It is amazing how a little human being with tiny feet, pink cheeks and hair like strands of silk, can make a singer out of anyone.
The beauty of singing for a child is in its spontaneity. You have no idea whatsoever of what you’re singing; you just start ‘la-la’ing off to make the baby stop crying. And when it seems to work, when the frown is gone, and the eyes shift focus on to you, or close peacefully in slumber, you suddenly realize that the gibberish you sang was really a tune. And you sing it again and in loop. Right then, at that point, you become a singer. No matter how harsh a voice you think you have, when the baby in your palms will start to cry, you will sing. And that song will be the most beautiful, because you will have no idea of where the song came from, and you will want to sing it again and again, just to re-experience the joy of having relieved the divine little being of its restlessness.
My best song, till date, is ‘Solomon Shoshanna’ from the Malayalam film that is making waves all over India, Amen.
For artists of most kinds, it is usually the flaws that they notice in their own performance. And I’m no exception. I used to hear Solomon Shoshanna, and think- well, its just OKAY- I could’ve done this here, maybe sung this way here, and so on.
Weeks later, I heard the final mix along with the teaser video. The music composer had decided to keep it without any music, just the vocals singing the melodic tune, and the background sounds of the sloshing lake water and the singing night insects. Continue reading “Music without music is still music”
We live in a nation of paradoxical sentiments. Or perhaps I should say, we live in an era of the lifetime of our nation, which is plagued with paradoxical sentiments. Where certain sentiments like humanity, justice and kindness are (seemingly) badly shaken, provoked and then forgotten in the daily grind, whereas sentiments of religious and caste discrimination, of political pride and its brothers are rampant are seething beneath the surface, waiting to explode over the slightest friction.
In such a nation where a few vulnerable minds can terrorise an entire population and a few lecherous crimes and criminals cannot be dealt with with courage and righteousness; where one population sleeps more than it awakens, and the other is awake with sickles in its hands to chop off the smallest blooming buds of peace or change, I wouldn’t make a film on terrorism, or religious outrage or sexual abuse. Continue reading “‘Wise enough’ rather ‘Bold enough’”