Thursday, February 26, 2015

The Echoing Verses

I have long forgotten the flower
That lay somewhere in the book;
Whilst the sweet fragrance still caresses
Its lost embrace upon petals that scatter in the corner….

The elusive verses that held to my lips
And your narratives did the rhyme;
The sound of the obscure and vague subtlety
Blurred my eyes, as I joined your variations…

Not now!

On the other bench of the musical milieu
Stood delusions of a longing lustrous evening;
When the sun glistened into the bosom of the horizon
As the languorous soul dreamt for a flower to blossom…
The heart now placed before the world.

Dreamy, yet into the stillness of this night
The strength of madness dashes out,
Pouring death and sorrow, glimmer and gold;
As I gaze for my song from the dawn.

The captive verses of the night dwelling in peace
Into the silence of the heart that resonated, filling
The eyes, as the moonlit night passes by…

A voyage has begun!

Blessed, for I am here through this thirst,
As I watch the night alone…
                                                                 
Rajdeep Pathak
February 27, 2015

Thursday, November 6, 2014

The Farewell Notes...

Do not sing the last song of the dusk,
For the heart still yearns for the unquenched thirst…
The tanpura strings clings to those forgotten notes
Come as we’ll care for the lost dreams…

The time still grasps the wall, rusted with the dust
Of ages – I see the clouds play between the skies
The dark window panes and few spider nets
Encircling each moment within each one…
Whilst the wooden chair shifts sides, slowly!

Two sides between the glasses – and the
River of hope flows from far corner into
The stream of thoughtful sound of the strings…

Momentous, yet crucial, as the musical notes
Flow from one stream to the other – building waves
Into each rhythmic senses, a perception of the swaying
Of the heart beats and the persuasion of the soul!

The lamp shimmers through the prism with the rising scales …
Do not leave the glass house with that false pride,
For I’ve not sung the last notes yet, for this moment
Is now to fathom and loosen the notes. My music
Feels the air, lest you not forget the bond that my
Notes have created in your thoughts and dreams….

For in mine and yours, the love of music flows
Slowly, steadily, pleasantly – the sweet notes
Sung to just you and me…

The farewell notes, written, torn, pieced; graced!
                                                    
                                                     Rajdeep Pathak
November 6, 2014

Sunday, July 13, 2014

Whispering windows


Spinning, twirling, dancing with the wind at play
Tip toeing at my window pane,
Drizzling into soft droplets,
Come, I have something to say!

Magical – my window has just felt your breath
Your kisses soft and sweet, playing music
In my ears – soothing, surrounding my heart
With the warmth of the untouched bliss!

Reflection of the rain and the rising drops
Gently saying… exploding… travelling
Bouncing and sharing… droplets in the window pane
Speaking… falling and gathering – as I listen…

Life stretches its arms, its ears already dreaming
With the drops… something to say, much to hear
Without any further noise into the life’s journey!

The fragrance of the yearning earth, yielding from the
Soil, rich in colour; and gentle in touch – tendering
The rough edges with care, drawing lines of life;
Breathe; breathe into freshness without a care,
Breathe the laughter, breathe in harmony, and the
Sweet nectar from the heaven’s above!

In harmony the voices whisper in my ears
Through the prism of the breezes around
I know your touch, your blessed form
Whisper, whisper in your splendorous warmth
With your benign benevolence and your bountiful grace!

Whisper, as you weave contours, carrying hopes…
As I join you….!

Rajdeep Pathak
July 12, 2014

Thursday, July 10, 2014

The First Breakfast

I watched as the river flowed quietly
Amidst the buzzing market noise
Waiting…
Time passed gently!

Some cookies were laid in the table
Covered in white silvery dishes,
A sleek glass of lemon juice and a bottle of wine –
That was complementary, the waiter gently nodded
While I smiled with the folded slip in my hand…!

The long stretch of tent-size houses that stood
Between the river and the city, did not change since time –
Only the colours of the white spreads those covered the beds got
Faded, and were replaced.

The sun, cloaked in golden mask rose
Slowly from its hidden veil dusting the darkness aside;
Tracing and glimmering with sparkling delight!

The clouds smiled and hid its face,
As trees offer shade to the migratory birds…
The curtains remain creased…

A golden mirage appears behind the door
As the bell rang - in little gaps – lull…

Time waited and held back the steps!
Watching the slow moves – the feet hidden
Behind the donned decorated robe – as she slipped
Into it to full grandeur – a concealed smile and a dexterous poise!

