Ek beer ka de do inko crate,
Phir dekho kaise hota hai,
Inka ego inflate.
Pic courtesy: jokesprank.com |
Punjabis are really great,
They have free love and hate,
Jab vada vo karte hain,
To nibhaate hain at any rate.
Punjabis are really great,
BA, MA aur matriculate,
No beating around the bush please,
Come to the point straight.
Punjabis are really great,
Matters nahin karte complicate,
“Don’t teach us the difficult way,
Why can’t you simplificate?”
Punjabis sachi hote hain great,
Ye detail hai thodi intricate,
No beating around the bush please,
Come to the point straight.
Punjabis hain bilkul great,
Even when in any state,
Thodi inki praise kar do,
Aur badh jaata hai inka weight.
Pic coutesy: thedesignershub.com |
Please don’t try to imitate,
They fight their way through,
Agar sitaution ho jaaye create.
Punjabis are really great,
Yeh unka hai etiquette,
Jiyo aur jeene do yaaro,
Life karo na suffocate.
NO IFS AND BUTTS – BOTTOMS ARE IMPORTANT
The first blog post of the year 2012 for me should be making me look ahead. However, in this post, I am looking behind or rather looking at behinds; or, as the Indians call it – at the back sides.
And all this is because of an end-of-the-year snippet in the newspaper that a certain Natalie Thomas has insured her bottom for a huge amount. The reason? She is paid for checking the softness of beds in hotels in London; and like Lata Mangeshkar insuring her throat, Natalie too has insured that part of her body that makes her do what she is good at. She said she enjoys doing what she is doing and we shouldn’t be surprised.
It is an asset to have a sensitive behind. One of the definitions of a smart-ass is: a person who can sit on a cone of ice-cream and tell you what flavour it is.
Kissing or paying lip-service to another person’s behind, rear, bottom or back side is the highest form of devotion, flattery or subservience. I am reminded of an instructor tutoring the boy-scouts about survival techniques in the jungles. Inevitably, the subject veered around to snakes and more particularly snake-bites. The instructor told the boy-scouts that in case of snake-bite they should immediately put their mouth to the position of the bite and suck out all the venom and spit it out. The scouts wanted to know what if the snake bites in a place that cannot be reached by their mouths. “That’s simple” said the instructor, “You should ask a friend to suck out.” There was a last persistent doubt by one of the scouts, “What happens if a snake bites at the bottom.” And the instructor replied, “That’s when you come to know who your friends are.”
Then there is the story of a woman having met with an accident. A part of her cheek got mutilated and after the wound got healed she required skin transplant to make it look alright. Her husband offered to donate his skin and the doctor, in order that the husband shouldn’t sacrifice his own looks for that of his wife’s, took the skin from his bottom to be transplanted on his wife’s face. Later, the office mates asked him if it was painful for him to donate his skin. “Yes” confirmed the man, “But, I do get my kicks every time my mother-in-law kisses my wife on the cheek”.
Women, always have had this curious advantage in having a shapely butt. An actress of yore, Ava Gardner, was arguing with the cameraman that he never showed her best side. “How can I” retorted the cameraman, “You are always sitting on it?”
A few years back JeLo or Jennifer Lopez had taken cognisance of having been voted the most shapely butt. She, from all counts, appears to be proud of the title she had won. She was such a successful star that employing her butt for testing the softness of beds won’t have occured to her.
At one time a woman would have been the butt of jokes to be praised for her bottom. However, nowadays, it is seen as a great compliment. Gone are the days when such limericks as following were prevalent:
A girl from Madras,
Had a beautiful ass;
Not rounded and pink,
As you probably think
It was grey, had long ears, and ate grass.
Nowadays, an ass means an ass of the rounded and pink variety.
Many actresses have got their butts insured exactly like the soft-bed-tester Natalie Thomas. Many actresses privately feel that if it hadn’t been for their behinds, they wouldn’t have been where they are: at the top of popularity charts. Men have a fascination for the women’s butts. That’s the bottom-line. Most men agree that a rear view is not so rare these days and keeps them raring to go.
By the same reasoning, hundred percent of Indian politicians should also get their bottoms insured since being a certain kind of holes is their calling. Indeed, they should do it at the time of campaigning for elections since, the statistics of Indian democracy bring out that if you lack in your ability of being this certain kind of hole, the chances of your getting elected are next to nil.
Babus in government offices also make use of those parts of the body for which Natalie Thomas gets paid so heavily. As they sit on their bottoms, the files on their desks and cupboards become bigger and bigger stacks; and, it often appears that the only reason they sought the job was to have a piece of government furniture support the most precious part of their bodies.
Chair or gaddi is important in Indian politics and babudom. Its occupant gets enormous powers. Many of the occupants when asked to get their bottom out of the gaddi would do anything to keep it there as long as they can. For this if they have to kiss the bottoms of the voters in their constituency, it is all for good cause.
To end a long story short, the motto ‘be kind to your behind’ has now been modified to: ‘be kind to all behinds’ because a hindsight is always better than foresight.
A PLAY TITLED ‘NEW YEAR’
Cardboard cutouts of crepuscular birds
Silently flap their wings
In a jagged arrowhead
Over chaos, despondence, carnage
Riding into the dusk of 2011.
End of Act I; thank God it’s over.
The audience awaits the next Act
That would miraculously usher in:
A nation riding on wings of Hope
Justice, Equality, Dignity, Amity, Knowledge.
Act II; oh, how we awaited it?
Suddenly, there are no tears,
No poor and naked,
No hopeless suicides,
No communal violence
No rapes, no child molestations
No loot, no guns, no bombs.
No Hindus, Muslims, Christians and others
Telling us that their god is the only real God.
Suddenly, a tinsel sun is lowered on stage,
And glimmers over a ‘clear stream of reason’
Leading its way slowly but surely
‘Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit’
And young children waving tricolors
Appear singing, “Jai Hind”
To accompaniment of a gentle flute.
