Nomad in a tea cup?

I'm back in Chennai. I don't know whether I should be happy or not. I like Chennai as it gives me a scope for my Tamil side. The first day I picked up Kalachuvadu, a literary Tamil magazine circulated perhaps less than 1000 copies all over Tamilnadu. I went to a Tamil theatre, Koothupattarai. I watched a few Tamil movies I would like to forget. I like Chennai for renovating a dying -and wanting to die soon- tamilian in me.

I hate Chennai for everything else. The place I live in Chennai is crowder, dirtier, and unsophisticated. My house in Chennai is about half the size of my house in Hyderabad. I lived in arguably the best colony in Bangalore. I lived in a quieter and a very spacious place in Hyderabad. I know that 1200 sqft. house for a single man is a crime in Indian standards. I didn't care. Chennai is hotter. And not many of my friends live in Chennai now.

Still I have no complaints. I know the new Chennai will have a different experience to offer me. I can look forward to exciting possibilities and they'll come my way. Though the tamilian in me wanted to dither away, I kept in touch. I was on top of things with political and social happenings in Tamilnadu. Not as much as a normal tamilian does. Nevertheless, I had no complaints. I can make new friends. As I have been doing for the past ten years. I must have made more friends in my six month stint in DigitalThink than my father did in his whole life. The nomad in me is more active than ever. He wants to roam. He wants to meet new people. Learn new things because lots of things have stopped exciting him.

I loved Bangalore. I always wanted to go back and live there. I still do. I liked Hyderabad. Rather Hyderabad liked me. Mysore liked me. Chennai accomodated me. But as I write this, I feel, I've reached a stage where the cities have stopped influencing me. It's more like what I have to offer to the cities. Not the other way. The last such powerful influence I had was in Bangalore. Getting down in Central Station, I missed Hyderabad for approximately 12 seconds. Five years on, I still miss Bangalore at nights.

Knopfler

I'm falling in love with Mark Knopfler again. I had sidelined him unduly because he was painfully reminding me of my ex-girl friend. It's strange somehow. I grew up listening to Mark Knopfler with her. In fact, I was into Knopfler even before I met her. But somehow, after introducing him to her -and she going bonkers over him- my passion for Knopfler just doubled. We used to share notes about his music, words, and sound. After my breakup with her, I stopped listening to him as he was bringing back the memories. I shelved those tapes and CDs in the loft.

After a good amount of break, I took him out of the loft. Also perhaps lots have happened since our breakup demeaned the event. So I can get back to the Knopfler I knew before her.

Now onto Knopflers music. I dare anyone arguing that Knopfler is past his prime since Dire Straits split. I think he's getting much better. Or more so I feel that he has broken the shackles of the pattern and also began experimenting at the outer boundary of rock. To see where the line ends and what starts beyond. Like those astrophysists who try to find what lies beyond Milky Way. Some of his attempts at Golden Heart and Ragpickers dream are at these boundaries. They mock anyone trying to bind them in a category. Will you call Daddy's gone to Knoxville rock?

I've never known a musician who's so sensitive about your sensitivities as Knoplfer is. He's so careful not to disturb you with his music. I can write reems on those makers of music who've inserted some chord, a raise of voice, or that interfering symbols that snap your listening senses. Knopfler doesn't believe in tranditionally starting and ending a song. His chords are quite tender. Notes are quite delicate. He plays guitar as if he's tending a beautiful pigeon that's wounded.

Knopfler's voice needs no appreciation from anyone. It looks like he's preparing you for some meditation. It's amazing how some one can create such huge meditative and calming effect within the framework of rock. Check out the title number of Ragpickers dream and Baloney of Sailing to Philadelphia. My favorites.

Thank god for knopflers the world is a nice place to live.

Lessons Learned

The solitude I had last month has mellowed me down. I have a better outlook at life now. I can't call it better but certaintly a different one. I'm more solid in managing the adversities in life. My share of debacles have been handled well. I only want to find out what message life has for me. It never allows me to settle down in life. But I gained an uncanny knack of de-skinning and wearning new ones.

I'm in Chennai now. The city I swore I'll never return to. Bangalore still seems to elude me. I understand there's a message in that. Only coudn't get it. Somewhere down the line, I'll probably know.

As Lennon says, life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans.