Growing up in socialist India, there was always less of everything. Material things were for the capitalist. Take the case of marbles; There are several aspects; my mother considered it a waste of money; she thought it cost too much; and she believed that only bad boys played with marbles. On my side; I did not have the guts to ask for them. You know what happened to Oliver Twist when he asked for more!
So what did I do? When I had a chance I took 4 marbles from my neighbors house! You could replace took with stole and the previous sentence would be more accurate!
There are people who exhibit sangfroid after committing a crime. Our politicians are famous for that. Shame or fear are not words in their dictionary. I on the other hand lived with the fear of discovery and took care not to take the marbles out in front of anyone. This lasted several weeks when in a fit of bravado I played with them in front of my parents. And then came the inevitable question.
Where did you get them?
I was never good at lying and I did not fail this time either.
I got them at school
This led to the obvious follow up question
Where did you get it in school?
I told them about this hole in the ground in our school where one could dig and find marbles. Can you believe the crap of an excuse I made!
My parents naturally wanted to see this amazing hole and told me that they would be in the school the next day. Pretty much cornered, the sordid truth came out.
What followed was the climax; my parents outdid themselves. I have been beaten many times and in fairness to my parents, I deserved every one of them. My mom was good at it and my father had turned it into an art form. but never before was I thrashed more soundly.
The motto of this story to me is
-- Do not steal
-- If you steal, do not get caught
-- If you get caught, for god sake, come up with a better story next time!
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
My car runs on water
I purchased my first car in 1989. I got it from a guy who after graduating from masters program and getting a lucrative job in Santa Clara, decided to go for an upgrade. It was a 7 year old car of indeterminate color. You could call it gray. Of course that was not the real color, it was probably silver. For reasons unknown; probably acid rain; the paint had been stripped clean showing the metal in many places which gave the car its ineffable complexion. While I lived in the Bay area, I did not talk much about my car. I had a beat up Civic, others had a cool Mazda Miata. My car had indeterminate color, other had a bright red.
In short, I had a mutt, they had a pure breed.
Then I moved to Detroit for graduate school and it was here that my car and I came into our full potential. Most of the international student population did not have a car and had to walk to the nearby Kroger in cold weather; whereas my roommates and I would go out to Dearborn, Michigan to shop. Every weekend we would go out to the suburbs. Although we did not have much money to spend, thankfully gas was under a dollar! We would go to the mall and look at all the clothes and electronics we could not buy and come back. Spending 5 bucks at McDonald's was out the question since it represented a substantial portion of my weekly grocery bill.
I may not have indulged myself, but I treated my car like a baby. I changed oil every 3000 miles like clockwork and rotated the tires regularly. My car was my asset. It was a status symbol. It represented mobility and aspiration that two thousand other students yearned for. I would tell everyone about the wonderful mileage it gave me and how it was all due to the care I took.
During the time I was engaged to Jannavi; I think it probably was fall of 1991; Jannavi, Girija who was then Jannavi's roommate, and I went shopping. On the way out Jannavi pointed out that the car was low on gas. I launched into my usual story of how well I maintained my car and capped it with a boastful sally - Don't worry! My car is so efficient, it would drive itself even if I fueled it with water!
Yup, I was proud of my car and you know the adage - Pride goeth before a fall.
As luck would have it, on the way back, about 2-3 miles from the campus my car coughed a couple of times and simply stopped running. I had the sense to put it in neutral and take it to the side. It was dark and trust me, Detroit in 1991 was no place to stranded at night. Jannavi, I could see, was furious. So I quickly opened the trunk, took out my gas can, and after telling the girls to lock the car, went looking for a gas station.
It is hard to describe Detroit unless you have lived in a city struck by industrial blight and mass exodus of its richer population. The road was dark. I had not realized how much a simple thing like street lighting transformed a dark and scary landscape into a reassuring one. Here and there a few shops held out like beacons of hope. Most others were boarded up with graffiti all over. Any that was not boarded had all its windows smashed. Empty lots were mostly filled with trash and broken bottles. The pictures you saw in magazines (this was before the internet) hardly did justice. The despair one felt in the air had to lived through to make sense.
