New Year celebrations superficial: Centanarian

In a tiny little village in north Goa, Lourdes Conceicao Lobo is celebrating her 100th New Year. My dear grandmother takes a walk down memory lane, and tells me how the world has changed.

Nigel Britto

The walls at her home hint at a remarkable journey. Although freshly painted, the monotony of the bright yellow takes a break with various pictures and portraits from different decades of the previous century, many of which were put up by the lady herself. Among the many tapestries is a papal blessing, a parchment sealed and autographed by the late Pope John Paul II.

While liberated Goa celebrates its 48th New Year on Thursday, Lourdes Conceicao Lobo of Camurlim, Bardez, celebrates her 100th. Talking to the centenarian in her living room, she doesn't appear hundred; her voice, quivering with age, is soft as she switches between English, Konkani and Portuguese when the English word fails to capture her thought.

For the hundredth time, she will celebrate the occasion with her family. Just as she has done since 1908. Looking up from her newspaper in response to a question, she takes the opportunity to stress the importance of family get-togethers. "Christmas and Easter, especially, are family feasts, to be celebrated by the family," says the feisty woman, who was born decades before Mario Puzo raised the status of blood-ties to an iconic level with his series of novels set in the Italian hinterland.

Back to the newspaper. She loves them, according to the two daughters she lives with, and can't survive without them. "Since I have free time, I first go through the obituaries, so I can pray for the dead," she says, matter-of-factly. (Her patron saint, incidentally, is St Joseph, patron of a happy death.)

There's one major difference though, according to her, which distinguishes life in the early 1900s with that today. "It's rotten today. Human beings are rotten!" she emphasizes acerbically. "There is no love, no unity. Read the papers, they're full of murder, rape, suicide and other crimes," says Lobo, who has seen the inside a hospital only at the birth of her four children.

She reminisces, "Look at how we built our houses in the past," she says, gesturing at the Indo-Portuguese styled house she has lived in since 1963. "There were no robberies the way there are now. We could live our lives in peace, without fear. These days, people are driven by fear hence they build grilled prisons for themselves," she says, referring to modern urban architecture.

The centenarian also rues the decline of the family as a unit. "There isn't any unity now! We see around us broken families, broken homes. Parents don't look after children and correspondingly, kids don't look after their parents. These kind of things were an extreme rarity last century," says this grandmother of six who has lived through both world wars.

Another missing aspect is the respect for your fellowmen. "Youth no longer have any respect for elders. When I was young, we used to respect and seek blessings from older people. Now, that respect is reserved only for money," she declares scathingly, before continuing in the same vein, "People don't even have time for the Rosary (family or community prayer). They only have time to gossip!"

At hundred, this St Joseph devotee is one of the oldest living people in Goa. "No secret to a long life," she says. "Just the Will of God." And she believes that she has the perfect solution to the present mess our society is in. It's the same philosophy Jesus preached two millennia ago. "Love God, and love thy neighbour," she says, with a twinkle in her eye.

This article was first published on The Times of India, Goa edition, on its edition dated January 1, 2009. 

Step aside Bushisms, Obamaisms are here

Will we miss George W Bush? Not if Obama maintains his 'malapropistic' traditions.  

Nigel Britto

It's hardly been two weeks since Barack Obama's election as the 44th president of the United States, but the transition is already apparent. From George W Bush's malapropisms, which have famously come to be referred to as 'Bushisms', it's now Obama's turn to face the music by acerbic netizens. Obama-related humour is being updated online on an almost hourly basis as the term 'Obamaism' gradually gains prominence.

Behind the skinny guy with a funny name and an improbable life story, as he described himself, is a man just as prone to gaffes as his famous predecessor. Even before his official swearing-in ceremony, he's already opened his account in the dictionary of presidential bloopers.

The user-defined dictionary Urbandictionary has words like Obama baby (A child conceived after Obama was proclaimed President by way of celebratory sex), Obamanation (like abomination, the state of the country after he is elected president) and Obamaphile (A person with an incessant preference, sometimes sexual attachment to all people, things, or ideas related to Barack Obama). Of course, obamaphilia normally leads to the obamaphile having an obamagasm. But these are not the only ones. Thanks to a nation full of 'Barackheads' and 'Obamaniacs', the website has clocked hundreds of unique user-created definitions.

