Chilled Salad Fork - News and Announcements

buffalo Originally uploaded by aman chopra. Highest rain ever in Indian history, more than Cherrapunji in 1910. More photos here.

buffalo Originally uploaded by aman chopra. Highest rain ever in Indian history, more than Cherrapunji in 1910. More photos here.

I have always harboured an automatic disgust for writers of "indian origin" who sit around in Brooklyn cafes writing their novels, and getting their publishing contracts. I hate writers who could be models, if they had chosen a different lake to pollute. It is a flaw, I know, perhaps an inward jealousy for things I cannot, and would not do. For the first time, I would like to believe that Rana Dasgupta is different. I've not read his novel, but I've read his recent essay in Tehelka aboard a flight today. He talks about the intellectual wasteland that is Indian media. No surprises there, but quite a few insights. “Why do you deny you are Indian?” several journalists asked me. “I am not denying anything,” I replied. “I’m just not pretending to be what I’m not. I hold a British passport, I grew up in England, I speak no Indian languages and I did not live in India until I was nearly 30 years old. I live here now and my work is greatly influenced by being here; but I cannot claim to be an Indian writer.” But such talk poses real problems for columns that must be about Indian writing, or Indian celebrity. So while a couple of journalists respond melodramatically by writing about the “outsider”, while a couple more continue to mutter in a dark, Stalinist kind of way that this man “denies” he is Indian, most just ignore any complications of this kind and go ahead as they had always planned. At the core of the tale of aggressive “success” that they are going to write, they plant the tender kernel of national belonging. Hence cloying rhymes like “near and dear ones”. Rana has that rare thing - an honest voice. It is a pleasure to read this man explaining what he is not. Also endearing is the fact that in the entire article, he doesn't mention the novel's name itself, he does not feel the need to plug it. Our friendly blogger Jabberwock has a post called Stories Without Borders, after an interview with him. So, I think I'm going to buy Tokyo Cancelled.

I have always harboured an automatic disgust for writers of "indian origin" who sit around in Brooklyn cafes writing their novels, and getting their publishing contracts. I hate writers who could be models, if they had chosen a different lake to pollute. It is a flaw, I know, perhaps an inward jealousy for things I cannot, and would not do. For the first time, I would like to believe that Rana Dasgupta is different. I've not read his novel, but I've read his recent essay in Tehelka aboard a flight today. He talks about the intellectual wasteland that is Indian media. No surprises there, but quite a few insights. ???Why do you deny you are Indian???? several journalists asked me. ???I am not denying anything,??? I replied. ???I???m just not pretending to be what I???m not. I hold a British passport, I grew up in England, I speak no Indian languages and I did not live in India until I was nearly 30 years old. I live here now and my work is greatly influenced by being here; but I cannot claim to be an Indian writer.??? But such talk poses real problems for columns that must be about Indian writing, or Indian celebrity. So while a couple of journalists respond melodramatically by writing about the ???outsider???, while a couple more continue to mutter in a dark, Stalinist kind of way that this man ???denies??? he is Indian, most just ignore any complications of this kind and go ahead as they had always planned. At the core of the tale of aggressive ???success??? that they are going to write, they plant the tender kernel of national belonging. Hence cloying rhymes like ???near and dear ones???. Rana has that rare thing - an honest voice. It is a pleasure to read this man explaining what he is not. Also endearing is the fact that in the entire article, he doesn't mention the novel's name itself, he does not feel the need to plug it. Our friendly blogger Jabberwock has a post called Stories Without Borders, after an interview with him. So, I think I'm going to buy Tokyo Cancelled.

