मेघदूत: "नीचैर्गच्छत्युपरि च दशा चक्रनेमिक्रमेण"

समर्थ शिष्या अक्का : "स्वामीच्या कृपाप्रसादे हे सर्व नश्वर आहे असे समजले. पण या नश्वरात तमाशा बहुत आहे."

G C Lichtenberg: “It is as if our languages were confounded: when we want a thought, they bring us a word; when we ask for a word, they give us a dash; and when we expect a dash, there comes a piece of bawdy.”

Friedrich Nietzsche: “Everybody wants the same, everybody is the same: whoever feels different goes voluntarily into a madhouse.”

Martin Amis: “Gogol is funny, Tolstoy in his merciless clarity is funny, and Dostoyevsky, funnily enough, is very funny indeed; moreover, the final generation of Russian literature, before it was destroyed by Lenin and Stalin, remained emphatically comic — Bunin, Bely, Bulgakov, Zamyatin. The novel is comic because life is comic (until the inevitable tragedy of the fifth act);...”

सदानंद रेगे:
"... पण तुकारामाची गाथा ज्या धुंदीनं आजपर्यंत वाचली जात होती ती धुंदी माझ्याकडे नाहीय. ती मला येऊच शकत नाही याचं कारण स्वभावतःच मी नास्तिक आहे."
".. त्यामुळं आपण त्या दारिद्र्याच्या अनुभवापलीकडे जाऊच शकत नाही. तुम्ही जर अलीकडची सगळी पुस्तके पाहिलीत...तर त्यांच्यामध्ये त्याच्याखेरीज दुसरं काही नाहीच आहे. म्हणजे माणसांच्या नात्यानात्यांतील जी सूक्ष्मता आहे ती क्वचित चितारलेली तुम्हाला दिसेल. कारण हा जो अनुभव आहे... आपले जे अनुभव आहेत ते ढोबळ प्रकारचे आहेत....."

John Gray: "Unlike Schopenhauer, who lamented the human lot, Leopardi believed that the best response to life is laughter. What fascinated Schopenhauer, along with many later writers, was Leopardi’s insistence that illusion is necessary to human happiness."

Justin E.H. Smith: “One should of course take seriously serious efforts to improve society. But when these efforts fail, in whole or in part, it is only humor that offers redemption. So far, human expectations have always been strained, and have always come, give or take a bit, to nothing. In this respect reality itself has the form of a joke, and humor the force of truth.”

विलास सारंग: "… . . 1000 नंतर ज्या प्रकारची संस्कृती रुढ झाली , त्यामध्ये साधारणत्व विश्वात्मकता हे गुण प्राय: लुप्त झाले...आपली संस्कृती अकाली विश्वात्मक साधारणतेला मुकली आहे."

Thursday, August 30, 2018

चिं वि जोशी, वाघिणीचे दूध प्यालेले शास्त्रीबुवा, आणि गृहकलह,...C V Joshi and Vishnushastri Chiplunkar

Anton Chekhov:

“Any idiot can face a crisis - it's day to day living that wears you out.”

गृहकलहांनी मोठमोठ्या सम्राटांपासून माहात्म्यांपर्यंत सर्वांना  नमवल आहे.

वाङ्मय शोभाचे संपादक केळकर आणि चिं वि जोशी या दोघांचे अभिनंदन यासाठी की त्यांनी हे पत्र वाङ्मय शोभाच्या जानेवारी १९५५च्या अंकात मोठ्या दिमागाने छापले आहे.

पत्र वाचून वाईट वाटले. पत्रानंतर शास्त्रीबुवा ४वर्षे सुद्धा जगले नाहीत. अवघ्या ३१व्या वर्षी ते वारले.

पण मी विष्णुशास्त्रींची इंग्लीश भाषा वाचून फार खूष झालो. १४० वर्षानंतर सुद्धा त्यांची भाषा जुनाट वाटत नाहीये. खरच वाघिणीचे दूध शास्त्रीबुवांनी पचवले होते.

त्यातील हे वाक्य पहा:
"... I could beard defiantly a thousand Kuntes and Chatfields before I could safely reply by one harsh word in a torrent of household invective..."

एवढ मन मोठ करण किती २७वर्षांच्या उच्च शिक्षित तरुणांना १९व्या शतकात जमत असेल, आज जमत?

 सौजन्य : चिं वि जोशींच्या साहित्याचे कॉपीराईट होल्डर्स, वाङ्मय शोभा, बुकगंगा.कॉम

Sunday, August 26, 2018

बेसिल डी'ऑलिव्हिएरा महाराष्ट्र टाइम्स च्या पहिल्या आणि शेवटच्या पानांवर....Basil D’Oliveira in Maharashtra Times

Matthew Engel, The Guardian, August 23 2018:

“....D’Oliveira was born in South Africa, in the mixed-race “Cape Coloured” community, confined under the apartheid system of racial segregation to playing only on the rutted tracks of the ghettoes....
On 23 August 1968 Basil D’Oliveira scored 158 at the Oval against Australia, an innings that won the Test, drew the series and made him, so we thought, a certainty for the South Africa tour that winter. Four days later the panel met to choose the touring party. The names were announced on the radio next day. The alphabetical list went straight from Cowdrey to Edrich. It took D’Oliveira a moment to grasp what that meant. It was the lowest point of an astonishing journey.....
England did not play them again until 1994 and in the meantime the sporting boycott proved a major factor in throttling white rule....”

