chandybass

Shift

2009-08-19T16:05:00.003+01:00

I'm making a shift. I'll be now blogging from here

I'm terrible in making things look good. so any overall suggestions would be welcome.

And i'll try to automatically direct you where I'll be. :)

Empire

2009-08-10T14:05:00.001+01:00

A long time ago there was a family in the empire. They were in the empire but they weren't part of it. Yes they paid their taxes and obeyed most of its laws. But they didn't go along with what most people did. In fact they rejected the central foundation of the empire. Well they found it tough a lot of the family held on. rejection, torture and death followed.

empires changed, their foundations changed. They were no longer even called those things anymore. In each new age a new entity came which behaved like an empire. Each time the family had to reject the empire but rarely in open rebellion. In fact for a while everyone thought that the family were the emperors and empresses. These were imposters though. the real family still lived against the empire.

The thing with the family was that anyone could be adopted. Anyone. I was too. And as all families go it's pretty much the same. some fun, some shouting, some anger. And the family still lives against the empire. Naming the empire is much harder now. And living against it is so grey. Yet we somehow do. Because the one who adopted me did. And he's the true emperor.

A hanged emperor.

Jonah

2009-08-09T21:09:00.001+01:00

One of the weirder stories in the bible. And yet every child knows it. and Jesus specifically mentions him. I mean what's all that about being swallowed by a fish?

There was a talk today on Jonah in church. It was a bit all over the place but I enjoyed it as it set my imagination ticking. It's astonishing that Jonah gripes at God. And the gripe is not like Job about injustice, nor is it like the drone of meaninglessness that the writer of Ecclesiastes moans about. Jonah gripes at God for who God is. That God is kind and compassionate. that's his complaint!

O LORD! Is not this what I said while I was still in my own country? That is why I fled to Tarshish at the beginning; for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent from punishing

And then he says he wants to die. Twice. and that he's angry enough to die.

God does all kinds of things in this short book.

He causes a storm
He stops it
He gets a fish to swallow AND SAVE Jonah.
He gets the fish to vomit Jonah
He changes his mind about Nineveh
He makes a plant grow.
He gets a worm to eat the plant.
And through it all he argues with Jonah about his anger. Almost gently. Like convincing a 4 year old to forgive her 1 year old sister.

I wonder about my own anger. My anger against India. Bangalore. KMC. My former boss. Evangelicals. Is it right to be angry? No. But it's there. Sitting quietly in the belly.

News

2009-08-08T09:44:00.001+01:00

Most news organisations gives us so called 'news'. But face it. It's ''same old' isn't it? Death destruction greed and so on. Essentially pure gossip. So where's the news? Well actually I do read the real ''news'. But not enough. I'm too addicted to ''same old'.

Music: a missing link

2009-08-07T11:13:00.007+01:00

'When the Music fades' is a song the expresses a clear and simple truth. Worship is all about Jesus. Many musicians have taken this on board in order to 'restrain' or balance their musical indulgences in order to ensure that what music happens is actually worship.

I've heard many musicians pray that they wouldn't get 'carried away' in the music and interestingly enough that the words would get precedence. I would agree with the first part. Of course the focus is on God. That's what worship is all about.

And music? What's that all about? In practice it seems that music is a vehicle for words. It creates moods. It gets people doing something together. But is that it? Is music finally like a spiritual car of some sorts? Taking people together in air conditioned comfort from one spot to another?

I think music is much more. Music does carry meaning. Unfortunately in media saturated societies the meaning is often caricatured and laughed at. Slightly disonant chords immediately signify horror movies and key changes can be considered too dramatic. But I believe that music does carry meaning and I wonder if church musicians are completely losing out on this aspect of music.

In the bible music has a hugely prophetic function which has not been dwelt on at length at least within my moderately narrow reading list. From the song of Moses where Miriam prophetically leads the dance, right to the New Testament where we're supposed to minister to each other with songs there is a strong element of the prophetic in music.

Asaph, Jeduthun and Heman the big 3 musos of the 1st temple worship scene were all officially the king's SEERS. (2 chronicles 29:30, 35:15, 1 Chronicles 25:5) No they weren't worship leaders. And they were called to prophesy with instruments and so were there sons. (Prophesying with instruments also happens in the odd story of Saul where he meets a band and goes into a frenzy.)

The well known passage in Amos where God says 'Away with the noise of your songs' has often been used as a message against wrong type of worship. There definitely is a strong element of injustice there but the quest for justice itself is a prophetic role. And within the book of Amos in 2:12 and 7:13 the human powers that be insist that prophets don't prophesy anymore. I wonder whether the 'noise' of the songs have to do particularly with prophesy that's been told to shut up.

If music does have this prophetic role then it will be good to think about what it means for the doing of music in church.

Maybe it would mean taking music a bit more seriously. It carries its own meanings and emotions. And a musician's excellence therefore is not merely to play in a way that won't be distracting. (This leads often to the middle of the road pastiche of sound). Her excellence will also be required in order to play what God is saying. There might be some things that God speaks through the music that he won't do through words. This is why a church musician should continually keep adding vocabulary to her instrument.

And I think this same prophetic function goes for all art forms. Visual artists through painting and digital forms could give prophesies to the gathering. Think of the great craftsman artist Bezalel who incidentally is the first person that God says his Spirit is upon.

This can mean all kinds of exciting and for me scary things. Doing our art and our music in worship needn't feel like singing to the air. The air might actually speak to us.

a piece of 3

2009-08-05T20:36:00.014+01:00

Cymbals whisper with brushes
and the sticks crackle
His arms rise and fall in licks
on the shore of sound

The skins brood the air rushes
into ears forming
His feet kick and stomp the stretches
Up there and deep down

Strings rumble from below
in the deepest quake
His fingers pick and strike the root
of the foundation

The frets run wild with intent
birthing harmony
His hands move loose with precision
the groove sits easy

Open and wide the mouth utters
a beauteous blare
His strong lips purse and blow the song
from the beginning

Eyes closed in sung concentration
the tune is summoned
His body gives and blood flows
the note reaches home

and the lights come on

It looks different but is it?

2009-07-23T21:06:00.004+01:00

Yes changed the look of the thing. One must do something while procrastinating important work. My whole life seems like a delay unit. But changes have been threatening themselves within me. I hope it doesn't hurt too much.

*

2009-07-22T22:12:00.001+01:00

dreary steps fill the vision

Prayer

2009-06-01T17:23:00.002+01:00

An excerpt from John Goldingay's book 'To the Usual Suspects' based on Moses prayer to God

...five amazing things you can tell God not to do:

Don't lose your temper
Don't give up with the job half done
Don't give people the excuse to misjudge you
Don't be inflexible
Don't forget your promises

Strange isn't it?

A prayer

2009-05-20T19:36:00.002+01:00

Lord,

words always seem to be the last resort
but I long, deeply long
for grace to permeate the meeting
of two people so different
yet so saved.
May the wisdom that
called men to follow her
make herself known.
May patience the hardest fruit
ripen to juiciness
May calmness with a wave
of your hand, settle
May your love be allowed
to flow through their
rusty selves.
And if all goes wrong Lord
we know that you feel
the pain, the loss
and that you will work it out
some other way.
But I do hope what happens
would be the good thing.
Thank you that you indulge in
silly prayers. Amen.

Marked

2009-05-13T20:22:00.000+01:00

A bit blown away by this

http://www.markedgraphicnovel.com/home.html

The Talkers

2009-05-07T12:24:00.003+01:00

Look at him.
Yes him.
It's very rarely her.
He talks and talks
and talks and talks.
The people listen and sleep.
They listen and fume.
They listen and read.
They listen and get blessed.

It's the centre.
It's never missed
rarely shortened
and quite often
the wrong wind.

It's based on a library
one that I love
that I get lost in
that I find hard.

And yet this talk
often makes me despair
for I do love the talkers
even though funny voices
squeak and boom from them.

This is bovine gold
for the new nomads
helped across with
wireless but receivers
that are tiring.

the bards realised
their own folly
and sang of it
but when will
the Talkers?

Imagine or Die

2009-04-27T13:38:00.003+01:00

Thoughts from Brueggemann's Hopeful Imagination: Prophetic Voices in Exile pgs - 23-25

1. Poets have no advice to give people. They only want people to see differently, to re-vision life. They are not coercive. They only try to stimulate, surprise, hint and give nuance, not more. They cannot do more, because they are making a world that does not yet exist beyond their imagination; but their offer of this imaginative world is necessary to give freedom of action. The poets want us to re-experience the present world under a different set of metaphors, and they want us to entertain an alternative world not yet visible...

2. Poets speak porously. They use the kind of language that is not exhausted at first hearing. They leave many things open, ambiguous still to be discerned after more reflection. They do not pretend to know the future, but they offer the present as a shockingly open and ambiguous matter out of which various futures may yet emerge. They do not need to see the end of their words or all the implications before they speak....

3. The purpose of porous language is to leave the poem and the reality to which it points open for the experience of the listener. Poets do indeed trust other people to continue the image, to finish the thought out of their own experience. But that requires the kind of rich metaphorical language that is open and polyvalent. Very often people who hear poets want an explanation, which means to slot the words into categories already predetermined and controlled. Such an act, however, is the death of the poem....

pg 26-27

In our day many in ministry are caught in bitter exhaustion because people seem so resistant. That resistance, I submit, comes from a frightened, crushed imagination that has been robbed of power precisely because of fear. Indeed, one can note the abysmal lack of imagination in the formation of policy about either internation security or domestic economics. We can think of nothing to do except to do more of the same, which generates only more problems and more fear. When we are frightened, we want certitude, not porousness. So the voices of religious certitude and the advocates of political domination seem persuasive....

The practice of such poetic discourse is very difficult. It is difficult because it takes more energy than our conventional prose which is predictable and accepted on all sides. It is difficult, secondly, because it will be very much misunderstood. We are not accustomed to such communication. But the risk must be taken. Jesus' parables stand as witness that the kingdom comes by imagination, by poetic discourse. Such a way of speech creates vitality in ministry, because it keeps possibility open in the life of the community. Where there is not speech which keeps possibility open, we are left only with necessity. That is what the rulers of this age may want. But that ends in death.

The strange sum of things

2009-04-21T06:33:00.000+01:00

We often think that when we have completed our study of 'one', we know all about 'two', because 'two is one and one'. We forget that we still have to make a study of 'and'. - Eddington

Death

2009-04-20T11:10:00.002+01:00

Why do we die?

