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The Hindu :

The Hindu : The small room resounded with the rhythm of castanets, harmonium keys and clapping. Repeated lines soared to reach a frenzied crescendo. The pulsating music was guaranteed to transport you to another plane. Rajeshwari Vinod was certainly physically present as she sat blinking into her mobile. “Ah, um,” she explained after the aarthi, “I was expecting a call. I thought I heard the ring tone.”

That’s one more thread in tech’s tightening grip on us. In a growing phenomenon called ringxiety or fauxcellarm, sufferers hear the SMS beep or ring tone, even feel the vibrations when these are non-existent. Medical dictionaries might christen it “phantom mobile call”. Ah, sweet revenge! Mobile users began their public assault by stepping onto balconies and verandahs to connect loudly and wirelessly.

Then, cell phone in hand stepped into the streets. They walked down crowded streets merrily chatting with disembodied voices.Soon they launched the beach-offensive. In a Pavlovian response, people reach for the mobile when you sit talking to them. In front of that hypnotising 6”x 3”, you, who can speak, hear and gnash teeth, are a powerless shadow. Your listener keeps casting glances at the little monster’s face for SMS. You were then startled by the sight of shoppers talking to themselves in shop aisles. Mind-boggling choices must have done him in, you thought, till you noticed the wires and the widgety buttons in the ears. The wire-free avatars dug a new low in public behaviour. Ringxiety is probably poetic justice. Retribution for mobile users’ contempt for the convenience of those around. Lesson: you can’t escape the wireless web you’ve spun around yourself.

“Ok, I do feel the BlackBerry vibrating in my belt even as I reach for it on the table,” admitted R. Kannan, a businessman. “I guess that makes me a junkie. But BB is my lifeline.” The CEO of a start-up wakes up in the middle of…More

The Hindu : a similar mould as the R1, with identical wrists-at-seat-level ergonomics, and adrenalin-pumping performance purpose built to champion the bike’s ‘race replica’ role. Like many 600cc bikes, riders will have to bury the rev needle to truly get a feel of all its potential. Riding gurus will notice the bike actually lacks decent power at low rpm. For a bike that makes a massive 131.15bhp peaking at 14,500rpm, it can even feel slightly lethargic below 6000rpm.

However, pass 8000rpm and the world starts to blur, this getting worse higher in the wide power band. The rev-counter on the 2006 model test bike I rode was calibrated all the way to an eye-popping 20,000rpm. Acceleration is more than impressive when the bike is in its powerband, and I was surprised to effortlessly achieve a quick rush to 220kph and back. Both the R6 and R1 offer smooth clutches and positive-feeling six-speed, one-down and five-up gearboxes that shift via sporty toe shift levers.

FJR 1300 (2005)

The FJR 1300 is the bike to choose for enjoyable long rides. It pampers riders and pillions alike and also has features that ensure rides remain comfy and stress-free always. The FJR uses excellent twin headlights, and an adjustable electric screen that provides bonus wind protection over and above a large fairing. Powered by a five-speed, liquid-cooled, in-line four 1298cc powerplant, the FJR transfers drive via a shaft. Making 143.5bhp at 8000rpm, the FJR carries around ample lugging power to whoosh down highways, gladly decimating distances without any drama.

The Hindu : It began less than five years ago, when the nation watched and marvelled at scores of young people putting their life on hold for their 15 minutes of fame on Channel [V] Popstars. And one could almost hear mothers clicking tongues at youngsters wasting their life on something as fickle as fame.

India now seems to have taken wholeheartedly to reality television as millions SMS their verdicts on the eager hopefuls. And with the rise in share in the profit pie, reality TV is working harder to catch its talent as early as possible. In the last couple of years, the new demographic of participants has been children in the age group of eight and 14, doing everything from singing and dancing to matching precocious intellects to auditioning for a role in films.

Currently on telly is “Sa Re Ga Ma Pa Li’l Champs”, hosted by Aditya Narayan and judged by Sonu Nigam and Suresh Wadkar. And there will soon be Star Plus’s “Voice of India Chotte Ustaad” with Shreya Ghoshal, Kunal Ganjawala and Pritam for judges. Even many regional channels have jumped onto the contest bandwagon with their own versions of singing and dancing shows for children.