On top of all this I was petrified both for myself and the two girls in the car whom I had left behind. I was also berating myself for my foolishness. Detroit after all was known as the crime capital in those days.
Luckily there are good people in this world. Some people like to help others. One such good Samaritan saw my predicament and gave me a lift to the gas station. To me it was like manna from the heavens. Someone had thrown me a life line and boy did I hold tight. The man not only waited for me to fill up gas, but also gave me a ride back to where my Civic was stranded by the freeway!
I was relieved to see both the girls safe. Now that my fear had abated, I was left with a shame and guilt for both my foolishness and boastfulness. Without meeting either of the girls eyes, I quietly filled up the tank and after thanking the man profusely, drove back to campus.
What an hour? I had lived and died a few thousand times during that time.
I had learned my lesson. Since then I have never been stranded.
I also learned another lesson. I never boast about the mileage I get. You know what a phenomenal memory some people have; especially when it pertains to other people's failures!
In short, I had a mutt, they had a pure breed.
Then I moved to Detroit for graduate school and it was here that my car and I came into our full potential. Most of the international student population did not have a car and had to walk to the nearby Kroger in cold weather; whereas my roommates and I would go out to Dearborn, Michigan to shop. Every weekend we would go out to the suburbs. Although we did not have much money to spend, thankfully gas was under a dollar! We would go to the mall and look at all the clothes and electronics we could not buy and come back. Spending 5 bucks at McDonald's was out the question since it represented a substantial portion of my weekly grocery bill.
I may not have indulged myself, but I treated my car like a baby. I changed oil every 3000 miles like clockwork and rotated the tires regularly. My car was my asset. It was a status symbol. It represented mobility and aspiration that two thousand other students yearned for. I would tell everyone about the wonderful mileage it gave me and how it was all due to the care I took.
During the time I was engaged to Jannavi; I think it probably was fall of 1991; Jannavi, Girija who was then Jannavi's roommate, and I went shopping. On the way out Jannavi pointed out that the car was low on gas. I launched into my usual story of how well I maintained my car and capped it with a boastful sally - Don't worry! My car is so efficient, it would drive itself even if I fueled it with water!
Yup, I was proud of my car and you know the adage - Pride goeth before a fall.
As luck would have it, on the way back, about 2-3 miles from the campus my car coughed a couple of times and simply stopped running. I had the sense to put it in neutral and take it to the side. It was dark and trust me, Detroit in 1991 was no place to stranded at night. Jannavi, I could see, was furious. So I quickly opened the trunk, took out my gas can, and after telling the girls to lock the car, went looking for a gas station.
It is hard to describe Detroit unless you have lived in a city struck by industrial blight and mass exodus of its richer population. The road was dark. I had not realized how much a simple thing like street lighting transformed a dark and scary landscape into a reassuring one. Here and there a few shops held out like beacons of hope. Most others were boarded up with graffiti all over. Any that was not boarded had all its windows smashed. Empty lots were mostly filled with trash and broken bottles. The pictures you saw in magazines (this was before the internet) hardly did justice. The despair one felt in the air had to lived through to make sense.
On top of all this I was petrified both for myself and the two girls in the car whom I had left behind. I was also berating myself for my foolishness. Detroit after all was known as the crime capital in those days.
Luckily there are good people in this world. Some people like to help others. One such good Samaritan saw my predicament and gave me a lift to the gas station. To me it was like manna from the heavens. Someone had thrown me a life line and boy did I hold tight. The man not only waited for me to fill up gas, but also gave me a ride back to where my Civic was stranded by the freeway!
I was relieved to see both the girls safe. Now that my fear had abated, I was left with a shame and guilt for both my foolishness and boastfulness. Without meeting either of the girls eyes, I quietly filled up the tank and after thanking the man profusely, drove back to campus.
What an hour? I had lived and died a few thousand times during that time.
I had learned my lesson. Since then I have never been stranded.
I also learned another lesson. I never boast about the mileage I get. You know what a phenomenal memory some people have; especially when it pertains to other people's failures!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Accident - Call the Cops
Three months I was involved in a minor car accident in NW-Washington DC.
I am fine.
