An Equal Music (File Data Tag Format)

June 28th, 2007

My obsession with ID3 tags and the bafflingly uniform punctuation, spacing and title-casing (as in the popular music industry where it is very common to find that all words are initially capitalised even if they’re functional words, i.e. articles not beginning the title, conjunctions and prepositions of 5 or fewer letters, rather than in pure title case as used to title books and movies) in the filenames and tags of my entire, rather sizable, music collection is not in the least surprising to those who knew me at the most obstinately perfectionist time of my youth. Why, it’s even documented as among the more notable of my many quirks, on the Biography section of my website, again, that monument to the very same unrecognisably obstinate time of my life. But I promise this entry isn’t about that.

Given the many many hours I have spent organising and tagging my collection (manually at first and using a bulk tag editor later), I used to think I was intimately familiar with the ID3v2 format. But something got me thinking a while back, and when I finally crossed the threshold and was consumed enough by the thought to just shut up, wake up, and look up the standard, I was rather pleasantly surprised to see what a narrow window of the format all our media players and jukebox programs and bulk tag editors expose.

Indeed, in the interest of keeping things simple, most programs concern themselves with the obvious Track Number, Title, Album, Artist, and provide the standard interfaces to get to the more obscure, like Genre, Year, Album Art, Lyrics, Sampling Rate, Bitrate - stuff on the basis of which users seldom organise their music. I would have much preferred giving Rating and Play Count (that modern programs, taking a cue from iPod+iTunes, shove in my face by default) a miss. This is owing to a historic personal revulsion at the culture that overpersonalises, and then overquantifies personal popularity. It’s the reason I never use the My Documents folder or any of its derivatives, and the reason I categorically disable My Recent Documents. The much needed dropping of My in Windows Vista has made me only slightly friendlier, but I still don’t use them; and as if to preserve the zero sum, the introduction of ratings for all media files in Vista has made me swear off the details view altogether. But as usual, I digress. I must mention the Rating and Play Count here only because I discovered they are actually stored in the ID3 tag, and not separately in the program’s library structure the way iTunes stores its downloaded album art.

Moving on, the starting point for my thinking about all this was that though it suits me perfectly, a collection that can be organised and more importantly navigated only by artist, title and album, must be woefully inconvenient, especially to the vast majority of Indians who listen primarily to film music. Sure, Title and Album are fairly obvious. But how does one quickly select songs sung by Mohd. Rafi or Yesudas or composed by Salil Chaudhry or Ilaiyaraja or written by Majrooh Sultanpuri or Vairamuthu? I’ve so far only exposed the contention of playback singer, composer and lyricist for the Artist field. I’m sure people make their personal choices, often between playback singer and composer (let’s face it, lyricists are rather neglected in comparison), or otherwise crowd the Artist or Title field with as much information as they may want to be able to later search for (in the process, they seriously break the usefulness of sorting by either of these fields). But consider the kind of additional knowledge that participants of Antakshari-type shows may be expected to have of each song: the actors it was picturised on, the director of the film, the mood of the song (I know I’m taking this rather far). How could one include all such information in the ID3 tag?

Further, consider that those who listen to classical music may care for more than just the artist: In both Hindustani and Carnatic music, the raag(am) is absolutely key information. Taal(am) may matter to some listeners. Accompanying artists may matter to some others. Composer is especially important in Carnatic music, though subordinate to performing artist and barely a contender for the Artist field. How would the ID3 tag include all this information too?

Filled with these questions, I sought to find out how truly global the ID3 standard inherently was, or otherwise at least how extensible it was. I was pleased to find, as I had mentioned earlier, that it is a remarkably well thought out format, and is capable of storing a wealth of information. Many of the so called frames readily step up to cover some of the things I’ve raised here. But not all. And that fact alone does expose a distinct western bias in the specification of the standard, for many of the western Antakshari-equivalent trivia fields find a place in the format. However, considering that, like all good formats, it has its share of private or reserved fields for future use, I suspect it already is sufficiently capable of being global.

