His art speaks for him - Burra Katha

Source http://www.hindu.com/fr/2009/01/23/stories/2009012351070100.htm

His art speaks for him

PROFILE Veteran Burra Katha artist Karnati Lakshmi Narasaiah talks about the folk form and its relevance today. Kausalya Santhanam

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The themes dealt with in Burra Katha stress the need to erase inequality and spread the message of universal brotherhood.

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PHOTO: K.V. SRINIVASAN

WITH SOCIAL AWARENESS: Karnati Lakshmi Narasaiah.

Folk arts are our traditional wealth. We should try to educate the common people through these arts because they were created by them,” says Karnati Lakshmi Narasaiah, the doyen of Telugu folk performing arts who was in Chennai recently with his troupe to participate in the Chennai Sangamam.

The energetic 82-year-old is a man of many parts — practitioner and promoter of many Telugu folk performing art forms, scholar in Telugu and Urdu, freedom fighter who responded to Gandhiji’s call and also fought against the Nizam’s rule, and an author of several books (in Telugu). You talk to him for an hour and come away impressed with his singing skills and his indefatigable energy.

“Talking about the various things I have done in these many years is like distilling the sea in a bottle,” he says without false modesty. “If I stay idle for even half an hour, I tire,” he says with the sprightly enthusiasm of a man in his twenties. “I’m still actively engaged in lecture demonstrations, and I sing, dance and act.”

In a career spanning 65 years, Narasaiah has tried his hand successfully at various forms. He lists them rapidly — Veedhi Bhagavatham, Kasi Kavadi, Pitaldora, Jamukulakatha, Pambakatha, Kolattam, Bommalattam, Tapeta Gullu and Oggukatha.

Early years

“By the time I was 16, I had learnt nearly all these Kala Roopalu,” he says in chaste Telugu while I can only look bemused and scribble rapidly to keep pace.

“Did you get it right, amma?” he asks from time to time while our hostess Shobhana Reddy seeks to assure him on the score. Shobhana, a member of FICCI Ladies Organisation, has worked to showcase the Telugu arts at the Chennai Sangamam and has got Karnati’s troupe to perform here through the auspices of the World Telugu Federation. Karnati’s involvement in the arts goes back to his childhood. His mother moved to Telengana, her native place, when he was just a boy. Her family owned property there and when he took the cows to graze, he learnt the many songs of the folk people that helped lessen the burden of their toil. Surprisingly though the family was quite comfortably placed, the elder members did not curb the wanderings of the boy. He was free to roam around and absorb whatever took his fancy; so passionate was he in the pursuit of these art forms that he even forgot sometimes to turn up for his meals! He heard the recording of the great master of Burra Katha, Doddavarapu Venkataswamy for His Master’s Voice and learnt the form. “I also learnt to play the Jamukku (a drum),” he says.

Vibrant art form

Burra Katha, an art form once known as Jangam Katha, among other names, has a strong presence in Andhra Pradesh. Traditionally, it was used to narrate mythological stories. It later began to mirror social change. Burra Katha comprises three performers — one who sings, tells the story, plays the tambura and also dances, another who acts as commentator introducing political elements, and the third who acts as a comedian. The form is at once effective and extemporaneous, traditional and contemporary.

“The timbre of the performers’ voices is such as to rouse even those who are asleep,” guffaws Karnati and launches into a rousing recital of a few lines in his baritone. “I have given 10,000 performances in all,” he says. “I used to also participate in radio plays on AIR Vijayawada.”

Social messages

Burra Katha has been adapted successfully to propagate social messages. Karnati worked with Nassar to spread awareness among the people. Burra Katha has been used with telling effect in Telengana. “The themes I have dealt include the need to erase inequality and spread the message of universal brotherhood,” says Karnati. He is also a firm believer in gender equity. “Burrra Katha artists should speak of the problems of the poor farmers who are the backbone of the country,” he says.

Burra Katha led him to the cinema. “My guru Garikapati Rajarao introduced me and other members of the People’s Theatre such as Allu Ramalingaiah (actor Chiranjeevi’s father-in-law) to cinema. I have performed Burra Katha in 20 films,” he says. But the veteran is unhappy about the dilution of Burra Katha and other folk performing art forms as he feels not enough attention is being paid to the traditional costumes and format.