Multi-lingual, fusion hip hop MUST see their music video: http://www.rukusavenue.com/BB_Web_sub_bug_large.wmv

I like this guy. He's got the attitude, that contagious self-belief, which is trying to scream out through his work. For instance, check out the video he has vlogged on his site - Secret Vlog Injection. In a very informal way, it talks about what Fadereu lucidly discussed through the post 'Veritas Lux Mea' in his personal blog. Chuck Olsen has also made a documentary on blogs, which he calls Blogumentary. In that, he talks about "personal side of blogging, including a BBC blogger injured in Iraq and a friend's suicidal blog post". Apparently, a "former hollywood producer" John Hart was also working on a similar topic, and tried to use the same word (Blogumentary) at several places in his film 59 Bloggers. When Chuck Olsen, our dude, tried to tell him about the confusion, hell broke loose. Chuck got legal notice when he refused to back down from using the word. The word spread through blogosphere - that other world in which Chuck had friends. He even had interviewed a few of them. The bloggers directed their wrath, and, if John's blog is to be believed, he lost funding for his documentary. And again, its not truth, but opinion that we are talking about. Opinion of the masses. Or public opinion. Which, in most cases, happens to be the truth as well (though I hate the word public). Going by that, the truth-lady is smiling on Chuck's neck at the moment.

Multi-lingual, fusion hip hop MUST see their music video: http://www.rukusavenue.com/BB_Web_sub_bug_large.wmv

I like this guy. He's got the attitude, that contagious self-belief, which is trying to scream out through his work. For instance, check out the video he has vlogged on his site - Secret Vlog Injection. In a very informal way, it talks about what Fadereu lucidly discussed through the post 'Veritas Lux Mea' in his personal blog. Chuck Olsen has also made a documentary on blogs, which he calls Blogumentary. In that, he talks about "personal side of blogging, including a BBC blogger injured in Iraq and a friend's suicidal blog post". Apparently, a "former hollywood producer" John Hart was also working on a similar topic, and tried to use the same word (Blogumentary) at several places in his film 59 Bloggers. When Chuck Olsen, our dude, tried to tell him about the confusion, hell broke loose. Chuck got legal notice when he refused to back down from using the word. The word spread through blogosphere - that other world in which Chuck had friends. He even had interviewed a few of them. The bloggers directed their wrath, and, if John's blog is to be believed, he lost funding for his documentary. And again, its not truth, but opinion that we are talking about. Opinion of the masses. Or public opinion. Which, in most cases, happens to be the truth as well (though I hate the word public). Going by that, the truth-lady is smiling on Chuck's neck at the moment.

"Cartoonist Nina Paley is slowly turning the narrative of Ramayana into a series of remarkable animations set to a soundtrack of scratchy old 78s. The result is Sita Sings the Blues, a "self-animated, unfunded, destined-to- drive-me-to- the-poorhouse feature-in-progress. "Nina describes the latest chapter, Hanuman Finds Sita: "Gags, gimmicks, AND narrative - hundreds of pages of text crammed into 3 minutes. Plus it contains all 4 main characters: Sita, Rama, Hanuman and Ravana, with extra added bonus demons ... People already familiar with the Ramayana will probably enjoy these musical bits more..." Now, anyone who is into animation, would know that's one hell of an effort. To add to the narrative, she has the story of her struggles captured through her main-page blog. A snippet from the blog: "But now that's all in the past, my cash and I have parted ways, and I've moved on (and in). I love my apartment. I love my Gothic Cabinet Craft cubes. I love my craigslist used sofabed and coffee table. Speaking of which, I've become a craigslist addict. The furniture listing pictures offer a rare and fascinating glimpse into the private lives of New Yorkers. Some vignettes look nice, some look awful, many look simply...alien. Certain photos have made me gasp aloud. Horrifying, but exciting - and I've come to crave more. I've never understood why some people love horror movies, but this must be similar. Now I comb through the listings for the sheer titillation, even while my apartment is full." Download the clip here