What that might take is identifying and standardising a mapping of (localised names of) fields of interest in each genre to frames declared or reserved in the ID3 standard. This would be so applications can decide which core frames to show by default for each genre, and by what name. Of course, since ID3v2, we’re no longer bound to the genres specified in ID3v1.1, which means we’re free to define our own. So that’s another piece of standardisation to get right!

I’m not out to provide complete answers just as yet, but I foresee I might pursue this at another time, perhaps by joining the ID3 developer group. For now, though, I want to share a link to the ID3 v2.3.0 Standard, and especially Section 4: Declared ID3v2 Frames.

Give this a good reading and join me in marvelling at how nearly complete it is - from accounting for covers and remixes to a rather comprehensive set of frames for people involved; from the live recorded western classical music-friendly separation of tags for Section, Title, and Subtitle or Description Refinement, all the way to audio level information, Playlist Delay and the various event timing codes.

Then think of some gaps that remain. I found it rather irritating, for instance, that the frame for Key, which our raag(am) could easily have piggybacked on, is restricted to 3 characters, as that is all it takes to specify it in western classical music. So we either define a new frame or come up with airport-codesque 3-letter abbreviations for all our known raag(am)s. You may notice that the BPM frame could well have lent itself to taal(am), except that it is a numerical string. The standard does not specify a string length limit but I presume the numericalness of the string must somehow be enforced, making this unsuitable for the purpose. As for the ambitious list of extra Antakshari-friendly fields for film music, I’m sure we can dig into the extensibility of the standard.

I think there is tremendous potential in the idea of extending the ID3 standard and developing the idea of genre pages along the lines of character code pages. Internationalisation efforts in the last decade or more have made the world a far more equal place. Music, being very nearly as diverse the world over as language, couldn’t be too far down in the laundry list now, could it?

7 Levers to Rule Them All

June 22nd, 2007

I don’t know about you, but most of my near-spiritual journeys begin with the decision to employ the screwdriver kit to dismiss an irritant. I know the symptoms now like a sage knows a good stump and an anthill knows a good sage (think Hindu mythology and the story of Sukanya). The irritant is typically some aging device that doesn’t work like it had initially agreed to. This time, it was the lock on my bedroom door making a fuss - in seeming compensation for the complete lack of opportunity it has had to express  on my behalf any slamming opinions of my own.

I’ll waste no words bemoaning how little notice we take of all the design and engineering ingenuity that surrounds us every minute of every day, especially that which involves moving parts. Instead, I’ll make an example in my own life of the wonder that it may take no more than a hand assembled lock past its prime to unlock.

As an aside, I instinctively presumed this lock may have been made in Aligarh, UP. This is because in all the scattered memories I have of Sheel and Link padlocks from my childhood and Alba locks (very specifically!) in IITM, somewhere in the details of 7-lever, 6-lever and 5-lever is also the consistent appearance of the inscribed text, Aligarh (U.P.), parentheses and all. I just checked on the net, and yes, there is an unnatural concentration of lock-makers in Aligarh. Why, even the All India Lock Manufacturers Association is based there! Some other time, I’m going to research the history of that fact a bit. As for the actual door lock I’m speaking of, I have no way of telling if it was made in Aligarh or not. Maybe their expertise is only in padlocks, which, given their greater popularity in India, is enough reason to base the whole association there! Who’s to know?

The problem wasn’t with the lock itself, but with the bolt above it that’s supposed to spring into the hole in the door frame by itself when the door shuts, and retract when  the latch turns. That, of course, is simple enough, and it was no challenge to set that right. However,  when I opened the whole assembly, the lock mechanism caught my eye and I was rather surprised to see how differently it works from how I had imagined.

In moments when I had half-heartedly pondered the working of locks in the past, I arrived at some intuitive approximation to what I now more formally know are called pin and tumbler locks where pins line up on a shear line to allow the cam to turn. I also know now that I had not earlier accounted for the extra pin (or extra two, if there is a master key) that sits above (or below, and I shall get to that in a minute) each pin to prevent turning when there is no key or when there is a key that just lets all pins fall below (or above) the shear line or one that pushes up (or down) all pins over the shear line. It will help to see this howstuffworks page (and the rest in the series) to get an idea of what I’m talking about. Having seen this page, the difference between the orientation of locks in the US and India struck me, and I’m quick to add the parenthetical alternative now when I describe it. The howstuffworks page, understandably, assumes the key is inserted with the notches facing up, as in the US. What I’ve added in speaks for the locks in India.

