Adnan Sami and Son Azaan To Perform Together For The First Time

Sami and Son get jammin

Now the Son Rises: Adnan and Azaan Sami

Adnan Sami's musically gifted son Azaan, who lives with his mom Zeba Bakhtiar in Karachi, and is in Mumbai for the first time, has been spending a lot of time with his father in the recording studio, jamming, composing and singing. And now, Azaan will be joining his father on stage at a live concert in Dubai on New Years Eve.

Proud papa

It will be Sami Junior's first public appearance. Father and son have already started rehearsing for the December 31 event. "We'll sing my compositions including Dil Kehta Hai Mujhe Yaad Rakhna which I had actually composed for Azaan. From Dubai, we go to the rest of the Middle East. Azaan will be on stage at age 14. I can't believe it."

Says the proud father emotionally, "To see my son being musically inclined makes me so proud. On his first night in Mumbai after we came back from dinner he informed me, 'Babs, I want to compose a song', and I became his obedient assistant. I'm now my son's official musical assistant. So yes, I'm bringing him on stage in Dubai where my wife Sabah is also going to be present."

Gizmo freaks

Adnan's second wife Sabah is currently attending to her business in Dubai but is gung-ho about Junior Sami. Azaan's arrival in Mumbai coincides with Adnan moving into his new home, "I had a whole room done up for him not knowing he'll be staying that room, with all the gizmos possible including a PlayStation. Both of us are gizmo freaks."Journey of discovery

Now father and son are busy discovering Mumbai's delights. "On Saturday, my cook made a full South Indian breakfast for Azaan. He loved it. On Sunday, I cooked a biryani spread for him. Azaan has fallen in love with Mumbai."

Mumbaikar bano Adnan continues, "The two of us were up till 4 am on chatting the night he arrived. Right now, Azaan is sleeping in his Baba's house for the first time. Now I plan to take him with me all over Mumbai and make him as much a Mumbaikar as I am.

We'll have pao-bhaji and bhelpuri on the pavements. We'll visit all my friends in Mumbai too."

Adnan Sami’s Son Azaan Had a Blast at Salman Khan’s Birthday Party

Azaan With Dad Adnan Sami

Salman Khan and Adnan Sami’s son Azaan had a blast together at the former’s birthday party at Panvel

Like every year, this year too Salman Khan brought in his 43rd birthday on 27 December by celebrating at his farmhouse in Panvel. However this time, a very special guest from Karachi was present at the do. Adnan Sami’s 14-year-old son Azaan, who’s currently visiting his father in Mumbai, attended Salman’s party. The actor and Azaan got along like a house on fire and Salman personally made sure that Azaan was comfortable. But what surprised everybody is that all of a sudden, Azaan and Salman disappeared for almost an hour.

An amused Adnan said, “Later, I got to know that Salman had taken Azaan for a ride on his buggy scooter on the beach. My boy was simply blown way. He said it was one of the best experiences of his life. Azaan had a twinkle in his eyes that I hadn’t seen even while he and I were doing fun things together. Salman is a dear friend. Even though he had several guests to look after, he made Azaan feel special, I’ll never forget that.”

And now, Azaan wants a buggy scooter of his own. “Of course I’ll get it for him. There’s nothing I won’t get Azaan. On our way to Salman’s farmhouse, Azaan had pav-bhaji and bhelpuri for the first time. Now he wants to take some of these snacks for his mother (Zeba Bakhtiar) also,” said Adnan.

But the one thing that would be toughest to transport from Mumbai to Karachi is Adnan’s pet golden Labrador, Rock who Azaan wants to take back. Apart from the practical problems of transportation, Adnan’s second wife Sabah is also very fond of Rock.

The doting father said, “There’s nothing I’d deny Azaan but this is between Sabah and Azaan. Rock is attached to my wife as well as my son.”

Source: Mumbai Mirror

Vashu Bhagnani to Launch Son Jackie (Launch Party Pictures With Salman Khan)

Vashu Bhagnani is gearing up to launch his son Jackie Bhagnani opposite Manmohan Desai’s grand daughter Vaishali Desai in his next project titled ‘Kal Kisne Dekha’.

The film which will see top Bollywood stars from Shahrukh Khan and Amitabh Bachchan Juhi Chawla and Rishi Kapoor among others play cameo roles, was officially launched in Dec 2008.

Salman Khan, who is friends with Vashu, was there to celebrate the launch of Jackie’s Bollywood debut flick. Other star guests at at the lavish party were Ritesh Deshmukh and Akshaye Kapoor. The party also marked the launch of Manmohan Desai’s grand daughter Vaishali Desai, a model and also the lead actress opposite Jackie Bhagnani in his upcoming home production Kal Kisne Dekha, a romantic thriller which releases worldwide in May 2009.

Marc Robinson With Wife Waluscha, Son Brooklyn and Daughter Chanel

Marc Robinson is currently a Fashion Director and also doubles up as a judge on many a beauty pageant. He has always been one of the best Indian models ever with looks and personality that compliments his lifestyle. He even tried his hand at acting… but didn’t pursue it. He did star in a film titled BADA DIN that released way back in 1998. But he doesn’t seem to be too interested in treading that path… He says that he relates more to the fashion world with shows, music, the trends than to the 70mm. He is all over 40, married and with 3 kids.

Marc Robinson's first daughter who is 6 years old is called CHANEL and his boy who is 4 years old is called BOOKLYN. He also has a 10 month old daughter SIENNA. He is married to model WALUSCHA D’SOUZA. They have been married for 7 years and the cupid first struck when he was the judge for Femina Miss India, 2000.

Marc Robinson with wife Waluscha, son Brooklyn and daughter Chanel at the Madagascar 2 premiere at Fame Adlabs recently (December 19 2008). Now that’s one cute family!

Baptism of Marc Robinson's Daughter Sienna (Early 2008)

It was baby’s day out for sweet Sienna just after her baptism at a Bandra church on Sunday. There she was half-asleep, half-awake in one corner while sister Chanel and brother Brooklyn ran all over the place and parents Waluscha and Marc Robinson greeted guests at the baptism brunch. Marc looked like Daddy Cool in a white linen suit, while Waluscha was Mommie Dearest as she showed off her little bundle of joy to those who came to welcome her into this world.

Malaika Arora Khan with her son Arhaan Seen with Marc Robinson and Son Brooklyn at Sienna's Baptism

At Sienna's baptism

Tropic of Gemini

I unintentionally read the anti-Romeo&Juliet a little while ago: Henry Miller's Tropic of Cancer [link NquiteSFW]. It is putting it rather on the glass-half-full side of things to say that the book served as a cleansing of my cynical palette before I embark on one of the more profound studies of innocence. When I finished Tropic of Cancer, I put it down with a victorious sigh, relieved that I would never have to read it again. Friend Patrick is flummoxed by this behavior in me, my determination to finish any book I've started, no matter how awful the experience. (I did give up on this book last Spring, though, because it is just freaking shite.) I can hardly explain it myself, except to say that it is perhaps a deeply ingrained habit. Whatever the cause, I generally read only one book at a time, and when I start a book, I finish it, or it finishes me.

