Oh, the memory of those drunken soirées. I sometimes feel that perhaps these didn’t happen. But then, these actually happened and – lo and behold – we survived.
I was posted at the Navy’s Leadership School named Agrani in Coimbatore. I had taken leadership role in many things: stage acting and heavy drinking being two of them.
Once, my friend and senior Amarjit Bajwa and I were sent to Cochin to take part in Southern Naval Command Annual Dramatic Competition. We won the Best Play ‘Hamara Drama’ that year and I won the Best Actor award.
We returned by Bajwa’s Bullet mobike. I must mention that Bajwa used to take Enfield’s nickname quite seriously and drove as if we were shot out from a gun.
On returning in the evening, celebrations started straightway. By 9 PM all friends left and we still had a lot of beer left. Call of duty has always inspired me (one of the reasons I joined the Navy). So, Bajwa and I decided not to let the beer ‘go waste‘.
By midnight, we were quite sozzled and hence in eminently ‘fit state‘ to go for a drive like ‘role models‘ Viru and Jai in Sholay.
We landed up at the Madhukarai firing range for ‘camp inspection‘. After successfully completing this ‘urgent inspection‘, we started back.
Only, since it was dirt road, Bajwa asked me to ride as pillion after a few metres when we would come out of the rough undulated portion. I walked up to there and Bajwa must have thought I had climbed on the seat behind him. So, he took off like a bullet.
I thought he was pulling a fast one and would stop for me after sometime. So I kept walking and he kept driving.
After Bajwa drove for about ten kilometers he realised that Ravi was being very silent; which was most unusual. So he stopped the mobike and turned around to ask me what was wrong. Lo and behold, Ravi was not there. It didn’t occur to him that I hadn’t climbed on my seat at all. He thought I must have fallen. So he started back slowly, looking for me in every ditch and pothole.
Meanwhile, after initially thinking that Bajwa was pulling fast one at me, when he didn’t turn back, I assumed that he had met with an accident. So I was looking for him in every ditch and pothole.
Within about two hours, in the wee hours of the morning, we found each other. What a joy to find each other alive.
We returned to his room in Agrani and celebrated our being alive by ‘doing justice‘ to some more beer that Bajwa discovered under his bed.
Moral of the Short Story: Always keep some beer handy for occasions that life throws at you suddenly.
I was posted on the minesweeper Karwar after completing my Bridge Watchkeeping undertrainee period on the second Leander Class Frigate Himgiri. It was quite a come-down. Himgiri had the latest in radars and sensors and propulsion; whereas, Karwar took you a century behind in time. However, in the end I learnt more on Karwar than on Himgiri.
First of all, on a small ship, you are all by yourself; there ain’t Training Officers and Assistant Training Officers who pounce at you from unsuspecting quarters and at odd times. Secondly, you find yourself suddenly responsible for every action and inaction of yours. And thirdly, there is no one you can turn to in case you land in the gooey stuff.
There was another great thing about Karwar. It was similar to buying a second or third hand Yezdi and forced to learn mobike mechanics the hard way. There were problems galore in every nook and cranny and we were the one who had to find answers. And guess what? We did!
It had an open Bridge with an awning that kept us from sun, rain, winds and gales. We used to jump with collective joy when the Kelvin Hughes radar used to actually paint the land. Expecting it to pick up small boats at sea was like asking a child to journey up to the moon by his paper plane! Also, unlike on Himgiri, we didn’t have to exercise emergencies and contingencies since these used to occur at the drop of a hat.
The worst were the navigation aids. The best nav aids on board were Eye Balls Mk I. This never-fail instrument would never fail us, come hell or thunder storm. It sometimes required protection and we had one readily available: the hood of the Kelvin Hughes PPI. That hood was of no use on the radar since it never picked up anything. Hence, the hood could be used on Eye Balls Mk I for protection against rain and fierce winds.
What about the engines? Well, the diesel reciprocating engines behaved well. However, due to low speeds during minesweeping, there used to be unburnt fuel deposits in the funnel. A lot of excitement used to be caused by frequent funnel fires. But, the men knew what to do and that was a great thing. There was never any panic.
What about the gyro? I used to think that the most common use of the gyro was to give us exercises in breakdowns. After the breakdowns, if the electric people managed to get it going, it would be good enough for pointing out only cardinal directions.
With all this, if you think we were meant for minesweeping duties close to coast in Bombay only, you are mistaken. There is nary a port on the Western seaboard that Karwar didn’t sweep the approach channel to. Going to Goa and other such ports was great fun as one would do some close coastal navigation and hence lack of radar and reliable gyro didn’t stand in the way of our successfully navigating to these ports. However, ports like Porbandar used to pose huge problems since we had to cross large (by Karwar standards) swathes of sea without being in visual touch of any land. We used to feel like Christopher Columbus who had set sail to discover India but had landed in America. We had many such experiences.
Once, we were returning from Porbandar to Bombay. On the way, the weather turned bad. Continuous gales and sea kept us from resting even for a minute. The ship’s dead reckoning position put us at about 55 miles from Bombay Floating Light and then the gyro did its breakdown-act’ that it had perfected. There hadn’t been a ‘fix’ for hours and we were not sure whether we were on the right track to Bombay. Many a times, the fishermen used to help us in similar situations by pointing towards Bombay. But, that forenoon, there was not a fisherman in sight. My CO looked at me and I looked back at him and then he looked at me in despair and I looked at him in despair. He again looked at me in desperation and I was about to return to him an equivalent look when our XO Sanjiv Vasant Kulkarni walked up to the Bridge. SV had – and since I met him recently, has – world’s best smile. When God was moulding men and women, God had very kindly made him the most positive and encouragingly smiling gentleman ever. He took the scene at the Bridge in and then beamed his smile to let it become sunnier. CO and I refused to budge. We were lost at sea and beaming smiles hardly uplifted our mood. So, SV asked us as to what had happened. We told him.
SV went to the side of the Bridge, sniffed the air, looked around and like a seer called to discover water in a parched land, he suddenly pointed towards his right and said, “That’s where Bombay is.”
Totally lost as we were, we didn’t even question him and a few hours later, with his frequent pointed directions, we were at BFL (Bombay Floating Light)
I was curious to know more about this method of navigation since I had not learnt it in ND School or during my watchkeeping tenure on Himgiri. So, after we returned and sat in the wardroom nursing our Oranjebooms, I asked him to explain.
His explanation was as simple as the honest simplicity that was his hallmark: He had recently got married and his wife worked in Bank of Baroda at Cuffe Parade, Bombay. Wherever he went, he knew the precise direction to Bank of Baroda, Cuffe Parade!
I became a communicator in subsequent years. But, I often wondered why the NHQ had to spend so much of money buying navigation instruments when all they had to do was to get people married and let Beacons of Love navigate their ships.
Out of all the evolutions and exercises that the ships participate in at sea, the favourite of the Fleet Commander and his staff is Fuelling. It is because the entire Fleet is at close quarters and easy to take charge of, with beautifully concocted signals such as: “Where are you going?” and “Read back your station” and “Are you always confused like this?”. The feel of being ‘in control’ can never be achieved with the Fleet spread out and out of visual range of the boss and his staff.
Fuelling also gives the Fleet Commander a photo opp of the largest number of ships engaged at close quarters (for posterity) (as in the accompanying photo). These are also nightmares for the communicator because signals fly up and down on all circuits and by all means: Tactical Primary, hand-sets, Flag Hoist, Semaphore and Flashing Light. The only saving grace is that the Navigator is far too busy himself to laugh at “communication inefficiency” on these.
Within a year of my becoming a commissioned officer, the Indian Navy acquired INS Shakti from Germany. This was the second ship named Shakti (the third one was commissioned in 2011). As a Sub Lieutenant, I saw that within five years of the war with the Pakis, so much was the stress on fuelling and utilising Shakti, that I had visualised that in the next war, the entire Fleet, immediately after leaving harbour, would start fuelling from Shakti and the Pakis would be totally flummoxed.
We had a Fleet Commander who was so fond of fuelling that if a ship on the horizon conveyed its respect to the Fleet Commander with the customary: “Request permission to proceed as previously directed”, the Fleet Commander would immediately give her a standby station on the port or starboard of Shakti for “Token Fuelling” and allow it to go only after the act.
My Captain on Talwar, the late AR Dabir (RIP), used to detest these ‘fuelling’ serials. When you are in your fuelling station, you are just about a 100 to 120 feet away from the tanker. Even at that close distance, the entire Fleet Staff including the Fleet Commander, who would be on board the tanker during these serials, would put the binoculars, hanging around their necks, to their eyes and subject your ship to close scrutiny. My Army friends are familiar with the eyeball-to-eyeball situation at Nathula. Well, this is similar to that but much closer. And….the ‘enemy’ is you-know-who.
Signals emanating from the Fleet Commander and his staff don’t await your being hooked on for fuelling. These start with your being at the standby station, to your making approach and continue until you have ‘disengaged’ and proceeded out of the microscopic gaze of the Fleet Cdr and the staff. You feel like one of those frogs that the medical interns are taught to dissect before they (the interns, that is) can try their hands on human beings. Signals used to range from “A porthole is open”, “There is unnecessary movement on the deck”, “Your boat gripes are dirty” and “The fifth man on the haul rope is not wearing half inflated life jacket” and so on. To say that it is an endless volley of signals is not too much off the mark….it is indeed, more like a running commentary during a football match.
Captain Dabir used to smoke a lot under stress. Most of it was during fuelling when it was not permitted to do so. Once, we were connected with Shakti being on our starboard (right) and being subjected to leery gazes by the Fleet Cdr and co. A ship is a ‘she’ I often reasoned in my mind and these kind of glances would invite the provisions of some or the other section of the Indian Penal Code!
Anyway, the latest signal from the Fleet Cdr on Tactical Primary read: “You are slow like Chinese naval men.” I had no experience with Chinese naval men, but, I reckoned this was not the right time to take the signal to the Captain. So I took it from the yeoman and put it in my pocket. Little did I know that this act of mine was also being observed through the binocs. Next, I was called by FOO on PWSL, a walkie-talkie set prevalent during those days, and told that the Fleet Commander wanted that the signal be shown to the Captain immediately.
I had no choice now but to edge closer to the Captain on the Starboard wing. He looked at me and asked, “Another one?” I confirmed this to him by nodding my head. “Well” he said, “Make to Flag: Spare us your derisive ones, for heavens sake.” I dutifully wrote it down if only to give satisfaction to the microscopic gazes of our bête noire. And then I asked him what to do with the signal received from the Fleet Cdr. He said, “Do you remember what we did with his last one? Do the same.”
I came back to the Bridge (out of scrutinising gaze), threw the latest signal into the dustbin and made to Flag: Your last acknowledged.
I still remember the flourish with which Captain Dabir used to salute the Fleet Commander at the time of disengaging after the Still Pipe. The last part of the salute used to be decoded by me (communicators are good at decoding everything), “Good riddance…….for the time being at least.”
But, he never said that aloud. No point in adding fuel to the fire.
I was posted as Assistant Director in the Directorate of Tactics at Naval Headquarters, New Delhi, in the year 1987, after my sea tenure on Indian Naval Ship Ganga.
It was sweltering heat in the capital with temperatures above 40 degrees Celsius on almost everyday basis. Many of us in A Block Hutments dreamt of air-conditioning. But, I was told that air-conditioning was for Flag Officers only. For commoners like me, we only had to do mind conditioning.
Commodore Ravi Sikka joined as the Director and he was a computer whiz-kid. He was to tactics what Captain Paulraj was to technology. Indeed, the original INFI (Indian Navy Fighting Instructions) were devised by him and he was then working on complex mathematical modeling of some advanced tactics.
With that, he was perpetually on his PC. He called me one day and said that he wanted air conditioning installed in his office since his PC was getting over heated every now and then. I dished out my newly acquired knowledge of AC being permitted for Major Generals and above and equivalents only.
He said some of his friends who were Brigadiers had managed to get air-conditioners installed in their offices on the grounds of computer-work and could I visit them in Army Headquarters to study the model with the purpose of emulating it in his office.
I, therefore, dutifully set out to the office of Brigadier X. When I entered the office, I saw the Brig sitting comfortably on an executive chair behind a plush table. I noticed that the AC was on and the temperature was barely half of the outside temperature.
Curiously, to his left, on a smaller table, I saw a clerk working on a PC. Now this was quite a sight and I quickly understood that after getting the AC installed, the Brigadier saab had left the actual working of the PC to the clerk.
I was quite a moonh-phut (loud-mouth) at that time and I could not resist telling the Brigadier that a PC was supposed to be PERSONAL (and I laid due emphasis on the word) Computer.
The Brig wasn’t offended at all. He replied quite amiably in Hindi, “Yeh (pointing out to the clerk) bhi PERSONAL he hai; yeh mera PA (Personal Assistant) hai.”
You just can’t beat the Army men. They have answers for everything.
In the Part I we agreed that the Army personnel are as nice, as professional and as normal as any of us in the Navy. The one thing different or peculiar about them is the penchant to use abbreviations and acronyms in their writing.
Then there is another very peculiar thing about the army. To understand this, one has to recall ‘A Psalm of Life’ by a certain bloke called Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. HWL in this poem exhorts us to make our lives sublime. “And, departing, leave behind us, footprints on the sands of time.”
