Vasudev Murthy's Blog, page 4

The Incomplete Melody

A powerful story from my close friend Mr. Akira Yamashita-------------------------------------------------------------The Incomplete Melody(c) AKIRA YAMASHITA


I took up the position of Ambassador of Japan to Austria-Hungary in the Fall of 1902. I had lobbied for it and was well connected and the result was not a surprise. Since I had done very well in my previous positions as First Secretary at Moscow and then London, the Emperor graciously agreed to my request for an Ambassadorship of a relatively inconsequential country (for Japan). There was certainly some surprise; had Sugiyama-san taken leave of his senses by specifically asking for the position? It did not matter. I knew what I was doing; it was my life's ambition to be posted in Vienna, where I could explore the history and music of the great composers. And, in particular, trace out a particular tune that had consumed me for years.

But many others were not surprised. My extraordinarily fluent German, my affectations, my knowledge of the history of Prussia - there was something more than mere scholarship and application to account for it. My visage and cultural expression was otherwise Japanese, a result of birth and conditioning. But my heart was German. Japanese classical music left me cold. The music of Mozart, Strauss and Haydn were natural to me and its beauty of greater personal import. Considering that there were then few opportunities in Japan to hear their music, this obsession was striking. As a man in fever, I tossed and turned, grasping for fleeting wisps of musical memories. An avuncular professor taught me to read music and played a few strands of music on his violin. It was enough. Bubbling passions turned to a mania and made it very difficult to pursue a career. Yet I did, striking an uneasy balance between the needs of the head and those of my heart.

I see I have been verbose and have meandered in my discourse. Let me return to my main narrative.

While walking alone in a secluded part of Nogawa Park in Tokyo one summer morning, letting gentle tunes lap at my consciousness, I was suddenly overpowered by a tune of such potency and beauty that I staggered and cried out. The tune was so beautiful, so unearthly, that everything became instantly irrelevant. Like a soft blanket, it enveloped me, refusing to let go, nibbling at my soul, filling it with such fragrance that words cannot describe. It would end abruptly, leaving me in agony. Then it would restart and play again and again and again. It was so rich, and so fantastic that I could have died to actually listen to it being played live just once.

I hurried home and tried my best to write it down, but it was too much for me. I showed what little I could understand to the Professor who tried it out on the violin. But while the resulting melody was certainly lovely, it left me strangely dissatisfied. The Professor understood that I was on the verge of something extraordinary. "All the hints are there; you have tried and failed. I have never heard such wonder and I know it could only have been a fraction of the real thing. Search for it; let your life have meaning."

I became possessed by that half-tune and spent several years manoeuvring to get to Vienna. Like a magnet, my soul pulled in that direction. And finally, as I approached Vienna, the tune seemed louder and louder and started revealing hitherto unnoticed layers and tones.

I was in a fever and went about my diplomatic work in a daze. The duties being light, I used every opportunity to search for that elusive something. From Meldemann Strasse to the inner neighbourhoods, I followed the echoes of that incomplete tune. It must have seemed an odd sight - a Japanese wandering about in Vienna. But I did not care.

It became clear to me that the source was somewhere in Leopoldstadt, an older part of Vienna. Some internal compass made me turn towards that area and it seemed that the tune became fuller and louder whenever I walked towards it. And by and by, over a period of a few weeks, I tracked down the source in the area between Glockengasse and Novaragasse, slowly zeroing in on an old house, just like any other in the row.

It was dusk when I reached the house. The street gaslights flickered and were too weak to etch the house in any detail but I knew that I was there. I knocked on the old door, my heart a-flutter, the melody louder than it had ever been. Was my quest about to be fulfilled?

For the longest time, there was no response.

Then I heard a shuffling and the door opened. A very old lady peered out. She looked at me for several seconds, turned and called out “He has come”, and walked back. It was obvious I was expected.

I walked in, straight into the living room. It was dark with candles placed at a height, casting shifting shadows and trembling light in the room. And in the centre, bathed in the soft light of the candles was Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, on his death bed.

A silent group of twelve very old men were sitting on chairs in a semi-circle around Mozart. I could only see the tops of their heads, their faces being shrouded in darkness. All had violins in their hands. I bowed. They inclined their heads in response.

"Thank you for coming", said one of them. "We have waited several years for you. We shall now complete the tune for you." And Mozartlifted his hands.

I fell on my knees and bowed my head, my eyes closed.