I watched as she rested her delicate hands on the shelf
And set to place her position – the calmness on her face
Reflecting her composure… reposing the tranquility within…

The water flowed faster as the market bustled…

Her gentleness – and the stillness of the buzzing solitude
Mellowed with her warmth…; A glass of wine splashed
Breaking the serenity… another filled and wasted –
Emptied and shared – a gentle touch… a quiet kiss!


                                                               Rajdeep Pathak

                                                                    July 9, 2014

Friday, March 21, 2014

Raping the Rivers



I sting like a wretched lifeless disturbing nostalgia
As my legacy is ruined by mocking creations,
Of surviving richness and dying consciousness!

My splendour and purity has been torn and
Stripped time and again by lustful audiences
Of illustrious and mortal beings – defining divinity
As my existence and deliberately marauding me!

They who swear by me, compel their vicious
Ignorance on my clean and chaste flow…  Still
I give life to many breasts!

Songs of lament surround me,
Whilst people defecate and mar my soul;
Alive emotions and stereotyped passions
Plunge me into despair.

Flashes of bliss – ashes, fire, corpses flow in me,
And the ceremonial outer trappings
Of industries and machines disrobe my sanctity…
They create a façade of purity and piousness!

Curtailed by artificial boundaries, their
Reflection imbibes an ornamentation of false pride;
As I ponder on the loss of unrequited love
For my decaying dignity, as it bothers none today.

Blessed? Cleansed? …

Rajdeep Pathak
March 21, 2014

Thursday, March 6, 2014

Evening’s Pure Delight

  
An evening of hope, a prism behind!
I stand alone in a boat, with the wide
Horizon facing the sky, as the sun radiates!

I spread my arms that ‘You’ could behold me
In this hour as conches blow and lamps are lit –
Pure evening, mesmerizing sound of the waves                                             
Temple’s doors open in sheer delight!

Leave me not, for I untie myself from
The bondage of life’s package…
Binding and sighing from moments of despair,
I embrace myself in your benevolent grace!

Your benign nature; your soothing touch;
Standing in front of me in the vast serene undisturbed
Horizon, as beams radiate around!

Pure evening, pure sight, the sound of wave become strong
And flow, pouring, springing, arising – emerging to emanate…
I still stand watching if ‘You’ embrace me within ‘Your’
Blessed bosom, as silence pour my thoughts with
‘Your’ glowing rays!

‘Your’ brilliance strikes and I wait for ‘Your’ embrace.

                                                                                               Rajdeep Pathak
                                                                                               March 5, 2014


Monday, December 9, 2013

Fresh Flames...

I have got the Jasmines and the chrysanthemums
And the white roses and Lilies for your bosom
That now rests silently in the grave, covered in brown.
And the dust gathered over the woods!

You have seen the tumultuous waves of endless torture
Of your body being maligned by men – they claim to have the right
To measure your worth over your physique!

The night was brutal and each moment was painful;
Yet you survived the grim and gory hour!

Canons of waters splashed in the streets
As a Nation awoke from its slumbers
From the dead and deafening doze
Of nightmares and solitude!

Tears flowed and met others on the way
Who dared to share your dream!
Who moved from pillar to poles!
Throwing colours of change on the streets
That halted only at passing smart vehicles
With red beams!

Each candle lit for a new dawn
Each flame lit with a hope
Every voice was an outcry against
The system that gives birth and
Space to such hideous act…

Over the macabre of dust and wax
Over the grave of hope and fear
Rested a word – awake!

Your flight to a new life,
Your flight to freedom,
Your dream of a new journey
Began --- and halted?

Who are you --- a voice, a shape, a shadow?
Of delight, of pain, of remembrances, of sorrow
Of fear, of distress, of joy and ecstasy, of regret ---
To be born as a women among men?
To be thankful to let to live in peace,
Really; and shyly, in the stillness and quietness of
Mournful silence!

The early hour of the day break was dark, and bright,
As you met your creator in flames, dead, still and yet
Shaking each conscience that boasted of
Freedom at midnight; and as the rays of the sun
Carried the ashes, piercing each heart and soul ---

A thousand flames rose into the widening sky ---
Jolting in the fear and predicament of hope and fury;

A thousand rays split the waves of stillness and silence!
Each candle blazed in the flames!


My jasmines and roses and chrysanthemums are still fresh

Saturday, November 30, 2013

Sky Fall

The day of the lullaby is behind;
New dawn brings in fresh fragrance
Filled with marigold and emerald green;
Life blossoms!

Each movement comes within a moment
Of sparkles and sweet delight;
As the sun glaringly flashes beams of happiness;
Life journeys!