The problem with those moments of pondering, of course, was that I allowed myself to be satisfied with one explanation and never thought again about the rich variety of locks we have. The lever based padlocks that are common in India are actually pretty different (as of course, are the keys) and the one inside my door lock was lever based as well. There doesn’t appear to be a howstuffworks page on these locks, so I urge everyone reading this to go off on the journey of discovery for themselves and join me in my realm of the micro-incrementally enlightened. I certainly have no intention of spoiling it for you.

With that near-spiritual awakening now behind me, I sought to learn as much about the different locks I have seen as I can - beginning with those most confounding combination locks that I have only seen for real in the US in locker rooms (and in movies and the like on safes). I’m embarrassed to say I had no clue, until now, how to even use those things, far less how they worked. I always thought they were like miniature egg timers. I never asked. It’s odd enough being the locker-room-cultural misfit that kept a towel on. I had no intention of adding ignorance about the locks to that!

How many of you remember the program Surabhi (made and co-hosted by Siddharth Kak) from many many years ago, telecast Sunday nights on Doordarshan? This was the program that made Renuka Shahane a household name, that was (along with Girish Karnad’s Turning Point) the paragon of wholesome educational Doordarshan programming that almost everyone has forgotten once existed. It was probably the first TV programme to have computer generated animation in the opening sequence (of a scene of a temple and a classical dancer which the camera panned and dollied happily about!). And it was the program that is single-handedly responsible for the introduction of the competition postcard, although the fad is itself more than dead now.

For those too young to know, there was a time TV programmes (starting with Surabhi in the early 90’s) had little quizzes or lucky draws, where the audience were supposed to snail-mail their entries on a postcard. This started to seriously hurt the postal service, which at the time sold yellow postcards at a heavily subsidised 15 paise each, primarily for the rural poor. To counter its abuse by people clearly rich enough to own a TV set, the blue 2-rupee competition postcard was introduced. All TV programmes were instructed to insist that entries be sent only on these blue postcards. Needless to say, there is now email and specially overcharged SMS serving the same purpose.

Back to Surabhi. Every week, at the end of the show, there was a question that related somehow to the features shown. The features themselves were usually on the arts or crafts or cultures of some little corner of India, and made for an excellent (like you wouldn’t believe) one hour. After the week’s question was asked, the postcards with correct answers to the previous week’s question were put in a huge pile on the floor and a few lucky winners would be drawn by the two hosts as well as by some kids who were brought on the show just for this purpose (and subjected to the usual What’s your name beta? Which class are you studying in? and the like). Most of the postcards were yellow, as I believe Surabhi had just about gone off air when the competition postcard was introduced. Some of the senders had been clever enough to decorate their postcards to catch the kids’ attention.

So much for that whole prologue. What I’m getting to is the one time there was no big pile. There was one episode in which the previous week’s question received precisely one correct answer. The question, relating, doubtless, to some ancient local craft, involved Siddharth Kak holding a fancy old handmade (and rather exquisite looking) lock and asking how it was supposed to be unlocked. Even in the absence of the explicit barring of so and so and their family and friends from participation, the entire nation had coughed up precisely one person who knew. I still remember the incredibly neat diagram that was on the back of the winning postcard. This was just the guy who knew how to unlock it. It scares me to think of the designer.

This was strangely appropriate, as I happen to personally regard cryptography and network security to be among the most significant mathematically grounded and intellectually stimulating fields of study in Computer Science. Evidently, then, security with moving parts is just as much the reserve of the brightest minds around.

At the end of it all I feel so very enriched by the collective ingenuity of civilisations of the world. I see the roots of our current non-moving-parts engineering wisdom in what they made with moving parts (and no less wisdom by any means) hundreds of years ago. I know this thing with locks is not a fascination that will die any time soon. Neither will it, I assure you, be subverted into non-constructive lock-picking!

Windows Live Writer

June 19th, 2007

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It works! And it isn’t half bad!