As a dazed audience starts leaving
From gallery, stalls and aisles;
The oft repeated comments,
In the applause, are:
“If a play called ‘New Year’
Can usher in all this,
Why can’t we stage it everyday?”
NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS
- Until I get up at least.
- I will not drink any less either.
- I will not drink unless I have company.
- I like my company.
2. I will not worry unnecessarily
- No one has my circumstances.
- I am little more conscientious. How can it be called worrying?
- Someone has to worry.
- In any case I don’t worry about small things.
3. I will be regular with walks and calisthenics
- Once in a fortnight is fairly regular, isn’t it?
- What’s the use? She doesn’t come to the gym/walks anymore?
- 90 kgs is still less than 100, isn’t it?
- I have seen the fittest getting heart-attacks.
4. I will be more forgiving
- As soon as I have finished breaking the SOB’s teeth.
- Gandhi wasn’t so practical, you know.
- You have no idea what she did to me.
- I have tried this. He thought it was my weakness.
5. I will become more punctual
- Alright, but how about improving traffic, bus and train services?
- Me, the only one? Sitting alone in office, function, date?
- There are people who slip in much after me.
- Is there a fire?
6. I will become more positive
- You can’t be a lotus in filth.
- I am just being realistic.
- Glass half full? Have you seen the muck in the water?
- Who invented the parachute?
7. I will be more charitable
- You think the b____s are poor because of me?
- I have worked for every penny that I have.
- They misuse these funds all the time.
- People just show off with charity.
8. I will not waste time on unproductive activities
- Our group on facebook is quite intellectual.
- I am a thinking man.
- Some people are so unsocial.
- Sudoku is good for the brain.
9. I will spend more time with the family
- I would but the kids don’t want me.
- Our last holiday in Matheran was a disaster.
- There is a generation gap.
- They actually want to be left alone.
10. I will not lose my temper even with unreasonable people
- Is it only for me? What about the other party?
- One should call a spade a spade. I am only being factual.
- I never start an argument.
- There is always a limit, you know.
I think one reason that the New Year Resolutions don’t work is because we let the Mind do most of the thinking. We should, once in a while, let the heart be in control. It may just work.
THE BEST OF OLD HINDI SONGS – RAFI, SHAKEEL, NAUSHAD AND DILIP KUMAR TOGETHER
How proud I am that I lived in an era when Mohammed Rafi sang the songs whose lyrics were written by Shakeel Badayuni, music composed by Naushad and Dilip Kumar enacted those songs? There are other great lyricists such as Hasrat Jaipuri, Sahir Ludhianvi and Majrooh Sultanpuri. Similarly, there are other great music composers such as Ravi, Hemant Kumar, Salil Choudhury, Shanker-Jai Kishen, and Laxmikant Pyarelal. However, this article is only about the greatest ever quartet of Rafi, Shakeel, Naushad and Dilip Kumar being together.
The best musical trio ever: Naushad, Rafi, Shakeel – I would give anything to meet them |
Sadly, out of the four, the first three are no more except Dilip Kumar who celebrated his 89th birthday on the 11th of Dec. Mohammed Rafi died three and half decades ago (31 Jul 1980) at the age of 56. If he were alive, he would have celebrated his 87th birthday on 24th of Dec.Similarly, Naushad who died on 5th May 2006 would have been 92 on 25th of Dec. Can you imagine that the three of them had their birthdays this month? Shakeel didn’t even reach the age of 54: born on 3rd Aug 1916, he died on 20 Apr 1970
As far as songs not including the complete quartet are concerned, by far the number one song in Hindi movies has been the 1963 movie Mere Mehboob’s title song. Its lyrics are the finest written by Shakeel and Naushad has given the most heart-touching music. Rafi’d rendition is the best ever. But I am not putting it here because instead of Dilip, the film had Rajendra Kumar.
Once again you are bound to ask me: what about ‘Suhani raat dhal chuki’ from 1949 Dulari. Once again it has Shakeel-Naushad and Rafi but not Dilip Kumar. I think by this time you get the point hat this article is all about.
Let me begin with the oldest of the four: Shakeel of the village Badayun in UP. Initially he started as a shayar (poet) but moved in 1944 to Bombay to find a career in films. He met Naushad. During those days shayars were full of songs about upliftment of society. But Shakeel chose to write about love and Naushad liked his romantic poetry immediately and signed for AR Kardar’s 1947 movie Dard. The songs were a hit especially Afsana likh rahi hoon. Shakeel had arrived in the Hindi film industry with a bang. Shakeel wrote for Ravi, Burman, Hemant Kumar, C Ramachandra etc too but his favourite always was his first: Naushad. Unlike shayars of that era, Shakeel didn’t drink. However, he died young at 53 years of age in diabetes related problems.
The greatest lyricist of Hindi movies. He wrote Mere Mehboob |
Naushad was the next younger, having been born three and a half years after Shakeel. However, he was in Hindi film industry as an independent music director for close to seven years before he paired with Shakeel. He too was from UP; the city of Lucknow famous for its old Urdu etiquette and refinement. Naushad was the most versatile music director the industry ever saw. His genre was to base his music on classical raagas. His career spanned more than six decades. He was awarded the Dadasaheb Phalke award in 1981 and Padam Bhushan in 1992.
The Greatest with the Greatest – Naushad with Mohammad Rafi |
Next is Dilip Kumar who is still alive having been born as Muhammad Yusuf Khan in Peshawar (now in Pakistan) on 11 Dec 1922. Satyajit Ray called him the ultimate method actor. He too began his career in the same year as Shakeel did. He was the first actor to win Filmfare Best Actor Award; ultimately he won the highest number, ie, eight, an honour that he shares with Shah Rukh Khan. He was awarded the Padam Bhushan in 1991, Filmfare Lifetime Achievement Award in 1993 and Dadasaheb Phalke Award in 1994. He remained a good friend of Shakeel and Naushad.
