Anoushka Shankar Live at Verbier Festival
Raag Mishra Pilu
Chai Chai Chai
The film is a sequence of montages that shows four different people making tea in a tea shop. A ten year old boy selling tea in Bombay at the Gateway Of India, An 18 year old girl with her tea shop in a mid level town, A 19 year old Kashmiri lad in a Barrista and An 80 year old man’s tea shop in a busy Kerala bus stand.
Through a series of sensuous shots that celebrate the process of making tea and everything that goes into it, and a series of painted graphics that recreate their thoughts, we get four different points of view of life. That of an innocent 10 year old who has escaped a violent life in his village, a spirited girl who has shunned child marriage, a slightly bitter yet adventurous Kashmiri boy who has escaped a false charge of stone pelting and an old wise though cynical Malayali who is skeptical of rapid change. The very same change, that the three youngsters pursue. And all this, over a cup of tea. While the youngest boasts that the British too came to India over a cup of tea, the oldest believes that tomorrow any way starts like yesterday and the day before — over a cup of tea.
The film is a view of rapid change that India is going through and what it means to those people whose faces we never notice as we go along sipping our cup of tea everyday. Tea like the people of India changes with every language, culture, climate yet serves the same purpose everywhere always. A constant in a flux.
Babaji Ki Booty
Samasya ke middle finger pe samadhan ki anguthi, babaji ki booty.
Thievery Corporation — The Oscillator
I was listening to random tracks of Thievery today and suddenly this track launched me into the space. Orbiting the earth since.
The Raftman’s Razor
Once forgotten, we are truly perfect
Talvin Singh — Veena
Buddha Bar III - CD 2 - Joy
Radha teri chunari — Student Of The Year
Foot tapping music. Seems I have lost track of Bollywood lately.
Casa del Mirto - The Haste
Album: 1979. Scenes taken from “The Girl on a Motorcycle” (1968)
Hide your face and run awayTake your pills, don’t cry againThe haste you taste grows up,grows up Lose your breath and burn your home
The Nature of Ambition
I have experienced it first hand.
Raxstar & DJ Surinder Rattan - Flirt
Hukus Bukus Telewan chukus
This is a recent ICICI Bank commercial with a very deep meaning hidden in its lyrics!
Tse Kus Be Kus Teli Wan su Kus
Who are you and who am I then tell us who is he the creator that permeates through both you and I
Moh Batuk Logum Degi
Each day I feed my senses/body with the food of worldly attachment and material love (Moh = attachment)
Shwas Khich Khich Wang-mayam
For when the breath that I take in reaches the point of complete purification (Shwas = Breath)
Bhruman daras Poyun chokum
It feels like my mind is bathing in the water of divine love (Bhruman = nerve center in the human brain, poyun = water)
Tekis Takya bane Tyuk
Then I know I am like that sandal wood which is pasted for divine fragrance symbolic of universal divinity. I realize that I am, indeed, divine (Tyuk = Tika applied on the forehead)
What Is Intelligence, Anyway?
— By Isaac Asimov
When I was in the army, I received the kind of aptitude test that all soldiers took and, against a normal of 100, scored 160. No one at the base had ever seen a figure like that, and for two hours they made a big fuss over me. (It didn’t mean anything. The next day I was still a buck private with KP - kitchen police - as my highest duty.)
All my life I’ve been registering scores like that, so that I have the complacent feeling that I’m highly intelligent, and I expect other people to think so too.
Actually, though, don’t such scores simply mean that I am very good at answering the type of academic questions that are considered worthy of answers by people who make up the intelligence tests - people with intellectual bents similar to mine?
For instance, I had an auto-repair man once, who, on these intelligence tests, could not possibly have scored more than 80, by my estimate. I always took it for granted that I was far more intelligent than he was. Yet, when anything went wrong with my car I hastened to him with it, watched him anxiously as he explored its vitals, and listened to his pronouncements as though they were divine oracles - and he always fixed my car.
Well, then, suppose my auto-repair man devised questions for an intelligence test. Or suppose a carpenter did, or a farmer, or, indeed, almost anyone but an academician. By every one of those tests, I’d prove myself a moron, and I’d be a moron, too. In a world where I could not use my academic training and my verbal talents but had to do something intricate or hard, working with my hands, I would do poorly. My intelligence, then, is not absolute but is a function of the society I live in and of the fact that a small subsection of that society has managed to foist itself on the rest as an arbiter of such matters.
Consider my auto-repair man, again.
He had a habit of telling me jokes whenever he saw me. One time he raised his head from under the automobile hood to say: “Doc, a deaf-and-mute guy went into a hardware store to ask for some nails. He put two fingers together on the counter and made hammering motions with the other hand. “The clerk brought him a hammer. He shook his head and pointed to the two fingers he was hammering. The clerk brought him nails. He picked out the sizes he wanted, and left. Well, doc, the next guy who came in was a blind man. He wanted scissors. How do you suppose he asked for them?”
Indulgently, I lifted my right hand and made scissoring motions with my first two fingers. Whereupon my auto-repair man laughed raucously and said, “Why, you dumb jerk, He used his voice and asked for them.” Then he said smugly, “I’ve been trying that on all my customers today.” “Did you catch many?” I asked. “Quite a few,” he said, “but I knew for sure I’d catch you.” “Why is that?” I asked. “Because you’re so goddamned educated, doc, I knew you couldn’t be very smart.”
OSHO: Strange Consequences
After Friedrich Nietzsche declared that “God is Dead” - the word FUCK has become the most important word in the English language