A virus.

Some cry, some sigh

some shrug and say ah well.

She made good cakes didn't she?

We should cry.

Death is horrible.

Asking why allows a basic truth through.

Death is unnatural.

A man on a cross said, 'Remember me...'

The other said 'Today you'll be with me'

Ey? What does that mean?

Truly moving or manipulated?

2009-04-16T21:27:00.005+01:00

Did you see this?

That woman is definitely quite amazing.

But but but but but

She's surrounded by media vultures and flesh devourers. Even the journalists who are so called sympathetic to Susan Boyle call her ugly and crow praises on her 'despite' her ugliness. True spit(e) that is. The privileged middle class Brit media are showing yet more signs of their living in their self made pie in the sky.

I don't think she's ugly. I don't think she's pretty either. I also think Julia Roberts is ugly.

I think Susan Boyle has awesome personality. But you can see how this is milked to the extreme. I felt emotional watching the video but I was pushed to that emotion. The producers squeezed every camera angle juxtaposed with the music for maximum teariness and throat lumpiness. Susan Boyle's voice is not that amazing. It is good no doubt but it's not as distinctive as Paul Pots the winner a few years ago.

And of course the reaction was no where close. It's because she's a woman who doesn't conform to society's idolatrous worship of physical beauty. I pray for her that she won't sucked up into the evil that is around her.

On the other hand this was truly beautiful

This is a sign of the kingdom for me.

And to make some sense of it all this was so good.

Followed by this and this

Stiffness

2009-04-14T16:24:00.000+01:00

So many thoughts
so few words

Artificial Intelligence and Wall-E

2009-04-11T21:26:00.003+01:00

Right. I'm no movie buff. It's just too emotionally heavy. But I do get impacted by them and I know they present powerful lenses to this world we're trying to wade through. So here goes some thoughts.

Wall-e and Artificial Intelligence are centrally about love. Quite obvious in the case of AI where it's all about the little robot wanting its mother's love and more subtly in Wall-e where the little robot and Eve get togther in a jig.

In comparison AI actually doesn't say anything about love. We're given all these subtle images of love between a mother and child with hugs, birthday cakes, hide and seek etc. but what do we know about love from AI? Love wants, love almost gets, love is satisfying. For a bit. Of course in the morning it's gone. But the memory is enough. It almost feels like the paradigm of a one night stand thrust onto what is a commonly held holy relationship between mom and son.

Wall-e? A lonely one learns through outside sources love, music and dance. When a possible companion appears he tries to communicate. Cares, protects. And in the end is willing to give up his own existence as well. Love is patient. Love is kind. Love will sacrifice itself. Love is curious. And love is astonishingly creative forever and growing.

And here is the odd thing. In AI love is a programme which is planted. In Wall-e it's something he evolves to do. Which is quite interesting with creation evolution screechings occuring in madhouses.

Though I must say for AI that the real relationship which does actually shine through is between David and Teddy. Faithfulness, hope and eternalness. That's what teddy is to David.

So there you go, no wonder when you preach about love you so often lustify it with love relegated to a small corner of the bed.

the sleepy eye flickers

2009-04-04T21:48:00.003+01:00

Ya.
It's been a while.
And it might be a while yet.
But there is a sense
I'll wake
or face
a lie in
only to wake
when the old earth's
gone.
The semi sleep
of meshed mares and events
can hope to be over
in the opening of sound.
Then the eye.
Roll the stone.

the dream of another...

2008-12-20T20:18:00.002Z

And so they wait
until they fall
out of love
Or a change
crosses one
Till then
they will swing
on the highest
roundabouts
with words of jest
and mirth of love
seasoned with argument
and the longing
for presence.

Guns n' Roses

2008-11-30T20:59:00.002Z

The first time it hit me. The riffs of Welcome to the Jungle and the screeches over it. A chord was rather literally struck and somehow it became the subtext of our lives. It was an entirely communal activity to listen to GnR and to air guitar it as often as possible and for the few of us we actually took the trouble to learn the songs. It was heady stuff. The songs grabbed us and so we wanted clutch them back in return.

Chords and basslines were discussed and debated upon. Slash was guitar god and Axl presence god. I for the first time got interested in the bass guitar from Duff's lines. And Izzy's rhythm guitars showed such good taste and texture that it opened music up like never before. Yes they were an important part of my music education and music life. The girls liked them too. We tolerated that.

The 'Use your illusion's came and the madness got deeper. But we saw the first fissures as Izzy left. I know he liked Adler but we didn't really care about him. But since Izzy had contributed to the song writing the songs still had their potence.

Spaghetti Incidident? was something we forced ourselves to like. But it was just too much spaghetti and no sauce. And we came to the realisation that the band weren't really there anymore.

We left school and saw crappy cover versions and even when pro bands performed the songs we knew when each note was out of place. And of course then the band all fought and left.

GnR was a nice pitying memory. I decided jazz was my thang. I think I can count on my fingers how often I heard a full GnR song in the last 10 years.

And now they're back. They? Well it's Axl... and a few others. But somehow when I listen to the songs it feels like a them. And they've come back at a time when I don't pretend to be a proper jazzer anymore. A confusing time. But I'm sure of my rock roots. that's what comes naturally to the fingers.

And this album is an encouragement. Yes it's not like the old GnR. I would've been very disappointed if that was even attempted. It's a new sound. And some senses it's still searching for that sound. My view of Axl has definitely changed. I think he's a real artist someone who kept prodding and pulling and prodding and pulling finally putting together a piece of artistry that will sell and make an impact.

Pink Floyd lost important members at various points in it's life. But they restarted and came back as a stronger and more powerful Floyd. According to some of course.

Maybe that's what this GnR album is about. Another GnR, feels like them, tastes like them but looks and sounds different. It's not like them but it is them. And it's so good to hear the familiar and the new.

Sigh 2

2008-11-25T17:36:00.002Z

'Wonder at the sky', the voice breathed.

The darkness receded. To be angry was a step away from death. To be irritated two. 'Sky?!', the seer croaked, His throat seizing. 'That grey -' he was interrupted.

'Life rains from there.

Its colours changes people. The sun, the moon, the stars gaze through it. Through it prayers are screamed and fists shaken. I love the sky.'

The seer realised that madness was finally his.

Gig

2008-11-24T12:25:00.003Z

Went for a gig yesterday. Paid a bit for it. Jazz greats chick corea and john mclaughlin teaming up with christian mcbride and vinnie colauita and kenny garret who used to play with chick and john.

Wasn't sure what it would be like. Was rather fearing a barrage of mindless excess. Well there were some moments of that but overall I enjoyed it. Couldn't say it was a spiritual experience but it was quite amazing.

Vinnie was the star of the show for sheer inventiveness, energy and freshness. At every point he was fully involved in the performance even if he wasn't playing at some points. But then I am biased towards him.

But too many other thoughts...
no coherence to write them.

blah!

Sigh

2008-10-22T14:51:00.000+01:00

It was the year of the terrible decree. The seer sat in the filth. Running his hands through the squelch. Driven here by harsh whispers of truth. Pushed over the edge. And he'd fallen. Into the pit of refuse. As the digested filled his nails and the stink his nostrils he did what he hated most now. He thought.

The 9th year of Servant Frey had turned into the deepest shade of sour (or was it sickly sweet?). Everyone saw it coming. Everyone knew it. Everyone talked about it. But few did anything. The few who did were befriended. Assimilated. Lulled.

'You are here'

A voice uttered.

'Questions need to be asked'

Silence. Sigh. Breath.

'The answers are yours'

The seer put his filthy hands on his face.

'Yes', he sobbed.

'Where were you?' the breath asked.

The tears made lines on the seer's face.
'I have spoken once, and I will not answer'

autumn thoollal

2008-10-15T16:01:00.000+01:00

Yup the leaves are dancing!

reaching the bottom

2008-10-15T11:55:00.005+01:00

A kindly soul lent me a double bass. This is reaching the bottom. The nether regions of sound where light barely penetrates. Life in these parts are undefined. No markings.

Heroes (part 1)

2008-10-10T23:08:00.002+01:00

We all need them. And most of us have them. I thought I didn't. But I think I do. But first I'll try and draw some outlines to what or not I think a hero is.

Not a daily chum

Not a family member

causes you to stretch

you unconsciously start imitating them

tacitly inspiring

I put the first 2 in there because I think heroes always have a bit of mythical quality about them. And if you're too close to them you'll see for what they are; mistake riddled humans. So my heroes.

H1
the first time I remember seeing him was playing drums. But he was actually a guitarist. Yes one of THOSE. It was the sudden lift in energy. Somebody else had been playing till then. Then he took over and all us little children in front got the shock of our lives. One cried but the rest of us were highly excited at this basic raw power.

And he kept appearing at various musical junctures of my life. I played drums for Joseph's Coat once. He was the only adult who didn't complain. But I guess he could spot more miscrashes and snare ups than anyone else.

Encouraging. Instructive. Full of praise after the gig.

Gigs with would often get delayed because he took ages to get us all sounding right. Such detail to sound. I couldn't understand it. Why waste so much time on sound?

But he did and we all sounded much better than we normally would.

And he shared my birthday! Aw you don't need more in a hero do you?

And he introduced me to...

Christian rock. Yes Jesus as well but in a different way. This was more direct.
'Sunil this is Christian Rock. Christian Rock this is Sunil.'

At that time of my life it was a freeing moment. To know that Christendom had distortion was a step to truth.

Eye the band

2008-10-09T14:54:00.002+01:00

Vocalist : Look at me

Guitarist : Don't look at him. Look at me

Bassist : Don't look at me

Keyboardist : Nobody can look at me

Drummer : Everybody's looking at me

Pavlov and the nun

2008-10-01T20:36:00.001+01:00

I've been trying to read Job. That's a good one Read Job while looking for a job.

I'm was quite interested in Job's responses at the beginning.

The first one when he'd lost all his belongings and children

Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return there; the Lord gave, and the Lord has take away; blessed by the name of the Lord.

(NRSV: wish I could say translation mine but 10 years in Bangalore didn't help my Kannada)

The second one (to his wife)

You speak as any foolish woman would speak. Shall we recieve the good at the hand of God, and not receive the bad?

And then

Let the day perish in which I was born... (rant rant rant)

hmmm
I wonder. Is the first response just an automatic response? Just a habit? Is it that only a while later the enormity of it hits him and then he truly responds? Which is by the way spread across quite a few chapters. The first time he blesses God. The second time he seems quite irritable and there is no blessing. Yet he holds on. And then the curse...

