaints.Like this huge problem I've got with customs officials(no, that doesn't make me a dope peddler!)-My parents and I had just collected our baggage and were getting it screened at the customs counter. Suddenly, this rag of a cop turns up at my side and asks me in a servile tone if I could just step aside with him. Praying he wasn't gay, I did. Next the trash praised me to high heavens for having a passport. Now this was getting confusing...I hate it went when they don't get to the point but that's apparently how the government teaches them to deal with matters. Then he came to the pith of the matter-he wanted me to go the duty free booze shop and buy him two bottles of the finest liquor money can buy-and boy was he rolling in the stuff! He was producing hundred dollar bills faster than a malfunctioning teller machine. I have no idea where it came from, or who it came from. I think you'll agree that we've all got sort of insulated from 'trivial' matters such as corruption( high and low level). So my biggest worry wasn't the going to dogs of our system or the absolute apathy of our primary domestic protection force. No,it was the fact that this swamp slug had chosen me for his dirty work. Turns out, you need a passport to make purchases in the DF shops. Just then, my mom stepped in and blasted the fellow out of the weeds. Now that is a right you only have access to when you're a)old and b) when you're a girl.Girls can always cry wolf even when there isn't one lurking amidst the sheep.And this scares the sheep and the wolves no end. Though sometimes the really hungry wolves hazard a try anyway. But anyway, my mom having satisfied both criteria, left the cop tongue tied. That didn't stop him though. He made a 'setting' with the baggage screener who immediately stopped our bags and claimed we were trying to evade duty for our two cameras. Even a four year old plug ugly could have made out the age of the cameras-both were over two years old. So there we stood trying to convince the two slugs about the age of our cams when in strode a new, senior-ish, uniformed official. He immediately told the other two to let me go because I was with my parents. His words amounted to 'let them go...they're together....get someone else'. Finally we were allowed to grab our bags and leave. The officails have a simple plan of action- catch the youngest looking loner(guy obviously...too dangerous to get girls to do it) and ask him to do the needful. If he refuses, try and lampoon him on some stupid charge and offer to be munificent by letting him off for a 'simple' favour. The booze then makes it way to vaious sources waiting outside, marvelling at the cheap rates and slick methods. Want a tip?If you're alone, appeal to the motherly instincts of other loner female passengers(preferably hot and 25) and pretend to 'be' with someone.Who knows...you might even get a date out of it.
Warriors were always young men(sorry feminists-xena does not count.She used to sleep her way thru battles) with great brawn and bravery. They were the power, the force. Not so now. Now is the age of the old and more specifically, the women. So if you are a woman, feel great-the world is yours to roam. If you are old(40+) and you are a woman, then the world is your oyster.You own the place ladies.