Dilip Kumar – there hasn’t been a better actor than him in Hindi films |
The youngest was Rafi, born on 24 Dec 1924 in village Kotla Sultan Singh near Amritsar in Punjab. He has sung nearly 8000 songs including 112 in non Hindi and 328 non filmy private songs. He too started his career in Hindi movies in 1944 and became a contemporary of the other three. However, his career lasted nearly half of Naushad’s. He, however, had started singing at the age of 13. He sang 149 songs for Naushad. Other than Hindi and Urdu (the languages of the Hindi songs), he has sung songs in Konkani, Bhojpuri, Orya, Punjabi, Bengali, Marathi, Sindhi, Gujarati, Kannada, Tamil, Maghi, Maithili, Assamese, English, Persian, Spanish, and Dutch. His genre too was Hindustani and he was reputed to have moulded his voice to suit the character of the actor. I do not consider myself qualified to describe his talent. He is simply God of Hindi songs and there would never be a time when I shall not want to hear a song sung by Rafi.
The gretest Hindi films singer ever – Rafi was also the most humble |
The first of the movies in which the quartet was together was the 1948 Mela. Its title song ‘Yeh zindagi ke mele duniya mein kam na honge afsos hum na honge‘ is still the standard in Urdu poetry. Taste this:
Duniyaa hai mauj-e-dariyaa, qatare ki zindagi kyaa
Paani mein mil ke paani, a.njaam ye ke paani
Dam bhar ko saans le le, ye zindagi …
Milakar bhi rahaa main mushkil mein
Milane ka natijaa dekh liyaa
Two years later the great Mehboob Khan got the quartet toegther again for the movie Amar. The song close to my heart is the bhajan ‘Insaaf ka mandir hai ye bhagwan ka ghar hai‘. Just imagine all four Muslims getting together and making a mandir (Hindu temple) song. This was the essential greatness of the society, the movies and songs of that era: people of all communities participated in hymns of all religions. Two years earlier, for Baiju Bawra, Shakeel-Naushad-Rafi had combined to make one of the best Hindu bhajans: ‘Man tadpat Hari darshan ko aaj’.
The next movie of the quartet was the 1955 movie Uran Khatola that was produced by Naushad. The story-line was about a plane that crashed near an isolated town that is ruled by women. I have a problem now. There are so many good songs in this movie that I don’t know which one to select. There are, eg, Na toofan se khelo, na sahil se khelo’, ‘Hue ham jinake liye barbaad’ and ‘O door ke musaafir’. My choice is ‘Mohabbat ki raahon mein chalna sambhal ke‘. It is about the hopelessness of love. There are these immortal lines in the song:
Hamen dhoondhati hain, bahaaron ki duniyaa
Kahaan aa gaye ham, chaman se nikal ke.
And if you can see better acting than Dilip Kumar, do let me know.
Then there was a five year period in which no movie of the quartet together were released though there were others for them to accept movies separately. It was worth the wait. The 1960 Mughal-e-Azam, written by Kamal Amrohi (amongst others. Kamal went on to make his own classic Pakeezah a few years later) and directed by K Asif. It was the biggest box office hit ever (Rupees 133 Crores after adjusting for inflation) until Sholay broke its record. The movie was about the love affair between Prince Salim (who went on to become Emperor Jehangir) and Anarkali. The movie belonged to Lata Mangeshkar who bagged the best and most popular songs like ‘Mohe panghat pe Nandlal’, ‘Mohabbat ki jhooti kahani pe roye’, and ‘Jab pyaar kiya to darna kya’. Rafi had only one important song but it became very famous: ‘Zindabaad, zindabaad; ai mohabbat zindabaad’. Enjoy:
The year 1960 also saw the light-hearted Kohinoor; a movie with Dilip Kumar and Meena Kumari. Dilip Kumar had, by this time, earned the reputation of a Tragedy King with movies like Devdas and had actually gone into depression with the intensity of his roles. This movie was, therefore, to break the monotony of tragic roles. He won the Filmfare Best Actor award for this too. The movie had two very beautiful duets: ‘Chalenge teer jab dil par’, and ‘Do sitaaron ka zameen per hai milan’ and Rafi’s ‘Koi pyaar ki dekhe jadugari’ and ‘Zara man ki kewadiyaa khol’. My choice is: ‘Madhuban mein Radhika naach re‘, one of the best songs sung by Rafi:
Just a year later, in 1961, was released Dilip Kumar’s musical romance with Vyjantimala in the shape of Ganga Jamuna. Asha Bhonsle sang ‘Tora man bada paapi’, and Lata sang ‘Na maanu, na maanu na maanu re dagabaaj tori‘ and the all time hit song ‘Dhundo dhundo re saajna mere kaan ka baala’. However, Rafi’s ‘Nain lad jainhe to manavaa mein kasak hoibe kari‘ showed the rustic dancing by Dilip at its best. Here it is then:
We had to wait for another three years until 1964 to find the quartet again in Leader starring Vyjantimala once again opposite Dilip Kumar. The duet ‘Ek Shahenshah ne banwa ke hasin Taj Mahal’ was famous. But the movie belonged to Rafi with songs such as ‘Apni aazaadi ko hum’, ‘Hamin se mohabbat hamin se ladaayi’ and ‘Tere husn ki kya taareef karun’. I am, however, putting up ‘Mujhe duniya waalo shraabi na samjho’ if only to see Dilip in a drunken stage and Rafi matching the drunken voice in his singing:
One year later, the quartet was back again with the movie ‘Dil Diya Dard Liya‘ based on Emile Bronte’s ‘Wuthering Heights; this time with some of the best songs that Mohammad Rafi has sung. Dilip acted opposite Waheeda Rehman. Rafi’s songs that became famous and are still famous are: ‘Koi saagar dil ko behlaata nahin’, ‘Dilruba maine tere pyaar mein’, and a duet with Asha Bhosle, ‘Sawan aaye na aaye’. My choice is an all time favourite of mine: ‘Guzre hain aaj ishq mein‘. I adore these lines:
O bewafaa teraa bhi youn hi toot jaae dil
Tu bhi tadap-tadap ke pukaare haay dil
Tera bhi saamnaa ho kabhi gam ki shaam se
Two years later, the quartet were back in the super-hit movie Ram Aur Shyam. The theme of twins separated at birth and united later in life made its debut and continue unabated for many years. The movie had a soul-stirring song by Rafi: ‘Aaj ki raat mere dil ki salaami le le‘. Enjoy:
We could see the quartet for the last time in 1968 movie Sunghursh. The movie about thugee (conning) in Varanasi was based on a story by Jnanpith Award winner Mahasweta Devi; and starred Dilip Kumar and Vyjantimala. Rafi sang: ‘Jab dil se dil’ and ‘Ishq Diwana’; but, Dilip’s rustic dancing was once again to be seen in ‘Mere pairon mein ghungroo‘:
Well folks that is all from me for the quartet of Shakeel Badayuni as lyricist, Naushad Ali as Music Director, Mohammad Rafi as singer and Dilip Kumar as an actor with all four being together. How I wish that era had never ended. But, like Shakeel wrote in Mela: ‘Ye zindagi ke mele duniya mein kam na honge, afsos hum na honge’.
