Soup for the Soul

I recently finished reading one of the most profound books I’ve ever come across.

It’s called Chicken Soup for the Wine Lover’s Soul.

I didn’t finish the book in an hour or two — though it would’ve been easy to do so. I took my time with it; I read a few pages each day, savouring the lingering taste of words.

Like every Chicken Soup book, this one is also of letters, but written by wine lovers. Stories of wine and wine drinking, of drunken mistakes and often success stories. Stories of love and relationships; of how wine brought families together and how wine tasting experiences taught new couples more about themselves. There were stories of people who tried uncorking a wine bottle for the first time, of cooking with vintage wine, of losing a cork, of spilling wine and of splurging in grape-scented vineyards.

The book gave me such valuable insights into wine. In a society where any form of alcohol is taboo — for girls in particular, because, well, boys don’t listen — this book and the stories within helped me appreciate the wine as more than alcohol. There’s history in wine, there’s class, there’s flavour, there’s maturity, and there certainly is a wide range of vocabulary!

What a Mess, English!

English is a funny language. It’s not my first, and it certainly won’t be my last, but English, my dearest, you are one hell of a mess.

Well, English, how many languages have you borrowed from? Can you even count the number of foreign words you now call yours? But hey, we know that you didn’t steal any of it — I would never throw that on you. I love you, trust me.

But I don’t like some of the words you own. Like, for instance, the word “mentee.” I always considered it like one of those informal terms that corporate people dished out — a lot, mind you — just to sound high-profile. But this morning, I read an article about the signs of a good editor (like anyone knows that!), and I came across this word.

Mentee.

Yuck. Try saying that word aloud and slow. “Mentee.” The aftermath of the long ‘tee’ and the resonating sound of the ‘men’ (oops!) is detestable.

Of course where there’s a “mentee” there’s also a “mentor.” This, however, I can live with. I even daresay that I like the round “or” sound. It gives me the image of something wholesome and complete.

But the best thing about you — English — is that you are so changeable.

Is it just me? Or isn’t “ambidextrous” lovable?

Ambidextrous is beautiful. And why wouldn’t it be, it’s a talent after all! It’s attractive too. But the word, “ambidextrous” is beautiful in itself. “Dexter” — that’s right, and “dextrous” — that’s neat. I’m “bi” — two in character or ability. “Ambidextrous” — so much depth in one word. Oh dear, English, how could you contain so much technicality and also host a word like “mentee”?

Again, mentee! How can I relate that to mental or mentality? Has it got anything to do with men or tee-shirts? Isn’t that a little male chauvinistic?

Perhaps I’m thinking too much. Perhaps I should just indulge in my ganache filled brownie.

Oh, how good that sounds!

Ganache! Every syllable rings of rich chocolate and butter and all things indulgent. And not to forget, French!

Oh English, I can’t describe the way you make me feel. The way you swirl in my mouth, and the way you make me sound — sometimes dextrous, sometimes ganache-like. But most times, you just make me sound meh!

Never Let Me Go

Sometimes we have the habit of volunteering for sadness. That’s how I watched this movie.

This is not the kind of movie you’d watch on a lazy Saturday afternoon with the best tasting food on one side and some bitter beer on the other. It’s far from a romantic comedy that would help you relax and probably fall into a deep sleep.

It’s not the kind of movie you’d watch in the theatre, or on a chilly Friday night, with friends looking for adventure.

This is one of those good movies that tug at your heartstrings and make you feel bad about yourself.

It makes you hate yourself — it’s one of those movies people say would change the way you see the world.

True that; it does. But it also makes you realize how evil we are as humans.

The story is of three friends who are a part of the National Donor Program. A program that raises children in isolation, monitors everything from their food intake to their life choices, and ensures they are healthy enough — until they are old enough to fulfill their purpose. Their purpose: to donate vital organs to save the lives of people they’d never meet.

Every donor goes through multiple donations until they complete — or die, in simple terms. Some complete after four donations, but most do sooner than that.

‘Never let me go’ is the story of Tommy, Kathy and Ruth – three youngsters who fall in love with themselves and then into life’s greedy hands.

This movie will leave you miserable. The music – the violin solo – will painfully clench your heart and will render you speechless.

It did for me.