An online magazine, Slate, has gone a step further. Earlier this year, it launched Encyclopaedia Baracktannica, which keeps its patrons updated with the latest Obamaisms.

And Barack has done it himself too. Almost 5 months before the presidential election, he introduced his running mate, Joseph Biden, as the 'next President - the next vice-President of the United States of America'. Freudian slip? At a campaign event at Oregon, Obama told the crowd, "I've been in 57 states — I think one left to go". Incidentally, the Organization of the Islamic Conference has 57 member states. He was tired, his fans said, and dismissed the incident.

Even before he rose to international prominence and came to terms with its consequential pressures, he wasn't immune. The Associated Press reports that during a Kansas campaign, he said, "In case you missed it, this week, there was a tragedy in Kansas. Ten thousand people died, an entire town destroyed." The tragedy he spoke about was a spate of tornadoes that ripped Kansas in 2007. The actual death toll was 12.

In Amman, Jordan, on July 22 this year during the height of his campaign, he stated with absolute conviction that Israel was a friend of Israel's. "It (Israel) will be a strong friend of Israel's under a McCain..administration. It will be a strong friend of Israel's under an Obama administration."

But while Obamaisms are picking up, his predecessor is in no mood to let go. Commenting on the liquidity in the markets, George Bush said, "This thaw — took a while to thaw, it's going to take a while to unthaw".

"Obama's election is great for our country but bad for comedy", wrote Michael Musto, a columnist in an American daily. Bushisms may be hard to beat, but if the internet is anything to go by, Obamaisms are getting there.

Nigel Britto

During the early stages of her career, Patricia Rozario (OBE) sang draped in a sari. She wanted to assert her Indian roots. That she did, and established herself as a world-class soprano and opera singer. 

Today, her incredible voice has inspired several of the world’s leading composers, including Arvo Pärt and Sir John Tavener, to compose exclusively for her, and in 2001 it led the Queen of England to confer upon Patricia the Order of the British Empire (OBE). 

Mumbai born Patricia who hails from Assagao Bardez, says, “I grew up in Bombay and from a very early age my parents taught us to sing alone and as a group. I began taking part in a local music festival from the age of seven.” But in those years she had to live in the shadow of her elder brother. “We entered competitive music festivals and he kept winning. Then when we reached our teens, my voice began to develop, while his broke.” 

Patricia went on to London to study music. She says, “When I came to London to study singing my parents expected me to do a three year performers’ course and return home to settle down. It was my singing teacher, Walther Gruner who advised that I shouldn’t return but stay on in Europe and try to make a career.” 

Before long, her voice dazzled audiences and composers alike, bringing her a number of prizes and scholarships, including the prestigious Gold Medal at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama. Sir Tavener first heard her when she auditioned for his opera, ‘Mary of Egypt’. Since then, he has written over thirty works for her, making the collaboration unique in the contemporary classical music field. 

She says, “I feel it is an honour and a privilege to have music written specially for my voice but this brings with it a great responsibility to perform in the manner the composer intended.  I love it when a composer says to me ‘I want you to perform and record all my music’.” 

And that’s an offer that’s been made to Patricia several times. Known in music circles for her astonishing concert performances, Patricia says that performing live, the magic of walking onto the stage and facing an audience, is absolutely essential to her. “Singing to a live audience e m p owe r s the artist to bring the music to life and touch the hearts of listeners. When people are moved to tears by my singing or if their hair stands on end, I know I’ve done well.” She sings in various languages and her repertoire includes music in Spanish, German, Italian, French, Russian and English. She has some regrets though and not learning Indian classical music is one of them, admits Patricia who believes that Bollywood and Opera are first cousins. At the same time, opera is being promoted in India. Patricia hasn’t forgotten her roots. She loves performing in India and has done so in several cities, as well as at a Chamber Music Festival in Mumbai entitled ‘Sangat’. She reminisces, “Last year I sang at an Indo-European Conference in Goa and a European Union celebration in Delhi and I was pleased to hear ministers and diplomats say how thrilled they were to hear an Ind i a n singing European music.” 