“All the States have their own distinctive and rich folk art forms; I love them all. I’m eager to be present wherever service is being done to them. Shobhana called me and so I have come with my troupe to take part in this confluence of arts,” says this recipient of many awards who facilitated different troupes to present Burra Katha, Jamukulakatha and play the Dappu at the festival.

Pavalakodi 1934

Blast from the past

Pavalakodi 1934

M. K. Thyagaraja Bhagavathar (debut), S. D. Subbulakshmi (debut), S. S. Mani and K. K. Parvathi Bai

Box office hit: Pavalakodi

Pavalakodi created history for many reasons - it marked the debut of the first superstar of south Indian cinema, Thyagaraja Bhagavathar, and that of stage and movie star of the early decades S. D. Subbulakshmi (later Mrs. K. Subramanyam). It also saw the introduction of the sadly neglected pioneer of Indian cinema, lawyer-turned-filmmaker K. Subramanyam as director.

Though, according to scholars, the story of Pavalakodi and Arjuna finds no mention in the Mahabharata, it was a successful play in Tamil in which Bhagavathar made a mark as a stage actor. Bhagavathar who reigned supreme on stage after the early demise of the iconic S. G. Kittappa had ideas of turning producer with this play, but SM. Letchumanan Chettiar (better known as `Lena'), a drama contractor of Chettinad, persuaded him to give up such plans and act in the film. It was produced by Meenakshi Cinetone and a wealthy distributor Al. Rm. Alagappa Chettiar was the moving force behind it.

Al. Rm. and his partners had a studio in Adyar which later became Neptune, Satya, (now MGR Janaki College). It had no compound walls then. One of the disgruntled partners took advantage of this situation and would begin to sound his car horn whenever Subramanyam said, "Start Camera"! Left with no option, the producers bought him out, but then a new crisis arose. from the crows of Adyar!

Adyar was more wooded than it is now. Numerous crows hovered over the food packs meant for the cast and crew of the film. In those days, all involved in a movie irrespective of their status ate the same food.

With shooting taking place in bright sunshine, the cast and crew would break for food only if a cloud cast its shadow on the sun. The artistes would rush as soon as the cloud cleared, abandoning the food packets, and the crows would swoop down to peck at the food. Their incessant cawing interfered with the recording of dialogue and song (as artistes had to sing songs on location just as they delivered dialogue). The exasperated director brought on board an Anglo Indian to shoot an air rifle into the sky to scare the crows away before he started shooting.

That was not all. There was a credit card in the titles, `Crow Shooter - Joe'. Perhaps the only one of its kind in movie history! The studio had no laboratory and Subramanyam and his team had no way of knowing whether a shot had been properly canned; they just hoped for the best. Not an ideal way of making movies perhaps, but that was how our pioneers worked .. The post production was done in Bombay.

Bhagavathar and Subbulakshmi excelled in their acting and singing (music composer Papanasam Sivan). The film was a box office hit and established Bhagavathar, Subbulakshmi and Subramanyam as stars of Tamil cinema.

A solitary print of this historic film is preserved at the National Film Archive of India at Pune.

Remembered for the debut of Bhagavathar, Subbulakshmi and Subramanyam, and for the fine music.

RANDOR GUY

Saga of grit and success - Sarojini Varadappan

source http://www.hindu.com/fr/2009/03/06/stories/2009030651160100.htm

Saga of grit and success

SUGANTHY KRISHNAMACHARI

She’s a trained classical singer, got a Ph.D when she was 80, and is the president of Women’s Indian Association. Now, Sarojini Varadappan adds another feather to her cap — Padma Bhushan.

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I learnt that social service was not easy, and that accountability was important right down to the last paisa.

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PHOTO: V. Ganesan

WOMAN OF SUBSTANCE: Sarojini Varadappan.

The year — 1932. A pregnant woman, her ten-year-old daughter in tow, walked towards the Vellore jail to meet her husband, who was imprisoned there. The woman was Gnanasundarammal, the girl was Sarojini Varadappan, and the man in prison was M. Bhakthavatsalam, who later became the Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu. He had been arrested for participating in the Civil Disobedience Movement. Her father being arrested, and policemen carrying out searches in her father’s house were all commonplace occurrences for young Sarojini.

