suraj mani- the singing sensei

Respect - part 2

 

Anyone who loves his/her work is an artist. You have to be able to pour your heart and soul into what you do and find yourself there.

 

I was at Kerala rocks a few days back and talking to a few bands there. I remember telling Abhijit (Guitarist- Heretic), that he should really find himself at the centre of whichever musical genre he creates. That is the true calling of art.

 

Bob Marley found himself in the middle of his brand of reggae, Elvis found himself in Rock’ n roll, Led Zepp, Queen, Dire Straits etc all found themselves in something that I can’t even classify into genres!

 

It really doesn’t matter what kind of music, art or career you want to pursue. Just remember that you are what breathes life and individuality into it.

 

God knows that this world needs much more artists, much less mass production and a consumer that himself is discerning and appreciative. Then the aphorism of “work is worship” would ring truer to my ears.

Respect!

 

The powers that be in the music industry claim that it is suffering and according to me here is one of the central reasons. You cannot have a music industry that flourishes independent of the musician. That guy over there busting his ass on stage, playing his heart out and loving every moment of it is also working.

 

No one has the right to ask him why he isn’t doing it for free!

 

Incidentally as some of you may know I run a business as well. One of my customers owed me a large chunk of money at one time and when I stopped work saying that I would continue after being paid what was due to me, the following situation arose:

 

He was upset(!). That’s ok with me. It was intended. He then told me that so many other people worked for him without being paid much more. I congratulated him on that, reminded him that we had never offered to do so, that we still wanted our money and that we remained very clear on that. He actually then started giving me gyan (which to be charitable to him, he believed to be valid) about the merits of what others were doing, followed by forceful recommendations that my company should do the same!

 

Something kinda broke inside me at that time and I said something to the effect that “if you go out on MG road, you would find hookers there any day. Now it is fine by me if you want that kind of woman, however please don’t start asking me why I don’t send the women I love over there!”.

 

That shut him up nice and quick and maybe more importantly his mind opened up to the fact that there is a certain dignity in any labor that just can’t be belittled. God knows that many people in this wonderful country of ours are not educated about this concept.

 

This world would be a much better place if people just did the kind of jobs that they loved to do and got paid for it. I am an evangelist for that kind of thinking and the next time you find somebody belittling an artist I hope you would take that situation to a much better place.

 

 

 

 

Another goodbye.

I am not really sure why I am writing todays post. Its more of a private matter.And yet my heart aches to share.

My Uncle, fondly known as achachan (my mothers eldest brother) was laid to rest today in Marammon, Kerala and I was unable to be there.

He passed away kind of suddenly. Had a heart attack a couple of days back and only his grandson was there with him. Rubeil, my 20 something year old nephew, had to watch his grandad pass away in the car on the way to the hospital. Some things in life are never meant to be easy.

The funeral was decided suddenly as all his children who lived largely abroad made it within a day. I just wasn't able to be there and so I went to another uncle's (another brother of my mother) place yesterday. It was the recollection of this conversation that makes me want to write.

My Uncle was telling me how Achachan actually was unable to walk across the road and yet how he would drive all the way to Trivandrum(which could be some 250km away)  if you could get him behind the wheel of his car!

I smiled at the memory of his famous drives. I mean he was 80 years old and he had been doing this for years. 15 years since he had a heart condition. In fact I just realized yesterday that his heart was working only 15% of its capacity.

He lived much beyond what his heart would have normally permitted an ailing old man to. Maybe because he never lived like an ailing old man.He just lived.

I remember how he was unable to make it for my wedding because he was suddenly exhausted due to his condition. Achu (my wife) and I went to maramon a few days later and visited him.

He went into his room and came out with a very special gift for me. It was a Gold plated Shaeffer pen that my mother had presented to him some 20 odd years back. In pristine condition.

I have that pen with me. It is kept with my most important papers and personal possessions. In fact I tend to write down the final draft of all my songs on special paper using that pen.In my neatest handwriting. Silly, but very satisfying. Its almost like a personal presentation of our songs to my mothers soul.

So much of our selves is part of our ancestors and our elders. And most of the parts we cherish of ourselves are often what we most cherished about them.

A simple conversation, a look, a behavioral  pattern, a memory shared... all these are what makes us remember someone who has gone before us. And sometimes we are lucky enough to hold in our hands little gifts that anchor us to some of the most beautiful people in our lives.

There truly is more to a gift than its intrinsic value. Life proves that to us every now and then, when it snatches our blindness away.

It truly is wonderful to be alive. More than we ever acknowledge or believe so!