And then the twelve violins were lifted and played and the room filled with that familiar tune that I had heard only in my head for so many years. But this time, I heard it completely. As that memorized snippet completed its course, the remaining piece burst out and I felt that the heavens had opened out with flowers and colours. I was on a cloud of the softest most beautiful and unnatural music that could have ever been thought of. The volume rose to a crescendo and dipped to a whisper, lakes and streams passed through the room, the greatest of sadness, the heights of ecstasy, tenderness, love, bitterness, loneliness, a merging of all three worlds with excursions into each of them separately.....the devil, God, the planets, the moon - all passed through that room, emerging from those violins.

How beautifully bizarre the scene was - I was at the entrance of a room in which twelve old men were playing the most fantastic music ever conceived, guided by the thoughts of a genius on his death bed.... Time stood still as I lost my senses, completely immersed in the musical flood.

And then I understood. This was the tune that Mozart had left incomplete at the moment of death and thrown into the ether as a strand of memory for some to catch and perhaps complete. For some reason it needed me, a Japanese Ambassador to Austria, to complete the tune merely by my presence. How does one search for logic?

I do not know what happened to me. I think I simply could not bear that unending beauty and became unconscious.

I woke to the morning sun streaming in through the windows. The room was empty. There was no sign of the men and the old lady. There were no candles at the heights as I had thought I had seen. There was no dying Mozart. The front door was gently moving on its hinges.

I walked out of that old house, leaving behind that music, which had been played only once. I had completed my life's purpose.

And the tune vanished from my head, never to return.

Desh Sorath Tilak Kamod

My late Guru Pandit V G Jog, often said that the comparative understanding of raags was very important. I, being a poor student who never ultimately had a career in music, never thought about it as much as I should have, though, from time, the similarities and differences between certain raags manifested themselves whenever I practiced.

Bageshri - Bhimpalasi
Bhoopali-Deshkar
Darbari-Adana
Marwa-Sohini
etc

Sorath is the older one in consideration. It is used in Sikh Shabads for great effect, and has a meditative essence.

Sorath : Sa Re Ma Pa Ni Sa^        Sa^ ni Dha Pa Ma Ga Re Sa

Ga is treated lightly while Re is emphasized

Here are a couple of examples

Prof Surinder Singh of the Raj Academy, a wonderful, distinguished man, who I have had the honour of meeting https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bKgZw...

The amazing Kumar Gandharva https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XcZ8i...

Desh : Sa Re Ma Pa Ni Sa^        Sa^ ni Dha Pa Ma Ga Re Sa

Lots of emphasis on Ga

It stirs the sentiments of patriotism, hence the name perhaps

And Tilak Kamod is for lullabies, with the specific sequence Pa-Sa^  Pa-Dha Ma Ga helping to gently close the eyes of a child

Mukul Shivputra, son of KG   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fKJvC...
Ustad Shujaat Khan   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yyXkU...

Being a moderator

I really enjoy being a moderator on panels.

I've done a few at the Pune International Lit Fest 2013 and 2014, the Times of India Literary Carnival and a couple more. I can't speak for the panelists, but I think this seems to be the formula that works for me:

1. Make them comfortable by speaking well of them and their book while introducing them. Of course, put them at ease earlier too. Many are nervous of being in the spotlight, even if briefly.

2. Involve the audience at an early stage and tell them what you plan to do for the next hour.

3. Use humour. But it has to be done carefully. It may be out of sync with the topic or your sense of humour may be a bit too different from the others. But smiling always works.

4. Tell the panelists that you plan to ask them tough and provocative questions. If possible share the questions with them earlier to give them time to think of a response. And if a new question comes up, ask with a smile so that they don't feel threatened.

5. Make sure you allocate time carefully between all panelists for balance. I make sure I do three rounds.

6. If possible, speak well about one or the other aspect of their books. Not all are good at reading from their books - they speak softly and with a monotone, which brings down the energy in the room. So reading could be very limited.

7. Get the audience involved (that is, you need to stop asking questions) at about the midpoint of the conversation and make sure there are at least 3-5 questions from them. Move the mic around the audience. Paraphrase their questions since some tend to meander or speak very softly.

8. Don't talk about yourself. It's their moment of happiness, so be generous. You are simply getting them to express themselves, their views, their book, their plans.

Of course, if you lack confidence, and can't control the panel or the audience, all the points above are moot.

SH: TMY: Japan - release date announced

Sherlock Holmes; The Missing Years: Japan has already been announced. Amazed by the speed at Poisoned Pen Press! Take a look here.