Sarojini Varadappan, social worker, chosen for Padma Bhushan, says her father’s association with the Congress and her mother’s association with the Women’s Indian Association (WIA) were contributing factors in her zeal for social service.

It is a well known fact that Dr. Muthulakshmi Reddy, president of the WIA, was instrumental in starting the Cancer Institute in Chennai. Sarojini recalls what an uphill task it was.

An institute is born

“It was a time when doctors such as T.S.S. Rajan felt money spent on the institute could be used to combat other diseases, and Dr. Muthulakshmi faced a lot of opposition to her plan even from the medical fraternity! So, all we managed to get from the Government for the institute was a small strip of land. Pandit Nehru was supposed to visit Madras around the time we’d planned the inauguration, and Dr. Muthulakshmi wanted him to inaugurate the institute. So I called up my uncle O.V. Alagesan, who conveyed our request to Pandit Nehru. He agreed at once. After the inauguration, Rajaji patted me on the back and said, ‘The Women’s Association has won.’ Even now you can see the letters WIA on the board outside the entrance to the institute.” Just three letters, and what an inspirational story lies behind them!

Later, Sarojini became the president of the WIA. When she took charge, it had four branches in Chennai. Today, the number has increased to 76. Sarojini has also been with the Indian Red Cross for 30 years, and is the president of the Mylapore Academy. However, it was never easy for Sarojini to follow her heart. “I was a student of National Girls High School, now called Lady Sivaswami Girls School. When I attained puberty, I was pulled out of school. My teachers tried to persuade my family to let me resume my studies, but the request was turned down.”

Her father consoled a distraught Sarojini and arranged for Hindi tuitions. But when the time came for Sarojini to take the Prathmic exam, her great-aunt objected to her leaving the house to write the exam! “So my father spoke to Pandit Nataraja Sarma, who designated our house as one of the exam centres for a group of girls, including me. That’s how I took the exam!” The year she passed her Visharadh, Gandhiji was in Madras to hand out certificates to the successful candidates, but again her family would not allow an unmarried girl to be seen in public. “So I lost the opportunity of receiving my certificate from Gandhiji,” she says ruefully.

For Sarojini, marriage to cousin Varadappan meant liberation, for there were no restrictions on married women going out. So when Gandhiji visited Madras next and stayed at the Hindi Prachar Sabha, Sarojini, now married, served as a volunteer. She and her friends enrolled 1,000 women in the Congress. “In the evenings, Gandhiji would relax on an easy chair, and we would count the day’s hundi collections, and keep accounts. I learnt that social service was not easy, and that accountability was important right down to the last paisa. The Seva Dal put us through exercises and marches, and some of the volunteers came in madisars!”

Music lessons

Since she’d learnt music, Sarojini would sing the prayer songs at the Congress meetings. “Satyamurthy was interested in music. So the party always had a music wing. I learnt to play the violin, and my guru, Parur Sundaram Iyer, taught me more than 500 kritis of various composers. I learnt Kshetragna padams and Tamil padams from Mylapore Gowri Amma, who lived on Brodie’s Road. My favourite Tamil padam was ‘Ethanai Sonnalum.’ I learnt Bharatiar songs from E. Krishna Iyer, whose classes were held in Vanniar Chatram on East Mada Street. On weekends, Veena Visalakshi would teach me Hindi bhajans.”

Singing in Congress meetings ensured that Sarojini had no stage fright when she had to address the public later. “But I still had an inferiority complex about not having a degree. So I did my M.A. in Political Science at the Mysore University, under the Open University scheme. Later I did Master’s in Vaishnavism from the Madras University.” Sarojini passed M.A. with a first class, and at the suggestion of her professor Narasimhachari, she did her Ph.D on ‘The Concept of Social Service in Swami Narayana Philosophy.’ She went to Ahmedabad to do research, and got her doctorate at the age of 80!

An ardent devotee of Kanchi Paramacharya, she took his blessings when she assumed office as president of the Social Welfare Board, Delhi. “He advised me to continue to study Sanskrit, which I’ve tried to do,” says Sarojini.