Tropic of Cancer very nearly finished me.

It's a little troubling to have so loathed a book that has come to be widely regarded a classic. It's supposed to be a work of considerable genius, and has been praised unequivocally by folks like Orwell, Mailer and Vonnegut -- all writers I greatly enjoy and admire. This isn't the first time I've not enjoyed a classic. I've often not enjoyed Dickens and Joyce. And by often, I mean just about every time I've curled up to give them another read. I do believe, however, that this is the first time in my adult life that I've taken such an active distaste for an accredited author's work. That is to say, it is unique in my experience to feel revulsion for something I've read, and perhaps this speaks more to Miller's genius as might any actual critical response I could make. It's not prudery, per se -- I love vicarious sex and violence, whether that's a good or bad thing. Love Anais Nin, so far loathe Miller. So what is it?

It is, I believe, the cynicism. The sheer, unrelenting, unapologetic cynicism. To hear Miller tell of it, I would not have made it out of 1930s Paris alive; there are suicides in this book, and they are all-too understandable to me. It seemed as though every character maintained his or her existence merely to progress to the next selfish experience, and after not too long I was utterly bogged down in the sense of hopeless, purposeless puppetry. I read Of Human Bondage not too long ago, and it was almost as if Miller had taken Carey's latter (also frustrating) selflessness and turned it on its ear so hard it went into coma. Miller's narrator (or voice, depending on the ratio of memoir to narrative at a given moment) is given to short sentences of profound and usually brutal imagery and metaphor that definitely would have appealed to me when I was sixteen. Now, they strike me as naive and self-centered and, as far as I was able to tell, the narrator undergoes no lasting change in the course of the story. Was there even joy in this story, really? Miller is famous for philosophically sucking the marrow from life, but this seemed more to me like continually jumping off a building for the three seconds of the sensation of flying.

What this is really about then, for me, is a struggle to process my experience in reading the book. How did, or will, the book change me? You could make the case that it won't . . . but that I feel it already has, and what remains is to understand that effect. It hasn't sapped my hope, at least. If anything, it makes me rail against its perspective, which seems so short-sighted and inconsequential that I want to grab the narrator by the neck and just shake him until he snaps out of it (or something else snaps). Why do none of these people believe in anything? What drives them to write, or do anything lasting, if it is all about survival and gratification? Maybe these are the questions Miller wanted us to ask, or maybe I'm just to narrow in my perspective on the era. If I had to say what effect the book has had on me, I'd guess at this point that it has strengthened my resolve to help and inspire others through my work. And I have to confess that I hope Henry Miller would've hated that.

Lest this read as some offended rant against a slice of literature history, I will say that at times I felt the raw power of Henry Miller's control of the language, and his willingness to savor words without making them self-important or inaccessible. Some of his ideas rang out, too, despite my prejudice against the perspective of his narrator. I wrote earlier in the month about the supposed virtue of beauty in art, and a strong argument could be made for there being a unique and important beauty in Miller's work. For me, however, I'm thrilled to go work on a love story very soon (and possibly even more thrilled to finally be on to reading it on the subway). The love story, for some people, and I'm going to do my damnedest to make it a guilty pleasure to begin, and full of consequence and beauty at the end. And maybe that's what Miller meant.

But I really have no idea.

A Glimpse Into The Lives of Gulshan Kumar's Son Bhushan Kumar and Daughter Tulsi

Bhushan Kumar with wife Divya Khosla Kumar and Sister Tulsi

IT'S been difficult to pin Bhushan Kumar down. One week he's holidaying in London, then soon after he's back, he's under an avalanche of work. You have to take his word for it when he says that Sunday works best to meet the T-Series managing director with his family. But things turn a little wonky the Saturday before the final meet. "He has to meet Shah Rukh Khan in the afternoon, so could you come by for dinner?" asks his office. Anxious moments. Shah Rukh's always running late, will Bhushan as well?

But when you're respectfully ushered up via a private lift straight into his home at the plush Oberoi Sky Garden in Lokhandwala complex (Bhushan owns the top-most three floors), the man is in, wrapping up another interview. You're mildly surprised, as you pad across the wooden floors barefoot. Does Bhushan reserve meeting journalists on Sundays? Yet the atmosphere is decidedly relaxed and he's a sea change from the man who barely lifted his eyes from his laptop at his office. When it's our turn, he says, "I'm sorry about today. Shah Rukh wanted me to have a look at Billo Barber's songs." This, I later learn, is one of the young managing director's strongest philosophies — build on your personal equations. He could just as easily have sent his marketing senior executives, but going over to Shah Rukh himself shows that T-Series will treat the superstar's film as their own when they start on a musical marketing blitzkrieg.

No wonder that T-Series has grown into the most formidable music company in India today. It owns the rights to about 35,000 audio titles, film and non-film, as well as more than 2,000 videos.

In the 25 years since its founder Gulshan Kumar started the company, it has monopolised the music business and since Kumar's abrupt death and son Bhushan taking over at 18, the Rs 5,000 crore company has only somersaulted, with a turnover of Rs 400 crore.

T-Series also produces their own films like Himesh Reshammiya's Aap Ka Suroor and Karzzzz and bankrolls other movies in co-productions.

Since T-Series factories are based in Delhi's Noida region, the family also lives apart. Bhushan's mother Sudesh and married sister Khushali (who is a fashion designer) are based in Delhi, while Bhushan and wife Divya live here, with his youngest sister Tulsi (a singer). While the women are yet to make an entrance, I can hear unobtrusive noises emanating from the corridor.

When Bhushan excuses himself to do his evening pujas at the marble-laid mandir, I'm immediately reminded of the videos I'd seen growing up in the eighties, of Gulshan Kumar piously singing bhajans and circling the aarti around the deities.

Ironically, it was while he was stepping out of a Juhu temple that he was gunned down, allegedly by the underworld, in 1997. But my reverie is broken as Bhushan's wife Divya glides in. Stunning in impossibly high pink heels, she exudes warmth and says that once Bhushan and Tulsi join us, we'll head to dinner. Divya Khosla Kumar used to be an actress — she was seen in Anil Sharma's Ab Tumhare Hawale Watan Saathiyo, opposite Akshay Kumar and Bobby Deol, in a complicated love triangle, but quit the arc lights since marriage.

Now she immerses herself in directing music videos for T-Series, like that for bhangra popstar Sukhbir, Sonu Nigam's father Agam (also a singer) and her sister-in-law Tulsi. "I learnt directing on the job," she explains, "going from one department to another, but I did study film-making and editing. I've always been creative and the visuals flow out of me when I hear a song." Does Bhushan drop by her sets? "Yes, I insist he does for about 15 minutes because I'm superstitious that the album will then work. And at the end of the day, it is his money!"