It happened at about 9:20AM. Without going into the details of the accident, who was at fault was a function of when the accident happened. I was sure it was the other driver's fault. The traffic pattern on that road changed every day and had he done what he did after 9:30AM, I would have been at fault. So the time of the accident was critical.
I called 911. Smart move as I found out later.
The cops came. But it turns out that in most of the Washington DC Metro area, you do not need to call the cops for non-injury accidents. The two parties exchange insurance information and the fault is assigned after the insurance companies assess the evidence. The policeman gave us a standard "information-exchange" form containing details. Once he verified the details, he let us go.
I made a mistake.
I filled in all details except the time and when the policeman pointed this out, rather than enter the time of the accident, I entered the time at that moment which was 9:39AM. So the insurance company for the other party laid the blame on me! To confuse the matter further, the other party had filled in a time of 9:29AM. So my insurance company laid the blame on the other party!
How do I prove definitively that it happened before 9:30AM?
Luckily I recollected that I had called 911 on my cellphone. I called up Verizon and it turns out that they have to log all 911 in a special system and it showed that the call happened at 9:24AM. This put the time of the accident before 9:24AM which proved that the other party was at fault.
The other party's insurance acknowledged this fact. Since my car was very old and had nearly 180,000 miles on it, the cost of repairs was more than the value of the car. So they chose to pay me some money and junk the car.
Bottom line, if you are conscious, please call the police as soon as possible to establish the time as close as possible.
Naturally the facts could have proved that I was at fault. The important thing is; we were able to established the TRUTH.
I am fine.
It happened at about 9:20AM. Without going into the details of the accident, who was at fault was a function of when the accident happened. I was sure it was the other driver's fault. The traffic pattern on that road changed every day and had he done what he did after 9:30AM, I would have been at fault. So the time of the accident was critical.
I called 911. Smart move as I found out later.
The cops came. But it turns out that in most of the Washington DC Metro area, you do not need to call the cops for non-injury accidents. The two parties exchange insurance information and the fault is assigned after the insurance companies assess the evidence. The policeman gave us a standard "information-exchange" form containing details. Once he verified the details, he let us go.
I made a mistake.
I filled in all details except the time and when the policeman pointed this out, rather than enter the time of the accident, I entered the time at that moment which was 9:39AM. So the insurance company for the other party laid the blame on me! To confuse the matter further, the other party had filled in a time of 9:29AM. So my insurance company laid the blame on the other party!
How do I prove definitively that it happened before 9:30AM?
Luckily I recollected that I had called 911 on my cellphone. I called up Verizon and it turns out that they have to log all 911 in a special system and it showed that the call happened at 9:24AM. This put the time of the accident before 9:24AM which proved that the other party was at fault.
The other party's insurance acknowledged this fact. Since my car was very old and had nearly 180,000 miles on it, the cost of repairs was more than the value of the car. So they chose to pay me some money and junk the car.
Bottom line, if you are conscious, please call the police as soon as possible to establish the time as close as possible.
Naturally the facts could have proved that I was at fault. The important thing is; we were able to established the TRUTH.
It is just Sports
A Sports Illustrated columnist wrote this article about the defection of LeBron James from the point of view of folks from Cleveland. Feelings it seems are so strong in Cleveland that I do worry about his safety.
I must say, I on the other hand took this change very maturely. It is just a professional athlete moving from one franchise to another.
It is just sports. Big Deal!
Really, let us rewind a few decades.
The year was 1978 and Indian cricket team under Bishan Singh Bedi was touring Pakistan. Our neighbors had a black and white TV set and I watched cricket live for the first time, or nearly so. In the last two matches it looked liked India could pull out a draw. In those days the Indian team had a long tail. A middle order collapse in the second innings of both matches resulted in Pakistan being set a modest target. India got creamed 2-0. Bedi not only lost his captaincy but also his place in the team.
Why was I alive to watch this national humiliation?
Fast forward to 1986 - This was the period when Pakistan owned India. One of the lowest point for an Indian fan was Miandad's six of Chetan Sharma to end the one day. I personally think no Indian over the age of thirty probably could forget this. It is seared in my psyche.