Sarojini served for sometime as member of the Film Censor Board. She even got into an argument with S.S. Vasan over a cut she’d made in his film! Why did she not think of politics as a career? “My father said I wasn’t to enter politics as long as he was alive. In fact, when C. Subramaniam proposed my name for a Rajya Sabha seat, my father turned down the suggestion.”

At 87, Sarojini still thinks of herself as a student. “I recently bought a computer, because I want to know how to browse the Net. My grandson (politician Jayanthi Natarajan’s son) teases me as the only one he knows, who still writes letters!”

Political kolu!

Sarojini Varadappan describes the Navaratri kolu they had in those days. “In 1937, when Rajaji formed a Congress Ministry in Madras, my mother hired a carpenter to make a mini Legislative Assembly! We had celluloid dolls representing every member of the Assembly, dressed exactly as they dressed in real life. We even had a doll attired just like Bhulusu Sambamurthy, the Speaker, who wouldn’t wear a shirt. Another year, we made a scale model of the Ramapadasagar dam. In 1947, Lady Nye, wife of the last British Governor of Madras, came home to see our kolu. My friends used to jokingly refer to it as the ‘political kolu,’ because we invariably had a political theme!”

Memories of winter

Source http://www.hindu.com/mp/2009/02/09/stories/2009020951040500.htm

Memories of winter

Himalayas Rishad Saam Mehta drives 2,000 km to find bliss in a land covered by snow, snow and more snow

Photos: Rishad Saam Mehta

Nature’s canvas Tani Jubbar Lake

I pulled open the curtains of my room at the Giri Ganga Resort at Kharapathar and was greeted by a winter wonderland. My high-decibel holler of happiness at seeing snowflakes falling must have woken up the entire Pabbar Valley.

We’d driven through the Pabbar Valley the day before and fretted and fumed about the fact that though the temperature was well below the 10 degrees C mark, it didn’t look like winter.

The mountainsides were brown and dull because all the grass and shrubs had been gobbled down by the livestock during their grazing after the rains.

The pines and other flora wore a coat of dust and even the snow-capped peaks that should have been our constant companion from Chakrata to Hatkoti and Kharapathar were hiding behind thick and solid cloud banks.

So, I was pretty peeved because we’d pointed the nose of the new Corolla Altis towards the north in faraway Mumbai and driven over 2,000 km to find some winter. The Altis, with its exciting and enthusiastic engine, was a complete mile-muncher. In fact, we made Ajmer during the first day of driving, which meant packing in 1100 km in a single driving day. But now, seeing the snowflakes fall, all the long hours at the wheel on this journey from the sea to the snow became worth it.

Snowball fight, anyone?

I know that my very vocal outburst of joy woke up the manager of the resort, who jumped out of his bed like a springbok who has sighted a lion.

He was at the reception heavy-eyed, with an aura of slumber still around his head when I raced there with all the enthusiasm and glee of a glutton at a free and unlimited buffet. He was also very grateful of the reception desk between him and me because he could see it from the fanatical look of pleasure on my face that I would have thrown the restraining shackles of courteous behaviour, grabbed and taken him out in the open and forced him to have a snowball fight with me to celebrate the first ice of the season.

I was so happy at the sight of snow. Clumsily staying beyond my clutching distance like a misaligned matador fighting a blundering bovine, he told me that the roads would be iced up and that I should wait till a few buses and cars passed so that the icy surface would be broken and provide some kind of grip to the tyres.

“Right now the car’s tyres will feel like ball bearings on glass” he warned.

The drive to Thanedar

We weren’t in any hurry to leave anyway, and outside the resort, everyday life went on as people trudged to work, some smiling in amusement at our happiness as we clicked photos of the car covered in ice, the snow-laden pine trees and the white hillsides.

The Corolla felt a little nervous as we started off from its overnight parking space because the road all around was covered with glass-like ice. Once we hit the tracks created by other cars, the going was easier.

Yet, gentleness was the order of the day. Momentum was the mantra because any sudden changes to speed or direction could send the car in a slide.

But then, thiswasn’t really my idea of fun behind the wheel. So, we strapped on the snow chains; then, I could show a little audacity on the white-washed roads.