By now, Bhushan is back, introducing Tulsi, petite and lovely. Her answers are coaxed out — she's just recorded her second album, collaborating with composer Monty of Saawariya fame. "My father always wanted me to sing, he encouraged me to become a singer. The album is called I'm In Love," she says demurely. "Are you?" I ask. She blinks, then giggles with Divya, "No, not
yet."

Sundays are usually spent together and started late, with a heavy 'Dilli' lunch of chana bhatura or paratha, then a drive (Bhushan loves fast cars and owns a Ferrari. His latest indulgence is a Bentley) or a movie. "English mostly because we either get to see the Hindi ones at premieres or previews," says Divya. Dinner then is usually wrapped up early. Today there's cream of mushroom soup, salad, delicious palak paneer, naans, daal, boondi raita and an excellent sabzi biryani. As the family digs in, I'm being convinced to abandon my interview several times and dig in. "Please, we won't be able to eat then ourselves," insists Bhushan.Dinner conversation, the trio confess unabashedly, is usually shoptalk. The latest music videos, albums, trailors, movies — their world is entertainment and the family is plugged in. Bhushan is said to have the keenest ear; his okay is mandatory, even for all of Tulsi's numbers.

While T-Series had the largest number of hit albums this year (Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na, Karzzzz, Fashion, Yuvvraaj, Ghajini, to name a few), Bhushan still lists competition Yashraj's Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi as his favourite 2008 soundtrack, while Divya roots for Yuvvraaj and Tulsi for Jaane Tu…

Do brother and sister ever fight? Tulsi and Bhushan grin as Divya answers, "Everyone is too afraid of him, he's so strict."

Comes from growing up too early — Bhushan was still in college when he had to take over the reins of T-Series, though uncle Kishen was the stablising force.

A creamy gajar ka halwa is brought in to round off the meal and conversation veers to movies. T-Series productions include several Himesh-starrers. How come Bhushan Kumar has so much resting on Himesh? "He's made me so many crores, right since Tere Naam and when he started singing with Aashiq Banaya Aapne. Why shouldn't I believe in him? You know, we used to push him and say he should start acting. He was pretty shy," remembers Bhushan. Coincidentally, Himesh is Bhushan's neighbour; also living at Oberoi Sky Gardens.

But even if Bhushan is regarded as the industry's most powerful man in the music business, the tycoon says there's little he can do to foster singing talent until radio stations don't start airing non-film music. Divya points out that T-Series works because artistes know that they will get promoted aggressively once they're signed on.

And isn't it a precarious industry with all the poaching? Bhushan laughs, "In fact, normally we're the ones taking over, be it Shah Rukh Khan and Aamir Khan from Sony BMG, Rakesh Roshan from HMV or Sajid Nadiadwala from TIPS. I trust my marketing team so completely and producers know how involved I get."

That's evident. Bhushan begins his day at 9 am over conference calls with his CD, electronic goods factory heads in Noida, then his legal department (presumably over copyrights). He reaches office at 11:30 am and is back only by 10:30 pm.And with how father Gulshan paid for his success, doesn't Bhushan ever feel threatened? "You can't get bogged down. You just have to keep going and let work take over," shrugs Bhushan. Adds Tulsi, "We don't feel as if my father's missing. We still live so much like how he would have wanted us to. His presence is always there."

Gulshan Kumar's Daughter Tulsi Kumar with her Sister-in-Law Divya Kosla

Source: Mid-Day

Fashion Designer Ritu Kumar's Son Amrish Has Launched His Record Label Called Mummy Daddy Records

Fashion designer Ritu Kumar's son Amrish has called his just launched record label, Mummy Daddy Records.

He's only 31, but the impatience in his voice as he races through his thoughts, says he's in a hurry. In a rush to pack in as much as he can in a day, week, month, possibly a life. Amrish Kumar can't ignore that his mother, Ritu Kumar, is one of India's veteran fashion designers, credited with having incorporated indigenous crafts into mainstream fashion. And so, mornings are reserved for creating new design and business ideas for her prêt label, while evenings are set aside for a passion — music.

He wants to bridge the gap

Amrish can't quite remember when he caught the now-raging fascination for music. But the launch of Mummy Daddy Records in June this year, makes for an unforgettable achievement. "For the last 10 years, our music industry has been in the doldrums. In India, Bollywood/pop commands attention, and Indian classical music to some degree. The big music companies will only fund ventures that bring in commercial profits," he rues.

And that's the chasm that Mummy Daddy Records hopes to fill. Featuring music by Sha'air+Func, Bandish Project and Jalebee Cartel, the records' first release, Compilation 01, represents the best of Indian electronica and independent music scene. "It's an exciting blend of urban electronic elements with a distinct Indian folk essence. Our aim is to create a platform for new sounds, independent music that everyone can easily access."

He plays mummy to his pals

His friends have been a constant source of inspiration; from suggesting the tongue-in-cheek title of the label to urge him to follow his heart.

Delhi-based Amrish lived in Mumbai's suburb of Bandra for a year, while he worked in the e-Commerce department of HDFC bank. Often, he found himself dropping friends home after a spirited night out. "One of my friends nicknamed me 'mummy' since I made sure everyone went home safe. When I decided to launch my company, they thought Mummy Daddy Records was a perfect name," he grins.

He's willing to wait

It's been seven months since the launch, and Amrish admits he doesn't mind going slow. "Patience is the key. My company is for musicians, first. Listeners come second. One can only hope that it gathers momentum," he says, citing the instance of how two music video releases, Zindagi and Oops, have been hijacked by actor Akshay Kumar's new Bollywood release. "They were meant to be played on MTV and Channel V, but they are busy giving airtime to Akshay Kumar. Shouldn't music channels focus on music videos?"

But the baggage of Bollywood doesn't irritate Amrish. Film music is sounding better these days thanks to talented musicians expressing an interest in Bollywood. "At the end of the day, it's getting your music available to the largest audience possible, that matters. Though I'd prefer it if songs didn't focus on Aishwarya's (Rai) legs, and the format was a little less restricting."


Source: Mid-Day

Yesterday

I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, you know? I mean, you let people know the date once these days, and you're getting greetings on that date every single year -- from emails and comments and MySpace and Facebook and da, da-da, da-da. It's endless. I'm not sensitive about it, mind. I think every passing year is an accomplishment. Sure, the work may not have quite the same vim and vigor as it did in earlier times, but I like to think that's balanced out now by a sort of tempered harmony between enthusiasm and effectiveness. And besides, sometimes you just want a quiet day of reflection instead of some big celebration; a little time to contemplate times that were and where we are now. You know, like an adult.

Plus, I forgot.