The most common rationale offered is that the country’s undiscovered stars deserve an opportunity to showcase their talent. Thus, says Sonu Nigam: “This is the age where children will go far if they are given the right inspiration. This competition helps them know where they stand, know what their strengths are.” Certainly, it is a persuasive argument. After all, as Surendra Nath S, Executive Producer of ETV (currently hosting the juniors’ version of “Yedhe Thumbi Haaduvenu”) asks: “What is the point of learning music or any other performing art if it is not being exhibited?” In a country where visibility is such a challenge, what better way to bring out young talent than on a national platform?…More

The Hindu : Coming from the Van Cleef dynasty, it was natural for Olaf also to take to jewellery. He, like his ancestors, has a passion for precious stones. Even in that his job profile is a tad offbeat. He does not “design” jewellery, but is a “counsellor on high range jewellery” and has been with Cartier since 1982. In fact, he was so successful that he was in charge of the Cartier mission in India between 1989 and 2002.

But just selling jewellery is not his agenda. “It is giving customers advice. When it comes to jewellery it is a piece of heritage that we sell, not just a piece of jewellery. It is personalised when a man gifts his wife a jewel for he is gifting his love and memories of his life, which in turn is handed down generations. Each one has a picture in his mind. For that man it may be symbolic, and that is where my interest comes in. I am more into the psychology of jewellery. Jewellery is like adding a little bit of marmalade to your buttered toast. Too much of it will ruin the taste. In the same way jewellery too should be just perfect; it should accentuate your beauty, not take away the attention from it,” explains Olaf.

He starts by making his customers wear the jewellery and experience it first.

“A customer is not just a customer, and neither ishe your friend. He is one to whom you give something to help him select gifts for his various reasons — may be for sexuality, vanity, or as a token of love to his children,” explains this counsellor, who feels Indians have a great sense of colour and contrast.

“In Paris, people are boring. They are always playing with greys, blacks and white. The idea of contrast simply does not exist there. I love the way Indian women play with…More

The Hindu : When it comes to a buffet, the mantra of the moment is freshness. After all, no one that’s doling out a rather generous amount of money for a meal wants cold food that’s been sitting around for hours. So it is that buffets all around thecity are aiming for a just-in-time delivery system, turning out choice dishes just before they hit your plate.

Almost the first thing you notice about Chancery Pavilion’s Ithaca brunch menu, therefore, is the small pots of sprouts by the salad counter. The idea, explains, M. Sitapathi, Executive Chef, is for customers to have the freedom to make their own salads, using sprouts that are as fresh as they come.

We let the chef make our salads, asking only for as much colour as possible. And the fresh factor is noticeable, with everything having a wonderful crunch to it.

Then there are the live food stations, which range from continental to South Indian. If local flavours are your thing, appam and stew or dosa and chicken curry are the way to go. Or you could go with the shawarmas and kathi rolls at the next counter. Although the rolls do feel a bit too clinical and lack the organic charm of street food, they’re still rather worth a try. Or you could go upscale and try out the live pizzas and pastas. But it’s the live seafood counter that takes the cake for us. We go with the pomfret lightly flavoured with basil pesto and are well rewarded for our choice. The fish is only very lightly cooked, so that while the outside is crunchy and nicely spiced, the inside is delicate, juicy and untouched by the pesto.

Among the cold starters, there’s a wide range of both vegetarian and non-vegetarian options. From a vegetable sushi that tries gamely to manage without meat to excellent chive crepes and asparagus salad to…More

The Hindu : The experience of living in different cultures or may be it issomething else… I tend to work in the introspective mode,” says Kolkata-based artist, Amitabh Sengupta. “The mundane stories of human life, feelings of everyday, all seem to be transcending through time and space, yet they are so similar in all lands. Love and despair, pain and ecstasy all have such similar human meanings that are reflected in expressions of cultures. Thus, past as we infer, continues in the present, transformed through time-meanings… With such thoughts, my paintings have developed during the past 25 years.”

Born in Calcutta in 1941, Sengupta began a distinguished career in the arts by graduating in painting from Government College of Arts and Crafts in 1963. A French government scholarship in Printmaking and Painting took him to Paris where he enrolled at the École des Beaux-Arts (1966 – 68).

Oddly, the art scene in Paris did not stimulate him at all. In fact, he found many European paintings and sculptures to be actually ugly! Strangely, he was never attracted to the works of Pablo Picasso as much as, say, Marc Chagall or even Salvador Dali. What enchanted him were the cine-collections in Cinematheque. “I was for the first time exposed to some wonderful European masters of cinema. I became a great admirer of Ingmar Bergman; his films like the “Wild Strawberries” left on me a lasting impression. I think I learned more watching films than studying at the college.”

Sengupta, incidentally, did have a personal connection with films. Karuna Banerji, (who played the central role of Sarbojaya (Apu’s mother) in Satyajit Ray’s masterpiece, “Pather Panchali” was his aunt. He remembers her strong character and robust personality as an activist in theatre and politics. She was close to Sengupta’s middle class but humanist father.