The journey from a village in Goa to rubbing shoulders with the who’s who of world classical music hasn’t been easy. "There were difficulties and frustrations on the way,” says Patricia. “You have to be determined to keep at it come what may.” And it has been her determination that has taken her places. Patricia has appeared in recitals at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden and at the BBC Promenade Concerts in Britain and in cities such as Amsterdam, Athens, Berlin, Helsinki, Hong Kong, Madrid, New York, Paris, Strasbourg, Vienna, and Zürich. Her recordings include major works by Britten, Canteloube, Casken, Haydn, Respighi, Satie, Tavener and Vaughan Williams. 

Although Patricia’s lived in England for much of her life, she hasn’t forgotten her home, returning to Goa every other year.  “I love going back because it reminds me of who I really am, the importance of family and friends and the fact that work is one aspect of our lives.” 

And when in Goa, what she does is, “Swim in the sea at least once everyday, sometimes maybe twice.” 

This article was first published in The Times of India's Goa edition on July 2, 2008.

A tribute to George Carlin, 1937-2008

My depression on seeing Italy knocked out of Euro 2008 'deepens' as I realize with shock that I'll never be able to fulfill a lifelong dream of seeing this crazy maniac performing live. I've read and heard about what an overwhelming experience a George Carlin live show could be, and the realization that I'll never get to attend one is almost killing. This is my tribute to the greatest comedian of all time (I don't care what Russell Peters, Jeff Dunham or Pablo Francisco fans think) . Enjoy it... (Carlin would have said, "enjoy it, but if you don't wanna, then f*** yourself").

Nigel Britto

It was hardly eight months ago that, on this very same blog, I wrote a tribute to Maestro Luciano Pavarotti, a musical genius in every sense of the word, who loved what he did, brought a lot of heart to the heartless music industry, and most of all, tried in his limited capacity to make this world a better place. Now I talk about someone who wasn't that easy to love. Even so, George Carlin should be admired for his work as a comedian and for being one of the greatest linguists I, for one, have seen so far.

Of course, the most ironic part about George Carlin dying is that he would most probably hate the very idea of an unknown Indian admirer writing a tribute about him. Not that he was racist in any sense of the word, but let's just say that George didn't seem like the kind of guy who would appreciate tributes. Yet, I feel the need to, because of how often I find myself quoting him! Day after day, week after week, for sure not a month goes by without me quoting Carlin in some context or the other. My favorite Carlin quote?

"When someone is impatient and says, "I haven't got all day," I always wonder, How can that be? How can you not have all day?"

I misremember the number of times I've quoted Carlin's reply to the rather annoying statement that precedes it. Of course, there are some of his statements that are not funny, but make you think. "What if there were no hypothetical questions?" As well as philosophical statements, such as "I have as much authority as the Pope, I just don't have as many people who believe it." In a video, he said that at the end of a conversation, he never did say goodbye. Instead he said, "May the forces of evil become confused on the way to your house." There are a lot of people and websites who quote him for writing the Federal Communications Commissions rules on words you can't say on TV. The very fact that those seven words are immortalized throughout the world wide web means that George's impact goes beyond comedy clubs and movies.

George Carlin was born a Catholic, and he remained that way until he reached the age of reason. He grew up in Harlem in New York, the black culture capital of the world. And as a kid, he claims to have played in the Hudson river, a time when it was filled with raw sewage. He says, "At that time, the big fear was polio, thousands of kids died from polio, but in my area, no one ever got polio, no one. You know why? Because we swam in the Hudson river. We were tempered in raw shit." Surprisingly to some, Carlin was a member of the air force. He was also a disc jockey too before getting into mainstream comedy. He would perform in the Ed Sullivan Show and The Tonight Show.

Little later, the mainstream Carlin faded into oblivion, and the new Carlin emerged, the Carlin we would always remember. A Carlin who was angry with the evils of society and had no qualms admitting it. He defied the quintessential comedian look and dressed in faded jeans and grew his hair and goatee. In 1972, Carlin acquired world-wide fame for his 'seven dirty words' . Carlin hosted the first ever edition of Saturday Night Live.

In the next couple of decades, Carlin suffered heart-attacks, but would still come up with amazing live acts of astounding humour. (I'm aware of the double adjectives, but he deserves it). My personal Carlin favorite is his 'Jammin in New York' gig, where he talks about the War in the Persian gulf, little everyday things, and my all-time favorite, "Airline announcements". If you haven't seen it, stop reading this and go watch it now.