INDIA AND PAKISTAN – CAN WE LIVE WITHOUT BEING ENEMIES?
A Pakistani and an Indian were travelling together from Dubai to London and by quirk of fate (just like the quirk of our Geography) had seats next to each other; the Indian had the isle seat and the Pakistani had the middle seat. After take off when the aircraft had settled at the cruising altitude the Pakistani was about to press the overhead button for calling the hostess when the Indian turned to him and said, “Now what are you doing that for? I am just going to the washroom; on the way back I will fetch you what you want.” The Pakistani told him that he wanted a coke. This being a long flight the Indian had taken off his jutties (slip on ethnic shoes) and he tip-toed to the washroom and the pantry and brought the Paki a can of coke. In his absence, the Paki had picked up the left jutti and had deposited a big blob of his spittle into it.
Pic Courtesy: CHUP! – Changing Up Pakistan |
After some time the Paki had the desire to spit in the right jutti too. So he proceeded to press the overhead call button hoping that the Indian would fall for the ploy; and sure enough the Indian did and went to get another coke for the Pakistani.
It came to be time to land at Heathrow and in preparation for the landing, the Indian started putting on his juttis. As he slipped his feet in the Indian realised straightway as to what the Pakistani had done. So he turned to the Pakistani and said, “India and Pakistan are two great nations and civilisations. We have common heritage and can be great friends. Hence, it is not understood, why we keep spitting in each other’s juttis and cokes.”
Pakistanis are busy teaching ‘Hate India and Indians’ in their madrassas (Islamic schools) so much so that even their once great friends (but now not so great friends) Americans have taken notice of that. The think-tanks, media, movie-makers etc on both sides of the divide are busy churning out stories about how the other party has gone rogue and how “our love and consideration” can bring them back to good sense and decent friendly behaviour.
Pic Courtesy: The Internationalist |
After the break-up of the USSR, Henry Kissinger wrote in an essay in Time magazine that having an enemy in the USSR (the Iron Curtain etc) provided focus to the NATO; both for the industry and the defence forces. Without USSR, such a focus would be missing. Arguably, a similar focus seems to exist between India and Pakistan. You only have to witness a cricket or hockey match between the two nations to see the intensity or extent of this focus. Our governments would really have to concentrate on good governance without the comic relief of accusations and counter accusations between the two nations. That people die and considerable blood and money is spilled whilst retaining this enmity only adds to the focus. There is a race, a competition in everything, which assumes ludicrous proportions. If they shower hospitality over us we have to somehow outdo them and vice versa.
Pic Courtesy: Viewstonews |
There is a great opportunity that has come our way post second of May when, just as we in India guessed, ranted, expected and proclaimed, Osama Bin Laden was found living in luxury in Pakistan itself in Abbottabad with the Pakistan Army almost guarding his house and pretending to be unaware of his presence there. As expected, the US has tried to be tough with Pakistan and, as expected, the chasm between Pakistan and the US is increasing since then. Our opportunity is that the two countries can now get back to sorting out matters between ourselves without intervention and mediation that we were averse to but which Pakistan wanted. Hopefully Pakistan would have probably learnt its lesson that those who mediate or intervene don’t do so out of love or consideration for us but out of – what they call – their strategic interests; one of which is, though not expressed in such blunt words, that conflicts are the stuff that armed industries love – their motivation and indeed their raison d’être.
Pic Courtesy: Anil Kalhan |
The other opportunity that has come our way is the current tussle that is going on betwen the army and the civil government in Pakistan post memogate scandal. Curiously, the tussel is not to take over the reins of the country but to give to the other party the first choice in ruling the country; knowing very well that the rule (whether of the civil government or the army) is bound to fail under the uncertain environment that Pakistan faces post disinterest/dienchantment by the US.
I can explain this with this game we used to play when we were in our primary school. Two contenders would keep a kerchief on the ground between them and the contenders would circle around, getting into a position to grab the kerchief and run without being tagged by the other. Often, when they were hesitant, a third party would grab the kerchief leaving both the ontenders high and dry.
Pic Courtesy: Ring Time Pro Wrestling |
Now, what if India were to think strategic (for a change) and give the kerchief to the civilian government and make arrangements that it is not tagged by the army? It would be easy to assure the Pakistan government that we would together not allow the kerchief to be taken by a third party.