Yesterday marked the second anniversary of Odin's Aviary. (You can check out how I celebrated the first ovah heeya.) Yep, without a clue in my head on how to proceed, I popped on Blogger(TM) and chose some pretentious style elements and wrote a tiny missive out to the 'blogosphere. The rest, as they say, is history. I haven't directly addressed The Third Life of late, but that's partly because I feel it's a concept that's inherent in most of what I do, hence most of what I write about. It's where I live most of the time, and for as long as I can remember. In some ways working to live "fully, freely and honestly" is everyone's ambition, and in other ways it's a unique responsibility for the would-be artists amongst us. This is not a unique idea (it's not even a unique name, as we learned early this year), but it's one that continues to resonate for me, and this here 'blog has proved an invaluable resource for helping me to stay true to that course.

Some highlights from the Aviary in 2008:

• One-hundred thirty five entries thus far, including our 300th.
• Visitor traffic has increased by about 50% over 2007. W00T!
• 5/22/07 remains the most-visited entry, proving that quoting pop music has virtue, and perhaps that sharing a question is more common than sharing an answer. But in 2008, thanks to Reader GeorgeW, we got our answer to this question! This means I can no longer count this entry as popular for its own reasons -- it got posted here. Perhaps I should advertise on this entry . . .
• In second and third places for popularity (in hits): 2/6/08 and 2/20/07. It would seem perhaps that people read me more when they're trapped by snow. Which I choose to take as a non-specific compliment.
• October was far and away the liveliest month here for visitors, owing perhaps to the Aviary being used as a kind of report for review by the powers that be at North Pocono High whilst I was teaching there.
• Virtually all of my referred traffic comes from people doing searches on Google Image. 'Bloggers, take note: use pictures. Me, take note: start citing photographers.
• Outside the US, we're biggest in Canada, but in recent weeks there's been a surge of interest in the UK (thanks Dave) and Germany (thanks...uh...wait, what?).
• We had the launch of a sister (er: brother?) site this year: Loki's Apiary. His star is on the rise as I refer to him as continuously as I can possibly justify (Loki's Apiary).
• Loki's Apiary offers you a concise view of what I've been up to when not typing here, of course, but for a novella view of my working-year 2008, here are my highlighted entries for each month: January [Losing Work], February [Reading Loud and Clear], March [Recovery], April [I'm Not a'Scared of You], May [Ta-Da], June [Viva Italia - 1&2], July [Friendly Neighborhood], August [Writing Wild], September [Health, Wealth & Wisdom], October [Open Up], November [The Rest is Finally Silence] and (on estimate) December.

It's been a hell of a second year, Dear Reader, and I thank you for whenever you may have tuned in. The entries usually slow down here when I'm traveling, and I'll be all over the place in the coming weeks, in many cases nowhere near a glowing box of interweby goodness. As you warm your hands by the dying embers of your monitors, think of me, and be merry. Eat and drink, too, or you'll die. I'm not a medical doctor, but I have it on good authority.

Furious Scribbling

Last night I had the much-anticipated reading of my new play, working-titled Hereafter. Which is to say, for the first time, this work was heard aloud. It was only heard by me, and the actors involved, of course, but still and all . . . cool.

And it went well. Hell, first things first -- memorize these names, because they are amazing talents who ought to be heralded throughout the land: Friends Patrick Lacey, Laura Schwenninger, Briana Seferian, Wynne Anders, Dave Berent, Geoff Gould and Todd d'Amour. They had, I assure you, the hardest job in the world making sense of my cobbled-together "play," and did it brilliantly. I laughed, I cried, it was better than . . . well, they were better than Cats; MUCH better. Can't say so much for the "play," as such, just yet. I only hope they understood that my moments of out-loud laughter and quiet sadness weren't a bit to do with my writing. I'm rather sick of my writing, just now. It was them, pulling out miracles of surprise from my strung-together words, and finding unique life all their own. Their performances, if nothing else, motivate me to continue working to give them a better playground to explore.

My plan: Based on all the information I have now (and Friend WHFTTS' advice, of course), I am 100% certain that I must put the play away for at least a month, which should be easy given my upcoming schedule. Before I do that, however, I'm compelled to tinker just a bit, then do a little more writing on themes and ideas -- not dialogue. I think I'll reorder the scenes according to some of my notes, save it as a new draft, but not read it in that new sequence until after the break. Then I need to flesh out my notes from the reading while they're still a bit fresh, write a little on the ideas both new and observed, and file all that away for review later on. So when I come back to it I'll have two versions to compare, then detailed notes to incorporate; plus hopefully I'll be detached enough by that point to be unsentimental about it all.

I rather improvised my method of taking notes last night, but found it to be very effective. I was concerned about being too involved in writing in my copy of the script to catch everything the actors were doing, but after the fact my only regret is that I didn't make an audio recording. My hand-written notes worked out well. I printed a page for each scene beforehand, with the scene number, title and characters involved at the top, so I could focus on each scene one-at-a-time. When it came to taking notes, I figured out a little code for myself: A "+" preceded any notes to the good, a "-" to the bad, a "?" for things to be pondered and examined later, and quotation marks themselves whenever citing actual dialogue. In this way I have a sort of instant cursory quantification for a given scene. I also circled the titles of scenes that might need to be cut, to differentiate between the experience of "wow I can't believe how well this is working was I supposed to be writing oops" and the experience of "aw crap."

Still a bit giddy with a sense of accomplishment (I must confess), my feeling is that roughly half the scenes work on a basic level, and half do not. Of the half that don't, two may be cut altogether, so it may become a one-act play after all is said and done. I am still considering the possibility that the best thing for this collection of scenes is to leave them just that, to not construct them into a unified play, but it's a slimmer possibility now that I've had a reading. That may be why, in spite of some really awful malfunctions that became agonizingly apparent in the reading, I feel so optimistic now. Hearing my work helped convince me that there is a strong basis on which to construct a whole play of some kind. That's exciting. That's gratifying, whatever work may lay ahead (hint: a lot). Ultimately, I'll have to wait until after my time away to know for certain, but still and all -- good feelings.

This may be the first time that I've really felt the process of writing working for me. In the past, as I've said, it's remained such a private, sacred experience for me (no matter how many people I showed it to) that it was easily dropped, or frustrated, or simply uninformed. It's taken me awhile to accept some of the things that allow for a good working balance in this, things like distance and objectivity, experimentation and failure. I'm much more comfortable (not that I'm actually comfortable, but still) with process as it applies to rehearsal. Together in a room we all make asses of ourselves until, bit by bit, we accumulate enough good bits to make something cohesive. And the work is never really done. And I suppose that's exactly what we accomplished by reading through Hereafter last night. Or rather not accomplished, but kept going. It feels by turns gratifying and terrifying, and it feels right.