So question.

Are we running on autopilot?

Are we just salivating on stimulus and seamed into a habit?

Lonely Choir

2008-09-22T20:54:00.001+01:00

'I always thought that the reason Protestants sang so well is because they were so lonely'

For your 'I's

For your 'I's and 'E's

dosha

2008-09-21T17:59:00.002+01:00

yes that's how we mallus say it. the lovely dosa was a part of our meal today. Kiarna was so quiet. enjoying the taste of a time past. It's funny to think that a 3 year old has a past.

I had a version of kothu parota. twas yum.

And Luiza had bits of lots of things.

Thank God for the Sri Lankans. Another country brings a taste of home close.

Thanks Phil and Jenny.

mr and mrs

2008-09-18T14:23:00.000+01:00

Where's Madam?
With Meve.

There is no spoon

2008-09-16T15:59:00.002+01:00

‘ You have to do the imaginative work. No one else can do it for you’

This line from Jonny Baker has stuck with me. It's one of those kind of things that you wonder about but at the right time and in the right context it comes out with an articulation which gently becomes less muddy.

At the symposium deep calls to deep I went to a few workshops and this was the overiding question and need.

How do we apply it?

How do we practically do it?

These questions seem to pervade all existence. Mindless rumination and thought are considered a waste of time. And this was exactly how the totalitarian communist regimes worked. If it wasn't 'useful' then it wasn't worth anything.

This is something that science struggles with as well. A lot of money is thrown at 'useful' projects and there isn't much into so called 'pure' science. But the simple fact what seemed like pointless rumination and metaphysics find themselves in our everyday computer chips and processes.

When it comes to church this need for 'practicality' is getting more and more true with the churches that i was involved with. The need for prepackaged solutions. No wonder our churches aren't relating. We're just importing everything from elsewhere ruining the spiritual give and take of our own people.

So Bangalorean Christians import their songs, their prayer books, their bible readings, their church models, and... it's depressing isn't it. Where's the free thinking? Where's the creativity? The churches are bursting with creative people. But they are shunned. Or asked to do something peripheral.

Isn't there anyone who wants to do the imaginative work? Or wants it to be done?

Deep calls to deep

2008-09-14T22:25:00.002+01:00

Passion, indifference, self pity, joy, relief, tension, tears, numbness, liveliness, crushed.

These were some of the emotions I went through on the extreme over the last few days. The event a symposium on worship. I'd volunteered and ended up doing PA.

I heard many great things from people like Graham Kendrick, Joel Edwards (director of the Evangelical Alliance), Mark Eary and Jonny Baker. And later went to a workshop by Jeremy Begbie. Loved it.

Joel Edwards said he was '...bored' with the worship in churches. And he wondered if God was bored as well.

Graham Kendrick spoke about the genesis of the modern worship music movement and how it's grown and where it's come to and the huge challenges it faces and that it throws up.

Mark Eary was great. really loved what he said about technology and liturgy.

Jonny Baker spoke passionately (very understated-ly) about worship, the future, and 'community is content'.

It was very interesting to see from my perspective that the 2 leaders from the charismatic renewal movement (Graham and Joel) seemed a bit tired and on the search for something new while the Anglicans (Mark and Jonny) were pointing the way forward. I'm biased.

But the whole event turned me inside out. I was hearing all these wonderful and beautiful things but it felt like all that I heard within me fell on no man's land. I carried only the immediate intellectual joy of hearing what I heard. My soul felt and feels dead to recieve such things.

For the first time I didn't even try to engage with the worship. As a critical person I had nothing to complain about the spirit or the execution of the services. But I was too tired. Too tired to engage. It was freeing. And frightening. Am I rejecting faith itself?

It is a black hole now. There is nothing for me to do. All my God given gifts seem rusted and unworkable. 'Nothing' and 'I don't know' seems to be the only words that I can truly say.

What do you do?

Nothing.

What do you want to do?

I don't know.

Maybe this is the horrible point of dying. Maybe this is reboot time. But will anything run... or load?

Olympic Spirit

2008-08-15T23:18:00.004+01:00

I felt reading about the 'adjustments' that happened and the astounding opening ceremony for the Olympics in China. First it was that some part of the fireworks were animated for the folks to look at in the screen. And secondly more jarringly the pretty girl who sang was the same pretty girl who didn't really sing.

The reaction to this has been relatively muted. For example see this

There is an interesting comment in there how Chinese culture would like to present what looks best rather than the true thing.

I think this is true across the world.

The image has completely taken over.

Truth is sacrificed for honour.

wrangling with genes

2008-08-10T21:53:00.003+01:00

families are complex. You love em. Well... a lot of us do. Some of us can't. And others aren't bothered. But you got to admit they have a lot to do with who we are. The inheritance of genes is something that is rather baffling. In a choice driven world we end up looking like our family. And a lot of scientists say that we behave like them as well. Is that genetic? well it seems that studies done among people who are adopted pointed towards the fact that there were stronger likeness of characteristics towards the biological parents than the adoptive ones.

Complete pointless digression.

Ok so families have a lot to do with us. so what happens if we tire of them? or we don't get along? should we try to sort it? or is it just too much bother? what if we were adopted? how would we react then?

Let's add some more complexity to this wierd scenario. we're part of this massive joint family. so we don't like our immediate family but don't want to completely leave the old family name so what do we do? should we just hop from branch to branch of the family just to see what suits us? hmmmmmm.

That's what the Bangalore Christian does. While their beer guzzling companions hop pubs in the precious little time before the cops arrive, equivalently the brethren hop churches savouring the best that churches have to offer.

'oooh feel like a loud sermon today'.... 'feel guilty today I could do with a good going to hell sermon' 'feel happy today need some rocked out music!!!' 'feel prophetic today I shall pronounce 7 people to be worship leaders today'....

Now I've got to be careful. People do move churches sometimes for good reason. There could be a God given sanction to move. There could be genuinely wrong things happening which prompt a move. But in my experience for someone to move church in Bangalore it is not such a big deal. We go where we feel like reveling in the beauty of choice.

Why DO we move around like stupid goldfish jumping from bowl to bowl?

1. 'Good' preaching. (Aargh!)(Where in the bible does it say that a sermon is a necessary part of Christian worship?)
2. cool crowd
3. great music
4. big crowd
5. even better music
6. Dramatic preacher
7. signs and wonders
8. powerpoint
9. good coffee (not that milky crap I got in the other place)
10. parking space

But I think there are even sadder reasons why we move. We don't know what church is. When was the last time we heard a memorable sermon about the church? In Bangalore I don't remember a single one. We have so many sermons a huge chunk of them useless and we still don't know why we are sitting like schoolchildren in a building in front of somebody rabbitting on.

We don't feel like a family because we have no teaching about it. We just sit there listening to all these self help mantras and tiring psychological endeavours. at the end if we've been emotionally titillated we give a tick mark to the service. 'Good'.

I think for Jesus it's like sitting with a gazillion bored teenagers. He's adopted all of them and most of them just want to be entertained. We really need to be genetically modified so that we can be rid of horrors of the old genes and live with Christ's genes. But guess what? we're so happy to be adopted by the Big J that we think it's all about access to him and sitting on his lap. Well, actually he's done a rather wild thing as well. He's grafted us into this family, a bunch of whining, complaining back stabbers some of whom who truly love you and really resemble him. And we're family because he did that rather scary thing of going through the scariest darkness of alienation and death. So we're family.

Personally it means I have to love one of the few persons in this world I've truly hated. I know it to be true. I have to. I will.

But Bangaloreans.
Stop the Hop.

We are family.
It's not just Jesus and me.

Sermons I wish I had heard

2008-08-10T03:19:00.000+01:00

Probably a bit contextual but here goes...

the twinkle in Jesus' eye

Jesus the Joker

opun the door, and I will laugh with you and you with me

sordid sex scenes in the bible

the genes of the Levites (Conrad)

If Jesus played an instrument what would he play?

Jesus and judo (Adrian Plass)

The terrible PR of early church leaders

what is church?

air duckin'

2008-08-09T09:29:00.000+01:00

Bright pukey yellow. Ummm it doesn't exist but that was the colour of the shirt of the air dukan employees. We experienced our first experience of that experience which experienced the ridiculousness of this sentence. Some of this is fantasy but the ones in quotes (fore fingers bend up and down) are true real live reports of the most amazing and rare decking.

Check in at air deckin' was relatively straightforward but after going through security we were a bit disconcerted to find that our flight 174 which was clearly printed on our ticket as destination Trivandrum was actually heading to Mumbai. Hmmm... maybe it was a short detour. Or maybe a couple of teutonic plates had shifted in that taxi ride. Now you can check in any time you want but you can never leave. Unless of course you're airlifted. That's what an airport after all is meant to be. I digress. You tiger? So here we are waiting sitting in badly stained seats while Kiarna talked to the local dustbin and Luiza drank a coffee she hated.

Waitin'....

Restless feet. Kiarna's wriggling hers too. We found our way to one of those bright yellow people. When do we board? It's not as though we aren't already with all this waiting. titter.

'Flight delayed by 100 mins. 1600 hrs to 1740 hrs.'

The half apologetic half this-always-happens-so-why-did-you-come-so-early-you-dumbcluck statement made me realise an important thing. These guys were really into cutting corners. You have to go and ask them stuff so that they don't have to hire a horrible american accent boom out distorted announcements. Ingenious.

100 mins later we walked towards a shiny new bus. It was Jet airways. we walked past the shiny bus and walked the three mile trek to the airplane. No we didn't. We had transport. In it's past life probably a cattle truck. In it's present life as well. The airplane became visible over the horizon. It was Kingfisher. OUR plane was... well... a bit plain. I mean... it had... good God... PROPELLERS! Those 2 Khaitan fans are going to keep us in the air? Maybe we shouldn't have packed so much stuff in our suitcases.

Luiza and I have a good laugh. It's been a while. Kiarna joins in. It's fake. The laugh. But very sociable and fetching.

'All air deccan personnel to leave the aircraft immediately.'

Woah! They're really scrimping now. So there's no pilot for these 2 fan contraptions? My wife assured me that this wasn't the case. They had to get out in order to push the plane on to the tarmac and then a couple of their cattle trucks pull the plane while it glides into the air and with a good wind we might glide all the way to Kerala. Saves money. good for the environment. can't complain. But as an economizing measure if they asked US to push the plane I would. Promise. Complain I mean.