The first time I ever heard Carlin was a few years ago, when I was around 15. I later followed his art closely. I've seen almost all his specials on some video or the other. His command over the English language and its usage was second to none in his field. If I had posted previously in this blog that my biggest regret was not being able to personally meet Pavarotti, it's closely seconded by the fact that I will never see Carlin live.

On 6th Sept 2007, Luciano Pavarotti passed away. I cannot believe George Carlin is dead. My favorite singer and now my favorite comedian have died not even a year apart. I probably will be reminded of Carlin regularly since I have the habit of using his quotes in everyday dialogue (to people who would understand them, of course). I wish I had Carlin's linguistic skills, because this piece would have come out far better than what you're reading. Carlin swore a real lot in his shows, but swearing doesn't make you funny. It's Carlin's unusual gift of connecting and identifying with his fans that made him so popular among his audiences, which I must say have remained an exclusive set. No other comedian has any business being mentioned in the same breath as Carlin.

During the last few years, many famous people have died. I would know how wonderful Russert, Yasser Arafat, Syndey Pollack, etc would be to their fans and admirers. But for me, Pavarotti's and Carlin's deaths hit the most. If I said Carlin is smiling in heaven right now, it would probably be a lie, since Carlin didn't believe in Jesus Christ, and anyway, it would go against everything he believed (or rather didn't believe).

Thanks to the fear of aging in this country, as I grow older, I won't have to die! I'll pass away, or I'll expire, like a magazine subscription. If that happens at a hospital, they'll call it the terminal episode. The insurance company would call it 'negative patient care outcome', and if it was as a result of malpractice, they'd call it a therapeutic misadventure.

- George Carlin

So, Carlin is now dead, at age 71. No one will or can ever replace him. If anyone dared to try, he would be a cheap imitation of a comedic masterpiece. Summarizing his life and death is something I'm woefully unequipped to do. Only Carlin's words could possibly end this tribute.

"I wanna live. I don't wanna die. That's the whole meaning of life: Not dying! I figured that shit out by myself in the third grade."

RIP, George Carlin, and thanks for the laughs. Your memory lives on.

The many wacky ways to say I do

Does every wedding have to be big and fat? Not really

Nigel Britto  

On a bright sunshine day in December last year, Aaron Lobo and Annika Madagavkar stepped on to a large boat bobbing in the Mandovi. When they got off a few hours later, they were husband and wife. One more example of a couple who had decided to walk down the aisle differently.

There was some strategic reasons behind the water wedding: they could start  the celebrations early, they could prune the guest list drastically and blame it on the boat size, and best of all, the boat belonged to the bride's father. There were also emotional reasons: "Both of us are water babies,'' says Annika. "We learnt to walk and swim at the same time. Also, Aaron has always run after any creature that moves, whether it involves wading through rivers, the sea, mucky ponds and the occasional puddle.''

When the couple broached the plan of their novel venue, many thought it was a wobbly idea: how on earth would there be room for the caterer, the florist and the band? And what about the priest? The biggest challenge was to get permission to hold the ceremony outside the church. "But thanks to Fr Antimo Gomes that was sorted out,'' says Annika. "We didn't want picture-perfect, we wanted to enjoy our day. The worst case scenario would have been jumping into the river in my gown to save a guest.''

Luckily, that didn't happen. The guests behaved, the band struck up, and the boat union went off with a bang.

****

In that same winter month, Michelle Alphonso married Gordon Albert, in a manner that would have warmed Al Gore's heart__even if 'warm' is not the best choice of word. The young couple believes that people should be aware of the impact of their actions and choices, and this philosophy, says Michelle, decided the way they got married. It was all about positive energy and non-destructive spending.

As far as possible, they used fair-trade and eco-friendly products. Wedding invitations were made from 'plantable paper', which when buried in soil allows a little garden of wild flowers to sprout. Michelle's gown was spun from organic silk. The decorations, too, reflected the energy of the universe. They minimized the use of fresh flowers and used bamboo instead. Says the bride, "Wherever possible, we used the elements of nature__earth, wind, fire and water__in our decorations. Our wedding colour was lavender, the color of harmony.'' Guests were requested to buy gifts from free-trade sources. Most of the gifts, except those from family, were given to charity. Giveaways were sun-catcher crystals that could be hung in a window to capture the sunlight and throw little rainbows around the room.