J P Dutta to Introduce Sarod Maestro Amjad Ali Khan's Sons, Amaan and Ayaan Ali Khan

JP Dutta is all set to make a romantic action thriller which will mark the debut of Ayaan and Amaan Ali Khan (sons of sarod maestro Amjad Ali Khan) and models Tapur and Tupur Chatterjee. A source close to J P Dutta said, “JP was keen to introduce his daughter Nidhi in a romantic film. However, the film has been delayed as the presenters Reliance Big Entertainment have backed out of the film. So JP is now going ahead and producing the film himself. In the meanwhile, he is all set to begin an untitled film, which will also mark the debut of Ayaan and Amaan Ali Khan, who were popular hosts on a reality show on television along with models Tapur and Tupur Chatterjee, who are twins. The film is said to be a romantic thriller with an action undertone. The film will be done in a start-to-finish schedule in various locations all over Austria.”

J P Dutta remained unavailable for comment however Ayaan Ali confirmed the news but did not give any details.

Tapur and Tupur Chatterjee

Source: Mumbai Mirror

Useless Beauty (All This)

Great song. I'm not a huge Elvis Costello fan, but every so often one of his songs hits it out of the park for me, and this would be one of those. Friend Heather, who is a much better devotee of Costello, introduced me to it. I'm not sure if I've ever discussed this here, but songs rarely resonate for me based on their lyrics. This is a thing that drives some people (such as Wife Megan) a little crazy, but I can't really help it. Or, I don't want to. I like being better attuned to the song than I am to the lyrics. I don't have a whole lot of clear, intuitive behavior that doesn't get second-guessed by my intellect (such as it is) -- I'm keeping this one. This is all just to say that words to this song are brilliant, but it's the feeling of the chorus that carries me away.

Last night I saw the Alvin Ailey dance company for the second time in my life, and they were just as affective as I remembered. Poke around the site a bit and you'll soon see that the company members are gorgeous, and I assure you that without seeing them move, you don't know the half of it. Their work is passionate and specific, and it is a real treat to spend time experiencing their artistry. The first time I saw them was some five or six years ago, and I didn't know what I was in for then, so was doubly appreciative. I wondered if the blush of first impression would have faded a bit for me this time around. It didn't.

Of course, their beauty -- physical and kinesthetic -- is far from useless. Even if one were to be stupid enough to see dance as a generally useless expression, Ailey's work and the work he's inspired since wouldn't be lacking in usefulness. It always expresses something about a specific culture or movement that we couldn't quite learn in any other medium. Watching last night though, immersed in all that keen beauty, I got to thinking about the supposed virtue of beauty. Or rather I should call it the disputed virtue, since beauty as either cause or effect in "good" art has been a hotly debated aspect of art since time-just-about-immemorial. I think about it quite a lot myself, in the context of an actor who can't help but notice that some very pretty, very untalented folks get rather far rather fast. But last night, engulfed by it, I started thinking in less jaded terms about the role of beauty in artistic expression.

A girl I knew in college and I were taking a walk in our fairly new home of Richmond, Virginia. I remember passing an old, decrepid brick building, with exposed and broken pipes and a fire escape, all various shades of red and rust. I wondered aloud what it was that was drawing me to ugliness lately. My friend replied, "What makes you think that's ugly?" And she was right -- it was beautiful. Thinking of that run-down building as ugly was a preconceived judgment on my part, based on ideas about good and evil as they apply to structure, society, prosperity, etc. It's an easy mistake, as beauty/ugliness is in itself about as subjective a concept as I can imagine. It has as much to do with an emotional response as with anything else, and emotions are not binary. I suppose part of what impresses me about Ailey's work is that I'm immediately confronted with stupidly beautiful people, and then that experience of beauty is surpassed in strides (literally) by the beauty of some particular movement or shape they create.

Of course, I'm sure there are some who will disagree.

Actually, the subjective nature of beauty and ugliness (and all gradients thereof) gives me some hope for capital-T Truth playing a significant role in our work. One of the most famous (read: most cliched) quotes about Beauty and Truth having a relationship come from poor, too-soon-departed Keats:

When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,”—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

It's one of those that I can go on considering in different lights throughout my life, I think. (That has proven true thus far, anyway.) You've got to love that the essence of the argument is the only bit in quotes; the idea that it is all we (or it [the urn]) know, and all we (or it [you know: the urn]) need to know, is all Keats. In other words, it's up to us whether we know it or need to know it, but history itself tells us that that Beauty = Truth, and vice versa.

Why am I going on about a (beautiful) poem? Because it forms the basis of a relationship between Beauty and Truth that is key to my assertion. That is, the commonality between perceptions of beauty is founded on a more shared, communal sense of Truth. In other words, given just how incredibly individual is everyone's opinion about what is ugly and what is beautiful, it makes sense to me that there must be a contributing factor to all those disparate opinions that allows them to find common ground in some cases -- that common factor being Truth. In my humble opinion. Capital-T Truth, mind you, which has less to do with empirical facts and more to do with feeling, with instinct. I think an innate sense of this Truth is that in which we're all participating when we come to an mutual appreciation of Beauty.

Certainly one can have beauty without Truth (one can have it, thanks to advertising and such, any time one wants it); hence my capital-B Beauty. Otherwise known as Glory, Spirit, Love, etc. I wouldn't have called seeing Alvin Ailey a religious experience per se but, then again, it did rather feel like going to church ought. There were times I felt lost, others when I felt as though we were going through the motions a bit, then suddenly a time without a sense of time, when I felt lifted out of myself and part of a whole I had barely felt myself in just moments prior. Then it would end, as all things must I suppose, and seem just as brief as it had infinite when it was happening. It's difficult to define or even describe a unifying experience, even though all of us have at some time or another felt it, probably because most of our intellect comes of division, of making distinctions. So you have to live the moments of unity. And should we creators and makers and artists try to make Beautiful work?

Yes.

‘I Can’t Be an Actor All My Life’ - Imaad Naseerudin Shah

Naseerudin Shah's son Imaad Shah will be seen next in 'Little Zizou'

IMAAD SHAH hasn’t had a release this year after his debut with 'Dil, Dosti Etc' in 2007. Imaad’s one of the few non-Parsis in the cast of the forthcoming Little Zizou, a film on the Parsi community scheduled for a January release. “I’m the only non-Parsi among the primary characters in the film. I play the son of a Parsi religious fanatic,” says Imaad. How did he imbibe the idiosyncrasies of the community? “It needed a basic amount of observation. The old-timers from the community are caught in a time warp. But the newer generation is a lot more cosmopolitan. I’ve lots of Parsi friends as my mom grew up in Dadar Parsi Colony,” reveals Imaad. The 22-year-old, who finished his graduation last year after “losing a couple of years”, plays a graphic novelist in the film. “He has a wacked out, sharp, irreverent imagination that comes to life. There are lots of bizarre layers to the character. I love graphic novels. I recommend City of Glass by Paul Auster to all,” Imaad says.

