Symphonically yours

In the Fall of 2000, my parents purchased a new Compaq Presario desktop (HP hadn’t bought Compaq then) to stay in touch with my older brother who moved States for his higher studies. Perhaps I first heard a particular Beethoven’s Symphony, which came in the pre-installed Windows Millennium Home Edition, on that desktop. Somehow in my own imagination, I associated that name with a popular film of yesteryears on a family dog called Beethoven.

Later during college days, I once read about Beethoven, the greatest musical maestro, and came to know who he was, what he contributed and heard one of his compositions.

But all this became visual and interesting when, earlier this year, I visited Bonn, the city where Beethoven was born.  

Born in 1770, Ludwig van Beethoven, one of the world's most celebrated and influential composers of classical music, is regarded as 'Bonn's Greatest Son'.

[A bronze monument stands in the centre of the city's Munsterplatz].

The former West German capital takes great pride in being the birth place of the musical maestro.  The captivating life-stories of Beethoven in the musical city of Bonn still linger in my mind.  The Beethoven-House (Beethoven-Haus as Germans call it) is a museum and contains the largest Beethoven collection in the world. Its impressive authentic documents bear witness to Beethoven's life, and to his music compositions.

In total, Beethoven wrote 9 symphonies, 7 concertos, 17 string quartets, 32 piano sonatas, and 10 sonatas for violin and piano. Even though Beethoven wrote only nine symphonies (compared that to Haydn and Mozart, who in total wrote more than 150 symphonies), he is still regarded as the most famous composer of all time. He popularized instrumental music in a European culture that had a preference for vocal music.  His endeavors to experiment outside the complexity of structured and refined rules of classical period composition brought him fame and recognition. Historians state that Beethoven bridged the classical period and the romantic period.

While his earlier compositions have roots in the classical mozartic style, Beethoven later branched out with the emotional power of the romantic period.

In all this excitement, what was most saddening was the fact that Beethoven began having hearing problems around 1802 and it worsened till the time he was totally deaf by 1816. During my audio-tour inside the museum, I heard his Ninth Symphony and later heard the same piece only this time how Beethoven might have heard it with his hearing problem. It was heart-breaking to learn that Beethoven could not hear his own masterpieces. It must have been so tragic.

In fact, at the premier performance of his final masterpiece, the Ninth Symphony, Beethoven had to turn around to see the audience’s reaction: he was too deaf to hear even the thunderous applause.  Beethoven’s hearing loss did not stop him from making the greatest compositions. His symphonies, concertos, and sonatas, though 184 years old, are still performed in concert programs all over the world.

Despite his short-temper, rude and angry character, Beethoven had immense popularity, following and fame in his time in Europe: perhaps similar to what Elvis Presley and Michael Jackson enjoyed in their’s. More than 20,000 people attended his funeral when he died in 1827 in Vienna.

I think that my visit to Bonn and specially to Beethoven-House is a beautiful memory.

Symphonically yours

Nalin Chakoo

Tailpiece:

Michael Jackson started performing at the age of 6~7. Guess what age Beethoven did his first performance?

Ditto. At 7 years of age!

My School. My Foundation. DAV Public School

Grown up in a family of educationists, I valued education the most in life. This viewpoint was consolidated with the assurance, vivacity and dynamism that our Alma Mater, DAV Public School, showered upon me to bring my hopes, ambitions and dreams into reality.

The term, Alma Mater, means “nourishing mother” in Latin and this is exactly how I feel for the school faculty which shaped my life with the gift of knowledge, wisdom and creativity. DAV Public School not only scored high in parameters such as infrastructure, faculty and academic environment but also idealized a perfect balance of progressive education and the spirit of traditional Indian culture.

It has been almost a decade since I wandered our school compound, as life has taken me far from Amritsar, but each time I visit Amritsar I humbly fold hands and make a silent prayer of thanks while driving past the main gate of our school.

A sense of immense appreciation, gratitude and gratefulness is all I have in my heart for the persistent faculty that made my fourteen years at DAV Public School a rewarding experience.

-Nalin Chakoo, DAVian (1988-2002)-

Do you remember those days?

We all come from somewhere. A small town, a village, a big city. So often we hear people talking about their hometowns. The good, the bad, and the special stories.

When I was younger, I never realized that people sometimes never live in the same place where they spend their whole childhood. So whenever my brother (who is around 8 years older than me) and I speak on phone, we often talk about our childhood and glory days at Amritsar.

Amritsar was a place where it seemed that everyone knows everyone. Even though no one from family, but friends, lives there now but I miss my old dusty hometown. I miss the bright light that revelled in every corner of the city, the savoury smells of the punjabi food, my cricket pals from school, the loud shouting street hawkers, the confusing traffic at railway crossings, the sight of dhoodwallahs (milk-sellers) on their old rusty bicycles, the fresh morning air and many many beautiful memories.

One of such memories my brother reminded me of a couple of weeks back was of the time when I was, I guess, in my early teens. Now that time stores some of the most treasured time of my childhood that I spent with my brother; time that would never come back again.

