With an urge to douse these minions of lethargy and idleness, it seemed imperative that I should exert myself in a manner that is more physical. So I decided to sit up on my bed, switch on my laptop and give my rusted fingers the oiling they required and I decided to relate my intellectual dwellings of the preceding week.

Numero Uno, Joss Stone. She is without a doubt one of the most talented and ,well its how they say in India, “Mindblasting” singers our generation has had a chance to actually see. She is amazingly in absolute awestruck reverie, a brilliant performer and MAN, has she got some powerful pipes. I fail to bring myself to terms with her beautiful golden hair, she’s practically a mermaid, I don’t know why, but she is, and her oh-so-powerful voice. Sigh. At the same time, whilst still appreciating her brilliance, I am disappointed to have to witness the downfall of soul as they say these days, You ain’t famous till everyone knows you, and of late there is a very small section of the musical intelligentsia who know of Joss Stone and the potential she has. Sure, she’s more famous than a lot of musicians today who deserve a lot of credit, but she’s still not as famous as one of those mind numbingly dumb bimbo babes who think they can sing. I feel I can not help but guffaw as I see these talentless “Musicians” grope incessantly for a higher footing on an ill gotten ladder. Tsk.


Still shaking with fury at the commercialism of Music today or in the least the propagation of creatively less stimulating music, I would like to draw your attention towards a young singer-songwriter who hails from the promising land of Hope, Mumbai. A scruffy haired teenager, who was christened Rounak Maiti, casually picks up his guitar and commences to just blow your mind away. Cool, Calm and oozing with soul, the voice that emanates out of this boy is extraordinarily new. I first heard him as I was sifting through the Tehelka music project Channel on Youtube and was deeply impressed. Since, I was this impressed I decided to dig in a little more and found Maiti’s Facebook page with links to many more splendorous renditions of so many splendorous songs. I really do hope this boy makes it big, because its fellows like him who constitute the face of Indian Music. It is imperative I believe to show the world that our musical evolution has reached levels that would provide our membership into the global music scene, as part of the scene and not necessarily as something stereotypically “Indian” distinct.


A shadow of unnerving humour suddenly befalls the thoughts of the Baa and I suddenly recollect the narratives I’ve been sleeping with for the past couple o’ days. Ah, the world of Wooster and Jeeves, through fault of his own in certain situations the former finds himself in the most precarious of social dispositions possible for a gentleman of 19th Century London, only to be fished out of every sticky situation by his very own Gentleman’s Gentleman, Jeeves. An extraordinarily brilliant brain, fed suspiciously with fish and encased in a head too big to be deemed normal sized, Jeeves outdoes himself in almost every single episode. Its difficult to envisage who the bigger fool is, Wooster or the million blokes who put him in a situation he can not seem to get out of. In any case, Jeeves always manages to save the damsel in distress, A.K.A, Bertie Wooster. Mr. Wodehouse is bliss to read. His list of words never dies and his humour though a little predictable always makes one laugh, no matter what. From Jeeves to the Hon. Galahad Threepwood, Mr. Wodehouse never seems to discourage the patient reader. Completely flanked overboard by his writing I don’t think I can rest till I read every one of his books. Inspiring many with his numerous narratives of what was wrong with the English Society then, Mr. Wodehouse has managed to make room in almost every hopelessly romantic literary fanatic’s heart.



With Stone, Maiti and Wodehouse, I bid a brief adieu as I refresh my grey/black cells for a little more action in the days that follow.


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