1987 also known as Gavaskar vs. Pakistan. The Indo-Pak series was tied 0-0 and India was chasing a rather modest target except that the pitch favored the bowlers. Wickets kept falling. Only the great Gavaskar was holding the fort. He was dismissed 4 runs shy of a century. India lost the match by a mere 16 runs.
This was the last test match Gavaskar played! What a way to end such an illustrious career?
Of course, I achieved some closure in 2004 when the Indian team visited Pakistan and this time they won in both forms of cricket. That was twenty years too late for me. By that point I had not seen a cricket match in nearly a decade and a half!
I will skip Indian Hockey completely. The less said the better.
We leave India and jump to Detroit, Michigan, home of my Alma mater, Wayne State University. The year was 1991. The previous year, I had the felicity of have watched the Detroit Pistons beat the Chicago Bull in Eastern Conference Finals and later crush, the Portland Trail Blazers to become the NBA champions. This year it was payback time for Jordan; he now had a team that could out muscle the Pistons and he went about ruthlessly dismantled the Pistons.
Jordan was the type of person who would remember a grudge from pee wee leagues and would tell you about it after he ground you into the dust. I guess, I never could appreciate his greatness. I do not know if I ever watched many of his games; but when I did it was only with a forlorn hope that the opponent would win. The 90s was a dreary decade for me. Even though the Pistons went on to dominate most of the first decade of the new millennium and even win a championship, it is hard far me to forget those dark years.
Then there is my favorite team the Detroit Red Wings. How can I forget the shocker in 1994, being eliminated by the upstart San Jose Sharks? The following year, they played against hooligans masquerading as hockey players. I am referring to New Jersey Devils. Wings were swept in the Stanley Cup Finals. The ascension of the Devils to the NHL throne set up the near demise and irrelevance of profession hockey in United States. In fact the subsequent decade is referred to as the dead-puck era. The following year the Wings were the winning-est team in NHL history only to get Avalanched by a bunch of goons.
Although, the Red Wings went on to pretty much dominate the next decade and a half and win 4 Stanley Cups, it is those lost ones that rankle the most.
Do I even want to talk about the pitiful Lions? With one of the greatest running backs playing in the backfield, and in my humble and personal opinion the greatest ever, Lions went on to post some of the worst seasons. At one point it was clear to the peerless Barry Sanders that it just was not worth it. The Lions broke his professionalism and he decided to stop playing rather then be part of such futility.
He was such an amazing running back just about every running back records could have been made out of reach forever. Think about this; he was close to setting the all time rushing record and he gave up playing. He is the only running back who could make watching a 5 yard loss more exciting than a touchdown pass and make it part of a high light reel. I have added some videos to buttress my arguments. Click here, here, and here for some of his amazing runs.
I cried when he retired. Man, I have a corridor in my house named Barry Sanders Drive!
The Lions managed to break my spirit so utterly, I no longer watch NFL with any passion! I just cannot invest any more emotion in professional football.
During each of these debacles and for a few weeks thereafter, I remember going through acute depression, a general feeling that life had no purpose, and total aversion of reading the sports page or listening to talk radio!
I have believed in every conspiracy theory against my teams. How do you expect any fairness from a Pakistani umpire? Could you not clearly discern the phantom penalty that cost Red Wings the game? Jordan + 4 players + 3 umpires in his back pocket make 8. Everyone knows that 8 trumps 5. How could any team much less the much maligned Pistons win? The Lions lost because.... Sorry, I do not have conspiracy theory. The Lions just suck.
It is just sports. Yeah right!
I must say, I on the other hand took this change very maturely. It is just a professional athlete moving from one franchise to another.
It is just sports. Big Deal!
Really, let us rewind a few decades.
The year was 1978 and Indian cricket team under Bishan Singh Bedi was touring Pakistan. Our neighbors had a black and white TV set and I watched cricket live for the first time, or nearly so. In the last two matches it looked liked India could pull out a draw. In those days the Indian team had a long tail. A middle order collapse in the second innings of both matches resulted in Pakistan being set a modest target. India got creamed 2-0. Bedi not only lost his captaincy but also his place in the team.
Why was I alive to watch this national humiliation?