Else, I can visualise the frightening scenario a number of years later when Pakistan breaks up and instead of one adversary we have to contend with a few of them.
SEASON’S GREETINGS – 2011
Dear Friends,
Christmas is here again,
And so is New Year,
I go down memory lane,
And share our news here.
After retirement we made home,
In Kharghar, Navi Mumbai.
It’s neither Paris, nor Rome
Nor even London or Shanghai.
But it is our home and hence,
We are always in love with it,
It would give us joy immense,
When you honour us with a visit.
We have with us, my mother,
And it’s great blessing indeed.
To have at the table none other,
Than who gave me my first feed.
Arjun, our elder lives on his own,
He has emerged as a critic,
No, folks, don’t grunt or groan,
It’s only of Western & Pop music.
Arun, the younger is in Hyderabad,
As an animator in Rhythem & Hues,
Yes, mohawk is still his hair fad,
And he often blows our fuse.
Lyn, God bless, is as sweet,
As when we were newly wed,
To taste her cooking is still a treat,
She keeps us happy and well fed.
We miss our Roger dear,
The youngest of our boys,
He is not with us this year,
To share our smiles and joys.
(But, he will always be with us)
So that is about all of us,
We hope to hear from you, dear,
We wish you a very Merry Christmas
And a Happy New Year.
With lots of love, regards and best wishes,
Mom, Lyn, Arjun, Arun, Roger and Me
SULAGTE AANSU
वो लौटा रहें हैं मेरा सामान,
और जला रहे हैं सब कुछ,
मेरी आरज़ू है सितमगर
मेरे अश्क भी जला दें
ताके दिल के समुन्दर में
वो तूफ़ान फिर ना उभरे;
जो मरहले खड़े थे
उन्हें ठोकर से मिटा दें
काश हम ना होते वो ना होते,
और ये आरज़ू ना होती
तेरी आँखों में जो सरूर था
वो सरूर भी हटा दें
मैं भूल गया हूँ सब कुछ,
तेरे प्यार की नज़र में
मेरी कौन सी है मंजिल
मुझे कुछ तो अब पता दें
अब दिल न हो, प्यार ना हो,
और ना रहे उनकी यादें,
कोई उनसे जाके कह दे,
मेरी हस्ती ही मिटा दें
Vo lauta rahe hain mera saamaan,
Aur jala rahen hain sab kuchh,
Meri araz hai sitamgar
Mere ashq bhi jala dein.
Taa ke dil ke samunder mein
Vo toofan phir na ubhre.
Jo marhale khade the
Unhein thokar se mita dein.
Kaash hum na hote vo na hote,
Aur ye aarzoo na hoti,
Teri aankhon mein jo saroor tha,
Vo saroor bhi hata dein.
Main bhool gaya hoon sab kuchh,
Tere pyaar ki nazar mein.
Meri kaun si hai manzil,
Mujhe kuchh to ab pata dein.
Ab dil na ho, pyaar na ho,
Aur naa rahein unki yaadein,
Koi unse jaake keh de,
Meri hasti hi mita dein.
NH7 BACARDI WEEKENDER – ROAD TO HEAVEN
Papone and the East India Company at the Dewarist Stage |
This year was probably the best assembly of gigs in an Indian music fest. There were five stages in all at the same Laxmi Lawns: The Dewarist, The Other Stage, Pepsi Dub Station, Eristoff Wolves Den, and Bacardi Black Rock Arena. The organisers need to be congratulated for having put up the stages, and the programme so meticulously. Arjun told me that most of it was done by his friend Dhruv and his team.
A view of the on-site admin office – Arjun and friends operated from here |
Whilst the stages buzzed with music and crowd frenzy the organisers “quietly” (???) went ahead with their job |
In addition to the music gigs, what makes an even like this special are organising and ensuring participation by the crowds; for example, the flea market selling anything from memorabilia to T shirts, hair dos, caps, hats, trinkets.
A happy visitor at the Flea (not free) market |
Then there are food and drinks stalls and…hold your breath, a Tattoo Pavilion.
One of the many watering holes. The pictures collage at the rear wall is by Kunal Kakodkar and all the pics were lit at night |
Even though the crowds were huge (when Imogen Heaps had the stage about 700 people had to be sent back due to no place available for the crowds to even stand), these were managed very well. At the parking lot, there was complete order. One of the newspapers brought out at the end of the fest that the policemen on duty had nothing to do since the crowds were so well behaved. They were in there to have a good time and they were genuine music afficiondos. Have a look at the total orderliness even at the entrance despite the ‘bouncers’ frisking everyone for drugs etc:
Entrance to the music fest |
We enjoyed the music, the ambience, the young foot-tapping crowds with their lovely, colourful hair dos and head gear. To our surprise we found that Anna Hazare is the rage with the youngsters and Gandhi caps were the most preferred headgear:
An Anna Hazare Designer cap |
This group of girls were always in these hats |
A nice blue hair-do |
Some more colours |
As you entered the fest arena they gave you a Guide Book to the facilities there and a Pocket Guide. Both were very beautifully done and provided complete information about the stages, the programme, the artistes, flea markets, food stalls, watering holes etc. Here is Lyn holding one of these Guide Books:
A Gibson stall in the fest |
Let me now give you a glimpse of the Food stalls and the Tattoo shops in the Tattoo Republic
The armed forces bands play the Tattoo! |
The atmosphere at the food-stalls |
Before I go on to the music, the real reason for the fest, let me give you glimpses of riot of paints and colours:
Lyn trying to merge with the paintings. |
As far as Music was concerned, there was so much to choose from. On the first day, Friday, the 18th Nov, there were three live stages: Eristoff Wolves Den, Pepsi Dub Station, and Eristoff Club Invasion. The gigs that played included Sky Rabbit (formerly Medusa), Midival Punditz, Ash Boy, Dualist Inquiry, Basement Jaxx, Jatin Puri, and DJ Swaggamuffin. Here is a pic of Sky Rabbit in action:
Sky Rabbit (formerly Medusa) |
The second day was a delectable treat of music: On the Dewarists stage there were, amongst others Imogen Heap and Raghu Dixit. How did it go? Well, even though the crowds filled the lawns fully, they were not really on the grounds; most often than not they were airborne. Bacardi Black stage had, amongst others, Tough on Tobacco, Pentagram, and Blackstratblues. Eristoff Wolves Den stage had Reggae Rajahs.
