Wednesday, July 30, 2014

kalaripayattu

Thatched roof above. Baked red earth below. Tired feet leave imprints on the fine dust that coats the Kalari pit. A pile of weapons — swords, knives, sticks, shields. Two young men wage fierce battle with each other, while another watches. The winding loin cloth may have been replaced by sweats but the thwack of two sticks meeting, the perspiration that coats the brow and the complex, fluid series of postures remain essentially the same and has been so for centuries.
They say that Kalaripayattu is as old as the state of its origin, Kerala. Parashurama, the sixth avatar of Vishnu, is said to have thrown his axe into the turbulent sea and the state of Kerala emerged from it. To protect the land and the people, he initiated them into this art form which marries strength, grace and healing.
“Most Indian traditions always stem back to a divine intervention,” laughs Kalari expert, Shaji K. John, who practises the North Malabar style of this martial art and teaches it at Spaces, Besant Nagar. “I think it evolved because man needed to defend himself by employing these fighting techniques. However it isn’t simply a physical practice but a spiritual one,” he says.
“Kalari is one of the best martial art systems available to us,” says Kannan Pugazhendi, city-based sports physician who counsels at the Sports Performance Assessment Rehabilitation Research Counselling Institute and has practised Kalari for over two decades. “In my opinion, it is far ahead of any other self-defence system because it doesn’t just prepare you for one-on-one combat but for battle.”
However, the art takes years to master and demands extreme commitment, passion, patience and dedication — not easy in an age where quick-fixes are a norm. Yet there are a fair number of people in the city who swear by it.
“I got into Kalari because I wanted to be healthy,” says Shaji. “It made me flexible and strong. In fact, the first stage, Meithari, is a fight with your body’s laziness, lack of direction and flexibility.”
The series of physical exercises are complex and demanding, including jumping, stances, sequences and kicks intended to enhance stamina, fitness and balance.
“Many people who come for Kalari classes do use it as a way to stay in shape. They are looking for something more dynamic than yoga, but which doesn’t need them to visit the gym. It is also fairly gentle on the body as the progression is gradual — the master will not teach you the next posture unless you master the previous one,” says Jyotsna John, a fitness evangelist who has practised the art.
According to Vasant, another city-based Kalari exponent who teaches the art at Evolve Earth, Egmore, “Your body gets into a good form because you are exercising. It is supposed to improve concentration and balance. We start weapons training only when you are flexible.”
The weapon training starts with Kolthari (wooden weapons) before moving to Angathari (metal weapons) and the most advanced is Verumkai (bare-handed techniques of locking, gripping, throwing, blocking, striking and kicking techniques as well as vital-point attack).
However, Kalari is far more than fitness and self-defence; it is also said to be a healing system which includes the treatment of injury and illness. According to Ram Bhat, who has been practising the same for nearly six years now, “I had a bad fall and broke my knee while playing basketball and started Kalari while I was recuperating from my injury. It was hard at first — it is an organic system which requires time and patience and as a sportsperson used to plenty of action, I wasn’t used to the pace of learning. The first time I attended a class, I was simply advised to lie down and breathe in and out — I went to sleep,” he laughs.
But he persevered and was soon hooked, “I also play soccer and basketball and Kalari made me a better player.”
“I got into Kalari mostly because I wanted to learn Marma — the ability to heal through the practice, as I wanted to know how to address sports injuries on the field. I was told that I had to master the martial movement to understand the healing,” says Dr. Kannan.
And there have been no regrets, “A kalari practitioner never stops learning and I am still a student. No art can be learnt in a short time. It is a lifetime pursuit which requires commitment.

