By Vidya Pradhan and Ram Badrinathan Imagine under a clear moonlit night, in the midst of a dense jungle, the silence that pervades the darkness is nudged with an alaap in raag Chandrakauns. As the shrutis (notes) ascend the higher octaves, the jungle opens up to the strains of the tanpura and to the musical expression of Dhrupad. The music is rendered Baithak style with only candle light and unplugged: one of the rare moments in modern India where the sangeetkar (musician), vatavaran (environment) and the shrota (discerning listener) are connected deeply. There are no barriers such as time limits, poor audio equipment and other contemporary concert baggage. The artiste is free to share his music as long as his spirit and body allows him.

By Geeta Padmanabhan Traditional cricket: five leisurely days (just days), white flannels, elegant shots, polite applause to copybook boundaries, verbal exchanges well within the parliamentary side of language, compliance to a flesh-and-blood umpire’s decision. Think David Gower. Or the great Sobers. Radical cricket aka Indian Premier League’s 20T: evening & night shows, designer clothes, shots - over, above, across, beyond anything around the stadium (Elegant? What is it? Copybook? Which one?), verbal spats, fines, suspensions, sledging as an art form, electronic umpires, mind-boggling statistics and analyses, computer graphics, slick promos, glitz, movie glamour, cheerleaders, on-field commentary (yes, Parthiv Patel and De Villiers answered questions even as they were fielding, and controversies one-a-day. Shock and awe for some. But for a nation thirsting for instant gratification, the IPL tournament is a perfect sun-downer.

By Vidya Pradhan There was a time when movies from Yash Raj Films(YRF) were the most anticipated events of the summer. Tight scripts, sharp dialogues and crisp visuals were wrapped in a tasty confection decorated with chaste but gorgeous white-clad heroines and Swiss locales. YRF has been responsible for mainstream classics like Deewar and Trishul but lately, the prestigious banner seems to have gone into a prolonged slump. I can almost pinpoint the beginning of the decline. The year was 1995, and young Aditya Chopra has just helmed one of the biggest Bollywood hits of all time, Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge. Thrilled by the success of DDLJ, the elder Chopra passed the baton, content to direct the occasional movie under what was now, for all practical purposes, his son’s production house.