The third day was sadly the last day. There were gigs like Scribe, King Creosote, Swarathma, Papon & the East India Company, Bhayanak Maut and Indian Ocean. In the end, another treat awaited the fans in the shape of Weekender All Stars on Bacardi Together stage.
See how neatly the organisers had worked out everything:
A Directions Map from the Guide Book |
And an ‘Out of Toon’ Guide to the fest |
When the last of the gigs, Indian Ocean played there was not an inch of ground left to stand on. Well, no one was standing anyway. People were air borne most of the time. Lyn and I found a good vantage point to watch Indian Ocean live. Halfway through a girl tapped me from behind and said with becoming pleading, “Sir, you are tall you can watch from anywhere, can I come in front?” What would you have done? I did the same. She stood next to Lyn and watched and I felt like a boy scout having done my good deed for the day.
Lyn not allowing her place near the stage to be taken by anyone |
There was a treat waiting for Lyn and I at the end of Indian Oceans performance. We could meet the versatile Rahul Ram of Indian Ocean and even take pics with him; all this courtesy Arjun:
Lyn and me with Rahul Ram of Indian Ocean |
For Lyn and me another great and warm feeling was to be with Arjun; he lives music, breathes music. His friends say about him that other than music nothing registers in his mind.
Arjun looking satisfied with the response to NH7 Weekender and Lyn looking happy that Arjun is satisfied |
The last item was the All Gigs Together and….like one often did with a long novel just before the ending, you didn’t want it to end.
The last item: Weekender All Stars – jampacked |
On return, we were on the Expressway back to Mumbai and the only thought in our mind was: The real expressway (to heaven) was in Laxmi Lawns, Magarpatta City, Pune, from 18 to 20 Nov.
MOBILE ESHTYLE
Cellphones have become part of our life; so much so that an ad campaign shows the mobile phone craving for a man’s attention – through urgent ringtone – even when he, with his would be wife, are taking rounds of the nuptial fire (agni), or attending a funeral, or a class in a college or even in the library. Together with the cellphone have come various styles of attending to the calls or talking on the phone. I am listing out some that I have observed. You can add to it in the comments below.The queerest of them all is what I call the Jain wayof talking. This person has the hand in front of his mouth, covering his trap, half his face and extending it to the cellphone at his ear. He or she is convinced that if they don’t direct the sound energy from the mouth to the ear, the phone and hence the recipient won’t be able to catch it.
Then there is the man who feels every phone conversation is a public address. He walks up and down with his phone at the ear and is loudly discussing transactions with the third party. He is totally oblivious of the crowds around him; however, they can’t be so oblivious of him thanks to his irritable pacing and taking for granted that people around him would be totally interested how much he gets out of a truck full of old gunny bags.
I just love this style: the phone rings and the man or the woman looks around as if betrayed by the ring. He or she then picks up the phone furtively and goes to the corner of the room like a scared puppy and talks into it like a prompter in a play.
Pic courtesy: zyozy.org |
Then there is the one more used to the olden day (early twentieth century) phones that had an earphone stuck to the ear and a microphone attached to a wire in front of the mouth. So, in memory of this style (at that time a necessity) he or she alternates the cellphone to the ear and the mouth. For example, he puts the phone directly in front of his mouth, mutters something, and then quickly takes it to his ear to catch what the other party has to say.
I am rather amused by this inimitable (for me) style: in this the person speaking on the phone sticks it between his shoulder, neck and ear and then goes about doing other important things such as skinning a radish or shelling peanuts with both his hands. Most often than not he has a lit beedi in his mouth that he puffs at without the use of his hands. And just when he is comfortable with doing all the three things, the other phone in his trouser pocket rings. I keep imagining this guy working in a circus or playing a number of instruments together like Vinod Khanna in the Hindi movie Amar, Akbar, Antony.
Then there is the one who can only be called ‘lambi race kaa ghoda’ (Long race horse). He knows that his conversation is not a matter of minutes but hours. He not only keeps putting the phone to alternate ears, but, even in the same ear he keeps shifting the angle to match with whether he wants to hear or talk or even to emphasize a point.
You have seen and heard of the person with ears plugged and a wire going to the trouser pocket or speaking through a bluetooth device. However, none of these are for the eternal lover. He walks past you as if talking to himself whilst in his pocket is the cellphone on speaker. He describes everything to his girlfriend including rain, guy almost falling off a bus and the lovely puppy eating the ice cream cone thrown away by the rich-kid. He is also in a perpetual trance and, if it is not for the kind hearted old woman, he’d walk straight into the open man-hole.
This man is rich, very rich. He is a Telugu from the rich East Godavari district. He has any number of latest models of cellphones. He has one on his left ear, another on his right and one in the hand on which he is playing Angry Bird. Next to him his three daughters, two sons, his wife etc all are doing the same on their phones. You don’t find it funny? Well, niether does the air hostess who had made a fervent announcement to switch off the cellphones before the take off.
pic courtesy: textually.org |
Then we have this girl. The cover of her phone resembles a cassette or a pencil box or a giant eraser. You are amused that she can talk to such objects but she is carrying on a conversation as if it is perfectly normal for people to talk to an eraser.