Army is convinced that spending as much time as possible with the sand shall make the lives of its personnel sublime. Hence, Army has conceived something called Sand Model and seemingly nice, professional and normal people spend quality time around it as one does around a bonfire during the North Indian festival of Lohri. There is not too much difference between Lohri and Sand Model discussions. During the former, many people sing and dance around the fire. During SMD, ditto. Perhaps the only difference is that the Lohri bonfire burns itself out in an evening; whereas, the SMD can go on and on like Tennyson’s Brook. The Army takes its poems very seriously.
I had earlier seen Sand Model discussions during the Staff Course at Wellington; and I thought I had seen it all. None of those had prepared me for SMDs at Higher Command Course in Mhow. As soon as I saw the first Sand Model in Mhow, with my PCK (Pre Course Knowledge) acquired during DSSC, I felt that on the outside chance of prolonging discussions; they may be able to carry on for about 2 – 3 hours. Little did I know that spending a week discussing the course of battle over a sand model is for them as easy as Geoff Boycott playing an entire session during a cricket test match without scoring a run. Sand Model discussions, in Mhow, are not controlled by sand glass shaped for an hour. They wet the sand and make the hour glass dispense it very slowly until it is totally poured out into the lower half in about a week’s time. On the last day, the DS wraps up the discussions by saying that certain aspects could not be discussed properly “due to paucity of time”.
Generally the area is about 50 miles by 50 miles. But, when navy officers goad them to be strategic in their outlook, they increase it to 100 by 100 miles.
The main thing of interest in a Sand Model is an arrow pointing North. Hours into the discussions, the naval officers will still be trying to sort out this all important question: Where are we? On ships, on a radar screen, they know for sure they are at the centre. But, in a sand model, you could be anywhere.
Another thing that I have discovered in SMDs is that an attack can take place from any direction. It is like the discussions on enemy courses of action in an appreciation; Course B is the most likely but A and C also can’t be ruled out. So, if two days of discussions have taken place on enemy attack from North, West and South West and you have observed a vast expense of land between South and South West over which no discussions have taken place, sooner or later some smart aleck would point out that though difficult because of the riverine area, just as it happened in 1943 in Southern France or some other unheard of country, the enemy might choose a feint from West or North and the main attack might just come from that area in the South and South West.
Great professionals who had immersed deep into their seats after saying their bit in the first two days are jolted into sitting straight in their seats with this “unexpected turn of events”. Suddenly, they look at the smart aleck as Mister Wilson used to look at Dennis and wish he would be elsewhere. However, the smart aleck, not unlike Dennis has done his innocent (?) Boy Scout act and is ostensibly oblivious of the fact that another two days of discussions would ensue due to this ‘unexpected’ development.
The staff is busy moving those curious placards indicating battalions and independent companies etc; more such words of “accretions”, “ab-initio”, “advance”, “axis”, “regroup” etc are heard.
I have often thought what would be the naval equivalent of SMDs in Naval Higher Command courses? I couldn’t come anywhere close to these. We have to, perforce, doff our caps at the Army officers for having come out with something that is so unique that there is nothing anywhere close to it that the navy has.
Sand Model Discussions are something where from the sand will never totally run out; at least for the Army.
When I was in school, we used to have any number of these small books available helping us to pass our exams without – what they promised – tears or too much of effort. These were named, just like For Dummies series, English Without Tears, Maths Without Tears and so on.
I present you here, based on my extensive observations, Annual Inspection Without Tears.
Annual Inspection of a ship is to the ship’s company (crew) what ACR is to an individual (Please also read ACR Season). It is normally divided into three parts: Harbour Inspection in which over days the Fleet Staff Officers check their respective departments for maintenance of equipment, books, drills etc; Divisions and Rounds in which the Fleet Commander checks the ship’s company for the turnout and compartments for their cleanliness and upkeep; and finally Sea Inspection for the readiness of the ship’s departments for combat.
The preparation starts as early as a month or two before. Generally, the Fleet publishes a calendar of annual inspections of ships. However, bright, upcoming COs, in case they find out that their ships are not scheduled for inspection, call on the Fleet Commander and convince him to inspect their ships. When the Fleet Commander accepts, they return to their ships, call their Heads of Departments and address them in this manner, “I don’t know what’s wrong with the Fleet Commander. I told him that we were inspected by the last Fleet Commander less than 6 months before. However, he insisted on inspecting us next month before I finally hand over command. Anyway, gentlemen, despite my best efforts to wriggle out of it, it has become a fait accompli. Fortunately, I have the best team of HODs in the Fleet and you would hold my hand, I am sure.”
And then start the frantic preparations. The Fleet Commanders generally pass instructions that no fresh paint is to be applied unless necessary. Fortunately, bright and upcoming COs having bright and upcoming XOs (Executive Officers or Second-in-Command) do find that almost the entire ship’s painting is necessary. Their reasoning goes like this that if a ship just before decommissioning can be painted, what is wrong with painting before something as important as Annual Inspection?
What should be the focus of the other preparation? Well, I can think of many significant things.
One of the most significant is to follow Sun Tzu’s advice in Art of War: “If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”
Now, you are likely to tell me that there is no war going on and there is no enemy and hence Sun Tzu is not applicable; it is only an annual inspection. That is where you err and the successful CO doesn’t. He replaces the word War with Annual Inspection and enemy with Fleet Commander and everything falls into place. If you know, and I mean really know your Fleet Commander, you will not fear the result of a hundred battles…er…annual inspections. Do your homework and find out what are the likes and dislikes of the Fleet Commander. Lets say, the Fleet Commander has suddenly taken fancy to fluorescent NBCD (Nuclear Biological Chemical Defence) stickers to be placed along the NBCD citadel in the ship, it should naturally become Priority #1 item. How to get these stickers in case these are not naval stores items? Ha, ha, haven’t you heard of the expression: Beg, Borrow, or Steal? In short, you have to become Bhutto, the PM of Pakistan after India demonstrated capability to explode nuclear devices; he said, “We will starve, we will live on grass; but we must have a nuclear devise ourselves”. And indeed, as history unfolded, they starved, they lived on grass, but they had nuclear bomb. With this kind of tenacity, he would have got ten out of ten in Annual Inspection.
An ad for recruitment in the Indian Navy acknowledges that “Attitude” is the most important attribute.
You have to make a list of all the Likes and Dislikes of the Fleet Commander and some of the influential members of his staff, eg, FOO or Fleet Operations Officer and ensure that you have answers to those.
The second step is to prepare an Annual Inspection Report. You should know that no one ever reads this voluminous report. Hence, do not waste your time getting all the facts right. It is not going to change anything. On the other hand, everything that the Fleet Commander and his staff ever conveyed to you, however insignificant it sounded, must be addressed in this report in bold or italics or highlighted. The expression that you should use over and over again is: As per Fleet Commander’s directions. For example: “As per Fleet Commander’s directions, the ship now has a full-fledged gym. Last two months’ data shows that officers and sailors alike use the gym regularly. A large percentage has also been visiting on Sundays and holidays. In the last PET (Physical Efficiency Test), conducted on 14 Mar 14, 85 percent of the ship’s company is now in Excellent grading”. You have given the credit to the Fleet Commander, where it is due, and you will live to see this being converted into excellent grading during the Annual Inspection.
Indeed, this report should be comprehensive enough to cover every little thing ever told to the ship by these important dignitaries. Another thing to cover in the report can be explained by me by giving you the example of Sachin Tendulakar as a batsman. He used to play psychological warfare with the bowlers and make them bowl to him the balls that he wanted. Some such thing has to be smartly done in the AI report. You have to carefully steer them in checking you for your strong points and not your week points. For example, lets say, you have recently kitted up all your sailors and spent time and energy in making sure they have all good fitting uniforms, your report must steer them into inspecting you there. If Jai and Veeru can get away with “Jail mein pistaul aa gaya hai” in Sholay, you can smartly channelise their energies into searching for the pistaul on your ship.
In harbour inspection, do not forget to prove the Admiral right; it will pay rich dividends. For example, lets say, the Fleet Commander is very fond of pulling up carpets in order to look for dust underneath; he would never pardon you for making him look idiotic by finding no dust underneath. A smart CO, therefore, makes sure that a handful of dust is inadvertently left there so that the Fleet Commander’s prepared ML (Moral Lecture) about stress on cleanship would not be wasted.
What about the Sea Inspection? Surely you cannot pull wool over anyone’s eyes there. Think again. Here, communications are the most important aspect. Irrespective of what action is taken on the drills and exercises given by the Fleet Staff, they come to know about it only through reports. You may remember this from one of John Winton books. When a Fire Drill was going on one of the ships that he had joined, nothing whatsoever was being done as far Fire Drill was concerned. However, all the reports between various positions involved with the Fire Drill were perfect. Hence, if the Captain was monitoring it on the broadcast he would have been reassured of the correctness of all the actions.
Here I cannot fail to give you two examples. One is of a hot-rod Gunnery Officer on one of the ships wherein I was posted as SCO or Signal Communication Officer. If he had ever come on board the ship on a Sunday to have beer and biriyani with his family and found that CO was also visiting with his guests, he would make a series of announcements about armament drills for the benefit of the Captain. The Captain would now get the impression that his Guns was so hard-working that even on a Sunday he was engaged with his men to improve drills.
The second example is that of a hot-rod CO of a ship of a sister ship. In exercises with aircraft, whilst own Gunnery radars were not picking up any of the incoming strikes, his ship would invariably report aircraft detected on certain range and bearing and then follow it up with all kinds of detailed reports. I too called the dockyard teams to fine-tune my own systems so that they too would pick up incoming strikes as promptly. But, it was of no avail. Finally, I had to invite the hot-rod CO for PLD (Pre Lunch Drinks) in order to learn from him the ropes. Beer loosened the tongue and he told me the truth that actually, even their systems hardly ever picked up the strikes. All that they did was to monitor the aircraft communications and as soon as the aircraft were within communication range, they would make all kinds of reports until they received a Bravo Zulu (Well Done) from the Flotilla Commander.
Alright, enough, guys. This is only a glimpse of Annual Inspection Without Tears. If you are interested, and your Annual Inspection is actually due, write to me and I shall give you more practical hints.
Before I close, I must leave you with a thought. Human-touch stories always are admired. So, if during the Admiral’s Walk Around the ship, you can have the lovely photographs of handicapped children that your ship adopted through Welfare Funds and these kids are photographed in their school receiving the prizes, you – not them – are the winner. Also, a few of quotes by important people (remember there is no one as important as the Fleet Commander) can be put in the alleyways. Admirals are adept at giving pearls of wisdom starting with the same letter; eg, Courage, Commitment, Consistency, Calm, and Clarity. His five or seven Cs, Gs, Ms or Ss – whatever letter takes his fancy – should be prominently displayed everywhere, preferably with his picture showing his own commitment.
If you ever go to Spain and want to watch the macho sports of bull-fighting, you would learn, to your surprise that bull-fighting is a carefully enacted play in three parts. In the third part, the bull hardly has any choice but to die. He knows it, the toreros know it, the matador knows it, the pincers know it and everyone in the bull-ring knows it. There are, however, some amongst the spectators who do not know it. They would do well to read Sun Tzu and The Art of War.
Sun Tzu giving the most important lesson about Annual Inspections!
ACR or Annual Confidential Report is the most important report on an officer. In the Indian Navy, depending upon one’s rank, an ACR would be due by a fixed date. The period of say a month or so leading up to this date, the actual writing of ACR by one’s IO (Initiating Officer), is called the ACR Season. There is no other season of the year like this. During Diwali season, for example, one is in festive and somewhat extravagant mood. Similarly, during Christmas season, one is in musical and forgiving mood. During ACR season, one is at one’s best behaviour. It is a period of great hope; but, it is also a period of great trepidation and anxiety. Thank God it is Annual and hence after one goes through it, one can live it up for the next one year. It is the time of the year when – in case you want to become something in the Navy – you have to put your best foot forward. You can’t hide, as you may do, say, during Holi season. You have to get noticed and noticed in a positive way. It has to be tackled at several fronts including professional, social and domestic.
During the year leading up to the ACR, you know that the Captain (in the Navy the CO of a ship is called Captain irrespective of his rank) has been happy with your performance. But, there is many a slip between the cup and the lip. Unless this happiness is translated into adequate PP (Promotion Potential) and PQ (Personal Qualification) marks, it is somewhat similar to ‘Jungle mein more naacha kisane dekha?’ (A peacock dancing in a forest goes unnoticed).
The Captain, therefore, has to be kept in right mood and humour until the day when he has signed the ACR, sealed and sent to the RO (Reviewing Officer). You also know that last impression is the lasting one and hence what you do in the ACR Month or Season substantially and many a times totally overshadows your performance for the rest of the year. Following measures are, therefore, only too prudent to be kept in mind:
The prudent approach during ACR Season!
There should be no attempt whatsoever to even remotely disagree or differ with the Captain professionally or socially. Lets say his favourite batsman is Kambli and you know he is in the team only because of his closeness to Sachin Tendulkar. Else, you feel he plays only for himself and lacks range of shots. But, is this the right time of the year to point out various inadequacies of this overrated batsman? For heavens’ sake NO, in capitals. This is the time to bring out what a lovely straight drive Kambli possesses and his tenacity in occupying crease for several hours – carefully omitting to add – without scoring a single run.
