Shravanam with Sri Nedunuri!
Enjoy!
Lalite - Bhairavi - Nedunuri
Enjoy!
Tuesday, November 7, 2017
A Story about White papers and Artist
The Artist
One bright, sunny day, two pieces of paper were sunbathing in the midday warmth, enjoying the pleasures of the summertime. One piece of paper was called Snow-White. She was pure white, and so very proud of her pristine purity. ‘Look at me,’ she said to her companion. ‘Did you ever see such a beautifully white piece of paper?’ Her companion was called Pure-as-the-Dawn. She too was amazingly white and wonderfully free from the slightest stain. The two pieces of paper outshone each other in the midday sunlight.
In the distance, a figure appeared upon the horizon. He caught their attention. As they watched, he approached, ever closer.
‘Who can that be?’ asked Snow-White.
‘What is he carrying in his arms?’ wondered Pure-as-the-Dawn.
The figure came closer and closer, until he was only a few yards away from the two paper-friends.
In his arms, he carried a palette and paintbrushes. In his eyes, there was a curious, dream-like light. A love-light, but gentle. And in his heart, he carried a dream.
‘What do you think he wants?’ Snow-White asked Pure-as-the-Dawn. ‘You don’t think he is going to paint on us, do you?’
Pure-as-the-Dawn flinched, as the words sank in. ‘I think that is exactly what he wants to do,’ she murmured.
‘There’s no way that I will allow him to paint on me,’ railed Snow-White. ‘No painter is going to spoil my purity.’
‘But what if he is a master-painter?’ Pure-as-the-Dawn reflected. ‘He might create a masterpiece on our pure white emptiness. He might make us into masterpieces.’
‘But then again,’ said Snow-White, ‘he might make a complete mess of us. No. I’m not taking any risks like that. I’m going to stay pure until the day I die.’
And so it came to be that the artist approached both pieces of paper and asked their permission to paint his dream upon their pure whiteness.
Snow-White said, ‘No way!’ And she remained pure white, and empty, until the day that the wind and the weather finally turned her back into pulp.
Pure-as-the-Dawn said, ‘Do as you will with me. I will trust you. I will entrust myself to the work of your hands.’ And the artist turned her into a masterpiece – a unique and beautiful representation of the dream that he was carrying in his heart, so that in all the years to come many, many people would look at the artist’s picture, and in its depths and beauty, they would rediscover their own lost dreams.
One bright, sunny day, two pieces of paper were sunbathing in the midday warmth, enjoying the pleasures of the summertime. One piece of paper was called Snow-White. She was pure white, and so very proud of her pristine purity. ‘Look at me,’ she said to her companion. ‘Did you ever see such a beautifully white piece of paper?’ Her companion was called Pure-as-the-Dawn. She too was amazingly white and wonderfully free from the slightest stain. The two pieces of paper outshone each other in the midday sunlight.
In the distance, a figure appeared upon the horizon. He caught their attention. As they watched, he approached, ever closer.
‘Who can that be?’ asked Snow-White.
‘What is he carrying in his arms?’ wondered Pure-as-the-Dawn.
The figure came closer and closer, until he was only a few yards away from the two paper-friends.
In his arms, he carried a palette and paintbrushes. In his eyes, there was a curious, dream-like light. A love-light, but gentle. And in his heart, he carried a dream.
‘What do you think he wants?’ Snow-White asked Pure-as-the-Dawn. ‘You don’t think he is going to paint on us, do you?’
Pure-as-the-Dawn flinched, as the words sank in. ‘I think that is exactly what he wants to do,’ she murmured.
‘There’s no way that I will allow him to paint on me,’ railed Snow-White. ‘No painter is going to spoil my purity.’
‘But what if he is a master-painter?’ Pure-as-the-Dawn reflected. ‘He might create a masterpiece on our pure white emptiness. He might make us into masterpieces.’
‘But then again,’ said Snow-White, ‘he might make a complete mess of us. No. I’m not taking any risks like that. I’m going to stay pure until the day I die.’
And so it came to be that the artist approached both pieces of paper and asked their permission to paint his dream upon their pure whiteness.
Snow-White said, ‘No way!’ And she remained pure white, and empty, until the day that the wind and the weather finally turned her back into pulp.
Pure-as-the-Dawn said, ‘Do as you will with me. I will trust you. I will entrust myself to the work of your hands.’ And the artist turned her into a masterpiece – a unique and beautiful representation of the dream that he was carrying in his heart, so that in all the years to come many, many people would look at the artist’s picture, and in its depths and beauty, they would rediscover their own lost dreams.
Friday, November 3, 2017
Weekend Bonanza! Nadaswaram Marathon item!
Shravanam with my favorite instrument Nadaswaram
By none other than Sri Karukuruchi Arunachalam
Length of this item, a little more than two hours!
Enjoy and make a comment.
Let em see how many of you would have a word for the maestro!
I know, some of you must have already listened to the track.
I confess that it is not something that I converted from cassettes.
All other postings by me are my exclusives.
I am sharing this just to celebrate the great man!
No pilferage meant.
I have tonnes of his music with me.
But many people like me also have those recordings!
Anyway, Enjoy!
By none other than Sri Karukuruchi Arunachalam
Arunachalam - Shanmukhapriya - RTP
Length of this item, a little more than two hours!
Enjoy and make a comment.
Let em see how many of you would have a word for the maestro!
I know, some of you must have already listened to the track.
I confess that it is not something that I converted from cassettes.
All other postings by me are my exclusives.
I am sharing this just to celebrate the great man!
No pilferage meant.
I have tonnes of his music with me.
But many people like me also have those recordings!
Anyway, Enjoy!
Thursday, November 2, 2017
1002nd Post! A Cartoon for you!
I am like this according to many!
I have never realised my posts in the blog crossed a 1000!
This is in fact No 1002!
I have only shared music, words, pictures and any other material I thought is interesting!
I did it because I enjoyed doing it!
So, not much celebration either!
The series would go on!
Mandolin Music
Shravanam to day is again Instrumental.
This is a part Concert.
Beginning and the end may be missing.
I have given what I found.
Enjoy!
U Srinivas - Mandolin
This is a part Concert.
Beginning and the end may be missing.
I have given what I found.
Enjoy!
Wednesday, November 1, 2017
Todi by Hyderabad Brothers
Shravanam today!
Listen to Sri Raghavachary and Seshachary sing Dasarathi
Enjoy!
On the Tram
Only Kafka can write a story like this!
I stand on the end platform of the tram and am completely unsure of my footing in this world, in this town, in my family. Not even casually could I indicate any claims that I might rightly advance in any direction. I have not even any defense to offer for standing on this platform, holding on to this strap, letting myself be carried along by this tram, nor for the people who give way to the tram or walk quietly along or stand gazing into shop windows. Nobody asks me to put up a defense, indeed, but that is irrelevant.
The tram approaches a stopping place and a girl takes up her position near the step, ready to alight. She is as distinct to me as if I had run my hands over her. She is dressed in black, the pleats of her skirt hang almost still, her blouse is tight and has a collar of white fine-meshed lace, her left hand is braced flat against the side of the tram, the umbrella in her right hand rests on the second top step. Her face is brown, her nose, slightly pinched at the sides, has a broad round tip. She has a lot of brown hair and stray little tendrils on the right temple. Her small ear is close-set, but since I am near her I can see the whole ridge of the whorl of her right ear and the shadow at the root of it.
At that point I asked myself: How is it that she is not amazed at herself, that she keeps her lips closed and makes no such remark?
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