The night is dreary, yet dreamy.
The tiring stretches of crowded buses
And small corridors, do not stress the soul –
Life awaits!

The embracing warmth of the night sky
And the gathered thoughts of the tiring day,
Adds a new look to the dawn –
Life Shines!

The moving train halts at the subway
Defining further the route to trod,
As she walks through… and her folding arms
Checks each careful steps…
Life strengthens!

She knows the danger of times,
Of forceful eyes and alarming ties,
Of naked vision and wild cord,
Of being abandoned and deprived… 
‘Careful’, she murmurs as she walks –
The night follows….

Quietly, carefully, disturbingly, her
Fear grips her, her pride gives up
The hope of the loneliness around,
As she strangely looks at the wide
Lamppost and the beaming clouded light –
Drowned with fear, floating on hope,
She moves…

Reflections, her shadow torments her,
Yet she steadies her path,
Following her steps, counting each word,
Numbering her pace!

Is she free from the bondage of fear?
Is the freedom of birth so painful?
Is the world mute to her solitude…?


Rajdeep Pathak

Monday, November 18, 2013

Strings, Attached…



 I know not the joyous music of the strings
And the notes that your soul springs forth…
The silence of the strings makes me yearn
For words that could match the cold touch!

I see you sprint your thoughts as you
Create the ode into a riot of designs
Springing to and fro to transform the cold,
Into a more hopeful incredible sound!

Can you find me in the crowd of stillness
In the strings that echo an assurance?
Can you define the parallels of calmness?
The white and black shades of styled frames,
That fashion your possessed beauty?

The musical sound of the strings plays
With the perfumes sprayed around…
It’s a world of romanticism, of love and different shades
Of sounds and voices and chiming bells!

In that stillness of the night
The dedicated lovers cross streams of notes,
As flames cross decades of silence ---
The night plays on…!

Give me your word not to depart
For I have journeyed my soul with yours,
For I have sung with those strings…
Notes that not many dared to sing!

My tears of hope scroll down deep,
My eyes meet yours in solitude;
Wait, oh! Night, let it be, let it be…
For I know the strings by now –
Let it be, oh! Night…!
           
  Rajdeep Pathak
                                                                                                               November 16, 2013

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

The Music at the Coffee House falls silent



As I write these lines – to be frank at heart and outspoken – I am not mourning the death of Manna Dey. I am a little bereft of words and expressions and recall the lines of one of his immortal songs phool gendua na maro  from the movie Dooj Ka Chand 1964that caught my attention at a very early age when I did not understand a bit of classical music – not that I do it even today. Being very young, I could not understand the nuances of the ragas, yet Manna Dey’s tonal expressions left an indelible mark on me. I would say, my journey with Manna Dey sahab’s meticulous music and unique style had begun. 

As news spread over the legendary singer’s demise, both social and entertainment media were flooded with the music of this genius. From the news channels to the broadcasters also, Manna Dey’s songs were all across. For a moment, I thought the golden era of music had revisited us once again. And songs such as Puchho Na Kaise Maine Rain Bitai (Meri Surat, Teri Ankhen 1963), Aye Mere Pyare Watan from Kabuliwala (1961), Laga Chunari Mein Daag from Dil Hi Toh Hai (1963), Sur Na Saje from Basant Bahar (1956), Ae Meri Zohra Jabeen from Waqt (1965), refreshed our taste of listening to good music, which has recently eluded us. 

My memories of listening to his songs from the HMV collections of Manna Dey’s classical music, in the small Philips tape recorder – which we still have, but seldom play – sent me back to the time, when during concerts as part of the Durga Puja celebrations – or any other social get together, we would specifically request the artistes on stage to sing laga chunari mein daag or lapak jhapak tu aa re badarwa or Coffee Houser Sei Adda Ta. And the audience would go crazy. I still remember, none would dare to disturb anybody else. The silence was broken with the soulful rendition of the songs, but the artistes never forgot to seek forgiveness from the audience, before attempting such immortal songs.
Such was his magnanimity, that in a career spanning over five decades, Manna Dey’s songs could never be challenged by other legendary singers like Mohd Rafi, or Kishore Kumar. His training in classical music from his uncle, the famous Krishna Chandra Dey helped him at ease with various ragas, so much so that renowned music directors of the time, from Sachin Dev Barman to Vasant Desai, Anil Biswas, Shakar Jaikishan to Salil Choudhury and later R D Burman, Laxmikant-Pyarelal had made their choice for Manna Dey for complicated classical songs based on different ragas. 