Catching up over soup

From Kharapathar we decided to go to Thanedar because it definitely would have snowed there too as the little village of Thanedar is at quite a height. I also wanted to say hello to my good friend Prakash Thakur who runs a charming little resort there in the midst of apple orchards and snowy mountains.

Thanedar is by far my favourite place in the Himalayas and while we swapped stories and sipped the spicy hot soup that Sharmaji, the cook-cum-manager, had prepared, it continued to snow through the night.

Pretty sight

But we woke up to bright blue skies the next day and promptly headed out to the Tani Jubbar Lake, 8 km from Thanedar.

Though I have been here before, I have never seen it prettier. The lake reflected the bright blue sky and the snow all around. The air was invigorating because it was clean and crispy cold.

The Nag Devta temple looked a picture of piety with snow clinging to its slate roof and icicles beginning to form over its sides. Standing in the snow-covered lawn of the little hotel there, staring out at the icy peaks and drawing solace from a steaming cup of chai, I felt content and happy.

I had found the winter that I had been chasing for over 2000 km.

How to go

To get your fill of the winter or any season in the Himalayas head to Thanedar. For bookings, log on to www.banjaracamps.com

He turned the spotlight on Annamayya

Source http://www.hindu.com/fr/2008/11/14/stories/2008111451360600.htm
ENCORE

He turned the spotlight on Annamayya

SRIRAM VENKATKRISHNAN

Commissioned to retrieve the songs of Annamacharya, Rallapalli Ananthakrishna Sarma worked in earnest setting them to tune and publishing volumes.

Sarma was of the view that the sringara compositions of Annamacharya were not being given the same importance as the spiritual.

Annamacharya.

Sixty years ago, the Sri Venkateswara University invited a scholar who had just then retired from the Maharajah’s College in Mysore, to head its Department of Music. The personage, or sage as some would have averred, was the apt choice, for he had not only a sound knowledge of music, but also of Sanskrit, Prakrit, Telugu and Kannada. On coming over, he applied himself to the main task at hand, that of setting to music the songs of Annamacharya, the great composer of Tallapaka. This personality was Rallapalli Ananthakrishna Sarma.

Born on January 23, 1893, at Rallapalli in Anantapur District to Sanskrit and Telugu scholar Karnamadakala Krishnamacharyulu and Alamelumangamma, Sarma was initiated into Sanskrit, Telugu and music by his parents. Resenting unchavriti (ritual alms seeking) he ran away from home at the age of 13. Reaching Mysore, he placed himself under the guardianship of the chief of the Parakala Mutt. Guided by the seer, he studied Sanskrit and Prakrit at the Chamaraja Pathasala and became a master in both languages. He also studied music under the palace vidwans such as Chikka Rama Rao, Bidaram Krishnappa and Karigiri Rao. He could sing and also play the violin and the flute.

Loved teaching

Sound knowledge of music: Rallapalli Ananthakrishna Sarma.

When Sarma was barely 18, his talent in Telugu was noticed by Sir Cattamanchi Ramalinga Reddy, the Principal of the Maharajah’s College, who appointed him Telugu Pundit. His love for teaching and his mastery over his subjects ensured he received the love and affection of his students. During his tenure there, Harikesanallur Muthiah Bhagavatar, though many years his senior, often consulted him on the musical and lyrical aspects of the project that he was then working on – Chamundamba Ashtottara kritis.

Sarma joined the Sri Venkateswara University in 1948. The Tirumala temple authorities had the previous year begun retrieving the songs of Annamacharya that had been stored for centuries on copper plates in the temple. The work was headed by Vetturi Prabhakara Sastry, well-known scholar who passed away. Sarma was then brought on board to head the project. He had first seen some songs of Annamacharya in 1937 and had even then been enamoured of their unique imagination, independent flow of words and variety. Beginning with ‘Alarulu kuriyaga adenade’ which describes the dance of Alamelumanga for the pleasure of Srinivasa, Sarma worked in earnest on the songs, setting them to tune and helping in the publications of volumes seven and eight of Annamacharya’s compositions.