For those who’ve been keeping track, this is the second thing I’ve changed about my website or blog on account of working at Microsoft. I don’t usually consider myself under any sort of moral compulsion to eat the dog food, drink the kool-aid, or just plain self-host in my personal life. But today, though I had earlier resisted the change even when I saw a rather compelling need to depart from managing my blog entirely from the browser, curiosity got the better of me, and here I finally am, embracing a product that I’m happy to say Microsoft got right.

If you’re wondering, the first time was when I migrated search within my website over to Windows Live Search. Other than the bonus of allowing me to search just my site, rather than the whole domain (consequently my brother’s site as well) as I was forced to with Google, I find it perfectly equivalent for the rather modest purpose I give it.

Windows Live Writer is the desktop blogging software that, to me, captures perfectly where Microsoft is today: straddling the comfort of its place on the desktop and the uncertainty of its place on the web. In beta, and rightly so, for that’s where we are, on the transition to a new balance.

I’ll say no more today, for I’m scarcely even in alpha myself, where finding a voice in the technical blogosphere is concerned, but having stuck my head out even this one time, I’m hoping I’ll find the inclination, or at least an obligation, to return.

One Side of Diversity

June 16th, 2007

Borne from thoughts that have long been bubbling in the swamps of my mind and which were persuaded into more consideration by a conversation today, this entry is about diversity and the importance of its representation as a notion, even an ideal. Outside of the objectivity I hope to maintain throughout this entry, I feel rather strongly about these matters - a fact some of my friends and colleagues will quite willingly attest to.

Ever noticed the emerging New Urban Indian stereotype in the advertisements on national TV? Ever given thought to the names, surnames, settings, vernacular forms of addressing elders, or where applicable, the good old traditions this urban Indian still proudly embraces? How many of them even attempt to acknowledge the existence of the cultures of South India, unless in distasteful caricature? If you press me, I remember one - a Bru filter coffee ad many many years ago, whose choice was obvious given who drank all the coffee in India before globalism made it cool. But what’re the odds anyone else does?

It’s pointless to speak of Hindi films because, even if they are the most widely watched Indian films in India and the world, they are as inadequate a national medium as can be. In fact, they do a particularly terrible job of representing even the Hindi-speaking population of India. So in the paragraph or two that it takes to dismiss it, let me throw the dog a bone. How many mainstream movies with contemporary settings can you think of that, when they are not set in a fictitious village called Ramgarh or Sundar Bhanpur, are set in any city other than Bombay? In recent times, of course, there have been countless films set abroad, but I’m not going there. And there have been, much to my relief, a fair number set in Delhi too. But other than that - Lucknow? Patna? Bhopal? Take your pick. Practically none, in the many decades of the industry.

A lot of North Indians wonder why people in the south are such mind-numbingly insane fans of their favourite actors. I have always only told them one thing: all Hindi movies are set in Bombay, making them distant and inaccessible at a very fundamental level to the larger part of their audience. The South Indians, though, all have their local heroes, and identify a great deal more with them. Most Hindi films, on the other hand, glorify extremely rich Punjabis who live in Bombay or London but whose hearts throb for that little state’s five rivers and its green fields and the elderly mothers nestled therein. Does that difference alone explain away the insanity of the Rajnikanth or Chiranjeevi or Rajkumar fan? Well, perhaps not, but what the heck, I tried!

But I digress. This discussion began not being about film, but about TV advertisements, since they pretend to cater to a national audience. The most ready justification of course, is that the north is where a good deal of the market is. And that, almost entirely by itself, closes the argument as soon as it had begun. But I question the need to just accept that as it is. What follows is a partial statement of the problem.

This is mostly unspoken but there is tremendous friction between North and South Indians everywhere. I’ve seen it in college and at work. It’s avoidable, however, as it stems largely from ignorance. This is in fact a two-way problem, for South Indians are nearly as ignorant about the north as North Indians are about the south - a lot of South Indians think all Punjabis are Sikh, for instance; a lot of South Indians have unnecessary prejudices about what transactions it is or is not advisable to conduct with people from which North Indian state. I cheerfully absolve myself of any such ignorance and prejudice, however, and move on back to the argument. Indeed, this is a two-way problem, but I shall focus today on one side as I have seen it a lot more, and find it a good deal more worrying. Everyone in the south receives more than their fair share of exposure to the north through the so called national media and the national language, so that is clearly not the side I’m focusing on.

