A Precious Sapling

A Voice from the past

The other day,  being my birthday, my school friend Bula called up from the US   to greet me. Her relief was apparent." I have been trying desperately to reach you", she said. " Luckily you responded to my post on Facebook  with your phone number. I badly wanted to talk to you. A busy doctor in the US, she had  been trying to reach me at my old landline which had been defunct for some time now. It has been almost six years since we had discovered each other as well as many others on Social media but with our mutual daily grinds, we had little time to catch up. But still she remembered her old school chum and had gone to considerable trouble to touch base with her. At the end of our conversation, she promised to look me up when she visited Bangalore

   That touched me. Here was somebody from my distant childhood who wanted to nurture an old sapling of friendship. When you are over the hill, every passing birthday is a mere reminder of yet another year forever sliding into the pages of History, yet another wrinkle that is waiting to appear or a crease furrowing the forehead.  A time like the beginning of a New Year to ponder on the the past and wait for the future to unfold.The small joys and thrills of schoolgirlish  pursuits, absurdly silly pranks have been deleted into an unerasable past by one single key of adulthood. A distant perhaps fading memory of a distant childhood in a distant city where childish promises of friendship were made only to be forgotten in the ceaseless grind of building up one's life and career. That is how generations have lived and will continue to live in the future because that is the order of life and there can be no exception. In your middle age, when greetings pour in from friends on personal occasions like birthdays and anniversaries, remember that your day is made in more sense than one. It's time to waft guiltlessly and luxuriously into the fragrances of a carefree glorious childhood and be rejuvenated by the emotions of unconditional love and acceptance. Bula's call and warm wishes  from other friends brought us closer though we may live oceans apart. A caring thought and a warm gesture- surely the best Birthday Gift one could wish for !

Rare kriti on a famous temple - The Hindu

Rare kriti on a famous temple - The Hindu

The Grandstand

Bandstands were round geometric structures constructed in parks where people congregated to listen to a musical band in the eveni gs after a leisurely stroll through leafy glades and colorful flower beds. A feast for the eyes and ears. A favourite pastime of our colonial legacy, one can conjure up images of staid Englishmen stiffly. tapping their feet as the band played out silky smooth strains of ever popular songs. Music was in harrnony with nature and who better than the Englishman knew  how to enjoy this soulful concoction while lounging in the lawns after a lazy Sunday picnic. 

The British left. People continued to listen to the music at the Bandstand in the Bangalore of the fifties and sixties. The formal musical band, a relic of the British era was replaced at times by the guy singing with gusto while strumming the ubiquitous guitar. The generations of post Independence India grew up on such musical fare .In theBangalore of today, the Cubbon Park Bandstand stands out majestically in the midst of verdant greenery giving a vigorous architectural edge to the landscape But that's about it! It remains a lofty but mute testimony, of a bygone era The Bandstand has gone silent An eerie feeling creeps over me as I gaze at this majestic structure in the heart of Cubbon Park, surround by an endless cacophonv. of noises from the Metro civil works that is going on, the harsh honking of bus horns, scooters and autos  as they scale concrete overpasses Scraps of paper fly around Cubbon Park even as lush green lawns are littered with mindless plastic bags containing stinking food leftovers and other forms of human waste. Stunned to silence, the proud citadel looks on at the widespread desecration and devastation around it The spaces have gone as has the music of yesteryears.Will sornebody revive the music, the only oasis in this desert of Mindless Commercialisation.Like the Solitary Reaper, the music of yesteryears in my heart, I bore long after it was heard no more.......