A friend from my college days passed away recently. I had not been in touch with him for years - over ten - and got to hear from him very recently and that too, after knowing that he was terminally ill and was fighting to stay alive. A cold sort of empty feeling is what surrounds me when I think of it. His family, loved ones, children... it seems unfair.
Yes I know life is not fair. It has never been so, and in milder ways I have experienced the way it brushes off anyone's feeble attempts to resist being pulled along with its whims and fancies. That does not offer clarity or suggest a way out in a moment like this
Death brings to mind the superficiality of so many things we say and do - even declaration of relationships. It springs on one the mix of feeling and unfeeling which holds the same questions about choosing to be selfish or unselfish, and whether achievements have any significance, in the world patched up with currency streams whirling around power vortices.
My feelings on ram's passing rest only in the memory of very childish laughter and pranks that we shared as friends,it would be a slight and a pain to try and share his family's bereavement. I rest my commmiserations, like a small unnoticeable bunch of petals among the huge wreaths of love that my friend's family offer as a tribute to his memory.
24 November 2010
15 November 2010
dazzled by the heroics
why does one not write ? It's a very very good question isn't it... but one which has no easy answer, or perhaps there just is not point in answering this.
between the nameless formless darkness of the undefined present and the vision of having it out in words, there is only a painful feeling that something must be said, if not for the benefit of the onlookers, then for oneself. Naturally the second person even may have zero interest in what you write...
so the question finally is.. why must one at all write?
between the nameless formless darkness of the undefined present and the vision of having it out in words, there is only a painful feeling that something must be said, if not for the benefit of the onlookers, then for oneself. Naturally the second person even may have zero interest in what you write...
so the question finally is.. why must one at all write?
25 October 2010
Drama Festival at Purisai
There was a festival of traditional dramatic forms organised at Purisai near Vandavasi last weekend. It was a complete treat for any theatre fan...
Some high points in the show:
Muruga Bupathi's - Miruga Vidhushagam was absolutely stunning in its imagery and well thought out content... it was a comment on the stranglehold of consumerism on people which acts through a mixture of greed and lack of awareness and education.
This was followed by Pralayan's group... who really gave life to the verbal satirical style of theatre..
The famous play written by Veerama munivar - Paramaartha Guru - was given life to by artists from Madurai, directed by Shanmugaraj... The play is a master piece in its way, highlighting at the same time the crime of being ignorant and the absurdity of being organised! The actors are to be commended for giving their all into their performances....
Some high points in the show:
Muruga Bupathi's - Miruga Vidhushagam was absolutely stunning in its imagery and well thought out content... it was a comment on the stranglehold of consumerism on people which acts through a mixture of greed and lack of awareness and education.
This was followed by Pralayan's group... who really gave life to the verbal satirical style of theatre..
The famous play written by Veerama munivar - Paramaartha Guru - was given life to by artists from Madurai, directed by Shanmugaraj... The play is a master piece in its way, highlighting at the same time the crime of being ignorant and the absurdity of being organised! The actors are to be commended for giving their all into their performances....
22 October 2010
Butterflies painted for your viewing - Mr Manohar Devadoss's painting Exhibition
As a nature lover I could not help being moved by my visit to Manohar Devadoss's exhibition. There were about 32 paintings featured there, most of them painted in the last three years. The paintings were in a realistic style. The colours and proportions were so carefully done that the paintings transported the viewer into another world. The stags under a bent tree and butterflies in blue surrounded by bunches of spring flowers walked away with the honours easily --- though one must say it is a matter of taste only and that all paintings were equally evocative and lovely. Just a day after the exhibition started all painting were sold out, in fact even when I reached the hall many of them had a red dot stuck on them to indicate that they had been sold.
The painter suffers from severe impairment of vision. In his own words, his vision was diminishing fast and if I wished to ask for a replica of he butterflies I'd have to make it soon.... I would have committed myself at once, if not for the budget but nevertheless timidly summoned up the courage to ask whether He could make a proportionately smaller one at a tenth of the price!
The proceeds are going to charity - with sankara nethralaya and arvind eye hospital being the beneficiaries.
The painter suffers from severe impairment of vision. In his own words, his vision was diminishing fast and if I wished to ask for a replica of he butterflies I'd have to make it soon.... I would have committed myself at once, if not for the budget but nevertheless timidly summoned up the courage to ask whether He could make a proportionately smaller one at a tenth of the price!
The proceeds are going to charity - with sankara nethralaya and arvind eye hospital being the beneficiaries.
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