Fast forward to 1986 - This was the period when Pakistan owned India. One of the lowest point for an Indian fan was Miandad's six of Chetan Sharma to end the one day. I personally think no Indian over the age of thirty probably could forget this. It is seared in my psyche.
1987 also known as Gavaskar vs. Pakistan. The Indo-Pak series was tied 0-0 and India was chasing a rather modest target except that the pitch favored the bowlers. Wickets kept falling. Only the great Gavaskar was holding the fort. He was dismissed 4 runs shy of a century. India lost the match by a mere 16 runs.
This was the last test match Gavaskar played! What a way to end such an illustrious career?
Of course, I achieved some closure in 2004 when the Indian team visited Pakistan and this time they won in both forms of cricket. That was twenty years too late for me. By that point I had not seen a cricket match in nearly a decade and a half!
I will skip Indian Hockey completely. The less said the better.
We leave India and jump to Detroit, Michigan, home of my Alma mater, Wayne State University. The year was 1991. The previous year, I had the felicity of have watched the Detroit Pistons beat the Chicago Bull in Eastern Conference Finals and later crush, the Portland Trail Blazers to become the NBA champions. This year it was payback time for Jordan; he now had a team that could out muscle the Pistons and he went about ruthlessly dismantled the Pistons.
Jordan was the type of person who would remember a grudge from pee wee leagues and would tell you about it after he ground you into the dust. I guess, I never could appreciate his greatness. I do not know if I ever watched many of his games; but when I did it was only with a forlorn hope that the opponent would win. The 90s was a dreary decade for me. Even though the Pistons went on to dominate most of the first decade of the new millennium and even win a championship, it is hard far me to forget those dark years.
Then there is my favorite team the Detroit Red Wings. How can I forget the shocker in 1994, being eliminated by the upstart San Jose Sharks? The following year, they played against hooligans masquerading as hockey players. I am referring to New Jersey Devils. Wings were swept in the Stanley Cup Finals. The ascension of the Devils to the NHL throne set up the near demise and irrelevance of profession hockey in United States. In fact the subsequent decade is referred to as the dead-puck era. The following year the Wings were the winning-est team in NHL history only to get Avalanched by a bunch of goons.
Although, the Red Wings went on to pretty much dominate the next decade and a half and win 4 Stanley Cups, it is those lost ones that rankle the most.
Do I even want to talk about the pitiful Lions? With one of the greatest running backs playing in the backfield, and in my humble and personal opinion the greatest ever, Lions went on to post some of the worst seasons. At one point it was clear to the peerless Barry Sanders that it just was not worth it. The Lions broke his professionalism and he decided to stop playing rather then be part of such futility.
He was such an amazing running back just about every running back records could have been made out of reach forever. Think about this; he was close to setting the all time rushing record and he gave up playing. He is the only running back who could make watching a 5 yard loss more exciting than a touchdown pass and make it part of a high light reel. I have added some videos to buttress my arguments. Click here, here, and here for some of his amazing runs.
I cried when he retired. Man, I have a corridor in my house named Barry Sanders Drive!
The Lions managed to break my spirit so utterly, I no longer watch NFL with any passion! I just cannot invest any more emotion in professional football.
During each of these debacles and for a few weeks thereafter, I remember going through acute depression, a general feeling that life had no purpose, and total aversion of reading the sports page or listening to talk radio!
I have believed in every conspiracy theory against my teams. How do you expect any fairness from a Pakistani umpire? Could you not clearly discern the phantom penalty that cost Red Wings the game? Jordan + 4 players + 3 umpires in his back pocket make 8. Everyone knows that 8 trumps 5. How could any team much less the much maligned Pistons win? The Lions lost because.... Sorry, I do not have conspiracy theory. The Lions just suck.
It is just sports. Yeah right!
Monday, May 31, 2010
GPS lends meaning to my Commute
I am generally a timid driver. I do not experiment. I learn a route and stick to it. I rarely change lanes. I rarely try alternates. This leads to problems when the route I follow is congested. I do not have any options but stew in traffic. A few years ago, that would have frustrated me. Ever since I have been able to connect my iPod to my car stereo, I chill with my music and accept this delay as the price to pay for working in the Washington DC Metro.