For his character, he sought help from Delhi-based graphic novelist Sarnath Banerjee, author of Corridors and Barn Owl’s Wondrous Capers. “Sarnath and I are good friends. I’ve read both his graphic novels. He’s done the drawing for the film. I’m a hopeless artist. I sat with him and observed him draw,” reveals Imaad. The actor also finds time for music, his first love. “We have a band and we play sometimes. We record as well. But I’m not going solo as it really saps you,” explains Imaad. What about film-making? “I’ve been working on a few shots using digital camera. I’ve made a couple of films with digicam. I can’t be an actor all my life. Everybody has their own agenda,” he states.

Like his father, Naseerudin Shah, he’s a thespian too. “I’m part of a theatre group called Motley. Five of us are doing this play called All Thieves. It’s a commission of stories by writers like Italo Calvino and Haruki Murakami. We’ll be coming to Bangalore with the play next month,” says Imaad.

One mention of his gene pool, and he gets a tad restless. “The media does things in a very obvious manner. Comparisons get boring. The comparison question is, in fact, redundant. I’m hoping people have seen my acting and can judge me solely on that. I concentrate on what I’m doing without being bothered about comparisons,” he asserts.

As for his trademark frizzy hair he’s inherited from his dad, he says, “I shave my head every now and then. I have really short hair now.”

Source: Times Of India

Shatrughan Sinha's Son Kush to Make His Debut With Apratim Khare’s Film

Kush Sinha

Looks like both of Shatrughan Sinha’s sons are all set to enter Bollywood with a bang.

After Luv Sinha, who is making his debut in Raj Kanwar’s Sadiyaan, it’s now the turn of Kush Sinha to make his Bollywood debut with debutante director Apratim Khare’s film. The film which will be produced by Zee Telefilms, is a period drama set in Bhopal. While Esha Deol will play an integral part in the film the leading lady opposite Kush is yet to be finalised. When contacted both Apratim and Kush confirmed the news however, they refused to give any details. However
our source spilled the beans, “Kush always had aspirations to become a director but he was quite moved by this subject. Kush met Apratim, a former Sanjay Leela Bhansali assistant through a common friend. It is definitely an unconventional debut for Kush.”

Interestingly Apratim assisted Bhansali in Devdas while Kush assisted him in Saawariya.

Source: Mumbai Mirror

Ride the Snake . . .

I'm experiencing an interesting fluctuation of mood regarding the upcoming reading of my play. Maybe this is normal; it has been so long since I confronted the possibility of my creative writing being read aloud that I can't say I remember quite what it was like. I remember some anxiety, sure, but not this strange undulation of emotion. I never know how I'm going to feel when I think about it, one moment to the next. Sometimes I feel elated and excited, other times it seems like the stupidest idea I've ever had, and one bound to be my ruination. There's a variety of anticipatory strata in between. Compared to prepping for an audition, this should be a relief. For an audition, I usually feel less and less prepared as the date approaches, so experiencing alternating good feelings should somewhat compensate for the others. Yet I feel pretty unnerved. There is a very loud voice in me that's shouting, "Back out of this! Do it now!"

Yes, that voice often takes on the characteristics of early-90s Schwarzenegger.

I have had such a mixed bag of experiences in exposing my writing to the public -- even limiting it to theatrical writing -- that have happened over such different times of my life that it's impossible for me to predict my reaction, much less others'. One of the first theatre pieces I ever wrote has been well-received several times; people have loved it. And a piece from far more recently was excerpted in performance at a party a few years ago, and it stank up the room. I mean, hoo, was it bad. That's part of why I'm having the reading, quite honestly. I want to find out what happens and, if I can, keep up such exposure so that I do develop a better sense of how my writing is going.

Not that others' opinions are my yardstick for the quality of my writing but, you know: come on. I want it out there, else why would I write it (typed the 'blogger)? I'll be reminding myself left, right and center on Wednesday next (huh...I didn't plan for it to be on Odin's-day...weird) to consider my opinion first, but I won't kid myself so far as to say that I'm not calling my actor friends there for the purpose of their feedback. Revision, as I've said, is very difficult for me. I tend to hold the memory of the original draft and all that went into the process of creating it as sacred, and thereby fail to adequately re-evaluate it, much less revise. Friend WHFTTS is renewing its efforts to write more gooder too at the moment (and hopefully from now on), and we're having some very interesting meta-conversations about our personal challenges. Both of us, it would seem, regard involving other people in our processes as a necessary step to overcoming something. In my case, the something to be overcome is a quasi-mysterious barrier in the way of revision.

I think the emotions I'm experiencing these few days have to do directly with that barrier. I think that barrier (if I may anthropomorphize for a moment) knows I'm gunning for it, and it feels right at home. "Hey, listen," says My Barrier, "wha-what do you need change for? Huh? I mean, with me you know where you stand. Right? Who knows what will happen to you without me here...?!" Then My Barrier beats his chest twice and throws out his arms in the universally accepted I-am-all-that-and-a-bag-of-chips-besides gesture. But it's too late, My Barrier. My Mind's made up, in spite of your emotional sniping, and I shall be resolute in my continued work after hearing the reading. I'm putting you on notice! I shall not be deterred!

: backs slowly away, maintaining eye contact, makes it through door before shuddering collapse to ground :

Just imagine next Thursday's post. Should be a doozy.

Muzaffar Ali With Wife Meera and Daughter Sama.

Family Ties: Muzaffar Ali with wife Meera Ali and Daughter Sama.

Muzaffar Ali's (director of classic films like Umrao Jaan and Anjuman) is married to Meera Ali who is a fashion designer. They have a daughter called Sama Ali.

Muzaffar Ali's first wife is Subhashni Sehgal, a well-known women's activist, trade union leader and former MP of the Communist Party Marxist.
Director Shaad Ali, the man who helmed hits like Saathiya and Bunty Aur Babli is their Son.

Muzaffar Ali and Subhashini Ali Sehgal's Son Shaad Ali Sehgal

Fair Winds

Last night I attended what was a first for me: A staged reading of a musical. Tom Diggs, of NYU's First Look fame from some time ago, wrote the book and lyrics, and invited me out for it by replying to my email about Blueprints. This could be the most direct evidence of the importance of simply being present in the New York theatre community as it relates to contacts and casting: People call on the people they've heard from recently. More evidence of this was to be found in my own efforts to assemble a cast for my upcoming reading -- I had a couple of people respond as unavailable, and when I searched my files for replacements, I realized I had neglected a whole throng of good possible actors for the roles. Why? Because I hadn't spoken to them in a while. But I digress.

Once Upon a Wind is a musical that concerns itself with the story of two children coming of age in WWI England. Jay d'Amico wrote the music, and Jeremy Dobrish directs, which was an unusual coincidence -- Friend Todd is now appearing in Spain, a play he directed for the MCC in 2007. I was impressed as all hell with the cast. I find readings to be difficult to act, given the restraints of physical movement and all the conventions involved (such as music stands). These people gave a very effective reading with full song. A small feat for musical-theatre types perhaps, but I was impressed as hell with them: Molly Ephraim, Alex Brightman, Laura Fois, Kavin Pariseau, Marcus Stevens and Ken Triwush. Oran Eldor gets a lot of credit for that, I'm sure, as the musical director and (I assume) pianist. The reading was a part of the TRU Voices series at The Players Theatre, exactly the same venue at which I performed in American Whup-Ass last spring. It's a showcase for plays seeking production, and specifically focuses on getting feedback and advice from accomplished producers.