Similarly, why are new, shining white uniforms and peak caps lying in the wardrobe? Now is the time of the year to start wearing them. Earlier you never had time to have a proper haircut; in any case you fancied yourself looking like Amitabh Bachchan. But, for the sake of the old-fashioned Captain (who feels that an officer with a proper haircut is a smart officer), you better have a smart crew-cut.
Your Good Morning Sir also should have the requisite zing about it. You should be around to laugh the loudest when the Captain cracks those hackneyed jokes of his for the hundredth times. Your body language should exude your wholeheartedly agreeing with the fact about the Captain is the smartest and wittiest man this side of Suez.
Every opportunity should now onwards be taken to side with the Captain in any discussion. So, if he feels that RAS (Replenishment At Sea through jack-stay between two ships) is a wastage of time, you should have done your home-work to bring out how many ships in the last war, were crippled or sunk by enemy planes and other enemy action just because they were engaged in RAS. “Sitting ducks” is the expression to use with him whilst describing ships engaged in RAS.
ACR Month is also the period of the year when you must remember that Navy is not a vocation but a way of life. Hence, there is nothing like not impressing the Captain and his wife (good-lady as our army counterparts call her) during off working hours. So, when you espy them out out for a walk with their dumb looking Labrador, you and your wife should join them as almost going in the same direction. “Labs make the best pet dogs” should be your opening shot. Your wife should now chip in to say how you yourself were planning to own one as soon as you finish with the ship’s tenure. Indeed, you should add ruminatively if Lucy (Captain’s bitch) would litter, you would be the first one to take one of the pups as no one could be as adorable as Lucy.
Somehow, the Captain also has to know about your other hidden talents. These would tip the scale in your favour considering that sometimes, to decide the selected candidates in the Promotion Board, the board has been known to go down to the second decimal points of PP plus PQ marks of almost similarly qualified officers.
In this your wife’s utterances come in handy: “Vijay is (fictitious name; no need to take offence in case your or your husband’s name is Vijay in the same manner some of you took offence to mention of Pahargunj in my story Raksha. For heavens’ sake, these are just names) very fond of painting. Coincidentally, his favourite subject is dogs. In our home place Dehradun, his paintings sell like hot cakes”.
And you add with a twinkle in your eyes: “Hot dogs, that is”. There isn’t a Captain worth his salt who doesn’t appreciate humour.
You should also be alive to slipping in your other interests. “Rekha is nowhere near the truth, Sir; I hardly get time to paint these days. One comes home quite late from the ship. Irrespective of howsoever late it may be, I have to go for a few games of squash racquets…ha, ha…old habits die hard….and then, I just can’t go to sleep until I have read something in bed….so painting is only about once in a month or two.”
How about inviting them over socially during this period? A big NO, NO. Your Captain, don’t forget, is also quite cautious during this period. He has to write a pen-picture about you. All that you are doing is helping him with the right words and phrases to describe you. You overdo it and you have hit yourself on the toe with a hammer. In any case, unless you actually have a few dog paintings and books at home, there is no point in inviting them. Possibly what you can do is to take a photograph of Lucy to a local painter, get a painting made, sign it and Rekha can gift it to ma’am.
Now, the story from the other side! No one would tell you this but I am telling you.
(cartoon courtesy: www.pinterest.com)
The Captain has actually gone through this period several times in the past. He knows and has tried every trick that you can come up with. He has already assessed you during the year. However, he tells himself with a chuckle that there is no harm in pushing through important plans on his ship during the ACR season. He knows his officers would never fail him during this period. He doesn’t even have to order; he kind of suggests or requests and lo and behold it gets done. I know of a brother officer on one of the ships that I served on about whom Captain was absolutely sure that he was really sweating for his ACR. Hence, knowing that in his particular department, a whole lot of work was pending, the Captain delayed sending his report (a Captain may do so up to three months depending upon circumstances) by a few months. Everything was accomplished.
ACR is a game, ladies and gentlemen, that two can play……and, hold your breath, both can win.
I joined the Indian Navy in 1973. In a decade or so before that we had fought two bloody wars with Pakistan and one with China. The 1962 War with China resulted in shame and embarrassment thanks to the civilian leadership’s shortsightedness including the decision not to use the Air Force. The 1965 war was indecisive though we tasted many victories. The 1971 War, however, had resulted in a resounding victory; in a 12 days swift war, the Indian armed forces sorted out the problem of East Pakistan and of having the same enemy flanking us from the East and the West. The armed forces leadership covered up for the civil leadership’s indecisiveness and lack of foresight as well
The average Indians, having gone through experiences that tangibly and in many cases substantially touched their lives, were grateful and identified with the faujis. Yes, there were the business communities in Bombay and Gujarat who objected to the blackouts at nights, during the 1965 and 1971 wars, since their businesses and resultant money-making abilities were affected. But, the Indians, which had genuine respect for the armed forces, far outnumbered those that were driven by other interests including political compulsions. The atmosphere was replete with patriotic songs such as Ai mere watan ke logo, Watan ki raah mein watan ke naujwan shaheed ho, and Awaaz do ham ek hain.
Since then, there has been gradual and steady tumble downhill in the collective perceptions of our countrymen about the necessary evil called war and respect for the armed forces. Admittedly, this fall is a global phenomenon. As people become more secure, they start questioning the money being spent on and the brouhaha about security. This finds expression in such reasoning as, “Don’t be under the impression that only the armed forces personnel are patriotic. No national boundaries are going to be redefined now. I, working in my office, am addressing even more significant freedoms than a soldier does, eg, economic freedom, freedom of expression, and freedom from moral and social taboos such as homosexuality.” However, the indifference towards the erstwhile saviours of the country, the faujis is more pronounced in India than elsewhere.
These are not the only drawing – room wars that our countrymen fight. The real war against the enemies of the country is as if always elsewhere, and no one other than the faujis is involved. I am reminded of Herman Wouk in The Caine Mutiny: “War is a terrible business in which people get killed and you are damn glad you ain’t one of them.” And mind you, Caine Mutiny was written at a time when the ongoing war affected millions of people.
It is almost like the kids on the net fighting video-game wars. There are planes, guns, missiles, bombs and warships. People do get killed, there is mayhem or massacre. But, there is no real blood, no real danger, no real pain of a mother losing her only son or that of a young, just-married widow. All that the kids are interested in is similar to their interest in cricketing jamborees such as IPL: ‘what’s the score?’ An average Indian today is as close to the image of this video-games kid as you can get.
Kargil War Martyrs – Forgotten images (Pic courtesy: storify.com)
There is a fierce war going on in Kashmir. There is one going on in the North-East. There is another in the Maoist belt that extends all the way from Nepal to Andhra. There is yet another war of law and order situations in the country getting out of hand due to bad management by those actually being paid and charged with controlling such situations. But, as far as our drawing-room warriors are concerned, the fauji is fighting his own battle or war without the slightest involvement of people. The other so called freedoms interest and fascinate them more; eg, freedom to see pornography in the confines of their bedrooms.
I hope to be proved wrong but I am already proved right to a large extent by the fact that this same fauji is now fighting helplessly against the injustice done to him in case of OROP by successive governments; and no one other than him and his family is involved. Yes, of course, our countrymen pay lip-service to the courage, values and plight of the faujis. But, why is there no general hue and cry about the step-motherly treatment meted out to them? The same countrymen who were up in arms, for example, against the injustice done to Jessica Lal and about waking up the conscience of the political leadership after Nirbhay’s rape in New Delhi, are silent now and don’t even extend moral support. Possibly, singing paeans of the faujis by the people is just an effort to be counted amongst the patriotic. However, other than this, the people at large, the intelligentsia, and the media steer clear from any expression of support as if it doesn’t concern them. Anna Hazare was able to rally support for his anti-corruption campaign initially and people joined in protest in large numbers across the country and especially in the capital. However, matters of national security don’t seem to concern people. These are fit enough only to be used in run up to elections as handy tools for the vilification campaigns that our political parties indulge in.
Public outcry against Nirbhay’s rape. A soldier, in contrast, has less or no dignity! (Pic courtesy: news.mydosti.com)
The most shameful assault by the police, the henchmen of the political leaders, on aged armed forces veterans and their families, took place on the eve of the 69th Independence Day. However, our countrymen, the drawing-room warriors that they are, left it largely to the veterans to sort this out. The veterans are now forced to sit on fast unto death.
Initially, in the Kargil War, state funerals used to be organised when the body-bags of our soldiers started arriving. Nowadays, such body-bags don’t make much of a dent. It is, more or less, business as usual.
What about the rich industrialists? In my article of three years ago, ‘Armed Forces And the Indian Society’, which I recently circulated again for its relevance today, I had pointed out that the industrialists are the direct beneficiaries of secure environment inside the country and across the seas. Their businesses flourish. However, do you think anyone of them have contributed money or time or support for the OROP agitation? A few of our former services chiefs have gone to the extent of publicly saying that the continued neglect by the political bosses of the veterans and armed forces would eventually have serious consequences for the security of the country. This has ruffled no feathers anywhere.
Never before in the history of a nation the guarantors of the country’s independence have been so slighted. However, so strange is this country that there is nary a public outcry. As one of our political leaders said publicly and haughtily about the faujis: “They are paid to die.”
We, faujis, should be thankful that our countrymen haven’t (yet) asked us to pay for having been given the opportunity to secure their lives and the nation.
Six years ago, she was born on the day of the Raksha Bandhan, a festival of the Hindus and the Sikhs that celebrates the love and duty between brothers and sisters. Hence, her mother had named her Raksha, one of the two common names based on this festival, the other being Rakhi or Rakhee.
Her mother Mubarak had found job as an ayah (a nursemaid or nanny) in a middle aged family in the Railway Officers Colony in Sarai Rohilla. After she had married a man, Gopal, she was advised by his family to change her name to Lakshmi. She was told that her chances of getting a job would be more with her name Lakshmi as compared to Mubarak. In addition, it was explained to her that just in case she was ever apprehended by the police, she was assured of a better treatment with her new name.
She was being paid 6500 rupees per month. In addition she was being given lunch and tea by her employer. Before this job, she had been a maid-servant at several households, earning petty money. She had obtained a smattering of English from these families, which had finally helped her to land the ayah’s job. Life wasn’t easy for her, her husband and their two children – a girl and a boy – living on Rupees 6500 a month.
It was much better when Gopal too used to bring money home through selling odd items in buses such as dant-manjan (dental-powder), combs, nail-cutters, soft drinks and even screw-drivers. But, one fateful day during the rains, he had jumped off from a slowly moving bus, as he often did, and landed in an open manhole, injuring himself badly especially in his legs. No proper hospital treatment could be given to him. His left leg later developed gangrene and was to be amputated in order to save his life. Initially, he had made a trolley with four small wheel-bearings fixed under a small board and he would propel himself on roads trying to sell his items. But, it had become dangerous since he was almost run-over several times by speeding vehicles.
Mubarak alias Lakshmi had then decided to run the family on her own. She had got a Ration-card made in the name of Lakshmi, which she carried with her in her black bag with a golden clip to close it. She had to pay underhand to get the Ration-card, as is often the case in India to get any official document made such as Driving License and Passport. She would have got a Matriculation certificate too; but, that would have cost more. Also, in her bag was her bus pass, about a hundred rupees just in case required and a letter of recommendation and good character given to her by her last employer, the wife of a Major in the Indian Army. This letter was in her previous name Mubarak but since it was on an impressive army letter head with the Indian Army logo, she carried it with her in case a need arose to prove her good conduct and character. She also carried her old Security Pass with her picture on it since the Army employer insisted on it.
She was comfortable with her job even though the hours were long and her memsahib was a perpetual nag. The place was not too far (within 5 km) from the Paharganj slums that they stayed in near the railway tracks and she could easily take a bus to and fro. One other nuisance was that her memsahib’s husband had been frequently making eyes at her. One day, when the memsahib was not at home, he had grabbed her from behind and pressed himself on her. She had escaped sternly telling him that she wasn’t that kind of woman. He had told her that he would be waiting anytime she changed her mind.
One day, her memsahib misplaced or lost her gold chain. She questioned Raksha first tactfully and gradually with strident insinuation. But, firstly, Raksha had not taken it and secondly, she was proud of herself being totally honest despite their poverty. She, therefore, vehemently denied having taken the chain. Finally, her memsahib consulted her husband on the phone. He said he’d lodge a police complaint. Later, a message was received by her memsahib through her husband for Lakshmi to report to the Police Station.
She reported to the Police Station in the afternoon. They made her wait for hours. After that a thorough search of her purse revealed to the police that her actual name was Mubarak. The Inspector at the police station said he believed her that she had not taken the gold-chain. But, her name change was a bigger crime. He said Pahargunj area was full of suspected trouble-makers from her community and that he could keep her in the jail for several months because of this.
She was now openly crying. The Inspector said that there was only one way out, which was that she could give him Rupees 5000 and then go scot-free. She told him through sobs that she was a poor helpless woman who won’t ever have 5000 rupees. He said it with finality that all he could give her was one week to arrange the money.
This was a hopeless situation and she feared for her husband’s life and that of their two children. There was no way out. It crossed her mind that she could buy pesticide and give to the family in the evening meal before taking it herself. Afterall, 68 years after independence, in some parts of the country, poor people, especially farmers, rputinely resorted to ending their lives by taking pesticide. Late into the night, a thought occurred to her but she brushed it aside as against human dignity. However, by wee hours of the morning, she had convinced herself that it was better than dying.