With the advent of GPS technology the game has changed. I wrote earlier how GPS helps in maintaining marital harmony. I now like it for more than its ability to keep peace. When earlier I would stay behind, stuck in traffic; now I change into side roads. The GPS after 15 seconds figures out alternates for me. Whereas earlier driving was a means to an end, now I am able to derive pleasure from my commute.
New neighborhoods like the one we live in have a blandness or a sameness. I guess they look cliched like my blog. On the other hand Northwest DC in particular has some really nice neighborhoods. Hundred year old homes set in winding roads with Oak trees so tall and thick they take your breath away. Each house looks different from the other. Of course they are not painted startling pink or flaming red as some houses can be in India, but they are different all the same; in a nice way.
With the advent of GPS technology the game has changed. I wrote earlier how GPS helps in maintaining marital harmony. I now like it for more than its ability to keep peace. When earlier I would stay behind, stuck in traffic; now I change into side roads. The GPS after 15 seconds figures out alternates for me. Whereas earlier driving was a means to an end, now I am able to derive pleasure from my commute.
New neighborhoods like the one we live in have a blandness or a sameness. I guess they look cliched like my blog. On the other hand Northwest DC in particular has some really nice neighborhoods. Hundred year old homes set in winding roads with Oak trees so tall and thick they take your breath away. Each house looks different from the other. Of course they are not painted startling pink or flaming red as some houses can be in India, but they are different all the same; in a nice way.
Friday, May 28, 2010
I Ran a Relay Marathon - Again
I have been running relay marathons for the past 2 summers in Delaware. To know about my past experiences read this and that.
Each of the two times, I went alone and ran with folks local to Philly area. This time I was more ambitious. I bullied my wife and daughter to run along with me. Our friends, Maran and Lorency also wanted to run. Suddenly we were a team of five. Swati, Devayani's friend in Philly and two others, a father and son duo, made it 8 which gave us to two full teams. Two months before the race, I filled out the registration form on Jannavi's behalf, put it in front of her to sign when she was distracted and mailed it to out.
During the next 5 weeks Jannavi cried constantly; she hates running, she hates the cold; she hates practice; she does so much around the house and its corollary; how little I do around the house...
As each week passed by her tension increased. Running 1 mile is OK, she had to run 6.55 miles. Additionally I ensured that she was not the last runner and so she could not stop in the middle and go home! Each runner carried a GPS chip that was handed from one runner in a team to the next one. The race organizers used it to track us for timing purposes. The result was Jannavi needed to finish her leg so I could run mine!
Finally with a mere 3 weeks to go I asked her to run with me. Very docilely she ran with me. We kept a steady pace of 12-minute-mile and ran 3 miles. Next week we ran 4 miles and the week before the race she ran 5 miles on her own. That was it; her entire preparation for the relay marathon. Devayani and I also ran a couple of times over similar distances.
The race itself was uneventful. See the attached chart for statistics. Jannavi achieved the goals she had set; complete the marathon and do not walk. I had one other goal, run faster than last time; I shaved almost 2 minutes from my results last year.
I knew she could do it; she now knows it too!
Each of the two times, I went alone and ran with folks local to Philly area. This time I was more ambitious. I bullied my wife and daughter to run along with me. Our friends, Maran and Lorency also wanted to run. Suddenly we were a team of five. Swati, Devayani's friend in Philly and two others, a father and son duo, made it 8 which gave us to two full teams. Two months before the race, I filled out the registration form on Jannavi's behalf, put it in front of her to sign when she was distracted and mailed it to out.
During the next 5 weeks Jannavi cried constantly; she hates running, she hates the cold; she hates practice; she does so much around the house and its corollary; how little I do around the house...
As each week passed by her tension increased. Running 1 mile is OK, she had to run 6.55 miles. Additionally I ensured that she was not the last runner and so she could not stop in the middle and go home! Each runner carried a GPS chip that was handed from one runner in a team to the next one. The race organizers used it to track us for timing purposes. The result was Jannavi needed to finish her leg so I could run mine!