The play also concerns itself with an interesting phenomenon in England at the time -- the Cottingley fairies. It takes some inspiration from the story, I should say, and it's a story I have some familiarity with. When I was very young, I went through a period of some obsession with "paranormal" occurrences and sightings. I wasn't so much interested in ghosts, rather with mythological or prehistoric beasts that might, in fact, exist. So I had read a little something about Elsie and Frances and their faux photographs, and was pleasantly surprised to find that the reading I was watching would be using that kind of source material. As you might imagine a musical doing, Once Upon a Wind explores the world of believers versus pragmatists, but it does it with a surprising balance. It never goes Disney on you (one could just about wait for the Tinkerbell meta-joke), yet keeps a sense of humor in the face of serious subjects like the loss of a loved one and our dueling needs to grow up, and to remain innocent. I hope Tom continues with it, and that it develops into a full production.

Personally, I don't feel that the will to believe is necessarily childish, or delusional. I think it's creative, and creativity is a strength, not a weakness. During the turn of the century, and the world wars, a lot of people turned to spiritualism and its cousins in search of something. We tend to view such searching as naive and, in a sense, this is as true as can be. It begins with accepting the possibility that we don't know something. And that's the beginning of any good discovery.

Parizaad Kolah Marshall With Daughter At a Children's Day Party

Television anchor (The Great Indian Laughter Challenge on star one), Parizad Kolah married businessman Navroz Marshall (owner of nuts and bolts company named Forbes Marshall) in December 2005. They have a daughter.

Picture: A belated Children's Day party was organised at Bumblebee a week after November
14. Some TeleVision mummies made an appearance with their little kids. Amoung
them was Perizaad Kolah Marshall with her daughter.

You want a reading? I got'cher reading right here!

To top off a year in which I performed in more readings than I perhaps have in my entire career to date (at least 13, by my count) what could be more apt than asking a bunch of my actor friends to participate in a private reading for me? Or perhaps it's entirely inappropriate, given some of my angst over the profusion of readings in my life of late. Either way, I've done it, and not a moment too soon. Though perhaps a moment (or two) too late: December is a nutso month for everyone everywhere, and I just sent out an email yesterday inquiring about availability/interest. I should have started this in November, but I was uncertain about my-completion-slash-the-worth of the playwriting I've been up to. Now I'm up against the far more foreboding deadline of leaving town for seven weeks come January. If I don't get this read before Christmas, much time and motivation may be lost.

The motivation may be lost anyway, if the reading were to go more poorly than I imagine. The danger for me in my writing is nearly always about losing steam or enthusiasm, particularly as it applies to the revision process. Yet this is the first time in years that I've actually completed a first draft, and I feel a strong need to honor that lil' milestone with continued effort. I won't go so far as to say that I think this script has a future, but I think this script has a future.

Wait.... Oh shoot.

Well, there it is. Hopefully said reading will not take every last gust of wind from my sails. I'm buoyed by the fact that the "play" is at this point merely a collection of largely stand-alone scenes that may be salvaged from the wreckage should our course go astray. (Had enough maritime imagery yet?) The sense of wonder and possibility with which I work on first drafts is very intoxicating for me, which is part of why it's difficult for me to complete anything, much less revise it. Perhaps part of what's kept me writing on this project was the structure of independent scenes. Each one to some degree was initially imagined as its own short play. Some are rather more bridging material between others than they ought to be perhaps, which is part of my interest in having the reading. I have, save one, all the scenes I intend to write completed, so I've written about 9.25 scenes. I'm at work on the final (or second-to-last -- see 12/2/08) scene in the sequence now, and if I can get the reading together it will be powerful motivation for me not to linger too much in the doldrums on it.

Yes; I had to do that.

So this will be a private reading, with just myself and the actors. It's for revision purposes, which is the safer way of saying that its for the purpose of reality checking my own rampant enthusiasm. It's a difficult balance, between love and objective criticism. The easy thing to do is allow oneself to be utterly bohemian, and let love rule the day. There's nothing wrong with that if you're inherently brilliant or content to live like a bohemian. I am neither. I am, however, quite addicted to attention, and so considered inviting a small boatload (Still? Yes, 'fraid so.) of friends to observe and respond to this initial reading. One might assume that the more feedback I could get, the better, but actually at this point I doubt I'll have even a discussion with the actors if-slash-when I get this reading off the ground. It's important that I have some quiet reflection on my own work while it's still this close to me. Producing shows from a writer's vantage could be seen as a gradual handing-over of creative control, a transition throughout collaboration from being the one who knows to being the one who experiences. You've got to be ready to set that kid sailing before you unmoor and haul anchor.

I'm stopping now, for reals.

Plus -- and here's the most bloggy bit of blogging for this particular entry -- the last time I put a complete play out there it was ripped to pieces in an astounding variety of ways. Don't get me wrong: It deserved it. Tangled Up In You was not especially good, I can say with some confidence now. It was more of an experiment I really wanted to conduct than a fully formed play, all 80-some pages of it, and what I should have done was just workshop it with actors I trusted and used some improvisation to develop it. Instead, I sent it to everyone I knew (which at age 23-or-so was not all that great a number) and had a reading . . . in New Jersey. I actually had people go out to New Jersey. I have no idea what I was thinking. Anyway, the feedback I got was a bit overwhelming and, subconsciously at least, deterred me from ever trying that again ever. I've written plenty since then, and even had a short piece produced, but really haven't put my cards on the table otherwise, insofar as said cards apply to writing. But here we are again, returning to . . . someplace other than the sea.

And I'm eager to be here. I hope I can pull this together -- the reading, the script itself, the whole thing -- because I don't get many opportunities to create something that goes on to have a life of its own, apart from me. Acting is total joy, and I'd never give it up as a form of expression, but its immediacy is a trade-off. If I'm not there, it's not there (or at least my part of it). Rilke wrote that the mother is the only completely fulfilled artist, because the appetite of an artist is to create something of herself and have it live in the world, independent of her. This is a very appealing idea for me, and I'd hate to live my life without at least some works of this nature. So I set my course by the stars and hope for helpful winds.

And hope to cease the flood of maritime metaphors.

Wait...