Even in songs that proved his versatility through his renditions of Ek chatoor nar (Padosan) or Masti bhari hai sama (Parvarish), or for that matter Dil Ki Girah (Raat Aur Din), his grief that reflected in Aye Mere Payere Watan once again proved beyond doubt, that he could embellish some of the most difficult songs with ease. 

Very few singers could take the credit of singing duets with singers like Lata Mangeshkar, Asha Bhonsle, Mohd Rafi, Kishore Kumar, Mukesh, Mahendra Kapoor, Talat Mahmood, Amit Kumar, Shailendra Singh, Krishna Kalle, Shardha Rajan Iyengar, Aarthi Mukherjee, Chandrani Mukherjee, Anuradha Pudwal, Hemlata, Minu Purushottom, Bhupinder Singh, K.J.Yesudas, Suresh Wadkar, Kavita Krishnamoorty Subramaniam, Alka Yagnik, Antara Chowdhury, Preeti Sagar, Dilraj Kaur, Yunus Fazmi, Jaspal Singh, Anwar, Manhar Udhas, Joginder and Mubarak Begum. 

Manna Dey was one of them. He sang with singers of every generation in Indian films from 1940-2005. He worked with more than 102 music directors in Hindi film industry from working with Krishna Chandra Dey in Tamanna in 1942 to music composer Shamir Tandon in 2006, giving his voice to over 3500 songs. 

While his contributions to the world of Hindi Film Music, is beyond any words, Bengal and other parts of the country too had their share from this musical wizard. A person who has oft said that he never considered himself a singer, the world of music can surely vouch for this singer who had it all – the range, the voice, the soul, and most importantly the humility. He loved his music and loved musicians. His versatility was his strength and he was able to capture the essence of any song – whether classical, fusion, bhajans or folk. 

Some of his songs in Bengali such as Baje Go Beena; Shundori Go, Duhai, Duhai; Obhimane Chole Jeona; Ami Jamini, Tumi Soshi He; Sobai to Sukhi Hote Chaye; Oi Kule Aami, Aar Oi Kule Tumi; Ami Jey Jolsha Ghorey; and the immortal Coffee Houser Sei Adda Ta;  including many others, have been sung innumerable times and on different occasions by professional artistes, at musical programs, and at different musical social gatherings. And these songs remain forever young and fresh. 

Whether it was Rabindra Sangeet, Nazrul Geeti, Shyama Sangeet, Geeti Natya or non-film songs, Manna Dey had sung all genres of songs and created his own unique identity. 

Multiple National Award winner, Padma Bhushan and Dadasaheb Phalke awardee Manna Dey Sahab, died on October 24, 2013 in Bengaluru, following a renal failure and respiratory illness. He was 94. 

As I conclude, I recall my interactions with one of the leading classical singers of the country, Pandit Ajoy Chakraborty, who had the honour of presenting the life time achievement award to Manna Dey on August 2012 at his residence. Like all others, Pt. Ajoy Chakraborty was in awe of Manna Dey’s singing and recounted how humble and childlike a person he was. His music showed his simplicity and love towards humankind, Panditji had said about the legendary singer. 

I also recall these lines from the movie Anand – Zindagi, kaisi hai paheli, haae/kabhi to hasaaye/kabhi ye rulaaye … and goes on to say… Jinhone sajaae yahaan mele/sukh-dukh sang-sang jhele/vahi chunakar khaamoshi/yun chale jaae akele kahaan/zindagi… and Manna Dey’s soulful humming sings in the background.

The musical adda of Coffee House may be gone, but the timelessness that has evolved in this house over coffee and music of Manna Dey will continue to enthrall us and our future generation. For, good music never dies. And that is exactly the reason, why I wouldn’t mourn. I nevertheless feel a pain in some corner of my heart that this stylish singer will not be seen around.

The silence over the coffee table is a reminder that good music needs to be nurtured and cultivated. This is what Manna Dey did all his life and the responsibility will be to carry on this legacy with sincerity and commitment.

Manna Dey sahab, as I borrow these lines from your song – Jodi kagoje lekho nam, kagoj chhire jabe/pathore lekho nam, pathor khoye jabe/hridaye lekho nam se nam roye jabe… (if you write on paper, the paper will tear/if you write on rock, the rock will decay/if you write the name on the heart, the name will be etched forever), I must say, you have imprinted your name in our hearts, and that will remain forever.

Farewell to this musical wizard, Manna Dey (May 1, 1919 – October 24, 2013).