Ravi Shankar

 

English: Ravi Shankar performs in Delhi with h... English: Ravi Shankar performs in Delhi with his daughter Anoushka in March 2009 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

English: Master of Sitar, Ravi Shankar. Deutsc... English: Master of Sitar, Ravi Shankar. Deutsch: Ravi Shankar, Meister der Sitar. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

It is with a heavy heart that I write a post today.  Pandit Ravi Shankar passed away yesterday at 4pm in La Jolla, CA.  He was 92.

 

I opened the online New York Times early  this morning, simply out of a nostalgia for the days when I would begin my day with its news, instead of say, writing or checking email.  The announcement caught me by surprise, and after reading the article and looking at The Guardian,  I posted a video of a concert of his I found on YouTube, a gentle nine-minute piece rom a raga, “Anandi Kalyan.”

 

The process of celebrating, honoring, and grieving a great or famous soul’s passing is a curious one.  When John Lennon died, I found out with a clutch to my heart as I slowly realized the radio was playing song after Beatles song.  We who listened to WNEW-FM that night listened along with –was it Vince Scelscia’s?– shock.  When Michael Jackson died, so far before his time, I heard it on the radio in the car somewhere.  I live far from a city now, so of course, I did not hear Ravi Shankar’s sitar on the radio this morning, though I tried.

 

All day, I went about the daily activities, including a visit to the dentist, but like the stricken character in Chekov’s story, “Misery,” to whom could I speak to of my grief?  Zakir Hussein said that Panditji has gone to join the gods in heaven with whom he belongs.  I suspect there are hundreds of people right now, perhaps thousands, playing his music and remembering.  I was lucky enough to see him play in Boston with his daughter Anuoshka with my brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law, and I don’t think we could have clapped enough or hard.

 

Let’s keep listening, keep clapping.  He leaves us his daughters as his legacy; he leaves us his music.  He leaves us wanting more.

 

 

 

~

 

Raga Bhimpalasi (live at Monterey): http://youtu.be/LMRxDY43YtQ

 

Gat Kirwani:  http://youtu.be/ZYlPcbNAPH8

 

With Philip Glass, from Passages:  http://youtu.be/ugIbmTKrcHc

 

 

 

 

 

December’s Start

Victorian, circa 1870

Victorian, circa 1870 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A cup of hope.  I drank a cup of coffee given by a friend the other day and it was delicious.  I who am so picky about the beans, the origin, the roasting times, a perfectionism that might have  likely led to my toothache, which happily, is receding, found it delicious without knowing anything about it except its name, “hair of dog.”

One more month in this year.  The darkening days that will soon turn light again, the host of holidays approaching, and cards to be written.  And posted.  Last fall I sat down meaning to send change of address cards to all my friends, but only got as far as “K.”

Let me bend with grace and reason, then, and pen some cards and notes of thanks, as we near the end of this year to soon begin another.

a pause for snowflakes

Snowflakes!

Snowflakes! (Photo credit: nutmeg66)

The first snow fell yesterday.  Lasted a minute.  Later or before, pouring rain.  I’m nursing toothache, earache, headache.  I’ve been to the doctor, the dentist, and Cub Med, I mean, WebMD.  The dentist says it is a jaw shift, caused by clenching the jaw in sleep.  Who knew?  All I’ve known is every morning for a year, I’ve woken up with a stuffed nose.  I blamed it on allergy, on sea level after altitude.  I’m good with heights, but get queasy on boats.  Except ferries.  Ferries I love.  Notice, this blog is just writing itself.

So, I’m in some pain, and I’m refusing engagements, and it hasn’t snowed, and the writing is hard, but life is still pretty good.  I went to the coffee store.  I spoke with my parents.  I petted a beautiful young lab.  I got a humidifier. And that moment of snow fall, that was joyful.