Sunday, September 20, 2009

Trumpeteer of Hampi


This weekend i had gone to Hampi, the ruins of the capital of the medival empire of Vijaynagar. There at the temple of Virupaksha i met this man blowing the typical Indian horn shaped trumpet (tutari, as we call it in Marathi). The sound of the trumpet as the first thing of your trip surely makes you feel happy and eager about the the things to follow.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Jai Hind ! ! !


India is my country and all Indians are my brothers and sisters.
I love my country and I am proud of its rich and varied heritage.
I shall always strive to be worthy of it.
I shall love my parents, teachers and all elders, respect, and treat everyone with courtesy.
To my country and my people, I pledge my devotion.
In their well being and prosperity alone, lies my happiness.

JAI HIND

I remember reciting this pledge daily when we were in school. Today after almost 10 years out of school i wonder if this has any effect on the minds of the kids or they just say it out of compusion ... without understanding the meaning. Or is it with the hope that at least a few of them would remember the pledge long after leaving the school and try to follow it?

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Bangalore Palace

Tipu's Palace





Lawns and the Stone walls of the Fort



Very few people know that right in the centre of Bangalore city there is 16 century fort. Last weekend we had been to see it ... though not very big it gives an idea about the importance of Bangalore as a location of militarliy and strategic importance since those times. During Tipu's times he had built a summer palace inside the wall of this fort (see top pic). Also within the walls are some old temples. Now what remains of the fort is very small portion, with most of it either destroyed or parts being used by the locals to open shops within the thick walls of the fort. Nice placeto spend a n hour or twoon some afternoon with much else to do.

Saturday, January 31, 2009

The Solitary Reaper



Behold her, single in the field
Yon solitary highland lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
and sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No Nightingale did ever chaunt [chant]
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In springtime from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?--
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been or may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work
And o'er the sickle bending;--
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.