Next day, her memsahib refused to take her in. However, fortunately, her husband was at home and he told his wife that the police had found no evidence about her having committed the theft. She was taken in with a stern warning.
That afternoon, the memsahib went for kitty-party with her friends and Mubarak sensed in it a godsent opportunity. She approached the sahib for a loan of 5000 rupees. He said it wasn’t a small sum and the police was suspecting her to be involved with terrorists. Through tears she told him she was prepared to do anything to get the money. He told her that things had changed after he had proposed to her last time. And that, now, she had to please him whenever he felt like.
She had no choice. For the next one year, she pleased him whenever the memsahib was not at home and he was. She had wanted him to use protection; indeed, begged him to. But, he said he enjoyed it more the naturalway.
And that’s how Raksha was born.
In six years, she had learnt more than another child three times her age. From the age of three she had learnt to beg in and outside the railway station. She had learnt to wipe cars at the traffic signals and then expect to be paid; some did and some didn’t. She had even earned money by wiping and shining shoes. Her mother was happy that all three children were helping to run the family.
Azadi Diwas (Independence Day) was aporoaching and Raksha had learnt that people were egged to become patriotic during the days leading to I -day. This meant that I – day items like flags would sell easily and fetch them money. All the urchins were buying flags and selling them at twice and sometimes thrice the cost. She would obtain 50 rupees from her mother and give back 100 at the end of the day.
One day, she thought of making a big killing. She had learnt from her friends that for the last several days, there was a protest by retired faujis at Jantar Mantar and that these men and their women and children would pay readily and more to buy the tricolor flags: tiranga. She told her mother. Her mother was very worried about the distance involved. But, Raksha said she’d manage as indeed the other urchins did and that in any case it was the day prior to Independence Day and she expected to make huge profit. Finally, the mother acquiesced and gave her 100 rupees and bus fare.
It was the best day of Raksha’s life. Within no time she had sold many of her flags and had already got some 250 rupees or so in her pocket. She had concluded that these ex faujis cared for the flags more than anyone else.
Suddenly, she was tired. She kept the flags down and lay on the pavement and rested.
And that’s the time the police arrived in three trucks. They were in uniform with boots and quickly spread to the venue where the retired faujis were protesting peacefully. As Raksha looked in shock, they started pulling down the stage. When the ex faujis intervened, the police started roughing them up. Some were old and others very old. Some were wearing their medals and ribbons. But, the police didn’t spare any. There was one wearing a white kurta and pajama and a white turban, the kind they wear in Haryana and Rajasthan. The police snatched his medals pinned his shirt. The medals fell and the front of the shirt tore.
Raksha didn’t want to be noticed but the horror of it made her scream involuntarily. One of the police guys noticed her and hit her hard on her cheeks. It hurt and she cringed and wailed loudly. The flags fell from her hand. The police didn’t care and kicked her and trod on her flags and told her to leave immediately. She just lay there motionless, too shocked to move.
She didn’t know how long she lay there crying. But, when she came about again she saw the same kindly man in white kurta and white pajama and white turban bending over her. He made her stand on her feet and wiped her tears with his torn kurta. He noticed the tirangas on the ground, some with the boot-marks of the police. He bent down to pick each one of them by their small bamboo sticks.
When he had the complete bunch with him, he smilingly handed over the bunch to her and said with great dignity, “Don’t ever put down the tiranga. People like me gave our youth and our lives to hold it high.”
Raksha clutched the flags in her left hand, raised her right hand to her forehead and whispered: “Jai Hind“.
The most shameful images that this country had to see in Independent India were aired yesterday, on the eve of India’s 69th Independence Day, when the government tried to forcibly break-up a peaceful protest by ex-servicemen for the long pending demand of OROP (One Rank One Pension). Lets contrast it with the historic Jallianwala Bagh massacre of 13th April 1919 when the soldiers of the British Indian Army tried to breakup a peaceful protest by the civilians on the Baisakhi day. Yesterday, it was the reverse: the civilian government, an ungrateful government, turned against soldiers who have sacrificed their everything defending this country.
Just as the country cannot forget the images of Jallianwala Bagh, we can never forget the images like the above from Jantar Mantar, New Delhi, yesterday.
The government also, for the first time signaled that taking on ex armed forces personnel by police and para-military forces is a fair bet since the ex armed forces personnel have already done their bit for the country when in active service and are of little use to the government now; they are not even a large vote bank.
Sadly, people of our great nation don’t see it that way. They have always looked up to the armed forces since the armed forces have delivered each and every time. In the end, what got sullied were not the armed forces personnel who were pushed, shoved, kicked and manhandled. The already sullied images of our netas (irrespective of the political party that they belong to) and babus have now seen the bottom of the pit. Just as the Queen of England never apologised for Jallianwala Bagh massacre, no one expects our netas and babus to apologise for bringing ex servicemen to this mortification.
Today, on the day of our Independence, here is a parody that describes our netas and babus.
My apologies to Jaan Nisar Akhtar, Khaiyyam and Mohammad Rafi for using a parody of their most famous song together to depict what our Netas and Babus have as their anthem today:
चोरी है अपनी ज़मीं, चोरी है अपना गगन,
चोरी है अपना जहाँ, चोरी में लगता है मंन
अपने सभी सुख चोर हैं, अपनी सँगत में सब चोर हैं
आवाज़ दो हम चोर हैं, हम चोर हैं
को: आवाज़ दो, आवाज़ दो हम चोर हैं, हम चोर हैं
ये वक़्त खोने का नहीं, ये वक़्त सोने का नहीं
सबकी जेबें साफ़ करो, किसी को भी ना माफ़ करो
फौजियों ने हमें दी आज़ादी, हम करते हैं उनकी बर्बादी
छलिनी करदो उनका सीना, मुश्किल करदो उनका जीना
दुश्मन भी ना जो करे, हम उनके लिए करते रहें
हर जगह सुहाना शोर है, देश का नेता चोर है
को: आवाज़ दो, आवाज़ दो हम चोर हैं, हम चोर हैं
ये जवान हिमाला में लढा, ये पंजाब में दुश्मन से भिड़ा,
लेकिन हमें ना कोई फ़र्क़ है, जवानो के लिए देश नरक है
रिश्वत पे हमको नाज़ है, पैसा हमारा सरताज है
जनता के पैसे अपने हैं, ये सब हमारे अपने हैं
जवानो ने नमक का मोल दिया, हमने तो उनको बोल दिया
OROP दे देंगे बार बार, पचास साल तो करो इंतज़ार
को: आवाज़ दो, आवाज़ दो हम चोर हैं, हम चोर हैं
उठो जवानां-ए-वतन, बाँधे हुए सर से कफ़न
उठो दक्कन की ओर से, गंग-ओ-जमन की ओर से
पंजाब के दिल से उठो, सतलुज के साहिल से उठो
महाराष्ट्र की खाक से, दिल्ली की अर्ज़-ए-पाक से
बंगाल से गुजरात से, कश्मीर के बागात से
नेफ़ा से राजस्थान से, पुर्ख़ां के हिंदुस्तान से
इस मुल्क़ का नेता चोर है, चारों तरफ ये शोर है
इसका ईमान नोट है, या जनता का वोट है
The biggest two techno-social changes that have happened in the last decade or so have affected our lives in a huge manner. Thanks to these two changes, everyone is a photographer now and everyone can write and publish.
People of this generation, who are already used to these two, won’t even know how difficult it used to be in the past.
Lets take photography first. At one time, as you see in various galleries and museums, only the royal people used to have their photographs taken. The camera – an equipment weighing about 5 to 8 kgs – used to be covered with a black cloth so as to save the film from unintended exposure. No one was well versed to take pictures except skilled photographers. Even after these photographers became available to general public; firstly, the cost was well beyond the reach of anyone except the upper crust; secondly, between clicking (actually it was not even clicking but a calculated exposure by removing the cap of the lens) and developing and printing a photograph a great deal of time would pass; and thirdly, because of the first two, there was nothing like photography on the move such as travel photography or even of events like picnics and birthdays.
(Photo and following caption courtesy: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_photography “Boulevard du Temple”, a daguerreotype made by Louis Daguerre in 1838, is generally accepted as the earliest photograph to include people. It is a view of a busy street, but because the exposure time was at least ten minutes the moving traffic left no trace. Only the two men near the bottom left corner, one apparently having his boots polished by the other, stayed in one place long enough to be visible.
Even after the cameras became smaller and gradually SLR (Single Lens Reflex; that is looking at the subject through the same lens through which a picture was to be taken rather than through a view-finder mounted atop the camera), there were only limited pictures (generally 12) that one could click after settings that included weather, speed, exposure etc because of the limitation of camera roll that had to be installed in the camera with great care so as to avoid unintended exposure. One would know about the results of one’s efforts only after the entire roll got over and you went to a photo-studio to have the roll developed and printed.
(Photo courtesy: www.culture24.org.uk showing the picture of a man operating one of the first cameras)
You invited friends and relatives to view your photo albums but rarely shared copies with them unless they featured in the photos. Even at that, to ask photo studio to make copies of specific numbers of photos was frustrating since many times due to reel loading problems, the number occurred atop two adjoining photos.
Even after the digital cameras came up, for the first few years these were so frightfully expensive that they were beyond the reach of the common man.
(Photo courtesy: www.mir.com.my; One of the earliest batch of Leica M3 chrome double stroke model, 1954 model. Here is a lovely illustrative photo of how a typical early Leica M3 camera body looks like. It has slightly cornered top-plate, all early M3 features. Note the lack of viewfinder frame pre-selector lever near the lens mount. Year: 1954 w/Serial No. 70031x. Expected to be pricey in such a condition – to satisfy your curiosity, true enough this unit had an auction price approaching EUR10K !)
And then suddenly, every phone has a camera, everyone is taking photographs and selfies. Earlier, a video camera used to be carried on the shoulder of a qualified videographer; now, people are taking your videos when you are not even aware. Paparazzi is reportedly a nuisance phenomenon and one of the reasons behind Princess Di’s untimely demise in an accident.
(Paparazzi – The Privacy Killer; Pic courtesy: en.docsity.com)
People are posting live pictures and videos on social media such as Facebook and Whatsapp. A number of jokes have come up because of this tendency. In a cartoon, for example, in a building people are advised as follows:
‘IN CASE OF FIRE, IMMEDIATELY LEAVE THE BUILDING THROUGH MARKED ESCAPE ROUTES AND NOT WAIT TO TAKE PICTURES AND SELFIES.’
With these millions of pictures on the net, some personal family pictures and others like Google Images, to get people’s attention to view them is quite a task. Various innovative means are thought of to attract people’s attention. One method on Facebook is to tag people in the post with photographs. These people would get notifications such as: “ABC commented on your picture”. You then hope like hell they would see “their picture”. Another method is to give them an attractive and catchy title. For instance, an Income Tax hoarding had an attractive skimpily dressed female with the huge sign that said SEX. As you walked closer, the hoarding said, “Now that we got your attention, we’d like to tell you that the last date for filing Income Tax Return is 30th July”.
Even at that, to get people to see your 349 pictures of your pet dog or 127 of your granddaughter’s mundan ceremony is as difficult as say getting people to see a play titled Swadeshi. There is also this big danger that if people see yours, then they consider you are obliged to see the 292 pictures of their outing to Borivali National Park, which has failed to get your attention since you have been there any number of times anyway.
What about writing? Well, the scene is no different; it is even worse. At one time, to be published was Herculean task. You wrote and wrote and wrote and sent your stuff to newspapers and magazines. They didn’t even respond. Once in a blue-moon, if your letter to the editor got published, it was a much curtailed and edited version of what you wrote.
Nowadays, there are any number of places where you instantly post the fruits of your fertile mind. Indeed, many people do so mindlessly. I have come across people who have written more poems in a year’s time than Wordsworth would have written in his lifetime. I have also come across a blogger who regularly writes two to three articles in a day. Then there are others, who write a paragraph of three to four sentences and call it an article or blog post.
Surprisingly, the more laconic your post or article is, the more people like it and comment on it. It is, they observe, easier to read. Also, mediocrity and even nonsense sell much better than any erudite or intelligent stuff. A few months back, I started a Facebook Group called Main Shayar To Nahin. Initially, there was great enthusiasm to share shair-o-shairi (the cheaper the better and more popular) and we were adding members by dozens. A few examples:
“Bahut dard hota hai jab tum yaad aate ho,
Dard hone se phir tumhaari yaad aati hai”.
“Tanhaayi mein tumhaari yaad aati hai,
Kyaa kahun behisaab aati hai
Kuch tere aane se pehle, sanam
Kuchh tere jaane ke baad aati hai!”
“Dard ki hadd paar ho gayi tere intezzar mein,
Kyaa yehi silaa mila mujhe tere pyaar mein?”
I googled the first one and found nearly a Lakh members of that group in which such cheap poetry is shared. Each such shair has hundreds of likes and comments. And, in contrast, the moment I asked in our group to share good quality poetry of Ghalib, Faiz, Shakeel, Firaq, Daag etc, first of all very few people took the trouble to do it and secondly there were hardly any people interested in them, to like or to comment.
