So you think I can sing...

Ruthachinmaya (Rutha= Truth, Chinmaya=Manifestation of Knowledge) is a poem written by KuVemPu. The poet invokes Shakti to manifest in his conscience as the eternal embodiment of knowledge, her true form.
The poem has been taken from the anthology Agnihamsa.
There are several interesting motifs that appear in the poem. One of the most interesting bits is where he chides the deity that even though she has created and embodied the cosmos she has acquired a state of inaction.

Here's wishing all of you a "Kannada Rajyothsavada ShubhashayagaLu" via this song (http://www.zshare.net/audio/82234341b67e6bd1/ In case it is not clear, that's me singing):


Lessons learnt:
1. Never attempt singing again.

2. If I do, never post it publicly.

3. There are two aspects to singing, that I noticed: a) Maintaining a constant note b) High dynamic range.
While it is pretty easy to maintain a note (not really, but can be done in any decent audio editing program :) which is what I did ), modulating the amplitude is pretty difficult. I tried doing this using Audacity but the results appear contrived.

4. It's a bit easier to sing after downing a cup of coffee. For the sake of music, I should try other beverages and their effect on the song quality. ;)

Finally, in case you are offended by this attempt please listen to this excellent rendition of the same song by Raju Ananthaswamy.

A river runs through it

Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.

Never having read the book (A river runs through it), I had always interpreted this enigmatic line as a cynical summation of the futility of human endeavor, the illusion of every man’s uniqueness and the inevitability of Death. Sadly, this thought never depressed me and I was impressed by the wit that put it so succinctly.

Actually, the concluding paragraph of the book goes:

Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.

Watching Robert Redford’s adaptation of the novella, hearing Redford narrate those lines (wonderfully, I must say), I realized that it had never been about any of those things that I had thought it had.

The river here, is a metaphor for life. And life isn’t just a chronicle of a single person but the entwinement of every facet of each individual’s tale. It is a sum of all our experiences, a pool from which each of us draw from ceaselessly and yet would never empty. It is in this sense, a river. A river replenished cyclically by each of its rivulets.

There probably isn’t a more fitting tribute to life.

On a related note, this poem by Chandrashekhar Patil (titled aptly, Guptagamini) seems to me the perfect echo of Norman Mclean’s words.

ಮಾನವ

ಶೂನ್ಯದಲಿ ಸೃಷ್ಟಿಯನು
ಸೃಷ್ಟಿಯಲಿ ಸಮತೆಯನು
ಸಮತೆಯಲಿ ಮಮತೆಯನು
ಕಾಣುವ ಕವಿ ಭಾವಜೀವಿ

ಕತ್ತಲಲಿ ಬೆಳಕನ್ನು
ಬೆಳಕಲ್ಲಿ ದೃಷ್ಟಿಯನು
ದೃಷ್ಟಿಯಿಂದಲೇ ಸತ್ಯ -ಮಿಥ್ಯಗಳನರಿವ
ಪ್ರಮಾಣ ಪಥಿಕನವ ವಿಜ್ಞಾನಿ

ಆದಿಯಲಿ ಅಂತ್ಯವನು
ಅಂತ್ಯದಲಿ ಉಗಮವನು
ಚಕ್ರಗತಿಯಲೆ ಪಯಣಗಳೆಷ್ಟೋ
ಕಳೆದರೂ ಬಿಡದೆ ಹಟದಲಿ
ಪ್ರಾಣದಲೆ ಪ್ರಣವನನು ಅರಿವವ ತತ್ವಜ್ಞಾನಿ

ಎದೆಯಲಿದ್ದರೂ ಗುಡಿಯಲೆಲ್ಲೋ ಹುಡುಕುತ
ಪೂರ್ಣಬ್ರಹ್ಮನನು ಕಂಡು ಕಾಣದೆ
ಕಣದಷ್ಟೆ ಜ್ಞಾನದೆ ಕಾಣದುದ ವರ್ಣಿಸುತ
ತ್ರುಣದಿ ತೃಣವಾಗಿ ಕ್ಷಣದ ಜೀವನದೆ
ಕ್ಶಣಿಸಿ ಕಳೆವ ಕಳೆಯುತಲೆ ಪಡೆವ
ನಾನ್ಯಾರೊ "ಮಾನವ " ?