"Cartoonist Nina Paley is slowly turning the narrative of Ramayana into a series of remarkable animations set to a soundtrack of scratchy old 78s. The result is Sita Sings the Blues, a "self-animated, unfunded, destined-to- drive-me-to- the-poorhouse feature-in-progress. "Nina describes the latest chapter, Hanuman Finds Sita: "Gags, gimmicks, AND narrative - hundreds of pages of text crammed into 3 minutes. Plus it contains all 4 main characters: Sita, Rama, Hanuman and Ravana, with extra added bonus demons ... People already familiar with the Ramayana will probably enjoy these musical bits more..." Now, anyone who is into animation, would know that's one hell of an effort. To add to the narrative, she has the story of her struggles captured through her main-page blog. A snippet from the blog: "But now that's all in the past, my cash and I have parted ways, and I've moved on (and in). I love my apartment. I love my Gothic Cabinet Craft cubes. I love my craigslist used sofabed and coffee table. Speaking of which, I've become a craigslist addict. The furniture listing pictures offer a rare and fascinating glimpse into the private lives of New Yorkers. Some vignettes look nice, some look awful, many look simply...alien. Certain photos have made me gasp aloud. Horrifying, but exciting - and I've come to crave more. I've never understood why some people love horror movies, but this must be similar. Now I comb through the listings for the sheer titillation, even while my apartment is full." Download the clip here

Even before Hush*s recent post about her visit goes off the front page - behold the Amma, South India's famous hugging mother! After a very brief appearance of Big Mama, we see the grandeur of the ceremony and the miles of people assembled to pay their respects to the woman who hugs for a living. Some freaky dances and costumes, and even a few bands perform too. And the twist at the ending, the outside... A film by 3825Media. Downloads HERE.