Social media like Facebook, Twitter and Whatsapp have an adverse effect of ADS or Attention Deficit Syndrome. No one is interested in a well-researched, well-written article. It has to be something catchy, meant for the dumbos and presented so slick that people fall for those three or four lines that you write. The idea is to enable them to respond since they are authors and writers in their own right. I have had people commenting on my articles copy pasting something that I would have written many months ago in the hope that I too would be suffering from ADS and would have forgotten that it was I who wrote it.
On the Indiblogger, which is a forum for Indian Bloggers, there is a policy of you scratch my back and I scratch yours. In this policy, people would vote and comment on your posts if you vote and comment on theirs. People have discovered that for this MAD (Mutual Assured Dalliance), they don’t really have to actually read anything at all and even if they read they don’t have to pay attention. This is somewhat similar to a minister having asked his secretary to prepare a 20 minutes speech for him and discovering that the speech actually took an hour. He complained to the secretary. She investigated and found that the speech was only 20 minutes long but the minister had read out the two carbon copies too that she had given him to be on the safe side. If you think it is far-fetched, you would do good to remember that our External Affairs Minister Shri SM Krishna recently read out the wrong speech at the United Nations; that of the Portuguese minister!
On Facebook, there is a button called ‘Like’ (Please also read ‘Like’ on this blog). It has answer to all our problems regarding reading anything at all. No matter how long it would have taken the author to write his stuff, you can press Like in less than a second and be done with. You routinely come across people who Like dozens of posts in less than a minute (Please also read ‘Why Read When You Can Like?’).
Various companies profit from this ADS of people at large. They write voluminous Terms and Conditions for their services. Just at the time when you are about to make payment and gain access, you get a message to tick the box to the effect that you have read, understood and agreed with their terms and conditions. You quickly do so without reading anything at all. In any case, if you were to actually read everything you would probably have to log-in all over again. Forget about the transient Internet. Have you ever read the reverse of your dry – cleaner’s receipt or courier consignment receipt or any other receipt? If you actually read through you’d be surprised that the companies, in their terms and conditions, have washed their hands off everything and the total onus of the correctness of their services is on you. Your Internet service-provider’s Terms and Conditions, for example, have nothing whatsoever in your favour even if their services are disrupted for lengthy durations. It is the same with Credit Card companies. Here, you even sign for ‘Our terms and conditions are subject to change’. I used to get a lot of calls from Credit Card companies promising me one Credit Card or the other. I started asking them to provide me with a signed copy of their Terms and Conditions. All calls stopped.
As far as your writings are concerned, you can master various ploys to make people read your stuff. One of the best employed was by the boss telling the secretary, “Mark this TOP SECRET; I want everyone in the office to read it.” But, beyond the ploys, finally it is consistency that pays off. If you have a small niche audience that reads your stuff, you should be happier than if you have had hundreds of Likes.
In the end also remember what Sahir Ludhianvi penned for a song in the Dev Anand movie Hum Dono. He would have never thought one day Sunbyanyname would relate this to social media where everyone is a photographer or writer but there are no viewers or readers:
“Kaun rota hai kusi aur ki khaatir, ai dil?
Sabako apani hi kisi baat pe rona aaya.”
(Who weeps for the sake of someone, O my heart?
Everyone weeps remembering something of their own.)
It is also worth keeping in mind the harsh reality that despite increased techno-social means available in the present world (that’s how I started this essay), the more people you meet on the net, the more alone you are.
It gives immense happiness to read your own articles or to see your own pictures at some later stage in your life when you look at them as another person.
On the 15th of July 2013 we bade adieu, in India, to the 163 years old Telegram service in India. It was started by the British East India company between Calcutta and Diamond Harbour in 1850. Four years later it was made availabe to the general public.
It was, for a century and half, the fastest means of communication available to the common man in India and elsewhere in the world. As soon as the use of sms, Internet and Whatapp became more widespread, the demise of Telegram was just around the corner.
Telegrams used to be the harbinger of news both good and bad, happy and sad. Many a times, due to garbled transmission or reception or both or because of sender’s mistake, unintended situations would arise. It could be as comical as mix up of Greeting Telegram numbers wherein you had intended to convey ‘Congratulations on a well deserved success’; but, the recipient got it as ‘Congratulations on the new arrival’ or ‘May God shower His choicest blessings on the newly-weds.’ Or as serious as ‘Wife expired’ when you had meant to send ‘Happy Independence Day’ message. Such mix-ups had resulted in great sadness and heartburn for people until clarification arrived.
I know the case of a fauji who finally managed leave from a forward posting from where he hadn’t got leave for a long time. He sent a telegram to his wife: ‘Got leave. Reaching home 29th’. When he reached home, he found his wife in bed with another man. He was furious; but, the mother-in-law calmed him by saying she’d check up the reason for her strange conduct. Sure enough, by evening, the mother-in-law had checked and found the reason and triumphantly announced to him, “I knew there would be a simple explanation; she never got your telegram.”
In the Hindi movies, telegrams for just-married faujis used to be delivered to them on their honeymoon nights when they would have just lifted the ghunghat of their newly wedded wives. The only message of the telegram would be asking him to report to border since war had broken out. India has fought five wars with its neighbours Pakistan and China. But, if these telegrams were to be believed, everytime a fauji wedded in a movie, especially, if it was a love-marriage that the family elders hadn’t approved of, a war would breakout at about midnight. Irrespective of how far the sender’s place was, there would be jonga waiting to take him to the war with the wife standing in the doorway of their house bidding him a tearful goodbye. Some would even run behind the jeep barefeet and remind him that Love was what they had between themselves and War was between the two countries and he, over a period of time, shouldn’t get these facts mixed up. One telegram had the power to shatter their dreams. One telegram spelt the difference between Love and War. I give you two consecutive scenes from the Hindi movie Border: the honeymoon scene and the dressing up for reporting to unit scene after the telegram:
In my case, I wasn’t called to the border, but, was sent to Andaman & Nicobar islands with the then Prime Minster Rajiv Gandhi and his Italian wife Sonia embarked on my ship Ganga. Their togetherness was at the cost of my and my Indian wife Lyn’s togetherness when she was expecting our second child. The news of our younger son Arun arriving was sent by her as a telegram which was received in Communication Centre (COMCEN) at Mumbai, who in turn broadcast the message and the ship received it. In my forenoon watch, the CO read out the message to me and I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer for them whilst thanking God that He made Life and He made Telegrams.
Unlike our Army counterparts, manpower in the Navy has always been scarce and hence not only that most naval personnel serve far away from their homes, they get leave with great difficulty and reluctance. Many innovative means are devised to first obtain leave and then to ask for extension. One of the telegrams received on my ship from a sailor’s family read: MOTHER SERIOUS. COME HOME FOR DIWALI. There was another similar one received on a sister ship: FATHER BREATHING HIS LAST AWAITING YOUR ARRIVAL FOR CHRISTMAS.
The most innovatively genuine Telegram received asking for extension of leave by a sailor was on board Vikrant where I was initially posted after my Subs Courses. This had us in splits. It read: REQUEST EXTENSION 15 DAYS, WIFE NOT YET SATISFIED. After everyone had vented feelings ranging from extreme anger to pity, the XO (whose Christain motto was ‘It is better to be kind than right’), sent the following historic telegram: EXTENSION GRANTED UNTIL WIFE SATISFIED.
This XO was decidedly a soft XO. There was a hard-boiled-egg of an XO who was aporoached by a sailor for leave having received a telegram from his wife that read: EXPECTING OUR CHILD. COME HOME URGENTLY. The XO read the telegram, opened his table drawer and pulled out another telegram that read: DON’T SEND SOHAN SINGH LEADING SEAMAN ON LEAVE DURING MY DELIVERY AS HE IS A DRUNKARD AND WON’T BE OF ANY HELP.
Naturally, the first telegram received by Sohan Singh was redundant in view of second telegram received by XO from Sohan Singh’s wife. Sohan Singh was about to leave resignedly when his inner conscience goaded him to tell the truth, “Sir, you and I are the world’s best liars; you see, Sir, I am not even married.”
Now that BSNL has stuck the death knell of the Telegram, I am sure life would have undergone a sea change for Indians in general and for our faujis and sailors in particular. What would Diwali, Holi, Christmas, Pongal would be without FATHER EXTREMELY SERIOUS telegram?
When I was small, I used to wistfully look at the hobby selection of my friends. Some were good at stamp collection and had friends in distant corners of the world exchanging philately. During our childhood days, we used to have a candy called Fruitex that had stamps just under the wrapper. People would spend days, months and years collecting stamps from Magyar Posta, USSR and countries whose names we couldn’t pronounce.
Then there were others who liked gardening, photography, travel, poetry, writing, singing. One was into collecting coins too. I too wanted to have a hobby. Poetry and writing suited me most and I liked them. However, the one hobby that I really liked to spend much of my time on was Procrastination. “Don’t put off until tomorrow that which you can do today”, the scriptures taught me that. But, the thought of procrastinating things was far too attractive a temptation not to be tried out. In any case I argued that I could do all those things better tomorrow what I could do today.
The thought of lazily spending the day without much care about doing anything was my vision of an idyllic world. The man who invented the wheel was my ideal; life could go on and on, round and round, without too much of effort. One number that had attraction for me was Beatles’ Let It Be. Another favourite ditty of mine was:
And Noah, he often said to his wife,
Whenever he sat down to dine,
“I don’t care where the water goes,
If it doesn’t get into the wine”.
First of all the ring of the word itself held fascination for me: a Pro word like Progress, Promotion, and Prophylactic unlike those stupid, senseless Anti words such as Antipathy, Anticipation and Antibiotics. Secondly, the last part of the word is spelt as ‘n-a-t-i-o-n’ and I felt that I was doing my duty to the country by being an avid follower of ‘Procrastination’. In this I had healthy competition from our judges and lawyers, politicians and babus; for years, these worthies have been serving the nation by procrastinating everything. Our countrymen too, used to such inherent delays, have angrily questioned, for example, as to what was the flaming hurry in recently hanging a terrorist after merely twenty-two years of trial?
But then, a hobby is different from a vocation or way of life with some of our authorities. RK Laxman’s cartoons about such procrastination brought us untold mirth. In one of these, a politician visits his village constituency after several years of promising them water and electricity. The poor villagers were so excited that in another decade or so someone or the other from the government would look at the promise and see feasibility.
The government of India (irrespective of political parties) turned out to be my biggest competitor in procrastination. As the Republic was constituted on 26 January 1950, it declared India to be a sovereign, socialist, secular, democratic republic, assuring its citizens of justice, equality, and liberty, and endeavours to promote fraternity among them. The words “socialist” and “secular” were added to the definition in 1976 by the 42nd constitutional amendment (mini constitution). Where are we 65 years later? Are we making any serious attempts to provide justice, equality, liberty, socialism and secularism? Are we promoting any fraternity among people? Quite the opposite. But, the future is bright and in another hundred years or so our politicians would have actually delivered. Until then, they would keep arguing about what constitutes poverty.
My next competitors were the judges and lawyers and all those connected with providing justice to our countrymen. I had such a lot of competition from them that I knew that however hard I tred I could never emerge as the champion of procrastination in comparison to them. I used to think that the primary aim of our judicial system was to provide livelihood to lawyers and judges and other court officials. Now I know that it is the only reason. Procrastination is a way of life with them. Most of what they do in terms of providing justice is to give you another date of hearing. There are cases in our courts that were started in the times of present litigants parents and grandparents. Imagine if a perpetrator of terror in India’s leading city was convicted after 22 years, how much longer land and other civil dispute cases would take? Thanks to procrastination by the Indian courts, most Indians now believe in divine justice.
All those involved with the implementation of something called OROP (One Rank One Pension) for the Indian Armed Forces – the same Armed Forces that, in 1971, took only 12 days to sort out the problem of East Pakistan – deserve a Lifetime Achievement Award for their excellence in this hobby of procrastination. I could never match their skills.
Our bureaucrats or babus art in procrastination put me in total awe of them. They weild power through this art. The more they procrastinate the richer they become because people are ready to pay underhand for anything that would make our bureaucratic process – reputed to rank amongst the slowest in the world – faster. Aporopriately, this money is called speed-money. Lets say, you want to start a small factory manufacturing pipes for irrigation. Excellent idea. But, you want to start it during your lifetime itself! Problem. In order to obtain all the clearances, if you are so idealistic as to cringe from paying speed-money your factory would be a pipe-dream.
Our engineers and contractors involved in providing public infrastructure such as roads translate their hobby of procrastination into making more and more money. Projects that were to originally cost A-crores, due to their inimitable skills at procrastination eventually cost A x 10 and in some cases A x 20.
Your neighbourhood friendly doctor literally prolongs your illness as long as his/her felt need of having burgeoning bank-balance is not met. Your cure is always just around the corner.
Something called Investigation or Inquiry in India still ranks amongst the highest form of procrastination; order one and you as a neta or babu is free from the burdens of responsibility or accountability for decades.
With this kind of stiff competition, I finally realised that I cannot get anywhere in my hobby. There are Masters of Procrastination who have been doing it for generations without much competition.
I took to writing and poetry and music. Next, I am thinking of stamp-collection!
There is an anecdote about a Midshipman going berserk on a ship. He started playing with shit with his hands and at the same time asking the Topasses to obtain more and more shit from the WCs. The man-management bug had just started in the Navy and hence, rather than sending him straight to the cooler, his Training Officer decided to use tact and counseling with him. He asked him gently as to what he was doing. Without batting an eyelid the Midshipman responded, “I am trying to make a Lieutenant out of it.”
