Shaikh Chilli - A Story

Every language has its own stock characters to make the reader laugh.
Shaikh Chilli is the jester for Urdu
Here is a sample story of the inimitable Chilli!

‘She Told Me Herself’

One day when Shaikh Chilli was away from home some mischief-maker went to his wife and told her that he had died. His wife and children began to cry, and his wife took off her ornaments and began to wail in lamentation,‘Alas! I am widowed. Alas! my children are orphaned.’

While this was happening Shaikh Chilli returned home. Seeing that his whole family was crying he too began to cry. The sound of their crying brought all the neighbours round to ask what had happened. Shaikh Chilli did not know, so he asked his wife. She said,‘Someone told me that you had died and I was a widow.’ He, still weeping, repeated these words to the neighbours.‘My wife has been widowed!’ One of them said,‘What nonsense are you talking? You’re here—alive and well, fit and strong. How can your wife be a widow?’ He said,‘I may be well and strong, but my wife told me herself that she was a widow. How can I doubt her word?’

Ghalib ko Salaam

baazeecha e atfaal hai duniya mere aage

hota hai shab o roz tamaasha mere aage

बाजीचा ए अतफाल है दुनिया मेरे आगे

होता है षब ओ रोज तमाषा मेरे आगे

The world is but a game that children play before me,

A spectacle that passes night and day before me.

Salaam to the Shair who knew what he was doing and did it, though the world scorned him!

Film Poster 4

Can you believe NTR's name appears at the end of the star list.

Raghuramayya was the Hero!

More information on this film welcome.

(Click on the image to see it bigger)

Can Science be fun?

(Click on the images to see them bigger)

Madilona Yochana - Tyagaraja

Shravanam with a rare song.

Madilona Yochana buttaleda of Tyagaraja

(Did a thought not occur in mind questions the bard!)

Ragam Kolahalam

pallavi

madilOna yOcana puTTa lEdA
maharAja rAj(E)SvarA

---

anupallavi

padi vEsamulalO rAma vEsamu
bahu bAg(a)nucu kOru nannu brOva (madi)

---

caraNam

iTTi vELa nIdu maTTu jUpum(a)ni
illAlu nItO muccaT(A)DadO nA
raTTu nI manasuk(e)TTu tOcenO
rakshincuTaku tyAgarAja nuta (madi)

ప. మదిలోన యోచన పుట్ట లేదా
మహరాజ రాజేశ్వరా

అ. పది వేసములలో రామ వేసము
బహు బాగనుచు కోరు నన్ను బ్రోవ (మది)

చ. ఇట్టి వేళ నీదు మట్టు జూపుమని
ఇల్లాలు నీతో ముచ్చటాడదో నా
రట్టు నీ మనసుకెట్టు తోచెనో
రక్షించుటకు త్యాగరాజ నుత (మది)

ப. மதி3லோன யோசன புட்ட லேதா3
மஹராஜ ரா(ஜே)ஸ்1வரா

அ. பதி3 வேஸமுலலோ ராம வேஸமு
ப3ஹு பா3(க3)னுசு கோரு நன்னு ப்3ரோவ (மதி3)

ச. இட்டி வேள நீது3 மட்டு ஜூபு(ம)னி
இல்லாலு நீதோ முச்ச(டா)ட3தோ3 நா
ரட்டு நீ மனஸு(கெ)ட்டு தோசெனோ
ரக்ஷிஞ்சுடகு த்யாக3ராஜ நுத (மதி3)

Thanks to all the sources for the material used in this post.

Removing the Rubbish - A Story by Sadi

WHEN THE YOUNG TRAVELER got off the boat, they saw that he looked so wise, devout and humble that there was only one place at which he could possibly stay.

They deposited his luggage at the monastery. There the youth was made welcome by the pious community.

One day the head of the community said to the youth:

‘Would you please sweep the rubbish away from the mosque?’

That was the last they saw of him. All were puzzled, but decided that he had no aptitude for work.

But next day, one of the servants of the community happened to catch sight of the youth, and stopped him.

‘It was foolish of you to go off like that,’ he remarked. ‘Don’t you know that it is only by service that you climb the ladder?’

At this the youth wept.

‘Oh my friend,’ he cried, ‘what could I do? I looked around and the place was spotless. I therefore concluded that the head of the community was referring to me! I removed myself so that the place should remain pure and spotless.’