'Sorry for the delay Ladies and gentlemen, the plane to Goa developed a snag (don't trust these Khaitan fans) and so this plane had to take all the passengers there and so we arrived here late.'

That's how they do it. They actually own only 4 planes. They say they operate from all over the country but these four planes are doing all the work.

'We try and cut costs so we can pass on our savings to you.'

Really kind of you mate. Will it be in cash or property or gold?

'We'll be taking off shortly and then taking a left and at Coimbatore we will take a right and be at Trivandrum'

So we aren't going to 'take off' at all. They're just going to put this cabin on a Volvo bus and drive down. Why else do we have to take left and right and all that? OR as yet another cost saving measure the pilot has no navigator or navigation system. So he has to follow the good old National Highway. Makes sense.

The Khaitan fans did the trick. We're in the air now. We buy a sandwich. I ask for a microscope and a few surgical tools. I need to take the cucumber out. Yes it is THAT small.

Ladies and gentlemens, I hope you have brought your own parachute as we won't be actually landing in Trivandrum. Thank you.

Ho Ho The Indian church which Ho

2008-08-03T12:50:00.001+01:00

One of my greatest frustrations in recent years has been church. Now I realise i'm judgmental and biased and actually not prayerful enough to get a bigger picture but my experience of church in India really winds me up. There is are many problems of course with churches around the world. But for the church in India I think it comes down to one problem.

Honour versus Honesty.

This is a deeply ingrained aspect of culture which the church should've wrestled with instead of which the church merely promotes. While I was working in a church I expressed at a bible study my inability to have a quiet time daily or read the bible daily which I DO think is important. I was told afterwards that I shouldn't say such things because it would reflect badly on me and it would be discouraging to the people I was 'ministering' to. Similarly I and my wife were told to be very careful about what we say for fear of being misunderstood.

Essentially it is far more important to maintain your status and honour than be honest and express a problem. This has never helped and in effect allows problems to fester to manifest themselves in ways which are horrifying. This preoccupation with honour and status ensures that our churches remain as communities of competition and fear instead of love and trust.

And so the real issues of the people and the community never get addressed. And so people land up at church for one thing. Blessing. And if church doesn't bless me then I shall go else where to get blessed. This is another topic which I hope deal with later. Due to the lack of honesty that would truly allow a community to grow we need a substitute. And what is that?

Entertainment.

So our sermons are massively dramatic or slickly powerpointed. We have plays, loads of music, dramas etc. Now the Spirit does his work through them because he always does. thank God. But due to the lack of true community we need entertainment to get all the drifting fish back in. We need good music to get the youth back in. We need this that and a fancy accent for our preacher.

And this honour fixation means that the church remains horribly fragmented. Churches in kerala are divided into dalit and syrian congregations.

If for some reason there is a disagreement with the church there is ostracisation. When I left my job in the church where I wasn't allowed to be honest and others with me, I made an effort to try and still contribute. I was immediately censured. After that there was a wall of silence from the church. No one really talked to us and no one wanted to even find out why I had left the job. Pastor knows best and his honour is upheld. But it's not that pastor is an emperor of all he surveys. If steps out of his line everyone knows how to sit on him.

As far as we were concerned I think we were considered not honourable. After all the church invested money in me and one should live with the 'burdens' of ministry blah blah blah. I wasn't honourable. I would like to think that I was at least a bit honest. Well I had a sensible wife and sensible former lecturers who interestingly were 'outsiders'. their view was crucial to achieving a sense of honesty towards the issues surrounding us.

the honour fixation can be seen in the way guest speakers are introduced. The longer the titles and the more of them the better. The ideal would be to be a director of Christian International something, with a US or UK PHD in handshaking ministry, with one wife, two lovely children studying in again US or UK, an international speaking tour, an international ministry, and associate director in 3 other international ministries. A few television appearances would make the cake richer and more blessed.

Now I cannot claim to be honest. I have intense prejudices. I do have pride about my status. The worse thing is that I can see them and I can't force myself out of them. But I feel lonely about what I see. Not many others see. If others could see with me maybe we could collectively get out with the Spirit's transformative power.

Jesus was honest. Brutally. His honour was connected with his honesty. His status was based on what kind of a person he was. Because other than that he didn't have much going for him. He was from some small halli (village or slum or somewhere equivalent) doing some low level job, didn't always wash his hands before eating. How do we follow this guy?

How? another ho there. Because of the demand for respect I have very little respect to the church life in India that I've experienced. Forgive me. I'm an angry Christian. But the need for honesty drives me to this. Honour can crawl.

musings of a 3 yr old

2008-07-28T19:06:00.001+01:00

Xsdfghy
T12ettbb5n95hny7vtg4n9t58y9n7685nbh5rth y58n548gvf8t tn85rf7u8wer48rbr5b47rbr8r4ee die4reyr ere78uyewfr74brfer64r7r4eu 834y7e 7dcwe7d ew7r47r rtgsdef e wiufreuiiersmesui8deiw8eew ewtnyb8r7tyrerytvy7drvrwec ebfvvet67yfrewrbtw46r4rt6436t3r4ewt76rt647r574rw4r4368959r74tu8nytrnyhrnure9t8n4b9er vnre98er9 gne 9 byn8rem49w0rwm8e97thre7tt755t5655y66r mr 8untr gguiff vfd rufyb6tdfcdecrw,0meu8wc3ekrvnm4v u4pv8rn80er4vbngr5b54bt54bny7ren4y7tn7y5 tyn87yf4kl5nh7btr nbt7e roi90 eu9.9rb0bytne89refbtu8nrb v.nr8bn8rt tb8nrtunruenvnu8v8u4urt me8ruim, u8e7me8rttm5er t5re mu8ire58erfr8 7yqwwyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy 8uqme7 8frewi fwhru uifmer,t,.errrrrr m ren.bt8mrutr5u88urrr48eefu8rev.l4nu4ru,48rn5vnt5 b .rv48rv4v er7ey e4tww2e328e9vfr78ty56 u70900u8t ll u8tnr l.bknnblkblklbkbkkknnb8tk8f7bvfmtvnm0l85

At sea

2008-06-10T12:22:00.003+01:00

was given much
a silver spoon
and rather good fate
born in a peacable time
with gentle ancestors
but i took it all
for granted and lived
in ungrateful hate
and ground my teeth
ingrained to look
and gaze unto the navel

was given much
a partner and an offspring
who cherished me much
and i cherished with them
me, oh woe is me
and swiftly in that twinkling
brought on anguish
with my head bowed
towards the navel

was given much
talent and all that
but in the end it all ended up
in the navel

was given much
chances, hopes
even a cross
and a resurrection
but was it really worth it
compared to the navel?

was given much
but threw it all away
except the bloody navel
now i'm stuck at sea
turned in on myself
a wooly submarine
sinking

sinking

sinking

Death in the beauty parlour

2008-03-29T17:38:00.002Z

I don't watch too many movies. I think it rattles me too much. I live in the damn screen and when the credits roll i'm spat out back into the existence where there is no eerie music when i'm down and no cool rock backbeat when i'm happy. So I don't watch too many or watch something ridiculously silly like Space Balls.

In the wee hours of some morning I started watching 'gangs of new york'. I managed to watch 20 or so minutes before I was forcibly shutdown by a few hundred sheep dashing bye late for their counting. In those 20 minutes i saw something that i saw before and seen many times since. People dying. But what grabbed me this time was how these people died.

The music they died to was beautiful. Filled with moving long notes of infinite sadness. They fell to the ground in a ghastly wholesome choreography. Death was poetry.

And death and suffering is poetry and beauty for large sections of the arts. I guess it was bound to happen. All the great promises of a few generations ago of health, peace and justice are so hollow. So now that we know such things are sheer fantasy we will live with this shit and we will love it. We will glorify it. We will beautify it.

As an eternal pessimist I should love this. But that Sunday garden keeps prodding me. And the Sunday garden tells me that death shouldn't be in the beauty parlour with a bard at his right hand penning him his latest ode. The sunday garden tells me that death's final place is in the fire. The last enemy who shall die one day.
The Sunday garden means everything's possible.

Good Friday and Dali

2008-03-22T15:13:00.005Z

About the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?’ – which means, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’

Imagine the scene. Darkness has fallen at noon. The great healer, the miracle maker, the one who could run circles around the intelligent people of that day, the one whom the crowds adored, lies on a cross. The cruelest and most shameful death possible. And now, the one who proclaimed complete intimacy with his Father in heaven cries out, ‘Why have you forsaken me’?

To read this and not get shocked means that either we haven’t really got a clue what’s happening or we have read it too many times and it has no impact anymore.

Forsaken. Abandoned. Deserted. This is what Jesus in his pain is shouting. Can you imagine your closest friend or your spouse shouting this at you? Jesus’ cry is a real cry. It is not an intellectual quoting of scripture. He is someone who’s immersed himself in scripture and in the deepest darkness it is only scripture that can truly express what he feels.

And what is this scripture that Jesus cries out? Psalm 22. A psalm of David. A psalm which goes through deep emotions of loneliness and abandonment. This is a cry of humanity. All of us at some point in our lives feel this abandonment. We feel cut off, meaningless, worthless… it comes at us through movies, music, tv channels… there is no point, we are abandoned and unloved.

Jesus cry is the horror of separation, a ripping apart of himself. He is one with his Father and Spirit. We are meant to in a loving relationship with God and the people around us. Jesus goes through a tearing, a ripping of this relationship. And this is how most of us live our lives out. In alienation – from God and from those around us. Jesus has to experience it. Before death this is his deepest identification with humanity – the core of our brokenness as humanity lies in this alienation.
This is a painting by Salvador Dali.

Dali got his inspiration from a sketch by a Spanish monk known as St. John of the Cross. St. John of the Cross was an extremely devout man who was intensely persecuted for his faith. This man of God is most famous for his work ‘dark night of the soul’. It is a poem and theological treatise of the journey of the soul and the experience of abandonment that he felt on spiritual journey. Many men and women of God have experienced this abandonment, even mother Teresa.

In this painting we see Christ from above the cross. Though there is no blood depicted in the picture, the way the arms are horribly twisted in an unnatural angle gives us a glimpse of the pain and suffering Jesus goes through. The cross reaches through the darkness down into another scene. A man next to a boat. And there are 2 others. But they don’t seem in any way connected neither do they seem to be even aware of each other. Each stands in his own world and there is no activity. The sea is dead. There is no movement. Everyone seems in limbo. Everything seems meaningless.