Not being able to handle this on his own, the Training Officer reported this to the XO (Executive Officer), the second-in-command. By that time, more and more shit was being brought to the Midshipman’s JOM (Junior Officers’ Mess). He too inquired as to what the snotty was up to. Pat came the reply that he was making an XO out of it. This was then reported to the Captain who evinced a response that the Mid was making a Captain out of it.
Now this was rather unusual and reported to the Fleet Commander, the last word in Man-management in the Fleet. This wizened man berated the others for not knowing how to handle this “simple” situation, approached the Midshipman, and rather than questioning, said in his heavy baritone, “Don’t tell me, son, what you are doing; I know that you are making an Admiral out of the shit.”
“No, Sir”, responded the Midshipman calmly, “I don’t have enough shit for that.”
It has always been there in the Navy. We live in close quarters with our senior officers and jokes – both overt and covert – abound about this species called ‘Senior Officers’. The reactions to this type of banter are undergoing a huge change these days. We used to have many old-timers who used to recognise that such harmless banter was the sure shot way of cooling tempers and returning to sanity after letting off steam by the juniors. These senior officers would merrily join in the banter and would be expected to crack one or two juicy ones on themselves, which the narrator would be otherwise shy to relate.
It is not easy to allow a joke on yourself when you are the senior officer. It is even more difficult to crack one yourself. And the most difficult is to have a good laugh on these and not earmark it for sorting out the narrator when the opportunity would arise. I am afraid the percentage of senior officers who would take offence is forever increasing. Gone are the days when the senior officers would permit these large-heartedly.
One such person was Admiral Dawson. On the day when he was promoted from Commander to Captain, he was walking to his car at the end of the day, in civvies. A few junior officers too were walking and didn’t recognise him (he was just behind them). They were talking enthusiastically about this b——d called Commander Dawson who was this and that but always a b. At the end of the jetty, Dawson overtook them, turned around and said, “Not Commander Dawson; but, Captain Dawson from now onwards.” The junior officers were stunned and frozen.
Another was Captain Lewin. He was endowed with great sense of humour. During one of his unannounced rounds of his ship, he came across a few Acting Sub Lieuts curiously espying the pages of a Playboy magazine. He called them to his cabin. Being called to Captain’s cabin is nothing short of being marched up to gallows and the Sub Lieuts were expecting the worst. Captain Lewin opened his table drawer, took out a copy of the Navy List (a compendium of all officers in the Navy from CNS downwards, branch-wise) and gave it to them with the remark, “You guys don’t have to spend good money on Playboys. Here, take this (Navy List). You will see more c—-s here than in all the Playboys and Penthouses.”
My CO on Ganga, Captain KK Kohli, was another such large-hearted senior officer. When it came to cracking jokes on the ship everyone had equal rights. Once, on the Bridge, we were all getting nice and proper from him. He noticed me doodling on the blank reverse side of an NC1 (Signal form). He was pretty cheesed off that whilst he was slanging, I was amusing myself by doodling. He angrily snatched the paper from me and saw that I had drawn a complete cricket field with KKK batting and all of us in various fielding positions. He couldn’t believe his eyes. I thought that would be the end of my till then brilliant career. Anyway, he gave the paper back and asked me to draw my own position that he had seen was missing. With trembling hands I took the paper and drew myself at Silly Mid-on! He had a look at it and pocketed the paper. The whole day I kept thinking of how my thoughtlessness had spelt the end of my naval career. Late in the evening, his coxswain came to my cabin with a message, “From Captain to Silly Mid-on: Come and have a glass of beer with me.” Everyone familiar with ships at sea would know that is rare honour indeed.
My Captain on Viraat, Jaggi Bedi, too had a keen sense of humour that promoted team spirit. When things would get tense – and honestly, there were many such moments with the old Viraat having fire and flooding at the drop of the hat – JSB would crack a pippin’ of a joke to relieve tension. Most of these were not directed against anyone but either at the circumstances that we were in or similar circumstances in which Banta Singh or the subject of the joke would find himself. There was one he told the divers of the Command Clearance Diving Team (CCDT) who were very tense because one of our sea tubes was leaking and they were sent to block the sea ingress to it so that repairs could be carried out. Only, the joke is a risqué one and I cannot relate it here. But, it was enough to bring down all around tension and normalcy returned to everyone’s thinking.
Having been in the old-time Navy, it was a rude shock to encounter some of the latter-day senior officers who would actually finish the career of the subordinates who would even think of indulging in such banter. One such guy sent me a show-cause notice asking me to explain why action shouldn’t be taken against me for not ensuring the working condition of a particular equipment. I really thought it was some sort of joke since I was the one who brought it to the notice of the authorities repeatedly that this particular equipment wasn’t working since the time it was installed, ie, for the last ten years even with my predecessors. So, in reply to the show-cause notice, I made a detailed response giving not my perception but facts and figures from various documents. I ended my submission, in my characteristic style: “In the end, I would like to bring out the advice given to a new teacher by a veteran: ‘As you go into the classroom, you would come across a student who is persistently asking questions. Don’t ever be offended by him; he may be the only one paying attention’.”
A Letter of Severe Displeasure (the highest punishment that can be summarily awarded to an officer) was given to me for my misdemeanour. End of humour. I became Yaqub Memon. Humour had led not to pleasure but displeasure.
Looking back, that was still an odd case. Most other senior officers that I came across in the Navy sorted out matters of humour with equivalent or better humour. In one of the Shiksha (exercise between Commands with Chief of the Naval Staff being the umpire) exercises, whenever a situation arose and a Fleet team was asked to respond, the FOO (Fleet Operations Officer) taking down the Fleet Commander’s instructions differed with him on every point. Finally, in good humour, this Fleet Commander grabbed the pen and paper from his FOO and said without even a trace of confrontation or bitterness, “Okay, you dictate the instructions and I shall write.” I was part of the same team and I just couldn’t believe my ears.
The national leadership, these days, is on short-fuze. Any cartoonist, writer or critic drawing or writing anything in good humour but critical of authorities is promptly jailed (Please also read: A Dangerous Profession). My service, Navy, was never like this. For a short duration, as a stop-gap, I was Flag Lieutenant (naval equivalent of an ADC) to a Chief of Naval Staff (CNS). We were going to receive the PM of a foreign country at Palam (New Delhi). We were resplendent in our ceremonial uniforms and CNS’s flag flew in the front of the car. Even at that, one of the traffic cops stopped us at a junction to allow the car of the Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi and his complete entourage pass (they were going to receive the same foreign PM). I was hot under the collar and wanted to berate the traffic cop. The CNS, in excellent humour restrained me by saying, “Don’t do that, Flags; I am only a Chief (a Chief Petty Officer sailor is generally referred to as Chief!).”
Years later, our ex President APJ Abdul Kalam when asked to remove his belt and shoes in a security check at the airport reacted likewise.
I guess the really great have great sense of humour. Others have arrogance; but they ain’t great.
On the 10th of January this year I started a Facebook group ‘Main Shayar To Nahin’ primarily to air my devotion for him and some other Urdu poets. I regularly put up Shakeel’s poetry with meanings so that more and more people can savour his excellence. I call him the King of Irony since no one can write irony better than he did. Just one example:
Na milata gham to barbaadi ke afsaane kahan jaate? If there was to be no sorrow, where would odes of ruin find a place Agar duniya chaman hoti to veeraane kahan jaate? If the world would be just a garden, where would deserts find a place Chalo achha hua apano mein koi gair to nikala, It is good that amongst own people there was an outsider too Agar hote sabhi apane to begaane kahan jaate? If all people were your own (in the world) where would strangers find a place
We were a slave nation for 31 years of his 53 that he walked on this earth. All his contemporaries wrote about social inequalities, poverty, slavery and the like. Shakeel wrote about Love, Mohabbat, Ishq, Wafa, Ulfat; it is as if he lived in a different world. In addition, his god faring nature ensured that he also wrote the finest Bhajans in Hindi movies.
Lets restart the journey into his Ghazals:
Ghazal #31
A RARE HAPPY GHAZAL BY SHAKEEL (He says so in the ghazal)
BAHAAR AAYI KISI KA SAAMANA KARNE KA WAQT AAYA
Bahaar aayi kisi ka saamana karne ka waqt aaya,
Sambhal ai dil ki izhaar-e-wafa karne ka waqt aaya.
Unhen aamaada-e-mehr-o-wafa karne ka waqt aaya,
Badi muddat se arz-e-mudda.aa karne ka waqt aaya.
(Aamaada-e-mehr-o-wafa=bent on love and loyalty; Arz-e-mudda.aa=expression of desire)
Ravaan hain apne markaz ki taraf aasuudaa umiiden,
Hujuum-e-yaas ko dil se judaa karne ka waqt aaya.
(Ravaan=moving/active; Markaz=centre; Aasuudaa=satisfied/contented; Hujuum-e-yaas=mob of despair)
Phir ik gum-karda raah ko mil gayi manzil,
Sujuud-e-shukr-e-be-panaah adaa karne ka waqt aaya.
(Gum-karda=lost/missing; Sujuud-e-shukr-e-be-panaah=touching forehead on ground in prayer to offer infinite thanks)
Kabhi doori thi lekin ab khayaal-e-khauf doori hai,
Fughaan ki saa.aten guzri duaa karne ka waqt aaya.
(Khayaal-e-khauf=thought of fear; Fughaan=cry of pain or distress; saa.aten= moments)
Kahaan par khatam rehta darmiyaan par dil ka afsaana,
Bil-aakhir darmiyan se ibtidaa karne ka waqt aaya.
(Darmiyaan=middle/during; Bil-aakhir=at last; Ibtidaa=beginning)
Har ik jurm-e-mohabbat is nigaah-e-lutf ke sadqe,
Naved-e-aafiyat le kar khataa karne ka waqt aaya.
(Jurm-e-mohabbat=crime of love; Nigaah-e-lutf=look of love; Naved-e-aafiyat=good news of well being; Khata=mistake)
Nigaah o dil se ab tafseer-o-sharh-e-aarzoo hogi,
Zabaan o lab se tark -e-iltijaa karne ka waqt aaya.
(Tafseer-o-sharh-e-aarzoo=interpretation of desire; Tark-e-iltijaa=renouncing request)
Woh aate hain Shakeel ab apne dil se haath do baitho,
Nigaah-e-naaz ki keemat adaa karne ka waqt aaya.
(Nigaah-e-naaz=look of love)
Ghazal #32
ZAMEEN PE FASL-E-GUL AAYI FALAK PE MAAHTAAB AAYA
(A very beautiful Ghazal*)
Zamii.n pe fasl-e-gul aa_ii falak par maahataab aayaa
Spring season arrived on Earth, Moon rose in the sky
Sabhii aaye magar ko_ii na shaayaan-e-shabaab aayaa
All came but none befitting your youth
[Fasl-e-gul=spring season; Falak=sky; Maahataab=moon; Shaayaan=befitting/suitable; Shabaab=youth]
Meraa Khat pa.Dh ke bole naamaabar se jaa Khudaa_haafiz
After reading my epistle she told the messenger, go, good-bye
Javaab aayaa merii qismat se lekin laajavaab aayaa
Her reply arrived (through the messenger) but it silenced me
[Khat=letter; Naamaabar=messenger/letter carrier; Javaab=reply:
Khudaa_haafiz=farewell/goodbye; Laajavaab=matchless/silenced]
Ujaale garmii-e-raftaar kaa hii saath dete hai.n
Light accompanies only fast motion
Baseraa thaa jahaa.N apanaa vahii.n tak aaftaab aayaa
Sun arrived only up to my abode
[Garmii-e-raftaar=fast motion; Baseraa=abode; Aaftaab=Sun]
“Shakeel” apane mazaaq-e-diid kii takamiil kyaa hotii
Shakeel, how could appreciation of seeing her be completed
Idhar nazaro.n ne himmat kii udhar ruKh par naqaab aayaa
Here my eyes emboldened to see her, but she hid her face in a veil
[Mazaaq=good taste/appreciation; Diid=seeing/sight; Takamiil=completion; ruKh=face; naqaab=veil]
(*A Ghazal traditionally deals with just one subject: love; specifically an unconditional and superior love. The ghazal is always written from the point of view of the unrequited lover whose beloved is portrayed as unattainable. Most often either the beloved does not return the poet’s love or returns it without sincerity, or else the societal circumstances do not allow it. The lover is aware and resigned to this fate but continues loving nonetheless; the lyrical impetus of the poem derives from this tension)
Ghazal #33
GHAZAL KYAA HAI?
Abhi taq maine Shakeel ki 32 ghazalen aap ki nazar ki hain. Ab tetisviin pesh-e-khidmat hai.
Iss se pehle ki main nawazish karun, main bataana chahata hoon mujhe Ghazal mein kyaa dikhta hai:
Buniyadi taur pe nazam, she.r, ghazal Jazbaat ke Alfaaz hain. Ghazal to sarasar Pyaar, Ishq, Mohabbat ka andaaz hai, agarche ye pyaar, ishq, mohabbat kisi aadmi ya aurat se hi nahin, Allah ya khuda se bhi ho sakati hai. Gham, khushi, beqaraari, bekasi, havas, tanhaai, afsurdgi yaa aur koi bhi jazbaat jaise ki inteqqaam, in sab ki jadh Ghazal mein pyaar ya ishq ke illawa kuchh bhi nahin.