We have the group cellphone. On this phone first the man talks and then throws it to a woman at the other end of the railway compartment and shouting to her, “Mata ji kaa hai, tumhaare baare mein poochh rahin hain.” (It is from your mother enquiring after you). Just when you pity the couple for not getting a seat together on the 6:30 PM fast from Churchgate to Viraar; she throws it to their son tring to edge himself closer to a man about to get down, with, “Vikaas, beta, mata ji ko pranaam kar le” (Vikaas my son, pay your respect to your grandmother). Before, Vikas can throw it to the rest of the family, you get down at Borivali after having endured long-distance telephony.
We also have this guy who takes his phone everywhere whilst talking, even to the toilet. It appears that next they will have a cellphone that dispenses toilet paper.
Pic courtesy: best-choice-tech.com |
Then there is the man who feels it is totally the fault of the cellphone that life is treating him bad. Hence, he directs all his anger on the phone, screams, shouts, waves it angrily as if to throw it. For him the biggest crib in his life is the phone – his biggest enemy. People around him pity the makers of the cellphones. He could be used in the cellphone companies for carrying out endurance test of the phones.
I end with this guy who could have been a director in a movie. He builds the scene on his phone and includes you as the other actors (extras) in the movie. He gives you directions like “Shhh” and even asks you, “Sala samajhta kya hai apne aap ko?” (What does he think of himself?)
CRAZY SPECK SONNET
Is it a mere stain on deck?
So, from afar, when you see a speck,
MAN IN THE MIRROR
Splendid and majestic
People looked down
Awaiting the arrival of the King
A bugle…hushed silence…pronouncement
And then he walked in
With the edge of his robe
Held by minions behind
He took his seat
At the throne.
This is what he said:
“Last week when
I went hunting
I came across a pond
In a recess in the forest
With clear and placid waters
I looked down
And saw it all
Truth, Beauty and Perfection.”
He looked down at them
Mere mortals
In the presence of the Monarch.
He laughed derisively
Enjoying his power over them
No one could deny
His having found
Truth, Beauty and Perfection.
As he laughed
He looked horrible
Uglier than the Evil.
A far cry from
Truth, Beauty and Perfection.
But the King won’t know this;
There wasn’t a pond in the palace
And the king won’t go hunting
Until next season
When the pond wouldn’t be placid
And the water would be muddy.
NO, NOT PALOMA BLANCA
And there it was
On my window sill.
It looked small and frail
But with restless energy
And eyes alert and moving
Smelling danger and
Chance to peck.
What lovely combination
Of colours and shades, I thought
And freedom to move
With abandon.
You can keep people out
And even dogs and cats
But you can’t
Keep birds like that out.
I wanted to hold it,
Caress and
Feel the warmth of its belly
And be protective.
But, as I extended
My hand to do so
It flew and
Landed on the other window
I quickly moved there
And it flew
To the tree
And stared at me
Out of reach.
I envied the freedom it had
To fly the skies
And reach places I can’t.
I can’t, and it can
I was jealous of its colours,
Flight, independence
Anywhere, anytime
Even on the water
Over electric cables
Roof tops and ledges.
I, wanted nothing
But to be like it…
“Just a bird in the sky”.
“Rather be a sparrow than a snail.”
And then….. a gunshot
A violent and helpless flutter
And it fell like a ripe fruit from the tree.
Bruised and bleeding.
My fancy fluttered and died.
Why would anyone
Shoot down a bird
That brings as much joy
As a butterfly fleeting amongst flowers?
Will we ever
Make Darwinian Theory
Stand on its head?
Don’t caresses and whispers
Stand a chance
Against shouts and screams
And barks and roars?
Is Life an unequal race?
Can Beauty protect itself?
Does anyone know?
A Bird is what we want to be;
But, a bird is what we shoot…
Because….we can.
The radio played:
“I am a Paloma Blanca
I am just a bird in the sky
No one can take
My freedom away”
We pretend
But, we detest freedom
Of birds, animals, people
No one can fly
No one can soar
We have enough means
To shoot, kill, bring down
“Get in line,
Do this, do that
Follow…
Or else.”
JOURNEY OF A RAIN DROP
As vapour,
Still not fully formed as a drop.
There was unbound excitement
At being born, created
A separate entity
Proud to be by itself
Rather than mixed in the salt of the sea.
As it took shape,
Amongst millions others,
It was conscious,
As do all of us
That it would be carried
By forces beyond its control
To far places and people
To lose its identity again when it’d fall.
“Where would fate take me?”
It mused as winds carried it landwards,
“Will I fall on a tree and hang
On to the leaves for dear life?”
“Or will I fall in a pot hole on the road
To be cursed by drivers and walkers alike?”
“Or worse, on a heap of rubbish,
Carrying stench in the air?”
“If I am lucky,
I may fall on the Ganesha idol
In a procession
But then, I shall be quickly
Back into where I was born and arose:
The vastness of the sea.
My friends and I may also fall in the milkman’s pot
And he’d rejoice for increased sale.”
“I have no choice
But, I don’t want to be part of a gutter.
God, I am small and feeble,
Be kind to me,
Let me be valued,
By myself and not
As part of the gang
Together called ‘rain’.”
The cloud that carried him,
Deposited him
On the cheek of a small child,
Naked and hungry,
On a street in Mumbai;
Where it mingled with a single tear
That shot from her eye
On the death of her mother in a bomb attack.
“God”, it said,
Let a hundred drops fall
To wash the sin of
What man has done to man.
But, they should never
Forget that single tear from her eye.
I don’t want to be born again
And again, and again, and again.”