In 1949, the first Vardhanti festival of Annamacharya was celebrated by the Tirumala Tirupati Devasthanam and from then on the demand for the composer’s songs grew. Between 1951 and 56, Sarma brought out five more volumes of Annamacharya’s compositions. He wrote the notation for 108 compositions and 87 of them were published in the Andhra Patrika Weekly.

Sarma continued working on Annamacharya’s compositions long after his retirement in 1962. He was of the view that the sringara (erotic) compositions of Annamacharya were not being given the same importance as the adhyatmic (spiritual) and argued that it was incorrect to associate only Kshetrayya with sringara as a theme. Sarma was in demand as an erudite speaker and also served as Vice-President of the Andhra Pradesh Sangeet Natak Akademi for some time. He wrote prolifically and collections of his writings were brought out as books. In the middle of all this, he also found the time to compose, becoming a fine vaggeyakara, though he rather regrettably did not bother to notate or teach them to his students. To him, they were only expressions of an inner urge.

In 1974, Sarma was conferred Sangita Kalanidhi by the Music Academy, Madras. He took the honour in his stride but it gave an opportunity for the citizens of Madras to meet, observe and listen to a scholar. His speech on the occasion of his being elected to preside over the Music Academy’s annual conference was a fine one, remarkable for its masterly summing up of the music scenario at that time and his arguments in favour of change especially in breaking free from the shackles of tradition.

A Spartan lifestyle saw Sarma remain healthy and active till the very end. He passed away in Bangalore in 1979. By then Annamacharya’s songs had become famous and several including M. Balamuralikrishna and Nedunuri Krishnamurthy had set them to music and were regularly singing them in concerts. That said, it must also be placed on record that it was MS Subbulakshmi’s rendition of them, released as a series of audio cassettes by the TTD that made the songs extremely popular. Sarma lives on, in the songs of Annamcharya that he set to music.

(The author can be contacted at srirambts@gmail.com)

Magnificent ruins Pompeii

http://www.hindu.com/mp/2008/12/15/stories/2008121551090300.htm

Magnificent ruins

You feel a range of emotions in Pompeii, the great city reduced to rubble by a volcano, writes Chitra Srikrishna

Photos: K. Srikrishna

Amazement and despair At Pompeii

“Cave Canem” reads the Latin inscription on the floor. “It means beware of the dog,” exclaims my 10-year-old, reading from her pamphlet. We are at the entrance of the House of the Tragic Poet in the ruins of Pompeii outside Naples, Italy.

“Vedi Napoli e poi muori” (See Naples and die) is a popular saying. For my daughters, it was Naples’ dead neighbour Pompeii that mattered. History lessons that had described the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius in 79 AD and the subsequent destruction of Pompeii had brought the city vividly to life in their minds. The Roman senator, Pliny the Younger, has documented the events around Mt. Vesuvius’ eruption. Pliny’s writings are believed to be the only eye-witness account, and hence, amongst the most valuable recountings of Pompeii’s destruction.

Visiting the ruins in Pompeii was on the top of my daughters agenda even before we boarded our flight to Italy. Naples, the capital of the Campania region, is a little over two hours journey south of Rome. From there, we get on the circumvesuviana — the local train connecting cities around Mt. Vesuvius — and a short while later are at the Pompeii Scavi station. Within walking distance from the station is the entrance to the ruins of Pompeii.

Built with foresight

The ruins are far bigger than I had imagined. Cobbled streets, some in better condition than roads in India, are laid out in a grid pattern. Stepping stones, wide enough for pedestrians to cross over the streets and narrow enough for chariot wheels to pass over, are placed at intersections. This was helpful to Pompeii’s citizens as the roads were flooded each night to clean them. I cannot help being amazed at the foresight exhibited by the city planners 2,000 years ago.

According to my guidebook, the House of the Tragic Poet is not the biggest residence in Pompeii, but is by far the most impressive with the mosaics and fresco art that adorn its walls.

Vibrant paintings that are remarkably well preserved, decorate the walls. They depict scenes from Greek mythology. Many frescoes are of gods and goddesses and are interspersed with some that I consider too risqué for my children. The simplicity of the house belies the rich artwork found in it and the origin of its owner continues to intrigue historians.