Into this scene the cross reaches in. or pierces in. Christ’s forsakenness reaches deep into our own. Sinlessness invades all of sinful creation. This is Jesus Christ’s greatest hour. In his darkest moment he has done the greatest deed. Given himself up. Completely. For the ones he loved.

That’s us. And what happens next? That is a question that you and I have to answer. Daily.

got on the train

2008-01-16T09:16:00.000Z

This piece really moved me. John Coltrane's Naima.

a couple of uns

2007-12-28T16:05:00.000Z

A student asked

'Sir are there any waste bins around?'

'Yes, they are littered all over the place'

Some one bumped into 50cent and asked him
'Where's your other half?'

christmas moosings and that's not rain deer

2007-12-25T08:42:00.000Z

hmmm. disconnect. Not too sure why. In many ways this should've been a more profound Christmas. I was able to write a few a good pieces which seemed to have meaning about the Christmas story, I am with most of my family after a gap of a good 2 years and the one entity that I do care about and love; ie the Christ college choir had a great and fulfilling time.

Maybe it was church. Maybe it was Modi winning the elections. Maybe it was the elevation of Santa to omnipresent god. Maybe it's just me.

Trying to wish everyone at Christmas you come to the painful reminder that there are so many you don't talk to anymore. Or so many who don't talk to you anymore.
'... peace on earth, goodwill to all..'

Santa has found his way everywhere. From the good old saint who helped people he's now an elevated Bacchus or mammon himself, I don't know. A religion of transaction.
'... for unto us a son is given...'

Modi has become chief minister again. Just like George Bush became president again.
'... the light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not overcome it...'

I think this Christmas a lot of reality has pierced my rather thick brain. And the aches and pains of it were no where more apparent than in church. Going through some truly ancient and beautiful traditions alongside the meaningless and trite ones. Some truly honest effort alongside shoddy and mediocre ones.

It's all so real. And I haven't even really thought about poverty and injustice yet!
But this might be the best Christmas in many ways. Don't know when the next one in India is. Will be a while. A lot of family around. A few friends too. As one gets older all these are all the more precious. That pool from college trickles after a bit.

I wonder what Jesus thinks of it all. Hmmm... shan't try it.

Deep peace everybody.

I like those words.

Deep peace.

to be content without content

2007-12-18T01:36:00.000Z

People prefer to be with what they know. It's simpler. Our ability to be content with mediocrity is amazing. Our ability not to want to move out of our zone that we've made is astonishing. Maybe that's why we don't want God. Because he might actually move us out of our warm, comfy excrement.

Dry...

2007-11-27T02:12:00.000Z

... and I crack
and wither
back to the dust
I was blown from

Blow a new birth
day on me
Deep breathly
before I scatter
into nothingness

the seeriyuss nature of youmer

2007-10-26T04:16:00.000+01:00

some people have said that I'm a humourous person. But that's a simple error. I'm a dour, depressive who gets cheap kicks at mangling language. My wife, on the other hand is humourous. Why? She actually sees the funny side of things, when they go wrong. If I had had a terrible day at work, then walked back in the rain, to be shat on by a seagull, my face would be Katrina. My wife, laughed.

if you observe today's humour the most obvious subjects are sex, race, sex and did I mention sex?
And we miss out so much. We do. The true comedians are those who don't miss much. They look at an ordinary everyday situation and... they laugh. They are the true see-ers. Seer. In other words prophets.

Due to the blessing of Youtube i've been able to see one of my favourite contemporary comedians. Eddie Izzard. Look at a couple of his sketches. You'll know what I mean.

Brood

2007-09-30T10:46:00.000+01:00

Brood is up on myspace

All thanks to Luiza who believed I could actually finish it, and Anurag who patiently sat with me and my erratic behaviour and mixed it, Rudy for the finishing touch and of course the 'brood girls'

Phoeba Daniel
Christina Arnold
Sneha Cherian
Daphimanroi Warjri
Tanvi Rao

THANK YOU. Thank you God

Brood

the seed of beingness
reality blooms
over the waters
he broods

the spring of time
ready to burst forth
the source breathes the word
and there’s light
(light shines in darkness)
shines shines

the thunderous voices
the joyous triune
shouts in delight
it’s good

the stars and the sky dance
the fiery dove
alights on creation
there’s life
life from love on high
life from on high
love from on high

glimpse the first day hear, the sound, of the first day
creation is unveiled in his amazing grace
Father, Son, Spirit say
It is very good

Humanity woven
In love’s true image
To garden creation
In praise
Praise to our God who is over all

how did we ever lose it all?
how did we ever fall?
why does it have to be like this?
just from a serpent’s hiss?
death and it’s fears
pain and tears
follow us everywhere

Father when will we be free
Father is death our destiny
when will the serpent be crushed
Spirit breathe on us once again

once again

embrace us holy dove
live in us fire of God
Gather us
in your wings
Draw us close
cover us
Brood

Today

2007-09-18T18:56:00.000+01:00

Today I said I would leave
And I was torn in two
but then I saw a heaven
grooving to a seven
with all that I loved
and had left unsolved
singing, singing, singing
and the 2 Ts jumping
as our faces shone
around the Lamb's throne.

The Inspection part 5

2007-09-05T11:25:00.000+01:00

Those who wish to read the other parts

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

'No foundation can be up ol chap!'
Pale's good sense rang out
I feared we were deeper in our trap
deeper in the madness they did flout

'Yes' said Shrug, 'but THIS,
this building does, it hangs
with the scent of a noose kiss'
and his face broke into considerable angst

Our quartet walked on through
the hall of stenched fragrance
looking at the human stew
that ebbed and flowed in the strangest dance

the hall mellowed into a passage
with a ceiling as high
unobserved from the visage
it was on top of the sky

doors covered up rooms
on the high stone walls
and from some came plumes
and faint whispers of spirit calls

a mother sat in one
with a child in her lap
she had no arms to lift her son
he had no eyes with which to map

she tickled him with her toes
as she sat on the cool floor
and he laughed in mirthful throes
and cheerfully asked for more

an old grandmother sat with her beau
and giggled in virgin spirits
not a word or glimpse was sore
as they sipped wine under their berets

we walked on past those great doors
filled with the strange magic of life
scented with goodness and wooden floors
the drop of true life and absence of strife

Songs of harmonies wild
rang out their melody chase
dainty dishes of notes compiled
of groove and crunch and craze

'Maybe' sighed Phil Shrug
in softened countenance
'maybe' in a defined chug
as he drank life's ambience

The great stairwell lumbered
into our sights, snaking up.
At the bottom an old man slumbered
with no intention of waking up

The music and laughter were faint now
The air was less fresh and more fraught
fear crossed my once straightened brow
as my nightmare beckoned and called out

'Are you prepared?'
the voice of goodness asked
one eye of grace cared
for what the frown masked

'What!... did you see that?' Pale shouted
'A creature of much disease and horror!'
My fear took awful shapes while Phil said 'I doubt it,
you were most likely looking in the mirror!'

'Shush Phil!' she said, as the old man stirred
'Mind the mirth in myriad moments.'
I staired up at the darkness as my horrors conferred
and my brow crumpled in increments

'Are ye ready gentlemen?!' yawned a voice,
as the old man rubbed his sleepy eyes
peering at us, we two naughty boys
he smirked, and our chances fell like loaded dice.

'fear not! Be not trustful of my countenance
but in what I say' said the old man Zek.
'My words are strange and cold suns
but quite often simply a pain in the neck!'

He laughed the loud horrible cackle
of sanity's doom
Joined by Shrug's raspy tickle
which expanded our gloom

And we stepped up onto the dark slabs
scrawled with writings and images
of people and problems and bats and crabs
of ugly spells and wisdom of sages

'We step through history!'
shouted the old prophet
and he stepped on without hurry
while Pale muttered 'the steps don't fit'

We marched on into the shadows that moved
hearing the whispers of depravity's soul
and a wail of loss softly grooved
it was going back after parole

The darkness filled and fouled our nostrils
and the wails and whispers grew heavier
great creatures peered at as through grills
living things from horror's trivia

And a great door shimmered and loomed
As we held our hands led by the resolute Zek
for the wind and scream assured we were doomed
as we reached the foundation of death

To be continued

wow

2007-08-06T16:26:00.000+01:00

do watch

At last!

2007-07-26T07:28:00.000+01:00

zorro was walking around the town
suddenly one guy jumped at him and before you could say zorro
he'd chucked zorro in the nearby river
zorro was a bit puzzled and a bit wet
he shuffled out of the river and before he could say 'zorro'!
he found himself back in the river again!
now zorro isn't a bad chap
but he thought there was something fishy in all this
so he shuffled back onshore
and
SPLASH!
he was back in the water
So
he called out in a beautiful Spanish accent

"Hombre!
what you doing like this for?
eh?"

and the man said

"see hombre!
nothing personal hokay?
hokay?
but eet ees my girlfriend
she eh the
ah ditched me"

zorro
thought
"hmmm"

"so",
went on the man
"I'm drowning my zorros"

'AU'some weekend

2007-07-08T18:30:00.000+01:00

There was 1 disappointing note to the weekend. So shall crib and whine in the beginning itself. It was in church. A lot of hard work went into a musical put up by our church choir. And the rendition and the spirit behind it was good. But 2 men, control freaks, creatures who lost understanding of life and meaning spoilt it by insisting on having their way.

One made sure that the service was extra long by not adjusting the service to the musical. The musical just became a plug in for the service. I thought Jesus said that the Sabbath was made for man and not the other way around?

The other guy defeated the whole purpose of the musical by adding his sermon not just once but twice! Before and after! The stupidity of it all! These men wish for their bit to be said and don't give space for others to say what they should. Don't you realise that the music can speak without you adding your thunderous tones to it? Don't you realise that you are not building other people by ensuring that you are heard more than other people? DISGUSTING! Sunil left the building with unhealthy fumes generously wafting from his ears.

BUT...

AU were in town. And our Christ college album got released. Yay!
AU are truly AUsome.

Because they are really good musically
Because they are really creative
Because they have a great spirit about them

It was truly uplifting to see them and see their dedication to the group. It was also sad to think that bangalore is such and itty bitty place with too much attitude. But I hope that those who saw them would try and emulate them. They are the benchmark for any vocal group in India.

