The sounds of silence

Strange - I've known (and sung) this song forever, but only today am I able to appreciate the choice of lyrics. What are the sounds of silence? Is there a conflict even? I leave that for you to think about, I'm already (at least) a month into these questions :).

There is never complete silence, is there? Even when I believe I'm successfully silent, as right now, I hear my fingers moving across the keyboard, I hear the rustle of the leaves outside my window, and the tender morning chirps of a host of birds. A TV is on somewhere in the distance, and a man calls out - in a loud voice - to a squad he is training. When I concentrate harder still, I hear a tension in the clouds that will perhaps end in rain, perhaps not. And then there is the unmistakable music of the horn of the auto rickshaw (or is it a tempo?). And now a dog barks in the distance; now there are several. An airplane... These are the many sounds of silence in this moment. When these are gone, there will be others. So when is the sound of one hand to be heard? That, I suppose, is the question.

Well, the month is over, and I am back on the blog. I must confess I feel none of the comfort and free flow in writing this post as was customary a month ago :). In time, I hope, the ease will return. Happy July, everyone!

Remembering the Time

Question: What is left behind when a great gift to the world of music is lost?
Answer: Everything but silence.

It is true that I haven't heard a song of Michael Jackson's in a few years, and lyrics that were earlier rattled off in a breath are now a struggle to retrieve. Regardless, childhood memories flood my mind as it immerses in fond remembrance.

Back in the day, when TV channels were limited, music was hard to come by on Doordarshan. Still, DD would screen the Grammy Awards, and my sister would record and watch these keenly. Hence, year after year, I would run these tapes on repeat until I knew the songs (and often, their videos) by heart. The first few memories of Michael, thus, come from the Grammy Awards of '88, when Bad was released. I was an ardent admirer in no time - I loved the video, I loved his dance, I loved his singing, and I loved that he was such a sensation. I soon knew the lyrics by heart, though I didn't understand a word... Man in the Mirror was also part of this album, and the image of it still rings clear in memory. I was of the age where I needed a favorite singer - one I could sing incessantly with abandon, and Michael smoothly took that spot. The joy of discovering Thriller, an even greater sensation, definitely helped.

In sixth grade, I remember the usual Friday afternoon "Activity" period we'd have where each Friday would include a different competition between our three sections - sometimes poetry recitation, sometimes singing, sometimes dance, a play etc. I also remember the week we were preparing for the singing competition, when S had asked me (in full faith) to sing the lead for I Just Can't Stop Loving You (and I had thought she was crazy - me? sing? lead?). In those days, Archie's Gallery had begun to carry books of lyrics for a few popular singers (I had Wham!'s, I remember) and she taught me to sing the song from her book of Michael Jackson's lyrics from Bad and Thriller. (I also remember being rather scandalized to discover the first line of Bad, then!)

Dangerous was released that year, and it was gifted to me by a cousin soon after. I suppose my love for Michael had spread its wings wide by then. I loved the album, and listened to it religiously, singing along with every song, writing down the lyrics in my song diary, just truly relishing the experience. This was in the winter break of '91-'92.

And a year later, cable TV made its appearance. We finally got it at home, and I was hooked to MTV - in its clean, pre-controversy days. Remember the Time was one of the first videos I discovered on the channel, and thank goodness it showed umpteen times in a day. I loved it - the song, the video, the drama (on-screen and off). The video of Black and White - with the kid in the beginning and the (phenomenally) transforming faces at the end, also reminds me of the carefree days of growing up. Isn't it wonderful how such associations are born? Music is especially adept at it, somehow, isn't it?

Heal the World was always a special favorite, close to heart. I remember we sang it for our assembly in 8th grade, as G played the piano for it (we were so elated to have accompaniment - otherwise unheard of in morning assemblies). This was duly memorized as well, with a million repeats. And then there was Will You Be There? which took my breath away... indeed, the list is endless, and I shall quit trying to bind his music into a finite set of paragraphs.

Michael Jackson was a legend, and brought much into my world that I shall carry with me forever. After all, I have but one childhood to reminisce over. And then again, like mine, no doubt he touched many, many more lives. For all that he added to the world of music (and dance), and for the joy he added to the lives I have known, and those I haven't, I will be ever grateful. That his music lives on brings me great joy, with the reminder that death does not destroy everything, that art lives on... it has its ways.

Thank you, Michael! May your soul rest in peace. And as long as I live, you will too - this, I promise.

Of a life well lived

The silence is broken in light of a greater, more deafening silence. Rajeev Motwani passed away today. He was a Stanford University professor of Computer Science with an astute understanding of technology, but more than that - he was an endless giver of knowledge, an emblem of dignity, and a kind-hearted soul. He has been a tremendous positive influence to no small number of students, professionals - all those who have sought his guidance.

I try to fathom the shock and sadness that his young family must feel today, and I cannot. I extend my condolences to them with deep sincerity, praying that gratitude for him will overshadow sadness for his loss, knowing also that there is no greater test. But test or not, it is deeply humbling to be reminded that we as a community, as a people, have no power to hold on, try as we may. Not even to those precious few who work incessantly towards pushing the frontiers of knowledge for mankind as a whole. And while Rajeev may no longer be with us, his contributions are immense and timeless, and he will be held in deep regard for years to come.

When a great soul passes, sadness overwhelms us. And yet, somewhere we realize that life has its lessons to teach us that it will. Our part is in mere acceptance and meditation upon how best we may learn from these lessons. I pray today that as we honor a life that touched so many others, brought light to so many paths, we are justly able to receive from it the inspiration to give - to people, to society as best we can, sans pride of self, of knowledge, fame, or money.

My own remembrances of Rajeev are vivid and fond. I still recall my first meeting with him on the 22nd of January, 2003. He had teased me for not carrying a paper and pen to the meeting, saying it was the first requirement of a researcher (it was my first day in the official capacity of a 'researcher'). I have since done so every time. As it is wont to, the mind relives each of these encounters in an effort to dedicate all the purity it can muster to a life it knew little, but with admiration and with reverence.

As a researcher and technologist, he was brilliant - words could do little justice to his wide circle of influence. As a teacher, he was awe-inspiring - carrying with him an equanimity and cheerfulness that remained undisturbed through every lecture. As a student advisor, he was kind and supportive - never condescending (though he may have had every reason to be so). As a supervisor (when I TAed for him twice), he was trusting and understanding. Most of all, however, his immense stature never came in the way of his friendly, smiling disposition - the same smile that comes to mind with the memory of every encounter with Rajeev. As his contributions are timeless, may his smile be so, ever reminding us of a life well lived.

How well he fell asleep!
Like some proud river, widening toward the sea;
Calmly and grandly, silently and deep,
Life joined eternity.
- Samuel T. Coleridge