Even the people involved in the wedding had to have a compatible energy. "We made sure that we hired a woman from the local community who could use the additional income. The rest of the wedding was driven by the energy of my own family, who all adopted the same philosophy in supporting us through the wedding,'' says  Michelle.

And it didn't end with giveaways. The couple still feel they owe something to the environment to counter their tiny carbon footprint. "We are in the process of planting trees to negate the impact from our travel,'' she says.

***

What if you are anti-matrimony, think of marriage as a repressive institution but still go through with it for the sake of society? Nostradamus and Pocahontus (names changed on request) found themselves in this dilemma. When we got in touch with them, both husband and wife vociferously ridiculed the concept of marriage. They met in Jan 1996 and had been living-in since 2004, or, as Pocahontus's mother put it severely, ``living in sin''. Nostradamus was an event manager, Pocahontus a journalist in Mumbai.

In 2006, they decided to chuck their jobs in Mumbai, which they hated as much as marriage, and moved back to Goa. It was a risk, but one they thought worth taking. Pocahontus got a job as a teacher at St Xavier's, Mapusa, and Nostradamus became a tour leader. They started living together, but now with their families closer and breathing down their neck, the calls to get a license became louder.

In April 2007, there was turbulence. Family pressure became acute, Pocahontus was cracking under the strain. ``Every visit home started and ended with the all-important question, `When marriage'?'' P decided that enough was enough. On May 14, 2007, after fighting through the night over it, she forced Nostradamus to the Mamlatdar's office. Both were in their shorts with long faces. Pocahontus recalls, "The Mamlatdar said afternoon, but didn't specify the time. I told my parents to come at around 3 or 4 pm. But at 2:30 itself, the Mamlatdar was ready and in a hurry to finish. So my parents missed the wedding and his parents were in the building but in a different department.''

There's more. Since their witness was waiting in a long queue to have her photo taken for the identity card, Pocahontus stood in line for her while she went to get some documents signed. By the time the bride returned, the Mamlatdar had done his bit. Hence, Pocahontus has the unique distinction of missing her own wedding.

Since neither of them believes in religion there were no wedding rituals, much to the chagrin of both families. Both husband and wife, when asked, show scant respect for the institution of marriage. Pocahontus calls it "a matter of convenience" and Nostradamus says, "Marriage is all about what the family will gain. In ancient times, kings married for political conveniences. Even in Indian history, Brahmins married more as a means for networking with other high-class families. It's the same with Catholics. As much as they will deny it, Catholics are particular about caste and the focus is what the families will gain rather than on what the husband and wife want.''

Nostradamus also doesn't believe that either man or woman can be monogamous. ``Whether it's just a lustful thought or a full-blown relationship, it's all the same.'' He adds that ever since he got married, he has felt like a dog on a leash. He also believes that the institution of marriage is a complete waste of time and money, not mention the fact that it is extremely restricting. He says that in marriage, you tend to take the other person for granted, a situation that doesn't arise in a live-in. Despite their protestations, however, P&N seem to be sailing along rather well together.

This article was first published in The Times of India's Goa edition in May, 2008.

A tale of two murders

On a day when the only Scarlet should have been the color of Jesus' robe, the newspapers have done it again.

Yes another day full of Scarlet-related front-page stories. I just happened to be reading the Hindu the other day. (For the unitiated, the Hindu is South India's best newspaper). I came across this.
http://www.hindu.com/2008/03/12/stories/2008031260521200.htm

"Tourist woman murdered in Goa"
A woman tourist from Gujarat was found strangled to death at a city hotel on Tuesday.

According to police, Hema Sodha (25) had on Sunday checked in, accompanied by her “husband” Jannat Sodha.

On Tuesday morning the hotel staff, finding that the couple had not checked out, opened the room with the master-key and saw the woman strangled in the bathroom.

Is this murder any less heinous than Scarlet's? Nope, I don't think so. But it hasn't made the headlines. Why?