Thank you AU for showing a bit of what God has intended.

the stars are shifting

2007-06-27T02:43:00.000+01:00

Tis odd. People in my landscape are leaving or planning to. I'm not that close to all of them but I still feel that lump in the throat. The prospect or the fact of my close ones going probably makes the lump sharper.

Have done it all before. School, College, Kottayam, Bangalore, London; people have left and I have too. And everytime the yearn. Can't things just be?

sometimes life is nice

2007-06-12T18:50:00.000+01:00

Lost Words

2007-06-10T17:18:00.000+01:00

Hi

Bye

Catch up soon

How are you?

Must meet sometime

Let's have lunch someday

Keep in touch

Can you take the rubbish out?

Busy

These words are the background noise of our urban lives. The postmodern and the nihilist would love the meaningless nature of these words. I'm seeing the hell of dehumanisation closer than ever.

But someone once said:

As the rain and the snow
come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,
so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,

so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.

best wishes to me!!!!!!!

2007-05-30T05:55:00.000+01:00

The Inspection Part 4

2007-05-24T11:00:00.000+01:00

The hall was great and old
Patched with decay and life
Many lives and stories untold
of beauty, love and strife

Light and darkness
gamboled along
from the same nest
or a different song?

Paintings of sickening sweetness
nestled along with those great and terrible
Walls adorned with putrid moss
as though no rolling stone was able

'No aesthetic' I muttered
'No health regulation, no light'
'Not fit for an insect' as a bee fluttered
lost in the purpose of flight

People were everywhere
sitting, standing, lying, walking
though dim, with a strong stare
I spotted things beside the singing

Strange incantations,
laughter and cheer
Life giving hugs,
and barrels of fear

They seemed to be grouped
in a manner rather vague
and sometimes trooped
to each others stage

Some in black, some in white
some in jeans, some in robes
some in embrace, some in fight
some in fear, some in hope

a few were far better lit
than many of the others
but there seemed no electronic kit
to brighten these dames and sirs

In the dark corners
I couldn't bear to look
for the evil horrors
that darkness cooked

Children used for depravity
Women held and fed poison
Men twisted in broken bone city
All by power, pride and position

'Someone call the police!' shouted Wade
till he saw a uniform swing his stick
at the mouth of an old maid
life smoked out of a waxed wick

'See! See!' shouted Shrug
whose name was Phil
going thoroughly berserk
and I felt definitely ill

'This it not what this was built for!
For every evil to find its home
This beautiful mansion is a stage of horror
to fulfil every painful groan!'

'True!', the voice calmed my bile
'But why have you stayed
Though this place is full of hurt and rile?
...And me who is one eyed?'

'The lights up!' stated Wade
'and just a moment, you, young lass
You look like that man with the shaven head
whom we met before entering this carcass'

Though disfigured it was true
the face reflected the strange man
who'd called out 'Blue!'
and I smiled though ever so wan

She did too and though her face
mottled, twisted further, I saw
that she was once part of the human race
but for some fury of destiny's claw

'A daughter' she whispered
and all other sound ceased
the waves dispersed
and all pain was eased

The great kitchen of sound
fell back on us, with the screams dying
as a great song began to resound
along with a Deep sighing.

To recite it would be injustice
for it was simple but so filled with sagacity
a song of an ancient time, before dust was
reaching over to the end of infinity

'They're off key' intoned Phil
They were but it didn't matter
I wished I could sing even though shrill
But my voice was just a clatter

'Come, come! Our report is pending!
We can't watch this strange cult forever
we must be truly wending'
He said in a voice less severe?

'True' said Phil ' we shall move on
And witness the centre of our clotted airs
on to the very foundation
Move on up the stairs!' STAIRS?

Part 5

Sound Curry

2007-05-20T19:43:00.000+01:00

The Christ college choir album's out of the cooker!

Have a listen and pass the word around.

The Inspection Part 3

2007-05-07T17:51:00.000+01:00

'Welcome!' boomed the first
a face so plastic
with teeth that were nursed
and a cheek twitch of a tick

His smile was glued
in an all american grin
and his arm moved
to shake ours like a fin

'You look bewildered'
said the next with a voice
that smelt of pure kindred
and the cessation of noise

Her face had seen vengeance
of every horror of the world
only one eye was in existence
the other lost in fleshly fold

'Hmmmm. what brings you here gentlemen?'
Clotted cynicism mirrored our own
He looked us up and down and then
shrugged as seemed his habit like my frown

'Inspectors ey? Inspect all you like
You'll find only what you want'
He was telling us to take a hike
without the fuss of an arduous rant.

'Coffee?' said another woman
plump without disorder
and the cup was done
without a whisper of bother

'Biscuits?' as our hand trembled
with hot cups wondering
whether we had stumbled
on to a fattening the calf scheme

'What is this place?' I mumbled
through delicious smooth coffee
and biscuit that crumbled
in my mouth melting into wholesome toffee

'A mad house!' said Shrug
taking the words out of Pale's mouth
my heart sank to fear's fierce tug
at the cynic's jolly shout

'Now...' and my heart was light again
as I heard the sound of the rainbow
the woman whose face had seen much pain
'...now' eased the knot of my brow

'This place has many names, many faces
it is heaven to some, hell to many more
but...' she paused in a delicious phrase
'come and see before I'm an ear sore'

Ear sore? I couldn't believe my own
For when she spoke the din of the hall
Dimmed away in a distant drown
And I would've followed her faintest call

'Here!' commanded responsible Wade
'Let's be off and done with this tour
we'll take Shrug and this one eyed maid
I don't trust smiley face and the biscuit lady for sure.'

And off we stepped into the strange kaboodle
to tell a tale of wide insanity
A journey that never let up the pedal
and defied non-existent laws of gravity

To be continued...

Part 4

The Inspection Part 2

2007-05-07T01:39:00.000+01:00

The stairs uneven broke our step
as Wade and I made our way
Aimless whistle for a little pep
wished we were with Brown and Grey

A strange breeze roughed our hair
of many a shade and song
like a breath of the Great Big Scare
feelings unknown were born

Nearing the top
the doors were many
a veritable crop
in every nook and cranny

Ornate, dilapilated on the extreme
neon signs, bad spelling and fresh paint
pinks and oranges and a horrible cream
all stacked together like antiques quaint

'That one' said Pale
his mouth in a line set
'in wood friendly and frail
seems our safest bet'

To enter one could assume
a gentle push should do
no key nor guide in bloom
and our host vanished in the blue

With my brow crooked
I pushed the well oiled plank
and into the bowels we looked
of sheer light and dank

The sounds greeted us myriad
songs of magic and scream
and a few faces towards us leered
from the creature stream

Men of most colours,Women of most sizes
Children of most tongues, rainbow droppings
shouting, screaming, singing, and playing... with dices
fights breaking, hugs enfolding, the utterance of great and terrible harbings.

'Against,' said Wade 'all regulations!
this hall is badly constructed
for such large populations
make note' he instructed

'Immigrants and foreigners
why are they here?
Look! they're having strange dinners
with that glass of beer'

'Join us you must!' a sound so leaden
'Let them be' a song of thousand butterfly bells
'Don't pull them in so sudden'
'True, true' said the depth of refreshing wells.

Four stood in front of us
in four different smiles
in four different universes
or was it four different wiles?...

To be continued...

Part 3

The Inspection part 1

2007-05-02T18:17:00.000+01:00

'It's cracking up old chap
Rotten to the core'
'No' said one with a clap
Just a frightening bore

Who would build this
Is the big Q
Corners in circles
and colours askew

'Work in progress'
Shouted another
'and an awful mess'
Who would bother?

Beautiful towers pillars shambolic
the westside jewel crusted
eastward the colours frolic
amongst the frames rusted

'No plannin'' said the first one
'No thought' said the second
'No aesthetic' said Mr. Brown
And I frowned down at the ground

Never before had we witnessed this
Stripes and dots so brightly flung
on a robust cardboard fortress
with shapes and sizes that looked quite fun

'Well boys!' the funky said
a voice of many colours and hues
the owner with his shaven head
'Looks like a casket of blues!'

Mr. Brown turned a deeper shade
While Mr. Grey the first
turned to Mr Pale (known as Wade)
and me, my frown was ready to burst.

'Inspect you must, my pride,
my joy, my very own'
He said, 'I must confide,
you will say, tear it down'!

Mr. Brown and Mr. Grey
grew quietly officious
pencils circling their prey
lead on forms vicious

Not a chance in hell! said Grey
Not a sight of heaven! said Brown
For this ungainly kennel! said dogged Grey
You should be out be seven! said watchful Brown

The man laughed and behind him
the monstrosity shook.
Pale looked quite grim
while I hid in my book.

'Messrs, Gentlemen, Dudes!
you have to give me a chance
come and partake of my foods
or at least give my place a glance!'

'No! No!' echoed Brown and Grey
'Quite clear for us thank YOU'
Pale and I thought we would stay
tickled and troubled by an almighty Q

'The place is yours laddies!
Have a look top to bottom'
said he with a nose like my daddy's
but not really quite my chum

B and G i.e. Brown and Grey
shivered their obituaries on us
as we stepped past the ageing frey
into the puzzle vast, of light and darkness.

To be continued...

Part 2

aimless

2007-04-25T18:31:00.000+01:00

Hi Sunil how'ru?

Not bad, not bad and you?

Hey not bad at all, been busy?

Yes quite and you?

Kind of what you been upto?

Nothing much, nothing much but been busy and you?

Nope, nothing, not really nothing, but yeah... nothing.

Nothing huh? how's the family

good good been good. how's the folks

yeah yeah nice, nice, real nice.

Hey! I gotta get going real busy, nothing really but you know..

Ya man Sunil take care.

You too Sunil. Bye.

you might want to see this

2007-04-02T09:53:00.000+01:00

hmmmm

an interesting link. We smiled. Christians are funny no?

Queasy like a Sunday morning...

2007-03-25T17:09:00.000+01:00

I find a lot of Sunday services a bit flat. That's ok. I should make more of an effort, anyways things are never perfect, and of course I'm not going to church to be entertained. And the fellowship afterwards does have a certain holiness and spirituality of its own.

A few services are really good. All of us seem connected and God seems so real and good.

Today's service was queasy.

First I led worship. Quite flat. I hadn't really prepared for the enormity of the subject we were singing about. Of course my pride got in the way. And then usual sound problems and irritating powerpoints. All blessings on the choir who made it in the middle of their study? hols, though.

But the ultimate Queasy moment came from the preach. It meandered through various bits and verses and anecdotes and what took the sickening cake was an article that was read out to us that appeared in a newspaper.