Thursday, July 24, 2014

ruslan and lyudmila-an ode to love

RUSLAN AND LYUDMILA: THE PROLOGUE
l
A green oak tree’s by a cove curving;
A gold chain on that oak is found,
And night and day a cat most learned
Walks by that chain, around, around,
When he walks right, sweet songs intoning,
When leftwards, tells a fairy tale.
Wonders are there, wood spirits roaming,
Mermaids from branches hang their tail,
On paths of which no one has knowledge
Of unseen beasts there lurk the spoors,
On chicken legs a little cottage
Stands without windows, without doors.
With visions wood and vale are yawning,
There waves come crashing at light’s dawning
Upon the sandy, empty beach,
And thirty knights in armor gorgeous
The clear sea one by one disgorges
With their sea-uncle them to teach.
And there a king's son, that way chancing,
Does a dread monarch captive seize,
There past the people, in clouds passing,
Right through the woods, right through the seas,
A wizard bears a knight with ease.
A princess there's in prison pining.
A brown wolf by her, faithfully lying ,
There Baba-Yaga's mortar dread
Itself, with her inside, does tread.
There Tsar Kashey on his gold moulders,
There Russian scents of Rus' give odors!
And there I've passed, and honey quaffed
And seen the oak by that cove curving,
Sat under it, and the cat learned
His fairy tales to me repassed.
I've one remembered, and this story
Through me now comes to light, world, glory.

Руслан и Людмила: Пролог
У лукоморья дуб зеленый;
Златая цепь на дубе том:
И днем и ночью кот ученый
Все ходит по цепи кругом;
Идет направо – песнь заводит,
Налево – сказку говорит.                                 
Там чудеса: там леший бродит,
Русалка на ветвях сидит;
Там на неведомых дорожках
Следы невиданных зверей;
Избушка там на курьих ножках
Стоит без окон, без дверей;
Там лес и дол видений полны;
Там о заре прихлынут волны
На брег песчаный и пустой,
И тридцать витязей прекрасных
Чредой из вод выходят ясных,
И с ними дядька их морской;
Там королевич мимоходом                             
Пленяет грозного царя;
Там в облаках перед народом
Через леса, через моря
Колдун несет богатыря;
В темнице там царевна тужит,
А бурый волк ей верно служит;
Там ступа с Бабою Ягой
Идет, бредет сама собой;
Там царь Кащей над златом чахнет;
Там русский дух…там Русью пахнет!
И там я был, и мед я пил;
У моря видел дуб зеленый;
Под ним сидел, и кот ученый
Свои мне сказки говорил.
Одну я помню: сказку эту
Поведаю теперь я свету.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=niR6AGa0zSs

Sunday, July 20, 2014

mirza ghalib-poet of the revolution

Hain aur bhi duniya mein sukhanwar bahut acche par kehte hain ke ghalib ka hai andaaz e bayaan kuch aur
poets there are many but ghalib remains unsurpassed.



Na tha kuchh to khudaa tha, kuchh naa hota to khudaa hota,
Dubayaa mujhko honay ne, na hota main toh kya hota ?
Hua jab ghamm say yoon behiss to ghamm kya sarr kay katnay ka,
Na hota gar juda tann say to zanoo par dharaa hota,
Huye muddat key ghalib marr gaya par yaad aata hai,
Har ek baat par kahnaa key yun hota to kya hota 






To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? 

Hathoon key lakiroon pay matt jaa ae Ghalib,
Naseeb unkay bhi hotay hain jinkaay haath nahi hotay 


be the creator of your own fate



Kaiday-hayaat, banday-gham asal may dono eik hain,
Maut say pahlay aadmey gham say nigaat paye kyun?


being and nothingness are the two faces of the same truth


Hazaroon khwaheeshen aise ki har khwahesh pay dum nikale,
Bahhut nikale meray armaan lekin phirr bhi kam nikale 


the brilliant atman is essentially a dreamer


Nuktaa chi hai gam e dil, key sunayaa na banay,

Kya baat banay wahan, jahan baat banyay na banay,
Ishq par zorr nahi hai yeh woh attissh Ghalib,
Jo lagaye na lagay bhujhaye na banay 



If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soe'er,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy
That it alone is high fantastical.