The Banganga temple tank complex is an unique and little known part of the city of Mumbai, tucked into the western slopes of Malabar Hill in the southern part of the city. The area around it is made up of tiny brick houses bordering equally tiny, winding lanes, and a plethora - 360, according to my guide - of temples, large and small. There were originally four such tanks in the city, but the others have fallen prey to the inexorable ball and hammer form of development, stone and water replaced by concrete and paving. The Banganga was also headed the same way a dozen years back, when some public minded citizens decided to put sinew to alarm and put together a fund-raiser, an annual classical music concert called the Banganga Music Festival. Initiated in 1992, the Festival has attracted major music talent, both vocal and instrumental. One reason is that the setting is idyllic - a largish body of fresh water, fed from a perennial spring, with stone steps rising from it to create a natural amphitheater. With subdued lighting and a stage erected into the water (resting on submerged steps), the balmy air of a pair of January or February evenings, cool and inviting, the venue is a delight to both musicians and audience. Alas, in 2004, the concert could not be held, as hard work by city environmentalists, combatting the onslaught of ear-shattering dances and concerts at street corners, finally found High Court support with a landmark ruling banning the use of loudspeakers within 100 meters of certain designated locations - hospitals, courts, schools and religious places. Unfortunately, the rule also hit two beloved venues - the Rang Bhavan amphitheater and the Banganga, resulting in the cessation of a clutch of classical, jazz and rock concerts that had begun to acquire global fame. Most concert organisers look fruitlessly for ways to approach the court for relief, but on my advice, the Indian Heritage Society decided to explore the demonstration of an innovative way to carry on holding the concert. Traditional music systems for open areas use very large banks of speakers fed by powerful amplifiers, in order to deliver as wide a range of frequencies and amplitudes of sound to the furthest member of the audience. Naturally, this translates into an overly loud sound for the audience sitting near the speakers, and also unacceptably high sound levels outside the venue. Conceptually, it is far more efficient to distribute audio through electromagnetic emission rather than directly through the air. This is a phenomenon that our company, Radiophony (http://www.radiophony.com) has researched in a limited manner, lacking the funds and an occasion to test it out on a meaningful scale. We did a technical demonstration for the authorities - the police commissioner of Mumbai and various directly concerned echelons, together with the main concert sponsors, HSBC and Citigroup, last April. The main petitioner - Sumaira Abdulali, a grandniece of Salim Ali's - before the High Court was also present, together with technical representatives of a Pune based company that sells noise measuring equipment. The commissioner, for whom the new rules have been a considerable headache (since many concert organisers have significant social standing and exert a lot of influence), was delighted to find that the petitioners openly stated that they had absolutely no objection to a concert held this way, and would definitely not file a contempt petition if the concert took place using a similar system. Basically, putting the units near the audience ensures that the points of sound emission are very close (no more than 5-6 meters away) from any audience member. Since sound, like any other wave, obeys the inverse square law (intensity varies inversely - decreases - with the square of the distance), the sound level measured at the speaker will be much lower to deliver the same perception of loudness. It also means that moving further away, this softer sound will drop off quickly, and thus rapidly become inaudible enough not to matter - since noise pollution is a matter of making more sound than the ambient levels - at the perimeter. Using about a hundred commercial devices (made by Philips, and donated for the purpose) placed much nearer to the audience, sound levels similar to the usual loudness, but much lower in absolute terms, created a total surround effect as good if not superior to traditional open air audio handling systems. As a serendipitous benefit, the total amount of energy needed for a concert of this nature is just a fraction of the normal approach. The sound technicians who handled the concert in previous years told me that they normally use a set of amplifiers totalling 5,000 watts, while in this system, the net output could not have exceeded 30 watts in all. I have to estimate this, because the units had a maximum output each of half a watt, and I had set the volume control to just above the halfway mark. The test last year had been conducted with a smaller number in only one corner of the tank complex, so Friday, the 4th of February, was the very first time I had actually experienced a full scale test of this concept, delivering sound to a potential audience of over 4,000 that would fill the steps around 10-15,000 square meters of the tank. Pt Shivkumar Sharma, who is a Mumbai resident, and has the reputation of being an exceptionally finicky person about sound, sent two of his closest associates for the sound check. He had already spent a long time on the phone with me, warning me that the santoor is a difficult instrument with a very wide dynamic range. Having personally rescued this instrument and restored it to the world of Indian classical music, he was anxious that the concert do justice to his virtuosity. Not calculated to ease my mind, but then the prospect of having a live demonstration of a totally new concept in sound delivery in front of thousands of music aficionados was not all that calming either. As it was, the musicians, Dr Bhalchander Phadnis and Dr Anish Pradhan on santoor and tabla respectively, were kindness itself, playing for about two hours while I directed the placement of radios, clambering up and down steps and