Old Chinese Poetry

Man is the same everywhere.
Old Chinese poetry illustrates the fact.
Don't we have similar poems in our languages too?

What is written in Chinese in the image has no connection to the article here 

The Odes represents those of peasants—perspectives not seen in Zhou inscriptions. In addition to the view seen from the top, the Odes also includes songs showing ordinary people at work: the men clearing weeds from the fields, plowing, planting, and harvesting; the girls and women
gathering mulberry leaves for the silkworms, making thread, and carrying food
hampers out to the fields for their men to have lunch. There is much about millet—
both the eating variety and that used for brewing wine for use in rites. There
are joyful references to granaries full of grain and to the men gathering thatch for
their roofs in the off-season. Mention is made of lords’ fields and private fields, and
a bailiff is referred to, but the details of the system are not provided. There are also,
more strikingly, odes of political protest. One compares tax collectors to big rats:

Big rat, big rat,

Do not gobble our millet!

Three years we have slaved for you,

Yet you take no notice of us.

At last we are going to leave you

And go to that happy land;

Happy land, happy land,

Where we shall have our place.

Another tells of the hardships of military service: men constantly on the march,
living in the wilds like rhinoceroses and tigers, day and night without rest. Sometimes
a soldier survives the hardships and dangers of war and returns home only to find
that his wife has given him up for dead and remarried. Consider the following:
We plucked the bracken, plucked the bracken;

While the shoots were soft

Oh, to go back, go back!

Our hearts are sad,

Our sad hearts burn,

We are hungry and thirsty,

But our campaign is not over,

Nor is any of us sent home with news.

Still other odes give us glimpses of the day-to-day hardships of Zhou peasants,
who lived at the mercy of what was becoming an increasingly inhospitable
environment:

The drought is long and deep,

Parched and barren in the landscape.

The drought demon is vicious

Like a burn, like a blaze.

Our hearts are tormented by the heat,

Our grieved hearts as if aflame.

The former ministers and their lords,

Even they do not hear our plea.

Mighty Heaven,

God on High

Why do you force us to flee?

In addition to royal and peasant perspectives, the Odes is also famous for its
love poetry, which often reveals a feminine perspective:
In the wilds, a dead doe.

White reeds to wrap it.

A girl, spring-touched:

A fine man to seduce her.

In the woods bushes.

In the wilds, a dead deer

White reeds in bundles

A girl like jade

Slowly. Take it easy.

Don’t feel my sash!

Don’t make the dog bark!

The feminine perspective in ancient China could be quite erotic or even ribald,
as this ode reveals:

That the mere glimpse of a plain cap

Could harry me with such longing,

Cause pain so dire!

That the mere glimpse of a plain coat

Could stab my heart with grief!

Enough! Take me with you to your home.

That a mere glimpse of plain leggings

Could tie my heart in tangles!

Enough! Let us two be one.

To be sure, with these odes, as with all poetry, much depends on the vision of
the translator and interpreter. For Liu Wu-chi, the ode tells of “the tragedy of
love.” In the mind of another contemporary scholar, Wai-lim Yip, the first ode
cited in the last paragraph is an “animated pastiche of a lovely rural
inducement song.

Old Indian Story

This is supposed to be a story told to a British Child by his Ayah.
He was the son of an officer and later wrote all the stories he heard into a book.

THE VORACIOUS FROG.

HERE were a rat and a frog. And the rat said to the frog, “Go and get me some sticks, while I go and get some flour and milk.” So the frog went out far into the jungle and brought home plenty of sticks, and the rat went out and brought home flour and milk for their dinner. Then she cooked the dinner, and when it was cooked she said to the frog, “Now, you sit here while I go to bathe, and take care of the food so that no one may come and eat it up.” Then the rat went to take her bath, and as soon as she had gone the frog made haste and ate up the dinner quickly, and went away.

When the rat came back she found no dinner, and she could not find the frog. So she went out to look for him, calling to him as loudly as she could, and she saw him in the distance, and overtook him. “Why have you eaten my dinner? Why did you go away?” said the rat. Said the frog, “Oh, dear! it was not I that ate your dinner, but a huge dog that came; and I was only a tiny, tiny thing, and he was a great big dog, and so he frightened me, and I ran away.” “Very well,” said the rat; “go and fetch me more sticks while I go for flour and milk.” 

So the frog went out far into the jungle and brought back plenty of sticks. And the rat went to fetch flour and milk. Then she lit the fire and cooked the dinner, and told the frog to take care of the dinner while she went to bathe. As soon as she had gone, the frog ate up all the dinner, and went away and hid himself. 