Yaqeenan, Wikipedia mein bayaan kiya hai: “Most ghazal scholars today recognise that some ghazal couplets are exclusively about Divine Love (ishq-e-haqiqi), others are about earthly love (ishq-majazi), but many of them can be interpreted in either context.”
Ghazal kaa ishq se talaaq hona, mere liye qatal-e-aam hai. Zamaana, log, majlis aur awaam ko ghazal mein sirf ishq ke taluq mein laaya ja sakta hai.
Ek ghazal ka namuuna nazar andaz hai:
Unako ye shikaayat hai ki ham kuchh nahin kehte,
Apani to ye aadat hai ki ham kuchh nahin kehte,
Kuchh kehne pe toofaan utha leti hai duniya,
Ab isape qayamat hai ke ham kuchh nahin kehte.
Yahan poori ghazal mein ishq ki wazaahat nahin. Phir bhi ishq hi isaki ibtidaa hai. Urdu shaa’ir aksar apane ishq mein zamaane ko shaamil kar lete the. Misaal ke taur pe:
Kis kis ko sunaayenge judaai ka sabab ham,
Tu mujhase khafa hai to zamaane ke liye aa!
Shaa’ir to ishq mein chand sitaaron ko bhi shaamil kar lete the par Ghazal ka vaasta phir bhi ishq se hi raha hai.
TUM NE YE KYAA SITAM KIYAA
Pesh karta hoon Shakeel Badayuni janaab ki ek aur Ghazal, jisaki bunayad bhi ishq hai:
Tum ne ye kyaa sitam kiyaa zabt se kaam le liya,
What outrage you committed, you used restraint,
Tarq-e-wafa ke baad bhi mera salaam le liya
Even after the end of faithfulness you accepted my salutation.
(Sitam=outrage; Zabt=restraint; Tark-e-wafa=end of faithfulness)
Rind-e-kharaab-nosh ki be-adabii to dekhiye,
Have a look at the lack of respect of the excessive drinker,
Niyyat-e-mai-kashii na kii haath mein jaam le liya.
He took a goblet in his hand even with no intention of drinking.
(Rind-e-kharaab-nosh=excessive or bad drinker; Be-adabii=lack of respect; Niyyat-e-mau-kashii=intention of drinking)
Haay vo paikar–hawas, haay vo khugar-e-qafas,
Alas that appearance of lust, alas that habit of being encaged,
Bech ke jis ne aashiyaan halqa-e-daam le liya
The one who sold his nest and bought hoops of a net.
(Paikar-e-hawas=appearance or form of lust; Khugar-e-qafas=habituated to cage; Aashiyaan=nest; Hakqa-e-daam=loops or hoops of nest)
Baadaa-kushaan-e-ishq ko kuchh to milaa paa.e sukoon
Some peace or repose wine-makers of love may get,
Husn-e-sahar na le sake jalwa-e-shaam le liya
They couldn’t get the beauty of morning but obtained splendour of evening.
(Vaadaa-kushaan-e-ishq=wine makers of love)
Naama-e-shauq padh ke vo kho gaye yak-ba-yak Shakeel,
Upon reading my love letter she was suddenly lost in thought, Shakeel,
Moonh se to kuchh na keh sake dil se payaam le liya.
She couldn’t respond with her voice but took a message with her heart.
(Naama-e-shauq=love letter)
Ise Talat Mahmood ne bahut khoobsurati se gaaya hai:
https://youtube.com/watch?v=8q7Orziten4%3F
Ghazal #34
This is a very beautiful ghazal by him; and once again will provide you with an understanding of what Shakeel’s poetry means to me.
Please enjoy:
AAJ PHIR GARDISH-E-TAQDIR PE RONA AAYA
Aaj phir gardish-e-taqdeer pe rona aaya
Dil ki bigadii huii tasveer pe rona aaya
Today again I cried at the movement (gardish) of fate (taqdeer)
I cried looking at the marred picture of my heart.
Ishq ki qaid mein ab taq to ummiidon pe jiye
Mit gayi aas to zanjeer pe rona aaya
In the prison of love I lived on hopes so far
As the hopes shattered, the chains made me cry
Kyaa haseen khwaab mohabbat ne dikhaya tha hamen
Khul gayi aankh to taabeer pe rona aaya
What a beautiful dream Love showed me
As soon as my eyes opened, I cried about the ‘meaning (or interpretation) of the dream’ (taabeer)
Pehle qasid ki nazar dekh ke dil seham gaya
Phir teri surkhi-e-tahreer pe rona aaya
First I was stunned/shocked (seham gaya) looking at the eye of the messenger (qasid)
Then I cried looking at the headlines of your writing (teri surkhi-e-tahreer)
Dil ganvaa kar bhi mohabbat ke maze mil na sake
Apani khoyi huii taqdeer pe rona aaya
I lost my heart and still couldn’t win the joys of Love
I cried at my destiny (taqdeer) that I lost.
Kitne masruur the jeene ki duaa.on pe Shakeel
Jab mile ranj to taaseer pe rona aaya
How delighted/cheerful (masruur) I was about the prayers for my life, Shakeel
When I got grief (ranj), I cried at the effect/influence (of the prayers)
Ghazal #35
Another beautiful ghazal:
AB TO KHUSHI KA GHAM HAI NA GHAM KI KHUSHI MUJHE
Ab to khushi ka gham hai na gham ki khushi mujhe;
Be-his bana chuki hai bahut zindagi mujhe.
Now, I neither lament happiness, nor rejoice in sorrow,
Life has made me very senseless (be-his).
Vo waqt bhi khuda ne dikhaya kabhi mujhe;
Un ki nadaamton pe ho sharmindagi mujhe.
God has shown me that time too
When I feel ashamed of her regrets (nadaamton)
Rone pe apne un ko bhi afsurda dekh kar,
Yuun ban raha hoon jaise aayi hansi mujhe.
To see her depressed (afsurdaa) on my crying,
I am making it up as if I am about to break into laughter
Rakha hai tishna-kaam to saaqi bas ik nazar,
Sairaab kar na de meri tishna-labii mujhe.
You have kept me thirsty (tishna-kaam), but my wine server, just look,
My parched lips (tishna-labbi) may not leave me fulfilled (sairaab)
Paaya hai sab ne dil magar is dil ke bavaaajuud,
Ik shai mili hai dil mein khatakti hui mujhe.
Everyone has a heart, but despite this heart,
I found a thing (shai) in my heart that is like an obstacle.
Raazi hon ya khafaa hon vo jo kuchh bhi hon Shakeel,
Har haal mein qubuul hai un ki khushii mujhe.
She may be contented or angry, in whatever mood it may be, Shakeel,
In every way I accept her happiness.
Ghazal #36
Here is the 36th ghazal of Shakeel Badayuni with meanings.
This is, like all ghazals, about Love but see the andaz!
Please enjoy:
ABHI JAZBA-E-SHAUQ KAMIL NAHIN HAI
Abhi jazba-e-shauq kamil nahin hai
Ki begana-e-aarzu dil nahin hai
(Emotion of love is not yet complete
My heart is not (fully) ignorant of desire)
(Jazba-e-shauq=Emotion of love; Kamil=Perfect or complete; Begana-e-aarzu=Ignorant of desire)
Koi parda-e-raaz haa.il nahin hai
Sitam hai vo phir bhi muqabil nahin hai
(Some veil of secrecy is there but it is not a hindrance
It is an oppression but still not a confrontation)
(Parda-e-raaz=Veil of secrecy; Haa.il=Hindrance; Sitam=Oppression; Muqabil=Confrontation)
Sar aankhon pe nairangi-e-bazm-e-aalam
Jise KHauf-e-gham ho ye vo dil nahin hai
(I honour the bewitching deception of the world
(But) my heart is not the one that fears sorrow)
(Beautiful couplet indeed!)
(Sar aankhon pe=To accept with respect; Nairangi-e-bazm-e-aalam=Bewitching art, deception of world; KHauf-e-gham=Fear of sorrow)
Masarrat-ba-daman huun sailab-e-gham mein
Koi mauj mahrum-e-sahil nahin hai
(In the flood of grief, I find happiness in (her) hem
It is not some wave that is deprived of shore)
(Masarrat-ba-daman=Happiness in hem; Sailab-e-gham=Flood of grief; Mauj=Wave; Mahrum-e-sahil=Deprived of shore)
Mohabbat se bach kar kahan jaayega
Talatum hai aghosh-e-sahil nahin hai
(The most beautiful couplet in this ghazal!)
(Where will you go saving yourself from Love?
It is a sea-storm and not the embrace of shore)
(Talatum=Sea storm or upheaval; Aghosh-e-sahil=Embrace of shore)
Woh kis naaz o andaz se keh rahe hain
Shakeel ab mohabbat ke qabil nahin hai
(With what pride and style she is saying:
Shakeel is now not deserving of Love)
(Naaz=Pride; Andaz=Manner)
Ghazal #37
Lest anyone should feel I have given up or even paused my fascination for Shakeel’s poetry, here is his 37th (a long one at that) after I gave his 36th on 16 June: Abhi jazba-e-shauk kamil nahin hai.
Please enjoy: BAS EK NIGAH-E-KARAM HAI KAAFI
Bas ik nigaah-e-karam hai kaafii agar u.nhe.n pesh-o-pas nahii.n hai
Zaahe tamannaa kii merii fitarat asiir-e-hirs-o-havas nahii.n hai
Her kind glance (nigaah-e-karam) is sufficient if she has no hesitation (pesh-o-pas)
My nature (fitrat) is not prisoner of greed and lust (asiir-e-hirs-o-havas) of the bow string (Zahe) of desire (tamanna)
Nazar se sayyaad duur ho jaa yahaa.N teraa mujh pe bas nahii.n hai
chaman ko barbaad karanevaale ye aashiyaa.N hai qafas nahii.n hai
O hunter (sayyad) go away from glance, here you have no control over me
O ye who has destroyed the garden (chaman), this is a nest (aashiyaa.N) and not a cage.
Kisii ke jalve ta.Dap rahe hai.n huduud-e-hosh-o-Khirad ke aage
huduud-e-hosh-o-Khirad ke aage nigaah ke dastaras nahii.n hai
Someone’s splendour (jalve) is agitating beyond the limit of consciousness and reason (huduud-o-hosh-o-Khirad)
Beyond the limit of consciousness and reason there is no reach (dastaras) of the eye (nigaah)
Jahaa.N kii nayarangiiyo.n se yaksar badal ga_ii aashiyaa.N kii suurat
Qafas samajhatii hai.n jin ko nazare.n vo dar-haqiiqat qafas nahii.n hai
Worldly deceptions (narangiiyo.n) have entirely (yaksar) changed the face (suurat) of the nest (aashitaa.N
One that the glance (nazare.n) held as cage (Qafas) is in actuality (dar-haqiiqat) not a cage
Kahaa.N ke naale kahaa.N kii aahe.n jamii hai.n un kii taraf nigaahe.n
Kuchh is qadar mahv-e-yaad huu.N mai.n ki fursat-e-yak-nafas nahii.n hai
No time for complaints (naale), no time for sighs (aahe.n), my eyes are fixed in her direction
I am absorbed in memory (mahv-e-yaad) in such a way that I don’t have the leisure for breathing (fursat-e-yak-nafas)
Qusuur hai ishrat-e-guzishtaa kaa husn-e-taasiir allaah allaah
Vahii fazaaye.N vahii havaaye.N chaman se kuchh kam qafas nahii.n hai
Guilt (qusuur) is that of earlier pleasures (ishrat-e-guzishtaa) as effect of beauty (husn-e-taasiir), by God,
Same weather (fazaaye.N), same breeze (havaaye.N) are no less imprisoned (qafas) by the garden
Kisii ke be’etanaa_iyo.n ne badal hii Daalaa nizaam-e-gulashan
Jo baat pahale bahaar me.n thii vo baat ab ke baras nahii.n hai
Someone’s carelessnesses (be’etanaa_iyo.n) have changed the system of garden (nizaam-e-gulashan)
That thing that was earlier there in the spring (bahar), that thing is not there this year
Ye buu-e-sumbul, ye Khaa.ndaa gul aur aah! ye dard bharii sadaaye.N
Qafas ke a.ndar chaman ho shaayad chaman ke a.ndar qafas nahii.n hai
This smell of hyacinth, this smile of flower (Khaa.ndaa gul) and sigh! this painful voices (sadaaye.N)
Perhaps garden is inside the cage, but, cage is not within the garden
Na hosh-e-Khilvat na fikr-e-mahafil ayaa.N ho ab kis pe haalaat-e-dil
Mai.n aap hii apanaa ham-nafas huu.N meraa ko_ii ham-nafas nahii.n hai
There is neither sense of privacy (hosh-e-Khilvat) nor worry of assembly (fikr-e-mahafil), with whom should I make my heart’s condition (haalaat-e-dil) clear (ayaa.N)
I am my own friend (ham-nafas), no one is a friend of mine
Kare.n bhii kyaa shikavaa-e-zamaanaa kahe.n bhii kyaa dard kaa fasaanaa
Jahaa.N me.n hai.n laakh dushman-e-jaa.N ko_ii masiihaa nafas nahii.n hai
With whom should I complain about times (shikavaa-e-zamaanaa), with whom should I tell tale of pain (dard kaa fasaanaa)
The world has lakhs of enemies of heart (dushman-e-jaa.N), there is no messiah to revive the dead
Sunii hai ahal-e-junuu.N ne aksar Khaamoshii-e-marg kii sadaaye.N
Sunaa ye thaa kaaravaan-e-hastii rahiin-e-baa.ng-e-jaras nahii.n hai
The mad people (ahal-e-junuu.N) have often (aksar) heard the voices (sadaaye.N) of the silence of death (Khaamoshii-e-marg)
(They had) heard that caravan of life (kaaravaan-e-hastii) is not pledged to call of bells (rahiin-e-baa.ng-e-jaras)
Chaman kii aazaadiyaa.N muaKhKhar tasavvur-e-aashiyaa.N muqaddam
Gam-e-asiiriihai naa-mukammal agar Gam-e-Khaar-o-Khas nahii.n hai
Freedoms (aazaadiyaa.N) of garden (chaman) are above all (muqaddam) imagination of nest (tasavvur-e-aashiyaa.N)
Sorrow of imprisonment (Gam-e-asiirhai) is incomplete (naa-mukammal) if there is no sorrow of thorns and dry-grass (Gam-e-Khaar-o-khas)
Na kar mujhe sharmsaar naaseh mai.n dil se majabuur huu.N ki jis kaa
Hai yuu.N to kaun-o-makaa.N pe qaabuu magar muhabbat pe bas nahii.n hai
O adviser (naaseh), do not make me ashamed (sharmsaar) I am forced by heart (dil se majabuur) to say
That the one who has the whole world (kaun-o-makaa.N) under her power (qaabuu) but has no control over love
Kahaa.N vo ummiid-e- aamad-aamad kahaa.N ye iifaa_e ahad-e-fardaa
Jab aitabaar-e-nazar na thaa kuchh ab aitabaar-e-nafas nahii.n hai
Where is that hope of arrival (ummiid-e-aamad-aamad), where is that keeping of promise of tomorrow (iifaa_e ahad-e-fardaa)
Then there was no trust of glance (aitabaar-e-nazar), now there is no trust of breath (aitabaar-e-nafas)
Vahii.n hai.n naGme.n vahii hai naale sun ai mujhe bhuul jaane vaale
Terii sama’at se duur huu.N mai.n jabhii to naalo.n me.n ras nahii.n hai
The melodies (naGme.n) are still there, lamentations (naale) are still there, O you who has forgotten me
Whenever I am out of your hearing range (sama’at se duur), my lamentations have no quintessence (ras)
“Shakeel” duniyaa me.n jis ko dekhaa kuchh us kii duniyaa hii aur dekhii
Hazaar naqqaad-e-zindagii hai.n magar ko_ii nuktaaras nahii.n hai
Shakeel, I have seen them in the world, who have a different world
Thousands of critics of life (naqqaad-e-zindagi) are there, but, no one is perceptive of minute detail (nuktaaras)
Ghazal #38
I have explained several times my adoration of Shakeel Badayuni; I grew up listening to his ghazals and songs and they made an indelible mark on my consciousness. Hence, out of 60 Ghazals and Nazams that I have put up in the group Main Shayar To Nahin (not including 32 of my own), 38 of them happen to be Shakeel’s.