INDIANS – BARTERING CHARACTER FOR PROSPERITY
Afterall, even when we were a poorer country we had values that the world admired. By and large the Indian society was peaceful, honest, modest, godfaring, more spiritual than materialistic, and regarded pursuit of knowledge higher than making money by hook or by crook. Yes, they were aberrations too; but their number was small and the majority looked down upon these and took such people to task both in the media and in moral debates. No one ever identified with them.
When did the dumbing down of the Indian society start? Surprisingly, or actually not so surprisingly, the decline of our values commenced when we started coming out of what was derisively called ‘Hindu rate of Growth’. It is around the same time that I read an essay in India Today titled ‘Evil Fascinates’. It was about the growing fascination of Indians towards things which were the opposite of ‘Good’. At around the same time, if you care to recall, Khalnayak (Villain) became an object of aspiration. Nayak (Hero), with all his ‘Goodness’ became dull, uninteresting, banal.
The result? Our collective acceptance of things which once would have shocked us or would have, at least, annoyed us. The list ranges from the small things to bigger scams etc. Are these the effects of rapid industrialisation or were we always like this? Most Indian towns are now unliveable. Why? Are the authorities, politicians, bureuacrats, etc, to be blamed all the while for degeneration of our values? Ain’t we always fond of short-cuts, blaming the authorities for the eventual mess? Yes, the authorities have coined this convenient phrase “the sentiments of the people have to be respected” to overlook rampant lawlessness and indiscipline whilst pandering to “vote bank politics”. But, a large amount of blame has to stick to us too.
Let me give a few examples. We recently finished with what used to be called Deepavali and which should now be called ‘Bombavali‘. What fun could it have been for the kids in our colony (and everywhere else) to burst crackers (the sounds that would bring afresh the horror of Hiroshima and Nagasaki) at odd hours of night and day? At one time, I was about to shout at them from my tenth floor window with, “Don’t your parents teach you anything?” But then, I heard the excited voices of the parents’ asking them to light a “big one”.
Next day, I sighted a kid of 8 years with his mother in the elevator. Just out of curiosity I asked him how much he had spent on his crackers. He replied Five Thousand Rupees; and I was shocked to see that the mother didn’t have a resigned look on her face but one of pride as if anything less would be unacceptable for their status.
Now, I am not the die-hard socialist trying to make a point that this kind of money should have been spent on the poor etc (I have, indeed, nil comments for a 30 ml peg of Remy Martin Louis XIII Black Pearl costing all of Rupees 1.25 Lakhs at The Leela Palace at Chanakyapuri; you can go ahead have all the fun in the world and flaunt your money without blowing smoke in someone’s face). Far from it. All I am saying is that whilst such consumption may not be evil but it certainly is hedonistic with scant regard for other people’s right for a noiseless colony at late hours in the night; and that unlike what is prescribed by Dr Abdul Kalam, the parents don’t teach values to the children. Hence, the dumbing down of even the next generation is assured.
You go for a drive anywhere in India and people are trying to kill you. Sounds like an over-statement? Think again. Yesterday, I went to Nagothane. On the way I noticed that whenever my driver got a few feet out to the right to see if it was safe to overtake the next vehicle, our position on the road was immediately taken by the vehicle behind us. Now, if we had to find (which actually happened) that it was not safe to overtake, we had no place to return to, making it dangerous and life threatening for us. Most of the drivers doing such dangerous things on the road were the younger generation, even girls and women. Surely, somewhere along, the upbringing and education of such people has been lacking in something. The utter selfishness and scant regard for others are traits that have got ingrained in the majority of our people. Traffic sense is just one manifestation of it.
Littering wantonly is another manifestation of this trait. Let the authorities clean up; afterall we pay them to do so. I have seen parents shouting at their kids for holding on to the wrapper, skin of fruit, other trash in their hands and slanging them for not immediately getting rid of these by chucking these outside the windows.
We have had great fun in the Ramlila Ground in New delhi recently and on the city streets singing paeans for Anna Hazare and his team. I suspect that majority of the people don’t want anything to change. And, hence, they are very relieved when something, however little, is found against Team Anna so that they can heave a sigh of relief that all Indians are alike and no one has any holier-than-thou right to think differently. This is similar to some of the members of my team visiting a spic n span foreign country returning to India and exclaiming, “Thank God we are back; the kind of restrictions there (not to litter etc) were stifling. Home sweet home.”
Mayawati is a Dalit Chief Minister. Her emotional bonding with her people is due to respect for meekness and poverty. What did she do after the elections? Huge elephants put up all over the state. I enjoyed the first ever F1 Grand Prix in India. But I hated Mayawati handing over the winning cup to Sebastian Vettel. What was wrong with that? Only this that she should not hoodwink people about Dalits and Socialism and eradication of poverty etc.
Talking about F1, yes it was a great circuit. But, however hard we try we can’t get rid of perpetual dust and smog in our cities. It is black dust, noise, confusion, weird smells; and yet, we somehow make believe that we are progressing and that India is a power to reckon with. When countries abroad hold F1 and other such jamborees their civic life matches with the culture of the event. In our country, F1 Grand Prix would only be representative of the growing chasm between the haves and have-nots.
India and its people, I feel, have lost character whilst seeking prosperity. We are somehow convinced that the abundance of material goods has made our lives better: cell phones, cars, electronic gadgets, money. However, arguably, our lives are worse than what these used to be earlier. What are the litmus tests of these? Well, let me hear recent tales (since I have not experienced these myself) of people respecting goodness, honesty, other people’s privacy; rights of minority to have peace and silence during festivals; respecting people who observe traffic rules; respecting those who don’t pay bribes or don’t take short-cuts as matters of principle. In short ‘Live and Let Live’.
At the present juncture, I am sorry to say, we are doomed to be what we bemoaned at one time: ‘a rich country inhabited by the poor’; except that now, poor is defined as ‘poor in character‘.
Everyone of us has to bring in (and do so proudly) discipline in our individual and collective lives.