When the rat came back she saw no frog, no dinner. She went away into the jungle and called to him, and the frog answered from behind a tree, “Here I am, here I am.” The rat went to him and said, “Why did you eat my dinner?” “I didn’t,” said the frog. “It was a great big dog ate the dinner, and he wanted to eat me too, and so I ran away.” 

The rat said, “Very well. Go and fetch me some more sticks, and I will go for flour and milk.” Then she cooked the dinner again and went to bathe. The frog ate up all the dinner, and went away and hid himself. When the rat returned she saw no dinner, no frog. So she went far into the jungle, found the frog, and told him that it was he that had eaten the dinner. And the frog said, “No,” and the rat said, “Yes.” And the frog said, “If you say that again, I will eat you up.” “All right,” says the rat, “eat me up.” 

So he ate her up and sat behind a tree, and the baker came past. The frog called out, “Baker, come here! come here! Give me some bread.” The baker looked about everywhere, could not see anybody, could not think who was calling him. At last he saw the frog sitting behind a tree. “Give me some bread,” says the frog. The man said, “No, I won’t give you any bread. I am a great big man, and you are only a little frog, and you have no money.” “Yes, I have money. I will give you some price, and you will give me some bread.” But the man said, “No, I won’t.” “Well,” said the frog, “if you won’t give me bread, I will eat you up first, and then I will eat up your bread.” 

So he ate up the man, and then ate up his bread. Presently a man with oranges and lemons passed by. The frog called to him, “Come here! come here!” The man was very much afraid. He didn’t know who had called him. Then he saw the frog, and the frog said, “Give me some lemons.” The man wouldn’t, and said, “No.” “Very well,” says the frog, “if you won’t, I’ll eat you up.” 

So he ate up the man with his lemons and oranges. Presently a horse and his groom went by. The frog says, “Please give me a ride, and I will give you some money.” “No,” said the horse, “I won’t let you ride on me. You are like a monkey,—very little—I won’t let you ride on my back.” The frog said, “If you won’t, I’ll eat you up.” Then the frog ate him up, and his groom too. Then a barber passed by. “Come and shave me,” says the frog. “Good,” says the barber, “I’ll come and shave you.” 

So he shaved him, and he thought the frog looked very fat, and so as he was shaving him he suddenly made a cut in his stomach. Out jumped the rat with her flour and milk—the baker with his bread—the lemon-seller with his oranges and lemons—the horse and his groom. And the barber ran away home. And the frog died.

Film Poster 3

Famous Chittor Nagayya is the hero!
None other than M S Subbalakshmi is Heroine!
Film is Meera!
Announcement is in Telugu, but the film is in Tamil!

Peanuts 1952

Charlie Brown is older than me!
Oh! Boy!!

Note the date at the bottom of the cartoon.

( Click to see it bigger )

Ragi tandirya - Purandara

Shravanam goes to Kannada.

This is one more song that haunted me for long.
It has many charanams.
I am unable to get the full text.

Many people have sung it many tunes.
Best was by a cook at Kanchipuram!

Here I get you the version by Sri R K Srikanthan Sir!

Ragi Tandirya - Punnagavarali

The meaning of the song is profound as much I understand.

Kannada friends should come up with good commentary!

Contemporary Painting

Is it a painting?

Yes!

Film Poster 2

Did you know about this film?
I did not till the other day!

From Tao Te Ching

This is interesting!

lao Tzu Wrote this book may be 100s of years back.

Hushing

Not praising the praiseworthy

keeps people uncompetitive.

Not prizing rare treasures

keeps people from stealing.

Not looking at the desirable

keeps the mind quiet.

So the wise soul

governing people

would empty their minds,

fill their bellies,

weaken their wishes,

strengthen their bones,

keep people unknowing,

unwanting,

keep the ones who do know

from doing anything.

When you do not-doing,

nothing’s out of order.

Film Poster 1

Did you know that there was a film like this?
I never knew or heard of it!

Repu Neede!
Tomorrow is yours!
Hope!
Assurance about tomorrow!
(That never comes though!)

Bhajan by Kumar Gandhara

Shravanam with a difference!


Kumar Gandhra is an unusual singer of Bhajans.
His Nirguni Bhajnas are a rage among devout.

This Bhajan talks about teh way a Bhajan is sung.
It is mystic.
It is Tantric.
It is exhilarating.
I liked it form the first time I heard it.