We’ve spent nearly an hour at the tragic poet’s house when my husband announces, “Let’s see how the other half lived.” He shepherds us towards a big building whose owner must have clearly been well to do. The House of the Faun, a luxurious private home has numerous rooms, atriums and peristyles (columned porch) running around them. The statue of a dancing faun on top of the impulvium — a rectangular basin for catching rainwater, has my children captivated. “He reminds us of the sartyr in the Narnia chronicles!”

As I wander through the house, I come to the beautiful mosaic depicting Alexander the Great’s defeat of the Persian king Darius in battle. It is one of the few original art works left in place, unlike most of the other original sculptures and statues, including the eponymous faun, which have been housed in a museum in Naples.

Fulcrum of life

When we finally walk out of the House of the Faun, the afternoon heat strikes me like a blow. We head to the Forum. In all Roman cities the Forum served as the city centre around which political, religious and social life moved.The Forum at Pompeii is no exception, with temples of Jupiter and Apollo anchoring one side of a large open space and lined by ruins of colonnaded buildings on two other sides.

As I sit on a bench to rest my weary feet, I notice Mt. Vesuvius framing much of the horizon, a surreal backdrop to the ruins. Even as I try to imagine the day in 79AD, when the sleeping giant awoke, I hear a loud cry. It is from my daughters who have wandered away a little bit.

I drag myself to where they are and am shocked at the sight that greets me. The plaster cast of a human body lies in front of us, a poignant reminder of the tragedy. This is the moment that remains etched in my memory — I could imagine Pliny the Younger’s utter despair as he recorded the aftermath of the volcanic eruption.

Things to do

Comfortable walking shoes are a must. Also recommended are caps/hats, and water bottles, especially if you’re visiting in the summer. Read Richard Harris’ Pompeii, a well-paced novel set around the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius.

Art in its pristine form

SOurce http://www.hindu.com/fr/2009/03/06/stories/2009030651210300.htm

Art in its pristine form

PUSHPA CHARI

An exhibition of creatively designed brass items are on display till March 11.

Photo: M. Karunakaran

Exquisite: Ramesh holds up one of the favourite brass items designed by him.

The brass products brought out by Ramesh reflect the many faces of and trends in Indian metal craft today. Many of his handcrafted pieces are marked by a touch of innovation and creative imagination, the use of traditional motifs and even a mix of regional styles. Coming from a non-paramparik family, Ramesh learnt metal craft from a friend in Swamimalai nearly 20 years ago. Today, he not only makes brass icons for temples but creates a range of products marked by his ‘unique’ touch.

Intricate creations

His lovely ‘agal’ lamps or brass ‘diyas’ range from modern, uncluttered curve forms to minimal carving of peacocks. He has used the ‘yaali’ face in the ‘tiruvasan’ of Vishnu to adorn compelling door handles, wall hangings and so on. The ‘Garuda’ in the Akhilandeswari temple, Tiruchi, is a favoured motif and his brass icon of Vishnu with Garuda in the foreground is a beautiful piece. Ganesha is another recurring theme, dancing on the edge of an elephant’s raised trunk, crawling or in a pristine form. Ramesh has crafted a four feet Vinayaka idol for the Malaikkotai temple. Another speciality is his intricately carved door locks and keys. From minute etching and carving to finishing, he does everything himself.

“I get ideas from observing, visiting temples, looking at motifs and formats,” says Ramesh, who is based at Woraiyur in Tiruchi. “I also look at craft books and pictures.” His Radha Krishna under a tree full of chirping birds is reminiscent of Oriya stone sculptures while his Venugopal is inspired by the Hoysala idiom with a lot of ornamentation and intricate carving.

“First I cut a brass piece to the required thickness,” continues Ramesh. “Then we take a metal stick or ‘ulir’ and do the minute carving, facial expressions, etc.” Holding up a tiny Kamadhenu, he explains how its wings are separate pieces which, along with the base have been ‘joined’ to the main figure. His Radha Krishna and the luxuriant tree too are separately carved pieces.

Ramesh’s works can be seen at Expo 2009 organised by the Artisan’s Welfare Trust at the Corporation Community Hall, 21/30 C.P. Ramaswamy Road, Alwarpet. A collection of craft works from other States is also on view at the exhibition which ends on March 11.

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