On return from Europe, Sengupta lived in Chennai and Delhi through 1969-76. The next 11 years were…More

The Hindu : Ranga Shankara and Epson are organising an exhibition, brought together by renowned photographer Pallon Daruwala, where seven talented photographers will showcase their rendition of theatre, art and Ranga Shankara.

The exhibition of photographs, shot before and during this year’s Ranga Shankara Theatre festival, was opened by the very senior painter/artist S.G. Vasudev at Ranga Shankara on the last day of the Theatre Festival and will run till November 29. The talented young photographers showcasing their works are Anandi Chowriappa, Harris Backer, Murali N, Patrick Wilson, Neha Bajaj, Sai Darshan Paliwal and Vivek Mathew. Exclusive and limited edition prints of the photographs are on sale for art collectors as well.

Commenting on this initiative Arundhati Nag, Managing Trustee and Creative director of Ranga Shankara said, “I feel that theatre photography has not been given its due in India. Also, I notice that a certain artistic eye that sees things differently and captures them in a distinct way has been missing. This exhibition, put together with Pallon Daruwala and Epson’s support is a starting point for us to show case theatre photography. Though the pictures on display are not from plays performed on the stage but are elements and moments captured off the stage of Ranga Shankara, we hope to make performing arts photography a regular feature at the Ranga Shankara Gallery.”

Interested persons can call Ranga Shankara between 10 a.m. and 5 p.m. for any further details on 26493982 or 26592777.

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The Hindu : A commerce grad, who headed to the National School of Drama, and wrote TV serials isn’t exactly the kind of guy you see writing lyrics like “Piyu boley piya boley, kya ye boley jaanu naa” that we have hummed to.

Lyricist Swanand Kirkire and Bollywood are as different as chalk and cheese. Very much like his lyrics. The man who made us lend an ear to the songs of “Parineeta”, “Lage Raho Munna Bhai”, “Laaga Chunari Mein Daag” and now “Khoya Khoya Chand”, is really a juggler of sorts, dabbling in a whole lot of things.

He sings, writes lyrics (“Parineeta”, “Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi”, “Khoya Khoya Chand”), and dialogues (“Ekalavya”, “Chameli” and the Hindi version of “Sivaji”), has been an associate director in many of these projects and acted in two of them as well.

“In theatre we had to do everything…” is how he explains it. On the sets of “Hazaaron Khwaishein…” he was humming a song he’d written earlier, when director Sudhir Mishra heard it and decided he would write and sing this song for his film.

He teams up yet again with Sudhir Mishra in “Khoya Khoya Chand”, a film that pays tribute to Hindi cinema of the 1950s and 1960s as well as its music. But isn’t it difficult to put a timeline on music given the timelessness of music? “There are genres. Only time proves what is good, bad or timeless…say after 50 years you can decide what’s timeless or not,” says Swanand. He says Guru Dutt’s films like “Pyaasa” and “Kaagaz Ke Phool” stay with him even today, when it comes to inspiration.

What happens in society reflects in art, says Swanand. “The 50s and 60s was a time when progressive Urdu poets were finding their space in Hindi cinema (as lyricists). There was a left-leaning attitude, and visions of a Nehruvian three-world order; they were trying to see a fair…More

The Hindu : It’s raining jam, haven’t you noticed? In the past fortnight, traffic jams have smothered the city streets and left road-users gasping and clinging on to their cellphones and sanity by their fingernails. Someone I know took two hours to get from Dickenson Road to Infantry Road. A single kilometre. Historic is the word that comes to mind.

It takes little to stir up a jam these days: a swearing-in ceremony, a farmers’ protest march, or even a solitary vehicle that breaks down in a strategic spot. Ah for the good old days when the only cause of a traffic block was a visiting head of state bound for the Raj Bhavan! Some recent jams were a premium brand, costly in terms of time squandered. The manufacturers: competing politicians (“My rally is bigger than yours”) followed by a long weekend when too many Bangaloreans decided to rush out of town all at the same time. Forget “premium”, we’ve been treated to “regular” for quite a while. Weekend shoppers, joined by workers on the Metro who have sliced the width of M.G. Road by half, have plunged into the jam-making business in right earnest.

The weekend culture has gradually come to stay in Bangalore. I remember, a couple of years ago, a BMTC driver growling “Saturday special” to the conductor as he inched forward on the stretch of Airport Road that led to Richmond Road. “I thought the rush was only in the M.G. Road-Brigade Road area,” he complained. “Illi koode band-bittide, appa.” I began to encounter autodrivers who refused to go towards the central shopping zone on Saturday afternoons. One driver told me, “Everyone is shopping. I don’t know what they are shopping so much for.” A parking attendant on Church Street, who wedged a young man’s bike into a non-existent space, grumbled, “Friday and Saturday, always like this.” It’s not unusual to hear of traffic…More