My brother reminded me of how our mother, despite her mighty power of love on both us, had labeled us in a way The Inglorious Snack-Hunters. When it came to snacks in the house (where ever they may be concealed, she feared us the most. We made sure that any snack, whatever it might be, be it a pack of Cookies to Haldiram Bhujia to Namkeen Dal to Cheeselings to any thinkable form of snack be searched, found, and assimilated same day and all proofs of such hunts be terminated. The proof termination was to keep our mother puzzling. If she would find out, then we always played the Blame Card! It was aces for us.

The only times that she used to be pissed off at her snack-hungry lads was when we put her in embarrassing tight spots. Actually, ours was a house where the flow of guests was always on the high. Our guests usually made surprise visits in the evenings. It was then when she used to find all the snacks cleverly missing from the vault. This situation in addition to the pressure of playing a hostess, sometimes, brought swift but predictable anger. But all her motherly anger magically disappeared when one of us gave her an earnest, dreamy look.

Interestingly, in all the odd situations that I mentioned, the only quick resolve used to be her placing money on my palm for a rapidfire snack purchase from the closest store. I used to run like a hare to fulfill what, to a boy in early teens, was the most interesting act of the errand--the money-spending act.

But did all this stop us from our future hunts—No. As they say, boys are boys.

With all these thoughts, I feel my childhood in my ‘hometown’ is clothed with some really joyful memories.

I hope I visit my hometown and ‘visit’ my childhood, some good day.

Mantric Gayatri

Many people in the world consider India as a land of spirituality. I reckon so. Some scholars even say that if you are born in India you inherit spirituality. Swami Vivekananda in his address at World Parliament of Religions in 1893 referred Hinduism in undivided India as the “mother of religions” with “the most ancient order of monks in the world”. I do not know if spirituality and religion go hand in hand forth I believe I have always been more of a spiritual person than a religious person. Now I know that many people may laugh and hate hearing that. I know.

Factually, I was born in a kashmiri pandit (hindu brahmin) family but was imparted spiritual lessons, which I think may or may not be religious. My spiritual education, what all little I tried to seek, comes mostly from my father, who had opportunities to study many religions and their philosophies under Fulbright and British Council Fellowship.

However, I am often confused by my apparent devoutness to any particular religion. It leaves in state of confusion and contradiction. But I am not an atheist. I love the concept of God and I love all HIS creations specially Nature. I love teachings of many religions from that of Hinduism to Buddhism to Christianity. And I do pray to God and whenever I pray, I pray with my whole heart. I often recite Gayatri Mantra in my prayers. But is Gayatri Mantra religious or spiritual? In my opinion, the philosophy of Gayatri Mantra is universal and not binded to any one particular religion.

In all my school days, we used to recite the Gayatri mantra every morning. But it is not long before when I sensed a strange affinity for Gayatri Mantra. I had just finished top in my third year in engineering, got campus placed in Wipro, followed by Samsung. It was a happy phase in my life. But little did I know that it would be followed by a period of turmoil. A period of great personal anguish and pain. I think the fall of 2005 has been the strangest period of my life. And in this period of sadness and despair, Gayatri Mantra injected in me an immense strength. It gave me power to defy odds. I could feel my spirit.

During this time, I vividly remember I was traveling with my father to Chandigarh from Amritsar one early morning and our driver played on one of the devotional hymn cassettes. As any other youngster, I never liked listening to a devotional song when cruise-traveling in car. I hated my driver for doing so. So with strong and quick objection, I asked him to immediately change the cassette but my father overruled. My gut rejection to the very idea of a devotional song playing in background made me feel spaced out and giddy for next few minutes. I rolled down my window to get some fresh air. But as time passed on, I started listening to the lyrics of this Gayatri Mantra based songs [ I do not know if I should call them 'Lyrics']. I started recalling the lessons from one of the discourse class in school where I had learnt the meaning of the Gayatri Mantra. I realized how beautiful the words were.

A basic translation of Gayatri Mantra, which is in Sanskrit, is as follows :

ॐ भूर्भुव: स्व: तत्सवितुर्वरेण्यं । भर्गो देवस्य धीमहि, धीयो यो न: प्रचोदयात् ।।

Oh God, the Protector, the basis of all life, Who is self-existent, Who is free from all pains and Whose contact frees the soul from all troubles, Who pervades the Universe and sustains all, the Creator and Energizer of the whole Universe, the Giver of happiness, Who is worthy of acceptance, the most excellent, Who is Pure and the Purifier of all, let us embrace that very God, so that He may direct our mental faculties in the right direction.

What I felt and experienced in those next few hours of travel left a deep impact. It was very then when I decided that if ever I had a daughter, I would name her Gayatri.

But I guess I didn't have to wait much long, so when my older brother had a baby daughter and asked me to suggest a name for her, I was quick to recommend Gayatri. So it is.

