- Yeppadiththaan - Nilambari
- Nee seidha dhavam
- Aparaadhamula - Lathaangi
- Baala gopaala - Bhairavi
- Ivanaaro - Kambhoji
- Bega baaro - Maand
- Lalithalavanga ( ashtapathi) - Lalitha
- Gopi gopala Lala - Gamanasmarana
- Yengal kannamma - Ragamalika
Thursday, February 28, 2008
T. N. Seshagopalan
Since many complained to me that they are finding it difficult to download through rapidshare, I have posted this through a new software. You simply click the link below, you will be able to hear the song. If you want you can download it through iTunes. If you do not have iTunes please download iTunes set up. I will be glad if you give me your feed back about your experience and also let me know which one is convenient.
Concert - Abhishek Raghuram 3rd April 2004
This is a concert by Abhishek Raghuram, grand son of Palghat R. Raghu
Anonymous said...
aravind said...
Amruthavarshini said...
vigi said...
Anonymous said...
hvaidya said...
- http://www.mediafire.com/?jzgmjfzzawm Varnam - Saami ninne - Sree
- http://www.mediafire.com/?zzvc7rhyp3sy8y6 Nenendhu - Harikambodhi
- http://www.mediafire.com/?wsatdvpk9xwc5vh Parama paavanaa - Poorvi kalyaani
- http://www.mediafire.com/?mnwwmgkniwy Nee dhaya raadhaa - Vasanthabhairavi
- http://www.mediafire.com/?idi1ky7rrim7dcl Yemayya raama - Kaambodhi
- http://www.mediafire.com/?5znmnhmjzwy Natimarachithi - Devakriya
- http://www.mediafire.com/?3hdjjnmynjd Edhuta nilachite - Sankarabaranam
- http://www.mediafire.com/?zthmrvjzizv Naaneka badavanu
- http://www.mediafire.com/?iwgyniunw3j Slokam
- http://www.mediafire.com/?nywmtxngn2j Thillaanaa
Anonymous said... aravind said...
In aAbhishek's concert,
8.# Naaneka badavanu -Purandaradasa
9.# Slokam
have been expired in rapidshare. Can u please upload again?
Thanks.
8.# Naaneka badavanu -Purandaradasa
9.# Slokam
have been expired in rapidshare. Can u please upload again?
Thanks.
Amruthavarshini said...
1 and 2 seem to have expired - could you repost? Thanks
vigi said...
Thanks for sharing. Songs 2, 3 & 9 mediashare links have expired. I am reluctant to ask you to repost since you offer so much in any case. Will send you a link if I can find & download/ buy this concert
Anonymous said...
Sir,
tracks 2, 3, 5, 9 have expired. is it possible to repost?
tracks 2, 3, 5, 9 have expired. is it possible to repost?
hvaidya said...
I have uploaded afresh the missing links
Oh God, Please! Make me women
OH GOD, Please ! Make me women
He wanted her to see what he went through. So he prayed:
" Dear Lord: I go to work every day and put in 8 hours while my wife merely stays at home.
I want her to know what I go through, so please allow her body to switch with mine for a day. Amen.
God, in his infinite wisdom, granted the man's wish.
The next morning, sure enough, the man awoke as a woman.
He arose, cooked breakfast for his mate, awakened the kids,
Set out their school clothes, fed them breakfast, packed their lunches,
Drove them to school, came home and picked up the dry cleaning, took it to the cleaners
And stopped at the bank to make a deposit, went grocery shopping,
Then drove home to put away the groceries,
Paid the bills and balanced the checkbook.
He cleaned the cat's litter box and bathed the dog.
Then it was already 1 P.M.and he hurried to make the beds,do the laundry, vacuum, dust, and sweep and mop the kitchen floor.
Ran to the school to pick up the kids and got into an argument with them on the way home.
Set out milk and cookies and got the kids organized to do their homework,
Then set up the ironing board and watched TV while he did the ironing.
At 4:30 he began peeling potatoes and washing vegetables for salad, breaded the pork chops and snapped fresh beans for supper.
After supper, he cleaned the kitchen, ran the dishwasher, folded laundry, bathed the kids, and put them to bed. At 9 P.M. He was exhausted
And, though his daily chores weren't finished, he went to bed.where he was expected to make love, which he managed to get through without complaint.
The next morning, he awoke and immediately knelt by the bed and said, Lord,
I don't know what I was thinking. Iwas so wrong to envy my wife's being able to stay home all day. Please, oh please, let us trade back."
The Lord, in his infinite wisdom, replied, "My son, I feel you have learned
Your lesson and I will be happy to change things back to the way they were.
You'll just have to wait nine months,though. You got pregnant last night."
Red Marbles
I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes.
I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprizing a basket of freshly picked green peas.
I paid for my potatoes, but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas.
I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.
'Hello Barry, how are you today?'
'H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good.'
'They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?'
'Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time.'
'Good. Anything I can help you with?'
'No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas.'
'Would you like take some home?' asked Mr. Miller.
'No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with.'
'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?'
'All I got's my prize marble here.'
'Is that right? Let me see it' said Miller.
'Here 'tis. She's a dandy.'
'I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?' the store owner asked.
'Not exactly but almost.'
"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble", Mr. Miller told the boy.
"Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller."
Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.
With a smile she said, 'There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever.
When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.'
I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man.
A short time later I moved to Colorado , but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.
Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one.
Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community, and while there, I learned that Mr. Miller had died.
They were having his visitation that evening, and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them.
Upon arrival at the mortuary, we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased, and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.
Ahead of us in line were three young men.
One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all very professional looking.
They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket.
Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket.
Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket.
Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.
Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles.
With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.
'Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim 'traded' them.
Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size....they came to pay their debt.'
'We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,' she confided, 'but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho'.
With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.
The Moral:
We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath.
Today I wish you a day of ordinary miracles ~ A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself.
An unexpected phone call from an old friend.
Green stoplights on your way to work.
The fastest line at the grocery store.
A good old sing-along song on the radio.
Your keys found right where you left them.
I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprizing a basket of freshly picked green peas.
I paid for my potatoes, but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas.
I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.
'Hello Barry, how are you today?'
'H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good.'
'They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?'
'Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time.'
'Good. Anything I can help you with?'
'No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas.'
'Would you like take some home?' asked Mr. Miller.
'No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with.'
'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?'
'All I got's my prize marble here.'
'Is that right? Let me see it' said Miller.
'Here 'tis. She's a dandy.'
'I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?' the store owner asked.
'Not exactly but almost.'
"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble", Mr. Miller told the boy.
"Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller."
Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.
With a smile she said, 'There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever.
When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.'
I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man.
A short time later I moved to Colorado , but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.
Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one.
Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community, and while there, I learned that Mr. Miller had died.
They were having his visitation that evening, and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them.
Upon arrival at the mortuary, we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased, and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.
Ahead of us in line were three young men.
One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all very professional looking.
They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket.
Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket.
Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket.
Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.
Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles.
With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.
'Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim 'traded' them.
Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size....they came to pay their debt.'
'We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,' she confided, 'but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho'.
With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.
The Moral:
We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath.
Today I wish you a day of ordinary miracles ~ A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself.
An unexpected phone call from an old friend.
Green stoplights on your way to work.
The fastest line at the grocery store.
A good old sing-along song on the radio.
Your keys found right where you left them.
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