Finally with a mere 3 weeks to go I asked her to run with me. Very docilely she ran with me. We kept a steady pace of 12-minute-mile and ran 3 miles. Next week we ran 4 miles and the week before the race she ran 5 miles on her own. That was it; her entire preparation for the relay marathon. Devayani and I also ran a couple of times over similar distances.
The race itself was uneventful. See the attached chart for statistics. Jannavi achieved the goals she had set; complete the marathon and do not walk. I had one other goal, run faster than last time; I shaved almost 2 minutes from my results last year.
I knew she could do it; she now knows it too!
Songs I Would Like To Try
Growing up I liked to sing. I would regularly take part in school activities that involved singing.
Then I reached adolescent age and my voice broke. I did not understand this well. All I remember was a terrible lack of confidence in rendering songs that I was able to belt out effortlessly just a few months before. I would yearn to sing but my larynx would feel as if it had lost lubrication all of a sudden leaving me a feeling of paralysis. I did not talk about it and at school since no one expected us boys to be interested in singing, the desire receded from conscious thought. Only when I saw a few other kids develop a deeper voice few years later did it realize what was happening.
This fear of singing lasted until I decided to take up Carnatic music in my 30s. My teacher showed me where my Sa or Shadjam is and I discovered I had a very bass voice. The Shruti I could sing in is a full octave below what is considered Five Kattai in Carnatic music. Consequently all songs composed for singers who are baritone or tenor were ruled out. Unfortunately since most film songs were composed for singers in that voice range it ruled out all songs of Rafi or Kishore. These songs are not easy on and throat which is a good thing since people would have laughed at my pretension. I later discovered that some songs (not all) by Mukesh were little easier on the larynx. These songs although were at a higher pitch, did not have the full range of two octaves. Finally we all know that anyone can bray like Kumar Sanu.
So here is a (work in progress) list of song I would like to sing. Some of them are duets and in most of these cases, I could easily pair with my daughter or wife who are far better singers than I am and could support me.
Anand - Meine Tere Liye Hi Saath
Ruki Ruki - Mast (duet)
Do Divaane Shaher Mein - Gharonda (duet)
Kai Baar yun Bhi Dekha, Rajni Gandha
Rim Jhim Rim Jhim 1942 A Love Story (duet)
Seene Mein Jalan Gaman, Gaman, Suresh Vadkar
Suhana Safar - Madhumati
Dil Tadap Tadap - Madhumati (duet)
Then I reached adolescent age and my voice broke. I did not understand this well. All I remember was a terrible lack of confidence in rendering songs that I was able to belt out effortlessly just a few months before. I would yearn to sing but my larynx would feel as if it had lost lubrication all of a sudden leaving me a feeling of paralysis. I did not talk about it and at school since no one expected us boys to be interested in singing, the desire receded from conscious thought. Only when I saw a few other kids develop a deeper voice few years later did it realize what was happening.
This fear of singing lasted until I decided to take up Carnatic music in my 30s. My teacher showed me where my Sa or Shadjam is and I discovered I had a very bass voice. The Shruti I could sing in is a full octave below what is considered Five Kattai in Carnatic music. Consequently all songs composed for singers who are baritone or tenor were ruled out. Unfortunately since most film songs were composed for singers in that voice range it ruled out all songs of Rafi or Kishore. These songs are not easy on and throat which is a good thing since people would have laughed at my pretension. I later discovered that some songs (not all) by Mukesh were little easier on the larynx. These songs although were at a higher pitch, did not have the full range of two octaves. Finally we all know that anyone can bray like Kumar Sanu.
So here is a (work in progress) list of song I would like to sing. Some of them are duets and in most of these cases, I could easily pair with my daughter or wife who are far better singers than I am and could support me.
Anand - Meine Tere Liye Hi Saath
Ruki Ruki - Mast (duet)
Do Divaane Shaher Mein - Gharonda (duet)
Kai Baar yun Bhi Dekha, Rajni Gandha
Rim Jhim Rim Jhim 1942 A Love Story (duet)
Seene Mein Jalan Gaman, Gaman, Suresh Vadkar
Suhana Safar - Madhumati
Dil Tadap Tadap - Madhumati (duet)
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