बेसिल डी'ऑलिव्हिएरा हे प्राथमिक शाळेतल्या मला १९६७पासून माहित होते- दोन कारणांसाठी:

१. त्यांचे डबल बॅरेल नाव:  नाव, वडिलांचे नाव, आडनाव नुकतच सांगायला शिकलेल्या, इंग्लिश न येत असलेल्या मला आडनाव दोन भागात असणे हे लक्षात राहण्यासारखे होते.
२. त्यांनी १९६७च्या भारताच्या इंग्लंड दौऱ्यात पहिल्याच कसोटी सामन्यात काढलेले शतक. त्याशिवाय १९६७साली ते विस्डेनचे वर्षाचे क्रिकेटर सुद्धा झाले होते.

ह्या सगळ्यामुळे मला वाटतय की टेस्ट क्रिकेट फॉलो करणाऱ्या भारतीयांना ते १९६७ साली अगदी परिचित झाले असावेत.

पण अजून जात, धर्म म्हणजे काय हे सुद्धा माहित नसलेल्या ८वर्षाच्या मला १९६८साली त्यांच्या संबंधाने जो त्यांच्या वर्णावरून जगभर गदारोळ झाला तो समजलाच नव्हता! तो वडिलांनी समजावून सांगायचा प्रयत्न केला. पण एक गोष्ट नक्की: त्यांचे नाव, महाराष्ट्र टाइम्स च्या पहिल्या आणि शेवटच्या पानांवर (त्याकाळात पेपर मध्ये खूप कमी पाने असत) त्यावर्षी आले.  (मला नक्की आठवत नाही पण त्यांचे नाव बहुदा मराठी मध्ये कधी कधी डॉलिव्हिएरा असे लिहिले जात असावे.)

त्यानंतर गेल्या पन्नास वर्षात क्रिकेट वरून राजकारणाच्या पुष्कळ बातम्या पहिल्या पानावर आल्या, पण माझ्या आयुष्यातील, इतिहासाला थोडीफार कलाटणी देणारी, क्रिकेट संबंधातील घटना फक्त बेसिल डी'ऑलिव्हिएरा प्रकरणाचीच. 

आणखी एक गोष्ट,  त्यावेळी जरी नीट समजली नसली तरी ब्रिटन बद्दल चांगल वाटाव अशी ही माझ्या आयुष्यातील पहिली गोष्ट होती. कसलाही स्वार्थ न पाहता, realpolitik दुर्लक्षून केवळ तत्वासाठी इंग्लंडने जगाचे राजकारण ढवळून टाकले होते. 

D’Oliveira, the Oval against Australia, 1968

Photograph: Keystone/Getty Images

Thursday, August 23, 2018

World's Most Liveable City.....Stefan Zweig's Lost Vienna


"Vienna has ended Melbourne’s seven-year reign as the world’s most liveable city, according to the Economist Intelligence Unit.

The Austrian capital scored a near perfect score of 99.1 out of 100 in the index, whose criteria include stability, healthcare and the environment....”

When I read the above, I thought of Stefan Zweig's book....एकेकाळी Stefan Zweig हे जगातील एक प्रचंड लोकप्रिय लेखक होते.

तसेच ते मराठी लेखकांचे अतिशय आवडते लेखक होते...ज्यावेळी दि. वसंत सरवटेंशी बोलताना मी त्यांना सांगितले की माझ्या वडिलांनी एक-दोन Zweig यांची पुस्तके मराठीत अनुवादिली आहेत त्यावेळी त्यांनी मला ही माहिती दिली... बहुतेक दि. वि स खांडेकरांनी सुद्धा Zweig यांचे पुस्तक अनुवादले आहे... जी ए कुलकर्णी यांच्या पत्रात Zweig यांचा उल्लेख आहे... 

मधल्या काळात मात्र Zweig मागे पडले... सध्या पुन्हा ते लोकप्रिय झाले आहेत... त्यांच्या जीवनावर एक सिनेमा सुद्धा निघाला "Stefan Zweig: Farewell to Europe", २०१६...

त्यांच्या Messages from a Lost World मध्ये जे व्हिएन्नाचे वर्णन आहे ते एखाद्या झपाटलेल्या माणसाने बोलत, बोलत दम लागून खाली पडावे तसे केले आहे ... असे एखाद्या शहराचे वर्णन , असे स्मरणरंजन मी तरी कुठे वाचलेले नाही... ते वाचल्यावर मला हेवा वाटला - शहराचा, त्या शहरवासीयाचा....  आणि किंचित वाईट वाटले की माझ्या आयुष्यात भारतातील असे शहर कोठे नजरेला पडले नाही याचा आणि मी माझ्या आयुष्यात आलेल्या अनेक शहरांचे असे झपाटून वर्णन करू शकलेलो नाही याचा.... 