Luminous Accumulation

Last night I travelled an unaccustomed route after leaving work. I took the F train from 34th Street all the way to Brooklyn, to the Carroll Street stop. I was surprised to discover that I had actually been in that neighborhood before, about a year-and-a-half ago. This happens to me fairly frequently in and around New York -- the sudden recognition of an environment when the maps and names of the area didn't necessarily ring any bells. I walked up Smith Street, enjoying the lights from dozens of nifty shops and restaurants and bars, then hung a left at Sackett and walked a long ways down that, over 278 by a short strip of bridging. When I got to Columbia Street, it took me a moment or two to identify what I had come that way for. Then I crossed the street and explored it, insofar as the chain-link fence surrounding it would allow.

It's pretty accurate to say that I am a huge fan of installation art, and an even huger fanatic about public installation art (i.e., installed in a largely uncontrolled, outdoor environment). I am lucky enough now to actually know an installation artist, and I hope she'll forgive me if that description limits her craft. Friend Natalia installed Luminous Accumulation on the corner of Columbia and Sackett a few weeks ago. I had intended to go to the opening, but it was rescheduled on account of weather to just out of my schedule's reach. Hence my solo journey to a dark corner of Kings on a Wednesday night.

I was disappointed, yet not surprised, to find the display fenced off but my mood was already pretty contemplative and buoyant due to the walk over. As is my wont, I read Natalia's description right away. As you can see, I brought my camera with me, and these two choices are related. Some appreciate art and, in particular, contemporary art, best through raw experience and an immediate moment. I envy this approach. It rarely works for me, outside of perhaps architecture and murals. No, I get the most out of these experiences when I'm working to synthesize my experience with the artist's intention. I find it similar to my impatience with classical music -- I loathe misinterpretation, even when an artist tells me such a thing is impossible. (And how much more impossible can it be to "misinterpret" than with the personal experience of music?) So I ask for answers straight off, and interpret the work through my own lens however I can thereafter.

Luminous Accumulation is interactive with the weather. There are a serious of pipes that ever-so-gradually draw precipitation and condensation into a roofed basin. The pipes, though you can;t tell it from my photos, extend their open ends out just past the borders of the chain-link fence, integrating it into their structure. They also reach back about fifteen yards to form rectangular arches of varying height that occupy the rest of the otherwise empty lot. The basin is lit around its rim and from two sources above it, and it is sheltered to ensure that the accumulation of moisture comes largely from the pipes. (Although the basin is also made of clear plastic, so I was immediately reminded of a wilderness survival contraption for gathering dew as drinkable water.) The more moisture that gathers, the more light that is reflected from it. (Rather ironic, then, that the original opening was postponed on account of rain.*) Natalia cites an Eskimo practice of holding reading material, or any object that requires scrutiny, close to the snow fall, the better to light one's discoveries.

It was frustrating not to be able to walk beneath the pipe arches, but only a little more frustrating than not being able to climb them -- they inspired that strong urge for me immediately, but never could have taken my weight, even if I could get to them. I have to imagine the ideal time at which to experience the exhibit would be a lightly rainy evening, just before dusk. You could (theoretically) walk beneath the pipes as they worked their gradual, inevitable work, toward the incrementally expanding pool, dipping your book/stone/lithograph into its light once there. It's a bit of a trip for me, but I may just do this some rainy night. I envy the people who get to experience this work on a semi-daily basis. Somebody has quietly transformed their environment for a few months, and it's an ongoing transformation. I think that's very valuable work, no matter how little monetary or pragmatic gain it results in. I want very much to be awakened to new perspectives on the every-day, and I can easily forget how much I want this. Thank goodness there are people interested in doing this for us. No one can sufficiently describe their interior experience of art. It's too personal. I hope it's enough to say that I spent some quiet moments with Luminous Accumulations, and felt pleasantly changed by the experience.

Well . . . maybe I'll just say one thing more. One of the best effects, in my humble opinion, a work of art can have is to invite us to carry its perspective with us into the world. We learn from it, in a sense, and carry it forward if not into our actions, then at least into our perceptions of everything else. This is part of the explanation for the genre of "performance art"; as with art, and unlike theatre, there is no definite end, no fallen curtain, to the experience, and it forces you to contemplate the possibility that the experience is simply continuing into the rest of your life. In this way, these things have a very far-reaching influence indeed. As I walked the good walk back to a subway station, I enjoyed immensely the details of illumination all along the way. Effects produced by headlights, streetlamps, windows, grates and foliage were all accentuated for me, and seemed somehow new. It was akin to the feeling I new best on my first trip to Italy, or my first to New York, and a feeling that I find has diminished slightly every time I add another visit and the longer I live here, like I lose it one slow drip at a time. It's a wonderful feeling.

*Perhaps it was apt, though; it must have filled the basin somewhat for the next day's appreciation.

Anu Malik's Daughter Anmol to Make Her Debut in Satish Kaushik’s Tere Sang.

Anmol Malik, who is the daughter of one of the leading music directors of Bollywood, Anu Malik, is going to make her debut in Satish Kaushik’s Tere Sang. Some of you might remember her as the voice of the song ‘agle janam mohe bitiya na keejo‘, from the flop movie Umrao Jaan, in which Anu Malik

himself had given the music for this period epic, while Javed Akhtar’s beautiful poetry mesmerised everyone.

As a 15-year old Anmol had recorded this song for J P Dutta's Umrao Jaan. The song was recorded at Krishna Studio, and was picturised on the young Aishwarya Rai in the movie. Richa Sharma sang the same song which was picturised on the adult Aishwarya Rai. Dutta had heard her, humming a song and had decided that he wanted her to sing for his film. Earlier, the young singer had sung a few lines in films like adal and Biwi No. 1. Music is certainly in her genes!

Satish Kaushik’s Tere Sang will mark the acting debut of newcomer Sheena (Actress Sadhana Singh of Nadiya Ke Paar fame and producer Rajkumar Shahabadi's daughter), and Anmol Malik is all has lent her the voice for the songs. Anu Malik is jubilant over his daughter bagging this project as he talked about his daughter’s one song impressing director Satish Kaushik so much, that he got her to do all the songs. He was also reported as claiming that one of the compliments he got for his daughter’s voice to be, that she had no arrogance in her voice.

While it was Anu Malik himself who taught his daughter singing, he is also excited about the project because in his view, she couldn't have got a better movie. While director Satish Kaushik said that this would be the first time that a playback singer was singing all the songs for a female debutante, ever since Lata Mangeshkar did the same for Dimple Kapadia’s debut in the movie Bobby, who was 15 years old at the time.

Anmol has composed 115 English songs and wants to release an international album at a later stage. Exposed to both Hindustani and Western music, Anmol does not want to name her favourite singer. "It will be unwise to name any particular person. Each singer has his or her style and one needs to be tuned to that style to form an opinion." However, she cannot hide her fondness for singer-actress Jennifer Lopez . "It's improper to take a J-Lo song at face value
because her performance is a package which needs to be savoured in totality."

This 18 year old sure can hold her own in terms of singing talent as we saw on Indian Idol 3. She does possess a very fresh voice quality in addition to being easy on the eyes

Anmol Malik On Indian Idol 3 (2007)