A retired IAS man had written an article with a title like "assault on the soul of a nation" The article said about how a 'cross' has appeared on the new 2 rupee coin. The writer asked whether it was an Italian government plot to convert the whole country to Christianity!!! Obviously the Sonia Gandhi connection blah blah blah. Is this a Catholic country the writer asked to have this 'cross' on our 2 rupee coin.

I found this enormously funny. almost burst out laughing. This writer and the fundamentalists who were so worried about backmasking in rock music should sit together and write more conspiracy theories.

But the preacher said. 'Praise God! He's scared of the cross!'

WHAT?!

Had a very depressed Sunday

Voodoo

2007-03-20T16:16:00.000Z

Voodoo. No my grandfather never practised it. He just fed it. And it was very faithful, living to a ripe old age of 14. Silly names for a dog. Sillier names for his grandchildren. I was ‘chuni chuni.’ (Pronounce the ‘chu’ with ‘oo’) I forgot what the others were called. The precocious grandson that I was, I once deemed it unfit to be called such an uncouth name and requested he call me Sunil. Grandpa half upset, half mischievous refused and merely did the very Malayalee act of saying ‘shu’ to catch my attention.

He was a lovable man. Tall and handsome and very self assured. Not in an arrogant way though it could’ve been misconstrued to be that. I spent many hours on his hospitable lap whether it was listening to his stories or reading comics especially reading the little mandrake cartoons in the manorama. More about mandrake later.

In his lap jokes about bishops and Chinese men abounded. Sports exploits entwined themselves with funnier ones on stage. Once grandpa had acted as a woman in a play after which a man propositioned ‘her’. ‘I was soooo good, you see!’ Grandpa said without a trace of improper pride. I was very privileged one day to hear a really long story from Grandpa. It must’ve taken 4 or 5 days. It was about this boy who grew up in a village and went to college and so on. On the 3^rd day I achieved enlightenment. It was Grandpa’s own life story. This realization was quite exciting but in my excitement I wanted him to hurry to the bit where I came into his life. It was a great story. And I enjoyed being part of it.

My grandpa was a nice bishop. Yes, I know that their existence is disputed. But guess what? He traveled 2^nd class. Yes he did. Promise. I saw it myself. We dropped him at the railway station and all his ‘friends’ were up ahead in 1^st class coach while grandpa said it was a waste of the church’s money and boarded the normal coach. Yes he was nice. He didn’t have the airs of many of the other bishops and he didn’t crack little children’s hands when he shook hands like one Marthoma bishop did mine. Yes I’m a biased grandchild but if you knew grandpa you would be too.

Being a bishop means a lot of different things. It means responsibility, power, money, spirituality and whole mixed bag savory and unsavory items. Most of these didn’t affect grandpa but he had one weakness. He was naïve. He trusted people too much. He was innocent as a dove. But he didn’t have the full measure of the serpent’s wisdom. As a child I could see it. When politics flew around him he would very unusually flounder. Maybe the particular times were evil in the church and Grandpa belonged elsewhere.

I was the last person to be with Grandpa. I reached my customary place in his lap and we read our daily dose of Mandrake comics. As I was late for school I finished and went to have breakfast. After a few minutes the maid who was sweeping the garden rushed in. Grandpa was gone. Gone. As he would’ve wanted. A simple life. A simple death. A simple man.

Jesus said something about Nathaniel in John 2. I think he might’ve said the same of M. M. John. Maybe they’re joking about it right now.

scared...

2007-03-19T14:58:00.000Z

of everything.

no water for my daughter.
no clean air.
no justice in the near future.
no health care.

scared of everything
everything meaningless

the spirit groans

music of the choir

2007-03-17T17:29:00.000Z

check out some of the music of the christ college choir.

And there's a joke below this post for those of you who're irregular. :)

Bee prepared

2007-03-16T13:57:00.000Z

A 'certain' wife on seeing a couple of dead bees told her husband

"look at these bees! they are dying like flies..."

The husband replied

"well honey... ahem... i think they're being arc-hived"

the stray middle class

2007-03-13T17:13:00.000Z

Most people protesting for the protection of stray dogs seem to be middle class and urban. It is interesting that such protests aren't so easily forthcoming about how we treat other people. Especially the people who keep a middle class home running. The househelp.

A dog is a dog is a dog.
A human being is different.
Both are to be given DUE respect.
Then we might retrieve the lost balance.
But we can't. That's the simple honest fact.

going with the grain

2007-03-09T02:05:00.000Z

on international women's day

a 'certain' wife told her husband

"you men are bred to be brainless"

the husband replied

"maybe we are bred to be brainless but we can rice to the ocassion"

muffled laughter and choking

"are you amaized at my wheat?"

dearth of mad ads

2007-03-03T15:18:00.000Z

it's a bad pun. but it's true.

someone asked me what i thought of the banning of mad ads in the Christ college campus. those not completely in the picture will be interested to know that mad ads is a simple skit parody of well known adverts and various colleges put more emphasis on the mad while other emphasize on the ad.

Christ college had an extremely illustrious history of mad ads with the a name being created in south india for wacky humour, slapstick acting and great co-ordination. There was a time when mad ads had the atmostphere of a rock show where the quadrangle was filled to the brim and hearing a thousand people laugh is no joke.

then the jokes started to repeat themselves. there was nothing new. it became less clever. less polished. the vulgarity which was always contained in clever inuendo ocassionally became frontal nudity. the spoof weren't all that new. even the ads that were spoofed weren't all that new.

deep analysis of why and how and tv habits etc. can be done but bottom line it wasn't really that funny anymore. which is why i never opposed it's willful demise. mad ads should've evolved into something as funny but with more punch. it never did. I picked the brains of brightest and best in college but there was no answer.

The point is that humour and satire need to be expressed but what is the new way to do this? no one seems to know. formulas are simple to follow but difficult to concieve.

so now that mad ads has died i'm still hopeful and waiting that there exists its long lost mirthful child that will tickle a 1000 people again... and again.

heaven

2007-02-27T03:46:00.000Z

a room. a few guitars. cushions. wine. kababs. bread. cheese. friends. loads of laughter. divine puns. loads of singing and playing. 3 special people.

pichairs of last years recording

2007-02-21T18:11:00.000Z

Typical chandy timing. One year after the event. It's much worse late and worst never.

terrible tenors

towmy the terrible and anupam

alternative altos: sneha, sneha, sneha, sneha, sneha and sneha. not really only the first 2 are snehas. the rest without love only. so it's sneha, sneha, lara, maria, tanvi, and daisy.

super sopranos
viji, preethi, zulfiya, pheba, rose? (sorry!), priya eclipsed by binu, binu (who is covering priya must be a cop game or somethin'), reena and the great patrick costelhino.

These simians (mungees for those FEP students who don't know English despite studying min 3 English subjects) happened to invade the studio after we all left. And like these things happen they got a pair of headphones and somehow clicked some camera and we've got the picture. We affectionately named them Vicky and Anurag after the 2 people that they DO resemble.

Waiting for this year's pics!

thou shalt not connect

2007-02-07T12:49:00.000Z

bsnl are crap. they've been nothing but trouble since my first daliance with them. worse i've never had a choice but to go with them. i have sinfully wished hell upon them but it's still not getting me anywhere. so all my profound thoughts are stuck because of 'no lines in the PD box sir'. No lines? I've got a few for you, you stupid organisation. But I'll lose my reputation for having a relatively clean tongue. Bah!

out of range

2007-01-21T04:29:00.000Z

so of course we won't be online for a bit. But we still exist!

sorry no puns for a week or so. Mauling language processors have briefly malfunctioned.

We're moving

2007-01-20T14:42:00.000Z

finally...

after a nightmare of a year and a bit living in HSR, we're moving. Luiza has been the most affected and as a family we all have been. The isolation, the noise, the alienation. I hope there is a marked reduction in those. And lots of healing... and repentance.

In Gloom

2007-01-19T18:19:00.000Z

a bit fragile at the moment. listened to Sting. For the first time ever Christ college didn't get the most points at In Bloom the fest that we host. None of the music teams even placed! Came back home fully depressed. Later saw Caesar's Palace. Cheered up a little bit. Heard something that made me sad. In a different way. Came back home listened to Sting's 'They Dance Alone'. Had a bit of a cry. Beauty can be very emotional.

bangalore's songs

2007-01-11T04:27:00.000Z

Over the past couple of months I've been humming. And flapping my wings. No not really. I've been humming some really cool tunes, written by local chaps. The 15 odd people who do come here can have a look and a listen.

The cool bands to listen to:

Lounge Piranha and their myspace page. Hand hole is one of my favourite songs on that.

Caesar's Palace. 'Swim' takes me far away. What a song of yearning. Guys! Record it!

Maximum Pudding. Ridiculously talented. Kiarna loves one eyed Max. Picture Painting is such a great tune and brilliantly crafted.

Groove Garden. The babies of the lot but they have the coolest manager in the world. Real good sound. Seven is a cool song and named as such for the lack of a better name! Like Sevenish by TAAQ and 7/8 by Caesar's Palace

One day we'll compile all these songs. Maybe on the new earth but still...

bah-dah

2007-01-06T04:37:00.000Z

Kiarna is very very VERY sure what she wants for breakfast. Check this out.

impossible

2007-01-05T04:01:00.000Z

it's hard to forgive. harder to forgive the memory of the hurt. hardest to forgive the real repeating of the hurt. God how do you do it?

sunil chandy ver2007

2007-01-01T04:35:00.000Z

as part of the consistent upgrade and degrade that occurs in sunil chandy, yet another myspace page has happened in cyberspace, to fill your brain space. Various rubbish from my past will appear there and THEN some New stuff. When I actually shift my bottom.

Oh check out this old video ajit filmed.

those damn lists

2006-12-31T14:20:00.000Z

I hate those top 10 lists that come out every year. but one must pin ones depressive hopeful states on something!