One commonly repeated rant is that North Indians consider all South Indians to be Madrasis. When they do realise that Madrasi is not a language, they correct themselves, say Tamil, and go on to as cheerfully ignore the other three states and languages as they did before. This is manifest equally in the distasteful caricatures of Tamilians that movies and TV series are loaded with as in misguided attempts by television networks to introduce Tamil programming or channels in order to “cater to the South Indian market.” Do all these reluctant south-appeasers lack the basic resources that tell them Telugu is the second most widely spoken language in India, or that it is the language in which most movies are made in India every year? Incidentally, my picking Telugu here has nothing to do with the fact that it’s my language - it just happens to lend itself to the facts in this case.

Claims that “all South Indians are called Madrasi” are more correctly dated circa 1980, when the Southern capitals were all sleepy little towns too far from Delhi and Bombay to be accounted for. That may indeed be excusable, as historically, the south has been rather removed from the action in India - from foreign invasions, from the full ferocity of the independence struggle (it is known that many among the west-looking South Indian intelligentsia quite preferred British rule), and from giving a damn about Pakistan and Kashmir. However, its artifacts still remain today, even when the same capitals are the face of the new Indian economy, and even when everyone knows about Chandrababu Naidu. You would think that change would translate to more exposure, more awareness, and with it more acceptance. Yet, I look around and see a lot of the same us-versus-them attitudes today.

A depressingly large number of North Indians who have relocated to the south (well, obviously, that’s where the new brand of action is these days) cannot name the 4 southern states or languages (That practically nobody can name all 7 north-eastern states is a story for another day). Neither do they even know the name of the language spoken in their host state. They still come down here with obstinately held prejudices such as “South Indians/Madrasis are rude. They don’t speak Hindi. You only get sambar and rice to eat.” Not even the enormous body of evidence wildly to the contrary, as one may find in Hyderabad, for instance (especially of the Hindi-speaking bit), is sufficient to undo that. They are still consumed by inherited notions about the food, the people and the places. Even when they mean to speak about one city, they generalise to the entire South, and compare it with their own corners of the North, which, somehow, in the reverse process for everyone in a 200 kilometre radius of the capital, is very conveniently New Delhi.

But the important thing to note is that the same people who compare the heck out of the South Indian cities feel no such obligation to obsessively compare and complain about any other cities in the north, even where they must knowingly accept significantly lower standards of life than in Delhi or Bombay or even Bangalore, Madras or Hyderabad. Even more puzzlingly, most desist entirely from acknowledging the positive differences, or for that matter, even seeing differences as differences rather than as failures at replicating what they believe is the national standard. Instead, they cling to their original ideas as infallible truths, preferring to disregard or distort evidence where it disagrees with them. But then, that is how it works - it wouldn’t be prejudice if it was flexible about revision. So it’s not the notions I care about eliminating, it is the absence of exposure that could dispel the prejudices which, if I should descend into discussing the evolutionary benefits of xenophobia, it is only in human nature to foster.

Back to the bigger point, now. I must reiterate, though, before I continue, that I fully acknowledge that this problem works both ways, but choose to focus on one side as South Indians more quietly adjust in the north than the other way around. South Indian inflexibility, where it exists, is seldom grounded in the deluded notion that their way is the standard way. How could it be? Anyway, really, moving on!

This kind of friction is not new to other parts of the world. I believe, however, that in some places, diversity has been more tactfully handled. I can only speak for America, of course, but frankly, I believe that it is really the only place in the world that is uniformly across its length and breadth (and not, unlike other countries, just in its single largest city) comparably plural to India. While in India the plurality is mostly linguistic, in America, it is mostly ethnic (especially as the attendant linguistic differences vanish within one generation). There are all sorts of us-versus-thems over there, and in fact, because of the racial differences, more visibly obvious ones at that. I must acknowledge that the southern United States do in a sense feel equally neglected in America’s national media (again, unless in caricature) as perhaps South Indians do. But that is beside the point.