1. This hotel in Panaji is owned by a prominent citizen who will lose business if these details are published. It is not a temporary shack which can change its name and continue next year under a pseudonym.

2. Gujarathis are Indian citizens. Gujarat doesn't have a High Commission or Consulate to promote their cause as a diplomatic move.

3. The Gujarathi community has not made any noise yet.

And Most Importantly,

There were no photographs of the victim in semi-nude attire made available, those which would hold viewer attention, and those which could be published on front page to sell our consumer-driven newspapers. ALso, there were no lurid details about sex, drugs, rape. All said and done, a 25 year old woman is not the same as a 15 year old girl. The 25 year old woman was not white, a race we Indians seem to have an obsession with.

The press coverage of the Scarlet Johannsen episode has been disappointing. The Navhind Times has been changing its statement everyday. Ditto with other newspapers.

How many remember Gregory Fernandes? The Goan sailor who was murdered in the UK. Did the British and Indian press take up the issue with such enthusiasm then? Nope. So why should we Goans care about all this irresponsible white thrash that comes here, openly flouts the law, develops their own absurd code of ethics, (Scarlet's mom reportedly had 8 children with 5 different men, and also slit the throat of one such man.) and finally manages to get herself/themselves killed? Is this the kind of tourism we are promoting?

And why is it so surprising? The British media has absurdly asked why Scarlett was not in school. Let's take a ride to Anjuna and see how many firangs there can spell school. The only word with c,h,o and l they know is alcohol. Amen.

Goa should seriously reconsider its tourism-promotion strategy. This is not the kind of tourism that makes a place famous. If you wanna come here and live on the wild side, you're gonna have to be prepared to meet the animals.

Go Goa, 365 days on a Holiday.

(Inputs from Miguel Braganza)

Announcement

This was an announcement on IndiaTV that Bollywoon superstar Saif Ali Khan would be jamming with Delhi-based rock group Parikrama.

These are the actual words:
"Saif jaane-maane group PARIKRAMA ke saath milke mashoor pop bands jaise AC/DC aur DEEP PURPLE ke gaane bajayenge. Saif heavy metal instruments se ye gaane bajayenge !!"

*Sigh*

Well does life get any better
More yesterday than today
How I thought the sun would shine tomorrow
But it rained . . .

The Christmas spirit carries on

The midnight service at the Holy Family church, Porvorim, was among the best I have ever attended.

Nigel Britto

A few years ago, most people would avoid going to the erstwhile Holy Family Chapel, many of them preferring the more flamboyant service at Don Bosco's, Panaji. Even today, we see many people ditching their parishes and flocking to these high-profile services, services that are amazing worship sessions, but attended by people attired more suitably for a fashion show than a Church. Few of the other places that are included in this category include Loyola's, Margao, and Raj Bhavan, Dona Paula. Don't get me wrong here. I love Loyola's and Don Bosco's, but detest the pseudo-spiritual approach that's rampant among people, and especially evident during the ramp-walk to receive what Catholics consider the Body of Christ.

Considering the fact that I've finally managed to make acquaintance with a few of my fellow-Porvorim-ites, many of whom I (mistakenly) previously considered snobs, I ditched the usual Midnight service at the Holy Cross Chapel opposite my house for that at the newly elevated Church to which my Chapel is affiliated. My initial thought was to merely take a moonlit exterior overview of the Holy Family Church. I've been playing the outstanding catholic for years, not necessarily at midnight but at more convenient times of the day as well. Having left the house at 10:28pm, it took 3 minutes to complete the drive to Church. As I reached, I found myself bound by logic to enter, influenced maybe by the rare fact that I was well in time, or maybe subtle fear that I may be baked alive, not an unlikely possibility, taking into account my dark blue shirt, my black suit, as well as Global warming.

The Holy Family Church was well-illuminated and the newly asphalted parking lot was actually kinda bright. Justifiably so, because what could be worse than car-crashes inside the compound of the House of God on Christmas day? The corridors outside the Church were lined with Stars, walking past them being a nightmarish experience, strangely unfamiliar to my unobservant eyes. The Shephard was waiting outside as the flock came in, one by one, greeting and welcoming them. When I entered the great sanctuary, it was brightly lit, with the smiles of parishioners shining brighter than the electric lights above them. At 10:37pm, the Church was almost full, not unexpectedly, considering a quarter of the Church was 'reserved'.