Here is a short one of his that was sung by Talat Mehmood:
RAUSHNI SAYA-E-ZULMAT SE AAGE NA BADHI
Raushni saya-e-zulmat se aage na badhi,
Zindagi shama ki ik raat se aage na badhi.
Light did not proceed beyond the shadow of darkness (saya-e-zulmat)
Life didn’t proceed beyond one night of the candle (shama)
Apni hasti ka bhi insaan ko irfaan na huaa,
Khaak phir khaak thi auqaat ke aage na badhi.
Human being had no enlightenment (irfaan) about own existence (hasti)
Dust was just dust, it didn’t go beyond its limit/boundary.
Naam badnaam huaa sinf-e-ghazal ka lekin
Shairi rasm-o-rivayat se aage na badhi.
Form of Ghazal earned a bad name, but,
Shairi didn’t proceed beyond custom (rasm) and tradition (rivayat)
Be-takalluf hui tajdid-e-mulaqaat magar,
Woh bhi ik tishna mulaqaat se aage na badhi.
The novelty of meeting (tajdid-e-mulaqaat) came down to informality (be-takalluf), however,
That too didn’t go beyond the thirsty (tishna) meeting.
Zulf-bar-dosh woh ik baar to aaye, Shakeel,
Phir koi raat bhi us raat se aage na badhi.
Tresses on shoulders (Zulf-bar-dosh) she at least visited once, Shakeel,
Then, no night (ever) went beyond that night.
Ghazal #39
My adoration appears to be tapering off! It had been 11 days since I put up his 38th: RAUSHNI SAYA-E-ZULMAT SE AAGE NA BADHI on the group Main Shayar To Nahin.
By the way, I was only 16 when Shakeel died; three years before joining the Navy. And yet, witness the strong influence!
Please enjoy: MUJH KO SAAQI NE JO RUKHSAT KIYA MAIKHAANE SE
Mujh ko saaqi ne jo rukhsat kiya maikhaane se,
Khud mai-e-naab chhalakane lagi paimaane se.
As the bar-woman dismissed me from the tavern,
By itself neat alcohol (mai-e-naab) started swirling (or spilling) from the goblet.
Dekh kar haalat-e-dil unako taras aa hi gaya,
Wo bhi ghabra se gaye mere tadap jaane se.
(At last) she took pity after seeing the condition of my heart,
She too was worried to see me wince.
Dete hain taana-e-asnaam-parasti mujh ko,
Sajda karte huye jo nikale hain maikhaane se.
They taunt me on my idolatry (asnaam-parasty)
But I have seen them leaving the tavern with heads bowed in prayer (for her) (sajda)
Aap ke jaate hi aabaad hui bazm – e – khayaal,
Ban gayi aur bhi taqdeer bigadh jaane se.
As soon as you departed, the assembly of imagination (bazm-e-khayal) became inhabited (aabaad)
Destiny became better as it got spoiled.
Mohatasib ab tujhe tauba ka yakeen ho ke na ho,
Ham to takra chuke paimaane ko paimaane se.
Law officer (Mohatasib: magistrate), now you may or may not believe (my) penitence (tauba),
I have finished knocking goblet against goblet (meaning, saying “cheers”).
Apna ham-maslak o hamraaz kise kahiye Shakeel,
Nazar us bazm mein sab aate hain begaane se.
Who to call as belonging to same sect (ham-maslak) and confidante (hamraaz), Shakeel,
All in that assembly (bazm) appear to be strangers
Ghazal #40
Fortieth ghazal – the first one being ‘Kaise keh doon ke mulaqaat nahin hoti hai?’ on the day when the group Main Shayar To Nahin was formed, on 10th of January 2015 – and we cannot get over the beauty of his creations.
IK IK QADAM FAREB-E-TAMANNA SE BACH KE CHAL
Ik ik qadam fareb-e-tamanna se bach ke chal,
Duniya ki aarzu hai to duniya se bach ke chal.
Every step walk away from deception of desire (fareb-e-tamanna),
If you desire the world then walk away from the world.
Khud dhoond lega tujh ko tera munfarid maqaam,
Raah-e-talab mein naqsh-e-kaf-e-paa se bach ke chal
On its own your individualistic (munfarid) position (in life) (maqaam) will find you,
On the path of desire (Raah-e-talab) move clear of the footprints (of others).
Milti nahin hai raah-e-sukuun khauf o yaas mein,
Gulshan ki justuju hai to sahra se bach ke chal.
Path of peace of mind (raah-e-sukuun) cannot be found in fear (khauf) and despair (yaas),
If you have quest (justuju) for garden (Gulshan), you must walk clear of desert (sahra).
Munh jaada-e-wafa se na moD ai wafa-shi.ar,
Lekin huduud-e-chashm-e-tamasha se bach ke chal.
O faithful (wafa-shi.ar) don’t turn away from way of love (jaada-e-wafa),
But move away from the boundary or limit (huduud) of spectacles’ (tamasha) eyes (chashm) (meaning don’t turn away from love but from the confines of spectacles)
The next couplet is really very beautiful:
Kitani haseen hain un ke sitam ki masarraten,
Shukr-e-karam ki zahmat-e-be-ja se bach ke chal.
How beautiful (haseen) are the joys (masarraten) of her tyranny (sitam),
(But) Move away from the unnecessary inconvenience or trouble (zahmat-e-be-jaa) of gratitude of (her) kindness (shukr-e-karam) (meaning, whilst the joys of her tyranny are beautiful, you don’t have to go out of the way to express gratitude for her kindness!
Lamhen udaas udaas faza-en ghuti ghuti,
Duniya agar yahi hai to duniya se bach ke chal.
Moments are very sad, atmosphere is stifled,
If this is the world, then move away from the world.
The last one is a self-analysis and self-caution:
Apne adab pe naaz hai tujh ko agar Shakeel,
Maghrib-zada adiib ki duniya se bach ke chal.
Shakeel, if you have pride (naaz) in own literature (adab),
Then move away from the westernised literary world.
Ghazal #41
Love is not a reasoned emotion. When you fall in love, you don’t compare and rue the loss of others; you cling to the one you have fallen in love with. I wrote a complete essay on it in my blog about why certain songs, ghazals, poetry touch the chords of our heart.
Shakeel’s do that for me. It would have been different if I just ‘liked’ his poetry as I do of others. But, I am in love with his poetry!
Here is his 41st in this group made famous by Begum Akhtar and Peenaz Masani:
DUUR HAI MANZIL RAAHE.N MUSHKIL AALAM HAI TANHAAII KAA
Duur hai manzil raahe.n mushkil aalam hai tanahaa_ii kaa
Aaj mujhe ehasaas huaa hai apani shikastaapaa_ii kaa
Destination is far, ways are difficult, there is a world of loneliness,
Today, I have been made conscious of the the infirmity of my feet (shikastaah_paaii)
Dekh ke mujh ko duniyaaa vaale kahane lage hai.n diivaanaa
Aaj vahaa.N hai ishq jahaa.N kuchh Khauf nahii.n rusavaa_ii kaa
Upon seeing me the people of the world started saying I am crazy (in love)
Today, love is at a stage where there is no fear of stigma (rusavaa_ii)
Chho.D de.n rasm-e-Khud_nigarii ko to.D de.n apanaa iimaa.N
Khatm kiye detaa hai zaalim ruup terii a.nga.Daa_ii kaa
I should abandon the custom (rasm) of self description (Khud_nigarii), break my conscience or faith (iimaa.N)
The tyrant picture of your stretching in bed (a.nga.Daa_ii) destroys (me and my description)
Note: Peenaz Masani sings this as:
chho.D de rasm-e-Khud_nigarii ko chho.D de apanaa haath yahaa.N
Khaak kiye detaa hai zaalim ruup terii a.nga.Daa_ii kaa
Mai.n ne ziyaa husn ko baKhshii us kaa to ko_ii zikr nahii.n
Lekin ghar ghar me.n charchaa hai aaj terii raanaa_ii kaa
I lent splendour (ziyaa) to (your) beauty, there is no mention of that
But, everywhere there is talk of your radiance (raanaa_ii)
Ahal-e-havas ab ghabaraate hai.n Duub ke behar-e-Gam me.n “Shakeel”
Pahale na thaa bechaaro.n ko a.ndaazaa geharaa_ii kaa
People of lust or desire (ahal-e-havas) are now worried whilst drowning in the sea of sorrows (behar-e-Gam), Shakeel
Earlier the poor souls (bechaaro.n) had no estimate of the depth
I couldn’t locate the Peenaz Masani version. I am giving you Begum Akhtar version:
https://youtube.com/watch?v=PHwT0PF2c2E%3F
Greetings to everyone on the Birth Anniversary of Shakeel Badayuni on 03rd August.
Here is his Ghazal #42 on this auspicious day that in a way tell us what his life and poetry are all about.
Please enjoy: KABHII ISHQ KAA TAQAAZA KABHI HUSN KE ISHAARE
Kahii.n ishq kaa taqaazaa kahii.n husn ke ishaare
Na bachaa sake.nge daaman Gam-e-zi.ndagii ke maare
Somewhere there is demand (taqaazaa) of Love, at others there are gestures of Beauty
You won’t be able to save the hem of your dress from the sorrow of life
Shab-e-Gam kii tiiragii me.n merii aah ke sharaare
Kabhii ban gaye hai.n aa.Nsuu kabhii ban gaye hai.n taare
In the gloom (tiiragii) of night of sorrow (Shab-e-Gam) are the sparks (sharaare) of my sigh (aah)
Sometimes they appear as tears and sometimes as stars.
Jinhe.n ho sakaa na haasil kabhii kaif-e-qurb-e-ma.nzil
Wahii do kadam hai.n mujhako terii justajuu se pyaare
Those that couldn’t obtain the intoxication of vicinity of destination (kaif-e-qurb-e-ma.nzil)
Those two steps in your quest (justajuu) are dear to me
Mai.n ‘Shakeel’ unakaa ho kar bhii na paa sakaa huu.N unako
Merii tarah zi.ndagii me.n ko_ii jiit kar na haare
Shakeel, I couldn’t claim her even though I was hers,
Like me, in life, no one should lose after winning.