I do believe, vacuous as the attempt might be, there is at least the impression of diversity in American advertisements. Sure, the largest part of the market is white American, but that does not stop them from working in the “token black guy” or the “token asian girl”. Incidentally, I quite disapprove of clubbing the Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Vietnamese, Thai and Filipino all together as Asians. Having said the defining boundaries in America are racial and not linguistic, I can argue that the East Asians get their representation, and the distinction of South East Asians gets a tad neglected. But that too, as was a microcultural difference between the whites of the northern and southern United States, is beside the point, and subordinate to the larger racial distinction that does get through.

So does this token representation ease racial tensions? Perhaps not. But I believe it does, in its own little way, create awareness and acceptance, while at the same time, at least partially appeasing the Asians and the African-Americans. For the record, I have in my time only seen one national-TV advertisement in the US featuring an Indian, and yes, it was a distasteful caricature (it was an incredibly asinine ad, even by American standards, for Dairy Queen, if I remember correctly).

Even direct marketing and internal publicity campaigns go that extra mile just to appear diverse. Even at Microsoft, an extremely diverse company in every sense of the word, it is joked that the posters are a lot more diverse than the company itself.

Even more briefly than I brought up Hindi films, I must mention that though the vast majority of Hollywood movies are set in New York City and LA and a larger majority of TV series are set in New York City (again, a yet larger majority of which are shot in front of a live audience in a sound stage in LA!), the others: Chicago, San Franciso, Washington DC, Boston, Philadelphia, Seattle, all have their occasional representation.

My idea, of course, was not as much to dwell on the details of how America does it. So I’ll return to India and suggest that a little diversity in our ads, given that they are supposed to depict the New Urban Indian, would not make them much the worse for reflecting at least some of the cosmopolitan truth that our cities are today made of. Will the whole North Indian market really collectively reject a product that dares offer some of that modern urban imagery to the South Indian to share, when the reality is that they share practically all other spaces in their urban lifestyle with them?

The Fevikwik ad that had the snooty westernised North Indian recreational angler with all his equipment beaten to 4 fish (remember onnu, rennu, moonu, naalu?) by a primitive Tamilian fisherman (but, for some reason, unless in my overenthusiasm to make a point I remember this completely wrong, depicted as the stereotypical Tamil Brahmin-type whose reason to catch fish totally escapes me!) with his fevikwik was widely hailed as brilliant. Sure, it was meant to be funny, and I wouldn’t take the depictions too seriously, but would a reversal of roles and stereotypes offend just because it no longer complied with accepted stereotypical humour? Who decides which way it is or isn’t ok to depict a North or South Indian? Even if our market really possesses the ability and maturity to accept variations on those unwritten rules, would the content creators in our media ever believe it?

The fact that they don’t should seem particularly tragic given how many South Indians there are to reckon with in the media in creative or editorial roles - be it advertising, the press or TV production. One must credit the youth/music channels with being a little forward in this regard. Back when MTV and Channel V were new in India and catered primarily to westernised youth, a considerably large number of their production staff were from the creative profession and many had southern connections. Not just behind-the-scenes, but among VJs, when native Hindi fluency was not a requirement as it seems to be today, South Indian representation was rather high. Since it was known that a proportionately larger audience for western music lived down south (a fact confirmed beyond doubt by the unfailing choice of all bands performing in India, albeit at the end of their careers, of Bangalore as the sole venue), the southern sensibility was anything but neglected.

Even as the two major western music channels gradually went the Hindi route, they remain, till date, the only channels still concerned about the south. One must exclusively credit Channel V with the introduction of the Malayalee into the national consciousness via Lola Kutty. Some love her and some (mostly Mallus) hate her for precisely the same reason, but for certain, the only reason she is a success is because she takes the stereotype of the Mallu (as was known only in the rest of the South before) and, through the same exaggeration earlier reserved for Tamilian spoofs, squeezes the last drop out of it. Would audiences be as fond of a different portrayal of the South? Is it the privilege of only the stereotypical Bengali to be scholarly and intellectual and communist and art-filmy?