The youth choir was barely setting up, with random sounds of 'check, check' emanating from the speakers, as well as choir members walking hurriedly around, obviously either busy or harrowed after a long day of work and preparation. But all apprehensive thoughts flew out of the open windows when I saw Jazz gurus Braz Gonsalves (whom everyone seems to call 'Uncle Braz') and Savio Martires lined up on the Saxophone and Keyboard respectively, preparing to take Christmas for a long jazzy ride. And indeed when the, "Spiritual preparation to usher in the Birth of our Savior", started, all those who were previously sleepy seemed to jerk out of their dreamy trance and stared at the choir with attention.

The whole concept of 'Spiritual preparation' was a well-thought-out one indeed, with Blossom Rodrigues doing the compering, and doing it well. The choir kicked off their hypnotic performance with the timeless carol, Do you see what I see. It was a memorable pre-mass service with the obviously well-trained choir dishing out hit after hit, all of them exceptionally well presented, voices and instruments in close-to-perfect harmony. The choral performance was only suspended for 5 minutes when Sonia Saigal sang a solo, taking the congregation by storm. (I've forgotten the name of the song). As the 'Spiritual preparation' proceeded, the voices in the choir just got better and better, with the perfect synchronization by the masters on keyboard and saxophone respectively only adding to the joy of the Season.

I guess enough of wordplay now. Straight to the point. The choir was sensational, and their focussed performance for almost 2 hours was nothing short of spellbinding. Personally, this is the best youth choir I've ever heard. Three cheers to Savio, Uncle Braz, Sergio, Sylvester, Joanne, Juanita, Genevieve, Louella, Vian, Gwyn, Irwin, Louis, Ryan, Russel, Raisa, Nadia and the others whose names I don't know/have forgotten. Seven priests con-celebrated the mass, 6 clad with gold and 1 with Silver. The pulpit was supplied by Fr.Tony Lopez, Superior General of the Pilar Fathers, who delivered a fiery and spirited homily about the superficial preparations for Christmas we all are used to. He focussed on the need for us to get the real picture, and subtly put across the pertinent question whether do we know or not whom Christmas is all about. He spoke at length about and almost questioned the significance of decorations, sweets and dances, if our personal spiritual preparations are not in place. Offertory was fairly strange, with the items that were offered ranging right from Stars to Christmas sweets. A woolen shawl was also offered, and the announcer said, "On this cold December night....." An inconvenient truth is that December is no longer as cold as it used to be. Don't believe me? Ask Al Gore. Or Dr.Rajendra Pachauri.

Communinion took a reasonably long time, considering the fact that the congregation was a microcosm of the population in India.

Suddenly, the lights were failing. There was a procession. It was getting dark. There were eerie chords being played. It was getting dark. There was incense. It was getting darker. There were many more candles than we normally saw at church. Light failed. Darkness reigned. A line of people walked in, holding the candles. At first they looked like members of the Bohemian club, but turned out to be members of the Parish Youth, and a few others who joined the candlelight ceremony. They went and stood at the altar, with the candles, as the Saxophonist played the introduction of my all time favorite carol, O Holy Night. The introduction gave way to a duet by Sergio and Sylvester. Soon, a third voice joined the harmony. Don't really know who sang what part since 12 candles seemed insufficient to see what was happening. The song was beautifully done. The stars were, indeed, brightly shining.

Then the lights came on again.

Before the final blessing, the Parish Priest came up and thanked all the people who helped in making this mass a success. And he also advised the congregation to fellowship with one another before going home. Some Cafes sponsored the coffee and cake. A politician sponsored the crib, which made me think of the irony.

The choir concluded the mass by singing Joy to the World. That was the end of one of the best Midnight services I have been for .

After mass, there was chaos. The chaos that is inevitable when around a thousand people decide to wish one another simultaneously! Everyone hung around for a bit, although whether that was voluntary or they were just following Fr.Anand's instructions, I do not know :-) Merry Christmas!

Nessun dorma, big Luciano

Few voices have had such an impact on me as Luciano Pavarotti's. It was with some shock that I learned of his passing.