Sherlock Holmes: The Missing Years: Japan

Sherlock Holmes, The Missing Years: Japan - It’s 1893. King Kamehameha III of Hawaii declares Sovereignty... http://t.co/hqdRZq3fY2
— Poisoned Pen Press (@PPPress) August 8, 2014

The Annihilation of Poetry

Let it be said, perhaps with a sigh that only the tired wind hears
That a poem must not be written; no, it must be torn
To little writhing bits before its birth.
The burden of dark history and forgettable deeds
Of evil men and rushing sorrow, repeated again And again and again.
Why write about them And make them seem seductively charming?
Time is just a sequence, I did hear once
Of microscopic seconds laden with very sharp pain
All rushing towards a pulling dark closure
Of what use is a poem, to celebrate this absurdity?

Oh, you say you wish to write about flowers, love, the sun,
The meadows and someone you miss? Well, what a waste
For none of that lasts, joining that same magnificent current
Towards the same crushing finality. Well, fine Go ahead and write a poem, and celebrate
Your weak pretense of an existence, which is really Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Perhaps a little Speck of brown sand in a corner of the Sahara.
Is that what you want? Please proceed, oh you must
If you wish, I shall search and search and then search again
For that speck, if it takes a billion years And when I see it,
I shall make note of what you thought
Was necessary to make permanent, though I must politely confess
It seems rather trite, rather similar to so many other moments (specks)
Of so many people who came and went, unnoticed, discarded.

I appear to have hurt your feelings, for which I am so sorry
But there again, that sudden twinge of a nerve, of a feeling
An overrated emotion, an exaggerated sense of self, uniqueness,
Identity (and some other synonym you may know) – well, that
Has no meaning whatsoever and will not be acknowledged
In the massive diary of that bearded chap sitting solemnly behind
A creaking desk, supported by bored clouds.
He – he calls himself God, did you know - is far too busy plotting and planning
Punishing and rewarding ad infinitum, rather stupidly, because he is BORED
And never acquired the skills needed to live forever
I mean permanently, devoid of the sense of time
Though he probably watches on his own nice control room
Flat panel monitor, that same rushing current
Of people, feelings, thoughts, pain, happiness, kindness, cruelty
All powdered and processed, heading towards that black hole
Of finality.
And you might be excused if you then said

Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn. I simply hate poetry.

Transferring a car's registration from Goa to Karnataka

In Goa, get CID clearance from their office in Ribander. That takes about 10 days. Copy of RC book. Then Form 28 from RTO office to get a No Objection Certificate. In Karnataka, take these forms to your RTO. Form 27, Form 30 You need to pay tax on the depreciated value of your car. The only way to prove the deprecated value is to get the original sales invoice which may be very difficult depending upon where you bought the vehicle. Then you need to give the following 1. SDRC clearance - the Karnataka equivalent of Crime Branch clearance. 2. Proof of address 3. PAN card 4. Proof of current insurance. 5. Current Emission Certificate 6. Self addressed stamped envelope Take the forms and everything else to an assigned RTO inspector. Remove any plastic tints and make an impression of the car chassis number with a pencil on Form 30 Get another 2-3 signatures from the Assistant RTO and other officers Submit form with the envelope. You will get an ack form which must be kept very very carefully or you could be in trouble if you get caught. You should get the new registration in a week. All this sounds straightforward but it can take MONTHS.

Sherlock Holmes in Japan in the US via Poisoned Pen Press

Congrats, @dracula99 for #SherlockHolmes in Japan's rights being sold to Posioned Pen Press! http://t.co/WekKHLVS76 pic.twitter.com/RbWfkjltJd

— HarperCollins India (@HarperCollinsIN) July 23, 2014

Goodreads data

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reviews: 9
ratings: 19 (avg rating 4.21)
The Time Merchants and other strange tales
reviews: 2
ratings: 8 (avg rating 4.50)
What the Raags told me
ratings: 6 (avg rating 4.67)
Effective Proposal Writing
ratings: 3 (avg rating 4.67)

A review in the District Messenger, the official newsletter of the Sherlock Holmes Society of London.

A review in the District Messenger, the official newsletter of the Sherlock Holmes Society of London.

Sherlock Holmes in Japan by Vasudev Murthy , writing as Akira Yamashita (HarperCollins Publishers India; www.harpercollins.co.in ; 350.00 rupees) also has a foreword by Calvert Markham. In June 1893 Dr Watson receives an envelope from Japan. Inside are a first class ticket from Liverpool to Yokohama and a note in a familiar hand: ‘Watson, I need you. My violin, please. S.H.’ Before the ship reaches Alexandria, a quiet, scholarly Japanese passenger is murdered, and shortly Watson learns that his friend is a fellow-passenger – and they are both in deadly danger. Moriarty survived the fight at Reichenbach and knows that only Holmes can thwart his plans to destroy international diplomacy and flood the world with opium. The novel is a cracking good read, witty, learned and desperately exciting.