Stefan Zweig, 'Messages from a Lost World: Europe on the Brink':

"....Composed of so many diverse elements, Vienna was the ideal breeding ground for a communal culture. Foreigner did not mean foe and what came from beyond the borders was not haughtily dismissed as anti-national, non-German, non-Austrian, but sought out and venerated. All outside stimulus was welcomed and this evolved into the characteristic Viennese colour we know so well. This city and its people may like any other have its faults, but Vienna has had the advantage of not being arrogant, of not trying to foist its mores or world-dictatorial mindset on others. The Viennese culture was not a conquering one and this is why each new guest is so easily won over by her. To mix these disparate elements and create this perpetual harmonization has been the true genius of the city. That is why in Vienna there is always the sense of living in a world dominion and not being closed in by any single language, race, nation or idea. At every moment one is reminded of being at the heart of a supranational empire. It’s enough to read off the names on the shop signs: one has an Italian tone, a second Czech and a third Hungarian, and there are even special signs stating that French and English are spoken here. A foreigner without German is never lost. Everywhere one feels, through the local national dress worn so freely and openly, the rich-coloured presence of neighbouring countries. You would see the Hungarian Imperial guards with their back-swords and fur trimmings, the nurses from Bohemia in their colourful dresses, the peasants of Transylvania with their blouses and embroidered bonnets, just like those they wore in their village on Sundays when they went to church, Bosnian peddlers in short trousers and red fezzes who went from house to house selling Tschibuk pipes and daggers, the mountain folk with bare knees and feathered hats, the Galician Jews with their curled braids and long kaftans, the Ruthenians with their sheepskins, the vintners in their blue aprons, and at the centre of this world, as a symbol of unity, the multicoloured uniforms of the soldier and the cassocks of the Catholic priest. All wore the national costume of their homeland as if Vienna itself were that homeland. All had the same feeling, that this was their home, their metropolis; they were not foreigners and never considered themselves as such. The old Viennese scoffed at them in a good-humoured fashion, in popular songs there was often a couplet about the Czechs, the Hungarians and the Jews, but it was always a well-meaning mockery, as that between brothers. They never hated, for it was not in the Viennese mentality to do so….

…..Exaggeration, you will say, an absurd exaggeration! And that’s what we too think sometimes about this delirious enthusiasm of the Viennese for music and theatre. Yes, I know it is sometimes absurd. For example, when the Viennese plucked hairs from the manes of the horses harnessed to Fanny Elssler’s coach; and I know too we have paid dearly for this fanaticism. For while the Viennese were caught up in their unbridled passion for theatre and music, the Germans were overtaking them in the domain of technology, efficiency and the more practical things of existence. But let us not forget: such overvaluing also creates values. Only where true enthusiasm for art exists does the artist feel comfortable, when so much is demanded of art. I believe there is no other city where the musician, the singer, the actor, the conductor, the director are placed under more scrutiny and constrained by a greater tension. There is not only the critique of opening night, but also an unrelenting and entrenched public critique. In Vienna, no mistake is tolerated at any concert; every performance, whether it be the twentieth or hundredth, is subjected to the same degree of lucid and penetrating critique on the part of every spectator or listener. We are accustomed to the highest levels of quality and are not willing to give an inch. This knowledge was forged in us from an early age. When I attended high school, I was one among two dozen of my classmates who never missed a performance at the Burgtheater or the Opera; being the true Viennese we were, we cared nothing for politics or political economics and we would have been ashamed to know anything about sport. Even today I can’t make out the difference between cricket and golf and the football reports in the papers might as well be written in Chinese. But at the age of fourteen or fifteen I could discern any slip or cursoriness in a production; and we knew exactly by which means this or that conductor raised the tempo. We were for or against such and such an artist; we either worshipped them or reviled them, we two dozen of our class. Imagine then these two dozen high school students multiplied by fifty schools, plus a university, a bourgeoisie, a whole city, and you may comprehend the level of tension that such an interest in all theatrical and musical works must engender, how much this untiring, relentless scrutiny must have stimulated the overall level of these musical and theatrical works. Every musician, every artist knew that no drop in standards would be tolerated in Vienna, that he had to strive to the maximum if he were to maintain his standing. This scrutiny carried into the lower stratum of the people. The regimental orchestras competed between themselves, and our army possessed—I always remember the debut of Lehár—far better conductors than generals. The little female orchestras in the Prater, the pianists in the cabaret, where they drank new wine, were all placed under this merciless scrutiny, for the quality of the orchestra was for the ordinary Viennese as important as that of the wine; the musician had to play well, otherwise he was lost, he was dismissed.
Yes, it was strange, everywhere in Vienna, in public life and morals, in the city administration, there was a good deal of nonchalance, indifference, mellowness, a sort of “sloppiness”, we used to say. But in the sphere of art no negligence was excused, no sluggishness was tolerated. It is possible that in this exaggerated passion for music, theatre, culture, Vienna, the Hapsburgs and Austria as a whole had forfeited political success. But it is this we can thank for our musical empire...."

Artist : William Crawford Galbraith, The New Yorker,  September 24 1938