Nigel Britto

The greatest Operatic tenor of our generation was a gentleman of rare talent as well as a man who did his best to make the world a better place. With a powerful voice touched by the divine, he was the first man to take opera to the masses, and indeed the first tenor to capture the public imagination.

Even though toward the end his voice had lost some of the power, it was still extremely powerful and incomparable to anyone else's. You didn't need to be a fan of the genre to understand Pavarotti. You just needed to be a human being with a heart, and that's all it took for the voice of Luciano Pavarotti to carry you away.

Even during his performance at the Winter Olympics 2006 at Torino, he put aside his cancer and poured his heart and soul into his trademark song, Nessun Dorma. The passion and intensity on his face spoke for itself. His mind-boggling performance at age 71 prompted the NBC commentator to say, "And the Master brings the house down." The great tenor's performance received the loudest and the longest ovation of the evening. Little did anyone know that that magical performance would be the last time the great Luciano Pavarotti would be performing in this world before he moved on.

On a personal note, Pavarotti's was the only operatic voice that appealed to me. It was my dream to *someday* play the guitar for him, a dream that was shattered after his death. Though his colleague tenors Placido Domingo and Jose Carreras have more than competent voices, Pavarotti will remain the man who got people interested in opera that they listened to it and appreciated it, and would definitely rate as my favorite Opera singer.

It is awful to think that he has gone forever from this world. Yet the Maestro lives in our hearts as he joins the choir of angels as they sing their unending hymns of Praise to the master of all Music, and we should thank God that he gave us the chance to listen to his most amazing musical creation for the time He did.

RIP, Luciano. You will never be forgotten.

A Tribute to Krishna's drumkit...

On 3^rd May 2007, Krishna showed up his drumkit at my house cause we were supposed to jam. We took around 3 hours to set it up (Because of lack of technical knowledge) and ended up tele-conferencing with illustrious drummers of the land cause we didn’t know which screw went where. But to Krishna’s credit he finally set it up. Then Mark Rocha came along. We were supposed to have our first jam. But the guitarist sucked (Guess who!) and it ended in a farce. The remaining jam sessions that were to be during the holidays didn’t happen, cause one person was busy with exams, then training himself to communicate, one was having his 12^th Std exams and thereafter went to Mumbai, one preferred wasting time and ended up in Kashmir, and one went all the way to Europe to visit his former colonial masters.

So the drumkit was lying there, lonely and forgotten, so I decided to make some noise. I just banged the kit randomly. (Banged as in hit with force) My neighbors all hated me, my mom told me I sound desperate, and my maid said I should be going with the JVs for Shigmo. Everyone else who saw me had some negative comments or the other.

The first song I mastered was Evanescence’s My Immortal (Album Version) and a number of other docile songs which had no drumming part. All you have to do during those songs is sit and either look at the drumkit in fascination or look at the gecko lizards on the wall with even greater fascination. After sometime, I learnt how to play Faithful, by Lobo. (That’s the song that makes the Bride and Groom romantic for any goan wedding. Then they start dancing with the grace of injured wilderbeasts on the Serengeti plains). The next song I learnt was Am I that easy to forget, by Jim Reeves. And then O Holy Night.

Then I came to know that those hollow things were called Toms. I knew of course that the big tub down there was the bassdrum. Then I read that the Bigger of the two plates which make a loud clanging noise is called a Ride. And the one which makes a slightly less annoying sound is the crash. The lowest of these things are called High Hats. I also noticed that there was a pillow inside the bassdrum. I wondered which deaf a**hole would fall asleep inside the noisiest component of Krishna’s drumkit.

This is a video I recorded just for kicks (Cause I was bored when the book I was reading got over). I kept the camera on top of a tall cupboard, and while jumping off the chair, I tripped. That explains the delay in the start of the video. The first person to see this video was Desiree, who said I looked like a drunkard controlled by puppet strings. The second was Siobhan who said I looked like a small boy trying to play LP (Yuck!!!). The third was Andre who tried his flattery and then said brb as he went off line to have a hearty laugh. And then the drummer of Bhayanak Maut (India’s best thrash metal band). All he said was. Nice drumkit.

Here goes… I need some more insults. The comments option is open to you…