attempting to determine whether any region of the setting would be shortchanged. One fantastic side benefit of this acoustic solution is that it really makes no difference where the seating is placed, since everyone gets effectively the same sound - and at exactly the same time, no latency. At the end of this check, as dusk was falling, the musicians pronounced themselves satisfied and left, leaving me to dismantle the setup (since the tank is in use daily, we had to dismantle each day and start up again the next) and prepare myself for the public concert over the next two days. I had around twenty volunteers from Mumbai University, SNDT University (Event Management diploma students) and St Xavier's Indian Music Group to help with the logistics. The 5th had a vocal recital by Pts Rajan-Sajan Misra, exponents of the Benares school (the Varanasi gharana). The concert was preceded by brief addresses from the state Governor, SM Krishna, and the organisers. What followed was incredible, brilliant performances. The vocal range and subtlety of expression was really thrilling. Equally comforting, to me, was the fact that people on leaving at the end expressed a lot of satisfaction, not only in the fact that the concert was held at all, but that it was pulled off so successfully from the perspective of music. A very few suggested that the tabla could have been louder, but frankly, I am not sure this is objectively correct. The fact is that the deepest notes could be heard through the tank area directly from the instrument, while the higher tones were delivered through the radios. Not all that many people at the concert may have experienced this anywhere, but it is the principle behind some modern home music systems, that employ subwoofers for bass and satellite speakers for mid-range and treble. I am reasonably certain that boosting the bass would have caused little change, while raising the overall sound level, perhaps to the point where the police - who were monitoring the concert with decibel meters - would have been forced to act. Sunday, the 6th, had the eagerly awaited Pt Shivkumar Sharma, accompanied by Dr Phadnis on tanpura and Dr Pradhan on tabla. I spent a little time sitting in the front row, about which experience more follows below. He played the alap as the sun went down and darkness gradually filled the sky from behind the audience, till finally the temples behind the stage were etched against the sky. As the sky darkened, the stage lighting came up, and the perimeter of the tank was gently lit by a string of fairy lights. Only the stage itself was spotlit, and the wider western side of the tank was in darkness. The tank itself hosts families of ducks and geese and a single swan, which seems to be under the impression it is either a very large duck or a goose. As the notes of the santoor filled the air, the birds swam around excitedly, gracefully paddling round the stage and then about the tank. At one point, a family of five ducks came out of the water near some chairs and proceeded to groom themselves endlessly, before settling down for a little snooze. This was a meter or two from where I was sitting at the time, and I wish I had had a camera. Watching the ducks busily grooming themselves was both amusing and astounding, since they seem to have complete flexibility, their beaks busily fluffing their feathers around their legs, shoulders, wings, tail and back, then all over again. The capo di capo tutti duck - doubtless the original Don Ald' - plonked himself up on the platform, leaving the lesser ducks on the next step, just above the water, and now and then they would spread their wings and flap them wildly. When they finally settled down for a snooze, they delicately tucked one leg each right under a wing, with a dexterity that aircraft designers would quite possibly like to emulate, and slept sitting up on one leg only. Pt Shivkumar Sharma has a mastery over his instrument that far exceeds anything I have heard on his recordings. He can play it expertly with the very barest of a whispery soft sound, and I honestly doubt that any traditional concert system used in the open can reproduce that incredible dynamic range, while staying soft enough during the loudest passages to deliver a very stress free musical listening experience. The notes just hung in the air, with the chirrups of the little bats wheeling through the air over the water distinctly louder. When he played a little more fortissimo, the ducks and geese would swim round faster and arrange themselves in lines to approach the stage. Around 8:00 or so, the temple bells began pealing with the blowing of conch shells, and for the next ten minutes the musicians and the bells played in perfect synchronicity. It was just unforgettable, with the bells ringing faster and faster and the musicians building up to a crescendo that ended with the audience in a frenzy of applause. Towards the end of the concert, an hour and a half later, Sharma slowed down to adjust his tuning. This did not suit the birds at all. They circled the stage, quacking and hooting loudly, egging him to get on with it and start playing music again. Needless to say, he obliged, playing a duet with the quacking that was nothing short of hilarious. I must mention Dr Pradhan's [incidentally, while Dr Pradhan's degree is in musicology, Dr Phadnis is not just a stunningly good santoor player, but a practising surgeon!] brilliant tabla accompaniment, that complemented Pt Sharma's playing so beautifully. I don't know how the birds caught on that the concert was ending, but they lined up and approached the stage in single file, all the ducks, geese and the swan in that one line, then swung around and crossed the tank to the other side to line up at the edge. Almost spooky. At the end, I was asked to come up on stage to meet Pt Sharma, and the Heritage Society chairperson, Ms Anita Garware, announced her thanks for the acoustic design that had made the concert possible once again, while complying with the need of the city and its people to conserve and respect our environment and heritage. Pt Sharma also thanked me personally for making the concert happen. A completely overwhelming moment.