And till today when I am asked to think of an enchanting word and a devotional song, I think of Gayatri and this particular song.

Nalin Chakoo

‘Mistaken Identity’

I have been a victim of ‘mistaken identity’ [nationality wise] so often that I have lost the count now. The latest one happened on this Saturday Eve (9th January 2010). I decided to go to an Indian Restaurant, Authentic Indian Cuisine, with some close friends for my birthday treat. It was a warm evening because it had snowed in the afternoon. It usually gets little warmer after a snow fall and I felt this after my first experience with snow here at Seoul.

Authentic Indian Cuisine, the restaurant where we planned to take our dinner, has an Indian ambience. A majestic Taj Mahal painting on the front wall, lot of decorative Indian traditional vessels placed around, popular Bollywood songs playing in background, aroma, a shelf full of Indian spices among many other things built a sound theme. The place was throbbing with an Indian heart.

But in all this, the staff was oddly all Korean from the female counter manager, to the chefs (we could see chefs through an open glass wall separating the main restaurant space and kitchen), to the waiters. All were Korean. My Russian friend immediately flashed some of his newly learnt Korean to the lady manager and asked for a table (for five).

A chef (Korean national looking, short hair in white apron, above picture) came to take our order. I had never seen a chef taking an order before in a restaurant. Seeing this, I changed my opinion and thought that the restaurant’s way of sending a chef was a terrific way to connect to its customer. Above all, I felt it was better for us as now we could clearly mention, without the fear of the Chinese Whisper, the level of spices for our dishes.

As everybody started giving away order, yet again in Korean, to the chef, I suddenly realized that he was murmuring in Hindi. I exclaimed in excitement and said “Aap hindi jaantein hain?” [Do you know Hindi?]. The chef reciprocated with same excitement and asked me the same question.

It turned out that this chef was from Darjeeling (in India). Later, I told him that I was trying to speak to him in Hanguel (Korean Language) because I thought that he was a Korean national. He laughed and said that he had thought that I was a European.

Truly, Mistaken Identities.

The only thought that came to me after this was that INDIA is truly unique, diverse, and incredible.

-Nalin Chakoo

'Curdy' Feelings

Yesterday, I was heading towards my school and mentally gearing up to take the Wireless Networking final semester examination. It was cold and bit windy, but I loved it. My face could feel the cool breeze.

Thoughts usually accompany me when I walk alone. They come one after another. One random thought leading to another and then to another, so on and so forth. In all this I suddenly recalled (thanks to one of my close friends whom I spoke few days back) of how we (Indians) eat curd, with sugar mixed in it before most of the examinations/tests. However, neither I nor my parents ever followed this, not because we don’t believe in this practice but because we had another tradition, the tradition of giving away almond and cardamom to the person who is going for some ‘mission’. The mission could be anything from examination to buying a car to going for your new job.

Anyhow, let’s go back to the ‘curd’ thought. So I couldn’t stop smiling and thinking about this tradition. I giggled while walking and started to look for a departmental store. Soon I found one. (It’s easy to find a store on Seoul Streets).

I asked the store manager for Yogurt. He pointed me the store-section where I could find it. I looked for it, grabbed one cup and rushed to the counter to pay for it.

Sadly, I realized that I was not carrying cash with me because here I usually use the plastic. And as the yogurt cup costed mearge 800 won (less than a dollar) so the counter boy said no to my card and asked for cash !

But they say some are born lucky. I had coins in my bag. A lot of coins. So I paid him in coins (‘chillar’ that what some call it in India).

I tore the cup-seal and started enjoying my yogurt right outside the store. It tasted sweet. It tasted perfect.

And, as I was relishing the yogurt and appreciating that moment, I again thought about this silly, strange but sweet Indian tradition. I felt home at that point of time. I missed being in India.

Nalin Chakoo

(I write my blogs in haste, so dont mind if you find spelling errors)

Dynamic S(e)oul

I am learning the Hangeul language at SNU’s Language Education Institute (LEI). I think this might help to gel with the city and its culture in the true sense.

I met so many international students who have come to SNU not only for academic reason but also to experience the Korean culture. A conversation over coffee, at Fanco Café (near LEI), with them was really gripping. Even though we came from different countries, backgrounds, and culture we shared something in common.

Seoul, a city where it is impossible not to feel alive, is dynamic. A concrete-high rise industrial powerhouse bordered by bottle-green coloured mountains. It is home to old, short heighted but strong men with backpacks and mountaineering stick. One cannot possibly avoid the sight of impossibly beautiful girls flashing shiny leather bags and stylish metro-sexual men sporting hi-tech electronic gadgets. On a ride in the Seoul Subway, everyone is busy. Some may be watching TV on their mobile phones, some may reading a Korean literature and some may be saving time on their sleep.

But the one thing that distinguishes Seoul and makes it a exciting place to live is the love of eating together. Eating places are open almost 24/7.

It is great food, great people, and great culture. But I am still a stranger in Seoul.

Nalin Chakoo