Moving away from stereotypes and back to just the issue of representation, an interesting article by Rajdeep Sardesai of CNN-IBN (formerly of NDTV) confirms my suspicions about the reason behind (what I personally applaud as) a welcome change in programming to accommodate the south:

Think about it… more than 60 per cent of the English-speaking audience for television news channels is south of the Vindhyas (at least that’s what the television audience meter ratings tell us). Yet, more than 75 per cent of the news reporting on television is confined to the metros of Mumbai and Delhi according to a survey conducted by a research group. It’s a dichotomy that is embarrassing.

Not just CNN-IBN and NDTV but also India Today, The Week and Outlook (magically all simultaneously awakening to an equivalent statistic in readership) have their unimaginatively alliterated Simply Souths and Southern Spices or some such. While I welcome the initiative, I have just one bone to pick with it - these supplements are telecast or distributed only in the south, while the northern editions continue to carry the same north-centric focus. Awareness and acceptance will only result if the north also sits up and watches and reads along. How else are prejudices and jaundiced opinions to be corrected? How else are they to know that not all South Indians speak Tamil (not Madrasi), not all butcher the Hindi language in a horrendous Mehmood-esque accent, and not all of them wear lungis and have moustaches? How are they to know that South Indian states are more progressive in governance, more literate, have less crime and have better social indicators, especially where women are concerned? How is the balance that informed opinions create going to be achieved?

By inserting South Indianisms into the national consciousness, along with North-Eastisms, Biharisms, Oriyaisms, Gujjuisms, Ghatiisms, Bongisms, and every other -ism that it takes to make this wonderful large country. And by compelling you and me to watch. Provided, of course, you’re not overempowered by the veto of the remote.

The Puppy Unforgotten

June 4th, 2007

Without even the slightest apologetic explanation for how long it’s been since I last posted, I abruptly resurface here to post, as I have in the past, a poem that speaks little of my life in the present, but which merits a presence here simply because I wrote it and it stands a far better chance of being read here than at its final resting place on the Written Works section of my website. This one treads difficult but long overdue ground. Written as an assignment, with even a predetermined title if you please, this is my first, and perhaps last, attempt at writing that poem for Silvi which was always expected of me but which I knew would take long after she died to realise. For the uninitiated, Silvi was our dog, the fifth of the family, our first pet (and how wonderful she was precludes, in my parents’ eyes, the possibility that we will ever have another). Based on simple back calculations (I now presume) using dates and numbers clearly presented in the poem, she was retro-assigned the convenient birthday of September 15th, 1988 by Nanna. Less conveniently, she died on the 17th of May, 1999. More than eight years later, I finally found the one moment to latch on to and write about - the single headline time, as you shall read. This poem has somewhat deliberately mixed the voice of a 5 year old (which is what I was when we got her) with that of a 16 year old (which I was when she died). It should be a simpler and more innocent read than most of my others.

Not long long ago nor far far away,
I remember it like it was here and yesterday.
November the first, nineteen eighty eight,
In the year of their lord, in an empty Begumpet.

The youngest of the litter was six weeks old,
The last one to go but the prettiest, I’m told.
As many weeks old as she was inches in height,
And as many grades deep an immaculate white.

A wet black nose and two lovely black eyes,
Two pink little ears heard her parents’ muffled cries.
Four little paws held her puzzled where she stood,
She’d run back to her mother, if only they would.

The servant boy reluctantly pushed her our way,
Powerless, she toddled, and first learnt to obey.
Four little paws settled down in Amma’s palm,
Eight adoring eyes she now saw meant no harm.

Laid out on a cloth that night, in her first ever bed,
Were some of my toys, though at first I had said,
They were mine and I wouldn’t hear the least of keeping them there,
Till Nanna said she was my sister, and they were hers too to share.

More effective persuasion I rarely since have heard,
And in protest I’ve rarely since even dreamed a single word,
As Maria became Silivas became Silvi and grew,
Out of cars and houses, and even points of view.

Seven times the quicker she grew but without age,
Without ever a litter of seven, or even one, in her image.
There was to be only one like her, gone seven times too soon,
But in my eyes that seven times outlived even the moon.

The memories are too numerous to recount to crippling rhyme,
So this is what I choose to be the single headline time.
The day a puppy sniffed her way into a family of four,
To the bottoms of our hearts and of the garden floor.