I am sure you will too like it.
It is short!
But very effective!

(Click to see it bigger)

Dasarathi Poem

Read this poem with interest.
It is from Abhyudaya magazine of 1947

If I don't mention the name of the poet, people may think the piece is by someone else!
The rhythm and the theme in the poem are interesting.

I wish there would be some comments on this.

Buchibabu - Katha

Story by Buchibabu published in Anandavani 1940

Sorry to those who cannot read Telugu!

Mysore Maharaja

Jayachamaraja Wodayar was a music lover and composer!

He was crowned on 8-9-1940

Death - A Poem

A Poem by Pablo Neruda,

ALMIGHTY DEATH invited me many times:

it was like the hidden salt in waves,

and its invisible flavors tasted

like collapsing shipwrecks and summits

or vast structures made by wind and snowdrifts.

I came to the iron edge, to the thinness

of air, to the shroud of farms and stones,

the starry void of the final steps

before the dizzying spiral road:

but wide sea, O death!, you don’t come in waves

but rather like clear twilight galloping

or like the infinite host of the night.

You never came to dig in our pockets, your visit

was not possible without a red dress:

without a dawn-lit field ringed in silence:

without towering or buried monuments of tears.

I couldn’t love the tree in every soul

shouldering its own tiny autumn (a thousand leaves dying),

all of these false deaths and resurrections

without graves, without oblivion:

I wanted to swim in the fullest lives,

in the widest estuaries,

and when little by little men renounced me

and closed their doors and paths so the fountains

of my hands wouldn’t touch their wounded existence,

I then went street by street and river by river,

city by city and bed by bed,

my salty mask crossing the wilderness,

and in the last humiliated houses, without light, fire,

bread, stone, or silence, alone,

I doubled over, dying of my own death.

Mucchata Brahmadulaku - Madhyamavati

Shravanam of a rare song.

A friend has asked for this song.

Interestingly I found two versions in my library.
Here is one of them.

Mucchata Brahmadulaku - Madhyamavati

muccaTa-madhyamAvati
P muccaTa brahm(A)dulaku dorakunA
¹muditalAra jUtAmu rArE

A paccani dEhini parama pAvanini
pArvatini talacucunu haruD(E)geDu (muccaTa)

C1 ²cillara vElpula rIti narula kara
pallavamulanu taLukk(a)nucu birudul-
(e)lla meraya nija bhaktulu pogaDaga
ullamu ranjilla
tellani mEnuna niNDu sommulatO
malle hAramulu mari SObhillaga
callani vELa sakala nava ratnapu
pallakilO vEncEsi vaccu (muccaTa)

Tamil
ப. முச்சட ப்3ரஹ்(மா)து3லகு தொ3ரகுனா
முதி3தலார ஜூதாமு ராரே

அ. பச்சனி தே3ஹினி பரம பாவனினி
பார்வதினி தலசுசுனு ஹரு(டே3)கெ3டு3 (மு)

ச1. சில்லர வேல்புல ரீதி நருல கர
பல்லவமுலனு தளுக்(க)னுசு பி3ருது3-
(லெ)ல்ல மெரய நிஜ ப4க்துலு பொக3ட3க3
உல்லமு ரஞ்ஜில்ல
தெல்லனி மேனுன நிண்டு3 ஸொம்முலதோ
மல்லெ ஹாரமுலு மரி ஸோ1பி4ல்லக3
சல்லனி வேள ஸகல நவ-ரத்னபு
பல்லகிலோ வேஞ்சேஸி வச்சு (மு)

Telugu

ప. ముచ్చట బ్రహ్మాదులకు దొరకునా
ముదితలార జూతాము రారే

అ. పచ్చని దేహిని పరమ పావనిని
పార్వతిని తలచుచును హరుడేగెడు (ము)

చ1. చిల్లర వేల్పుల రీతి నరుల కర
పల్లవములను తళుక్కనుచు బిరుదు-
లెల్ల మెరయ నిజ భక్తులు పొగడగ
ఉల్లము రంజిల్ల
తెల్లని మేనున నిండు సొమ్ములతో
మల్లె హారములు మరి శోభిల్లగ
చల్లని వేళ సకల నవ-రత్నపు
పల్లకిలో వేంచేసి వచ్చు (ము)


Here is the direct download link.

https://www.4shared.com/mp3/LjkkvrT0ei/06-GSMani_-_muchchaTa_brahmAdu.html

Short Link:

https://www.4shared.com/s/fLjkkvrT0ei

Link to Mediafire Upload:

http://www.mediafire.com/file/7jj956m3ojp56at/45_-_muchchaTa_brahmAdulaku_-_madhyamAvati_-_tyAgarAju.mp3

Copy and paste one of the links in your browser to download in case you have problem, please!