Bottom 10 things of the year

horrible dusty HSR layout with horrible neighbours and horrible dogs
the ever increasing isolation of Luiza Chandy
the loss of some friendships
the lack of bass playing
the state of my church
the state of my relationship with God
my leaving TAAQ again
the periodical checking of my bank account
people not landing up for choir practice or performances without prior information
my failure at getting my recording started

Top 10 things of the year

Every new move and sound from Kiarna
the trip to England with Lui and Kia
the wonderfully fulfilling Christ college choir. watta bunch!
Gertrude and the extra blessings of equipment lent and given
being able to write new stuff. far more productive compared to 2005. again the Christ college choir really helped!
the bible study group - my faith in humanity isn't extinguished - yet!
My parents and brother. Solid as a rock.
Christ college. Has given me space and a platform.
Being told that I gave people the wish and the desire to sing
Reconciliation with somebody I hated

all keyed up

2006-12-28T00:42:00.000Z

two pianos went out on a date. the lady piano got back home and her mum asked,

'how was it?'

and she replied

'a couple of strings attached but other than that, grand'

Christmas

2006-12-24T17:08:00.000Z

Absolute madness. December always promises that and but this year has been special. The month started of in Delhi where I was sessioning with TAAQ and we saw another Indian band that blew all our minds out. Watching Skinney Alley on that cold night was a strange spiritual experience of glimpsing something of such beauty that I had to give God thanks for something that could only come from him.

Straight back in to see Galeej play for the PU kids in Christ college and it was sooo good to see everyone having fun in a way I hadn't seen for a while. And that night the TAAQ party which was a mixed bag of emotions but boy am I proud of them. I really hope that in college some seeds are being sown which will show their awesome fruit 10 years down. One can hope. God does things slowly and properly. Tres difficile for our instant slot machine minds to grasp.

The next day the college choir season started. On a poor note. Not really prepared or focussed. But pulled through and everyone admonished each other gently of course. And then it just took off. It's been an amazing experience being with the choir. So much ownership, so much passion, so much commitment, so much talent. It all came together without too much heartache from my side this time. We won Basel Mission for the 3rd consecutive time (My 6th first! lift the collar!), had good performances at Campus Crusade, Magnificat, and at Bishop Cottons. I was amazed at the kind of energy we managed to get together and I was quite kicked by the fact that even if a soloist was missing we always seemed to have a back up. I'm almost fearful of restarting the choir for not being able to recapture the feeling. But all things move on and change. Holding on to the past is dangerous. God moves on. He does new stuff. Each time cooler and more frightening. The choir wanted to keep singing on and on. I believe in heaven. We'll all jam the most beautiful music forever.

Two songs came out at this time. 'Magnify' and 'Hush', two completely different pieces. One by an exultant mother at God's goodness and the other by an unknown mother on the verge of losing her child to a senseless political act of violence. I wanted to write something different and God gave me the eyes to see something and write some of it down. Christian songs for the most part seem to exclude the messy living, the politics, the horror and the beauty of living (with brilliant exceptions in Graham Kendrick and John Bell to name a couple of writers who I've been inspired by). I didn't need to make up anything. It's all there in our gospels. And these 2 songs capture the light and the darkness of Christmas. The despair at losing your most precious, and the hope that in the end everything will be put to rights. Everything. Including death.

Leon Ireland's death was a huge shock. I didn't know the brilliant Moksha singer too well. But I've seen him perform since Moksha first formed and have met him and joked with him at the various gigs that we did meet. Death sudden and young is always harder to bear. But death always feels so not right. And I grieved. I remember Jesus wept too. And later, he smashed death itself. But why does it still ache so much?

Gertrude made her appearance. The first performance was in church. Played 'jazz'. Did an improvised solo on 'God rest ye merry...' I'm a show off. That's not complete evil but to perform beautifully one must perform to give others joy. It sometimes happens. Someone told me 'You are blessed, and you are a blessing to others'. I really want to hold on to that when I play. To show something of the beauty of God. That God is not a philosophical out there concept. That God could show a tiny drop of himself through a broken bass guitarist. Abraham Laboriel really shows the way on that. Played with Galeej. Did 'Aeroplane' and a long extended solo which wasn't all there but it was fun. Still focussed a lot on myself there.

Three gigs with TAAQ and I find that my keyboard playing is maturing. It's great to be with old friends and do music. I like my current relationship with the band. Finally that's what's important isn't it? Relationship. Now if only I could figure out my relationship with God...

Though the last 3 weeks have been fun, it's been hard especially on Luiza and Kiarna. We've missed each other a lot, and it's tough when Luiza and Kiarna are in isolated HSR Layout. There have been good people who've dropped by but we wish for more... So we're glad that the madness is over. We can breathe a little more now. We pray for the breath of God.

This Christmas is special. My daughter shall smile at me. God will be with us as we sit together and pray and eat. Pray and eat. Jesus did that quite a lot. So it must be good right?

Here's wishing you Merry Christmas and I pray that you'll get a glimpse of the amazing things that God has got for you.

Magnify

2006-12-24T15:56:00.000Z

Another song that we did

My soul magnifies the Lord,
My spirit gives him praise.
Be magnified. Be magnified.

My Lord has favoured his lowly servant,
I shall be called blessed.
Be magnified. Be magnified.

For his mercies last from age to age
generation on generation his love flows.
Be magnified. Be magnified.

Magnify! Magnify!
Magnify! Magnify!

The Lord has shown his hand
with power and strength.
He's scattered, scattered,
the kings of pride.

Magnify the Lord,
Magnify! Magnify!
Magnify! Magnify!

The ones on the throne,
he hasn't left alone
he's brought them down, down, down
and lifted up the lowly.

Magnify the Lord,
Magnify! Magnify!
Magnify! Magnify!

He has filled
the hungry with good things
and the rich he's sent away
sent away empty.

Magnify the Lord,
Magnify! Magnify!
Magnify! Magnify!

Magnify the Lord.

hush...

2006-12-17T16:41:00.000Z

This was how we finally sang it.

Hush little baby
don't say a word
for Herod's men are coming
with death in their sword

Hush little baby
don't make a sound
the darkness covers us
grief all around

Voices sound in the town of Ramah
the wail of lament
Rachel weeping for her children
she says no, no, no for consolation
for her babies, her babies, they are no more.

Hush little baby
don't say a word
for Herod's men have come
with death in their sword

Hush little baby
don't make a sound
the darkness covers us
grief all around

The king is born, but death surrounds him
the light has come in darkness
Are we pawns on this stage of horror
there is no no no sense in it all
a joke to die for

Hush little baby
don't say a word
for Herod's men have come
with death in their sword

Hush little baby
don't make a sound
the darkness covers us
grief all around

Oh hear the cries
Oh hear the cries of the innocents

Hush little baby
don't say a word
you don't say a word
no more...

Missing link 2

2006-12-13T16:24:00.004Z

Thankfully I had slightly alternative parents. I never had too much emphasis on study, study, study. I'm happy and grateful. But growng up in small town Kottayam, Kerala meant that you were never far away from the disdain that doing music generated. Even my cool school was infected with it. A person who was good at music always faced a completely two faced attitude. Both faces ridiculous.

One level worship. 'You guys are gods!'

On another 'So what are you going to do...? no... other than music.'

One of the worst and best things the church ever did to us was to fire my dad. Stupid putrid politics typical of the church but it got my dad into music. I'm not sure what everyone thought of it. He was a priest.

So priest = good status, something worthwhile.

Now he was doing music.

Musician = not real life.

Priest + Musician = ????

My mom's dad was a priest first who did music. So he was essentially just a cool priest. No one spoke of him as a musician though he wrote many songs and kindly passed on his talent to most of his grandkids.

But even I was infected by the fact that music wasn't really a living choice. I tried a few things and every time God threw me back into this pool of doing music. Even today I'm very wary of saying 'I do music.' It seems to be a surefire conversation stopper. So I do the usual cowardly, spineless thing and say 'I work in Christ college.... as a mentor.' Shame on me.

My employers don't seem to be that infected though. Hence I have a job. They believe I have something real to offer to the students there. Not too sure what the students think of it all. Not sure at all of what my fellow staff members think of it.

I could rant on and on. But my confidence has been often boosted by an innocuous verse in the bible. Gen 4:21-24 lists 3 brothers. Jabal the father of all who look after livestock, Jubal the father of all play the harp and flute, and Tubal-cain the father of all who work in bronze and metals.

Livestock, music, metalwork.

It's all part of life.

Anything else is a lie.

the missing link

2006-12-11T04:53:00.000Z

Our society hasn't yet understood that music is a part of life. Music is considered extraneous to normal life. 'First studies... then music.' 'First job... then music.' As long as this continues the quality and freshness of our music suffers. Instead we just have regurgitated trash gracing our ears. Why can't people see music as a good developmental tool? It could actually be important in the growth of the individual and our society. But no. No one wants to listen.

christmas is on it's way!

2006-12-04T17:57:00.000Z

ummm yes. the more profound thoughts take time to process and get laid down.

a little less...

2006-11-28T16:51:00.000Z

... human. that's how i feel. shouting expletives is so dehumanising. so stupid. for a moment pride and freedom and the next the inanity of it all.

and speaking of laughing

2006-11-23T18:32:00.000Z

did you hear about the comedian who was depressed because everyone kept laughing at him?

Dear God

2006-11-09T18:20:00.000Z

I hate cleaning. Why are you smiling like that? I don't mind once I start though. It's quite fun to see what the brown mucky thing actually is. Did you just chuckle? umm... i've got a billion questions which you never seem to answer... but umm... it was nice to hear you laugh. Makes the questions...um much smaller... miniscule. hmmm do solar systems go in to reverse polarity when you laugh?

madness... diminuendo

2006-11-09T14:08:00.000Z

only too few have it. maybe it's just perspective. but that madness to practice, practice and go jemb and play anywhere even in a dirty pond is highly diminished. pity. the talent for another thermal and a quarter exists but the madness... is drying up. ah well.

10 years

2006-11-05T18:28:00.001Z

i'm normally very nostalgic. or at least i thought i was. the 10th year TAAQ gig which was brilliant fun (considering i had a dripping wet keyboard) was not a damp squib as such but didn't feel the emotion that i thought I would. it made me wonder about nostalgia. made me almost nostalgic for it.

it's funny...

2006-11-01T17:37:00.000Z

... how we change. I'm slowly developing a nervous laugh. A funny little squeak mid sentence. Later on I think 'what the hell are you nervous about and why are you giggling about it?' Odd. Very odd indeed.

All hail

2006-10-27T17:10:00.000+01:00

'the pakistan batting crumbled like apple struh-del'

'it wasn't a pudding full of plums'

Navjot Singh Sidhu. All hail. All bow.

making music

2006-10-22T18:10:00.000+01:00

a note, floats.
down the wind,
through the noise,
and then another.

on occasion,
they're caught.
and forgotten.
on others,
they are written,
and maybe, just maybe,
another,
might, just might,
hear them.