It's really hard to sit down and decide what not to write. Reminds me of the story of the sculptor, who when asked how he created such wonders from stone, replied, "It's simple. I just cut away everything that doesn't look like my concept, and then it's finished." Rather like that, not that I believe this will necessarily be a wonder. But if it makes you wonder, I'll be more than happy - I'll be able to sit back and contemplate my navel. Check out http://www.radiophony.com, thanks, for more information on the frustrations and fancies of wireless and why my friends and I think that the old warhorse (it completed its first century ten years ago) still has a lot of josh (that's 'life' in Hindi, not an overfamiliar nick of a Biblical prophet) left in it. So, in a nutshell (for other details check out Wikipedia) here's the history section: wireless was demonstrated publicly by JC Bose in Kolkata (it was Calcutta then) in 1895. The same year, Marconi claimed to have demonstrated wireless telegraphy in Italy. In 1897, Guglielmo Marconi created a demonstration in Salisbury Plains for the Royal Society of Science that most people think should be famous as a first, but I have read somewhere that he got the clue from a chance meeting with Bose, who made a presentation on microwaves to the Society in January that year. This may be calumny, and George W. Bush may have served in Vietnam too. Contrary to popular belief, Marconi did not discover public broadcasting - he was more interested in the military and commercial possibilities of long-distance one-to-one signalling. He didn't even discover public audio broadcasting - that was Charles Herrold in 1909, who built his own station in San Jose (yes! Silicon Valley!), after Reginald Hessenden modulated audio onto a carrier wave in 1900, and test broadcast Christmas music in 1906. However, here we are now in 2005, and public broadcasting radio has been around for nearly a century. 70 years back, a bright spark got the idea of modulating audio onto a carrier signal by fiddling with the frequency instead of the amplitude, and hey presto! there was FM, crystal clear hifi like audio magically delivered to the home (portable receivers came later). But Big Radio had already made waves, even with the statically awful medium- and short-wave broadcasting with AM. Although FM, in its allotted band (87.5MHz to 108 MHz, by international sanction through the *real* Big Brother Internatonal Telecommunications Union that divvies up the spectrum for use on Earth and in space too, although the little green men may not agree) is a seriously low distance medium, it also attracted the big bucks. It had a rough time getting started, because the ITU switched the original band (between 40 and 50 MHz) in the 1940s, which put a dent in many owner's pockets, as well as those companies that were unfortunate enough to be making receivers for that band. Its growth through the 1950s was pretty well simultaneous with the mushrooming of Tin Pan Alley and its Muzakey successors, and soon the cash registers were ringing all over the United States and nudging the rest of the world to sit up and take notice. India took notice in the late 70s, although AIR's engineers (at the time, All India Radio had a monopoly on broadcasting that would put AT&T to shame) has been champing at the bit for decades. But it was a little late, because colour television was introduced in 1982 and it took off like wildfire, pushing both public and state attention on radio to the back. The medium that once commanded the attention of Parliament members to its slightest waver was reduced in two decades to a curiosity, the sort of thing that one finds in museums of arcania. So having dealt with history, let's move on to sociology with a dose of economics. 1. Which medium of public information dissemination has the widest reach in India? 2. Which medium is most accessible for both absorption and creation? 3. Which medium gets the least favourable terms of licensing in India? 4. Which medium attracts the most Draconian penalties for infringement of its murkily mysterious regulations? a) Print b) Television c) Blackboard/Hoardings d) Web e) Radio Give yourself 5 points for every right answer and 0 for wrong. The answers are as follows: 1-e, 2-e, 3-e, 4-e. If you score 0, congratulations. You are as knowledgeable as 99 per cent of the country. If you score 20, congratulations, you already know all this so you can now stop wasting time reading this and go do something else. Or you're a good guesser, or this is just a bad quiz. I mean, for zark's sake! is this supposed to be why you read this far? Commercial licenses for broadcast radio cost several crores rupees (one crore is about 2 hundred thousand US dollars) per annum. Public service broadcasting is a little cheaper, just 50,000 rupees as a deposit, but then there is only one independent broadcaster today, although two or three more are waiting in the pipeline to get started. They all happen to be universities. Oh. Didn't I tell you? Only educational institutions can apply, and only universities and one IIT have been considered good enough to reach the next stage of having their applications processed. No idea why the others aren't considered good enough - no reviews are possible. So here we have an information medium that costs next to nothing to set up (a transmitter that can signal in a range of a kilometer costs about Rs 1,000, including a battery and antenna), needs no special skills to operate (not even literacy), places no restrictions on the user (FM radios cost as little as Rs 50 in India) and a reserved spectrum that is practically unutilised anywhere in the country. How could any pragmatic government ever encourage its use? There's just no money to be made. Well, rest assured, the government doesn't encourage it. It does its best to stamp out independent thinking on radio everywhere. So don't ever accuse our government of not being pragmatic. Interested? Join the mailing list at cr-india@sarai.net, and if you want to learn one fascinatingly huge amount about running radio stations and using radio innovatively anywhere in the world, join creative-radio@yahoogroups.com.