Voleti - Poorvikalyani

Shravanam of the Maestro!

Voleti sings Ninnuvinaga - Poorvikalyani

of Shyama Sastry

It is simply out of the world.

I want all of you to enjoy listening to the great music!

Sadi Shirazi - Stories

Boss is always right!

The cabinet ministers of Nushirowan were debating an important affair of state, and each delivered his opinion according to the best of his judgment. In like manner the king also delivered his sentiments, and Abu-zarchamahr, the prime minister, accorded in opinion with him. The other ministers whispered him, saying, "What did you see superior in the king's opinion that you preferred it to the judgment of so many wise heads?" He replied: "Because the event is doubtful, and the opinion of all rests in the pleasure of the most high God whether it shall be right or wrong. Accordingly it is safer to conform with the judgment of the king, because if that shall prove wrong, our obsequiousness to his will shall secure us from his displeasure.—To sport an opinion contrary to the judgment of the king were to wash our hands in our own blood. Were he verily to say this day is night, it would behoove us to reply: Lo! there are the moon and seven stars."

They have related that at a hunting seat they were roasting some game for Nushirowan, and as there was no salt they were dispatching a servant to the village to fetch some. Nushirowan called to him, saying, "Take it at its fair price, and not by force, lest a bad precedent be established and the village desolated." They asked, "What damage can ensue from this trifle?" He answered, "Originally, the basis of oppression in this world was small, and every newcomer added to it, till it reached to its present extent:—Let the monarch eat but one apple from a peasant's orchard, and his guards, or slaves, will pull up the tree by its root. From the plunder of five eggs, that the king shall sanction, his troops will stick a thousand fowls on their spits."

Bhartruhari Shatakam

Bhartruhari Shatakam

This is a page from the first Sahatakam.

You may identify some of the slokams as very popular.

Those who know Telugu can easily recollect the poems as below.
తెలిసియు తెలియని నరుదెల్ప బ్రహ్మదేవుని వశమే (3)
తివిరి ఇసుమున తైలంబుదీయవచ్చు (5)

Urdu hai jis ka naam

Urdu hai jis ka naam!

I read this piece in one of those books.

Urdu had developed out of the need of Muslim rulers for a language in which to communicate with their Indian subjects. It shares its homeland with Hindi – the two languages are, linguistically, variants of each other and at the level of everyday spoken transactions are almost identical. As literary languages they are considerably different; where Hindi links culturally to Sanskrit, Urdu uses the Persian script and draws heavily on Persian for its higher vocabulary, and through Persian on Arabic. Like many of the modern languages of Europe, Urdu had to establish itself as a literary medium in the face of a convention that only a classical language could be a fit vehicle for poetry. This happened because many Indians had begun to feel that they could not express themselves as adequately as they would wish in Persian, and major poets appeared who wrote in their mother tongue, Urdu. But all Urdu poets were familiar with the literary heritage of Persian and many still wrote some of their verse in it (just as in England Milton wrote verse in Latin as well as in English). Thus Urdu poetry represents, in a sense, a further development of a literature already centuries old, with only the language changed. Urdu poets had ready to hand all the rich tradition of Persian poetry and they made full use of it – its verse forms, its metres, its delight in verbal conceits, its major themes, and its expression of the teachings of Islamic mysticism. But the use of the mother tongue helped Urdu speakers convey an intensity in their poetry which they could not have expressed in Persian.

O S Thyagarajan - Vocal

Shravanam goes on!!!

Sri O S Thyagarajan - Concert

Enjoy!

R K Suryanarayana _ Veena

Shravanam of Strings being plucked perfectly!

R K Suryanarayana - Veena

Marivere - Shanmukhapriya

Enjoy!

M D Ramanathan - Kalyani

Shravanam with MDR!

Sri M D Ramanathan

 sings 

Bhajare re chitta 

in Kalyani

Enjoy!

Nedunuri - Bhairavi

Shravanam with Sri Nedunuri!

Lalite - Bhairavi - Nedunuri

Enjoy!

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.