Laugh out Loud

They say laughter is the best medicine, and it’s no surprise that when we laugh, we feel so much lighter at heart.

So here it is, the laughing buddha — my symbol of laughter and good health.

Experiencing Indo Soul

The previous piece I wrote about Indo music, was about Karthick Iyer’s single. After all the mixed feelings that song had on me, I got hold of the rest of the album. My first impression wasn’t at all that great. Which is a great sign. I’m not easily impressed; it took me over three months to fall in love with my favourite musician’s latest album (now though, I can’t get enough.)

Boundless
Boundless is a boundless musical blend of the miruthangam and some devilish strings. It’s a small song; just two and a half minutes. But throughout, you’ll experience so many emotions go back and forth. I didn’t hate this song, but it didn’t awe me either. In fact, with the strange beginning, I thought my audio was faulty; it didn’t seem appropriate to begin a song with a music that painfully reminds you of this.

After the initial shock however, the music gradually pulls you into the song. Not to mention the artsy crescendo. Out of the blue, the miruthangam rises and suddenly from nowhere come the strings to blend in so well that you can actually feel the pull. And the repetitive beat that starts at 1.50, and lasts for a few seconds — wow. I don’t like lengthy musicals — except in extremely rare circumstances. And I’m certain that I wouldn’t have liked this song one bit if it had lasted any longer. This song just proves that you don’t need much time if you know how exactly you want your audience to feel.

Clown Junket
I can’t say it enough, but I am a string lover. The guitar and the violin are one thing, but the bass adds another dimension altogether. Though it’s a part of the violin family, both the cello and the bass are much deeper than the violin and viola. And that’s the magic of this song. It’s a beautiful song, but the first two minutes were too slow. You’re left to wondering what exactly is happening. It might put you off, unless of course, you decide to listen through. Once you wait for the second half, you wouldn’t regret it, I’m sure.

The introducing of the violin into a well set tune was beautiful. The violin just waltzed into the mass that was bass, and fit right in. And the touches of miruthangam here and there – perfect accompaniment to the classical tune. Every time I hear it, it feels a little odd that the violin should blend classical and western, but I’m getting used to the idea — and I’m starting to like it too.

Mid air
No beating around the bush — this song just gets right into business. And I like that. Perhaps to make up for the slow songs in the album — nevertheless, it’s gets off to high start and maintains the energy throughout. Just listening to this song, I can picture it bringing modernity to our traditional society. I love the fact that the bass and the miruthangam get a lot to say along with the violin and guitar. The guitar interlude – brilliantly brings in a little western touch to the classicism.

This is a great song with an amazing blend of both worlds. It’s a bit long though — it would’ve been more powerful had it been a little shorter. This song reminds me of old television advertisements — can’t pinpoint which exactly though. Weirdly though, this song made me nostalgic.

A Saranga Convergence
Love the beginning — great slow start of the violin. The first 30 seconds were awesome, but then he let it slide a bit. He brought it back at 1.40 though – with powerful strings and strong miruthangam. Loved the transition at around 2.40 where the drums take and hand it over to the guitar, and then coming back to the bass. And then the vocal just blooms out of nowhere. It was such an unexpected surprise — though it lasted a bit longer than I expected. Nevertheless, I truly enjoyed the equal distribution of instruments in this song. Maybe because it’s a lengthy piece, but it wasn’t tiring — just a lot of smoothness, one or two glitches here and there, but overall, nice to listen.

Loved the ending as well — smooth. Gave me the mental picture of a cherry sliding off a melting ice-cream cone. ;)

Rejoicing in Raguvamsa
First 50 seconds – pure classical treat, and an incredible transition to the percussion — loved every bit of this song. Beautiful bass solo at 2.40, and nice takeover of the miruthangam assisted by some classy percussion. And yet another beautiful ending. Karthick has found himself a versatile team; three strings, a classic miruthangam and a totally western electric guitar.

Combined, these instruments do such a great job to captivate the listener. And the team’s done it so well. There’s so much room to experiment, to succeed and to make mistakes as well. This is a great album to listen and to keep. It’s not the perfect collection of songs; there are some parts I could live without, and some I couldn’t. Team Karthick Iyer Live knows their audience, and they’re not trying to please everyone. And that’s the way to go.

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