Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Some Spill Over and a Refreshing Attempt in Creating Music Albums

I finally feel that my blog might finally arrive some day. A look at the comments to my last post gave me that glimmer of hope. True, only a couple of people contributed to it but what the heck! The comments did make the last post look very relevant even though it wasn't exactly meant to be so.

There can be no last word on whether PhD has 99% quacks and 1% genius or whether it is the other way round. I might not even qualify to judge them because I am not in their seat. PhD to me is a career choice – made with a lot of thoughts put in or maybe by just following the herd mentality with no idea of where one would end up being. Some research papers published might serve or support future research but there would still be a lot more that would languish as volumes of crap in a quiet corner of a library and would be reminiscent of wasted funds allocated to (re)search.

Getting into PhD does not necessarily guarantee intellect. So all you PhD’s out there, don’t expect reverence just because you are certified somewhere as a Doc. You burden this earth as much as anyone else does!

Today I got to hear 11 of Gulzar’s poems in Dus Kahaniyaan and I must say it was a novel experience in contrast to what we get to hear in the name of giving a ‘different’ touch to music. I couldn’t understand half of the words used (mamool, jumla-hukuk) but still it was a refreshing change amidst the hordes of remixed stuff that we are exposed to. Kudos to Sanjay Gupta for thinking of such a concept. I might not like his habit of picking stories ‘as-is’ from world cinema but this one scores an ace.

The poems are recited by different actors and from what I get; they give you a gist of each of the 10 stories in the film (10 stories in a film?? Didn't the director learn something from Ramu's Darna Mana Hai?). I wonder why they have the 11th extra poem. I specially liked the one recited by Naseeruddin Shah, titled Khuda. This is how it goes:

Poore ka poora aakash ghumakar baazi dekhi maine,
Kaale ghar mein suraj rakh ke tumne shayad socha tha mere saare mohre pit jayenge.
Maine ek chirag jalake apna raasta khol liya.

Tumne ek samandar haath mein lekar mujhpar dhel diya,
Maine Noah ki kashti uske upar rakh di.
Kaal chala tumne aur meri jaanib dekha,
Maine kaal ko tod ke lamha lamha jeena seekh liya

Meri khudi ko tumne chand chamatkaaron se maarna chaha,
Mere ek pyaade ne tera chaand ka mohra maar liya.
Maut ki sheh deke tumne samjha tha -- Ab to maat hui!
Maine jism ka khol utaar ke saaunp diya aur rooh bacha li.

Poore ka poora aakash ghumakar ab tum dekho baazi..

This one has that arrogant touch to it and it somehow reminded me of that Hero Honda ad shown a few years back. This is how it went:

I am not a star.

There is no halo over my head.
Fate doesn't like the colour of my eyes.
Struggle and strife are old friends of mine.
Who am I ?
I am survival. I am guts. I am pride.
I like odds.
Especially when they'restacked against me.
Because there will come a time when I will stare them in the eye.
And smile the smile of the one who's pulled it off.
I am the guy who will have deep lines on his face someday.
And it'll make me look good when I laugh.
Because that is the dayI will fear no fear.
And taste sweat that is sweet.
And look back for the very first time and say,I did it my way.
The long hard way.

Most of the other verses in the CD3 of the album released have an undercurrent of separation, longing and search. I would rate it as a mixed bag. Good rendition of the poetry by the actors that can be classified as typical Gulzar stuff. How about "4.6 billion saalon ki umar beet chuki hai, kitni der laga di tumne aane mein" ;)

As for all you Himesh and Pritam fans don’t lose heart. I hear that Himesh just went on a film signing spree which will see him back at the helm as actor-singer-music director and Pritam’s next set of inspired but “original” compositions might also be round the corner.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

We Don't Need No Education

D(o)r(k). - Is that you?

I was born intelligent but education ruined me” – A slight look at my graduation grades and you too would approve of the second half of the statement being true in my case. As for being born intelligent, with a sigh I admit that I couldn’t inherit everything from Dad after all. I sneaked my way into probably one of India’s best engineering colleges only to realize later that those sharp deserving kids were more than a handful for me.

Come to think of it, I made friends with a whiz who could solve incomprehensible probability questions in the same time that I could multiply 23 with 0 and then there was this other guy who took a couple of analytical tests for a competitive examination and then got through India’s best management college only to refuse the offer because he didn’t feel like going for it!

While I spent most of my childhood scurrying away from the “You are Prof. Sinha’s son, you ought to do better boy!” compliments after school examinations, my entire ‘feeling young’ phase of life was robbed by these geeky fellows who wreaked havoc when the grades were let out. I studied in a place where relative grading was the norm and sometimes even a good score in absolute terms didn’t make much of a difference.

With time I learnt to master the art of faking intelligence. I have always been a keen observer and the fact that I was in the company of some of the brightest young minds during the formative phase of my life, it was obvious that I would get it right some day. But deep within, I look around perplexed at the geeks who never cease to churn out new ways to keep themselves immersed in building a knowledge skill set that would one day become insurmountable.

At least 5 out of the 20 wingies* that I had at college went for higher studies. 3 of them dropped out after Masters but 2 of them are still going strong – Bloody losers!! ;).

PhD is akin to a 3-5 year celibacy vow after getting married. You are at your young and energetic best to go out and make money but you restrain yourself and learn to manage life in the scholarship offered, helping out the 50 something guide of yours and sitting back reading research papers. What I find more amusing is that their zest of life doesn’t end and they get the biggest kick when one of their papers comes out in a publication not read by even 1% of the total populace of Vatican City.

I might sound like a total idiot speaking like this despite coming from a family where my Dad and uncles all hold PhD degrees and are professors but I somehow felt more at ease experiencing, inferring and then moving on rather than reading, inferring, proposing and then making others dwell on it to create a never ending chain of scholars. Someone questioned my thinking saying that it is the second process that actually takes life forward and makes you evolve. I too feel it does but I still prefer the rush that Archimedes had when he immersed himself in that bath tub and then ran naked in the town. I am sure he wasn't reading a research paper then.

I would really love to know if there is some research or a study on what forms the primary motive for people to get into research. Is it some inquisitive zeal to learn or is it the fame and money that comes in once your idea gets going or is it simply because some people just love romancing books in a library?

When I talk to such people today, my graduate degree seems like a matriculation certificate to me. I feel just about literate and painfully useless. After grappling with issues in life and tremendous soul searching, I find reason in taking up need based education to realize my future goals but self penance and single minded devotion to something that might not eventually come off is something worth bowing down to and the feeling comes from the bottom of my heart.

Here's a message from a lot of lives ruined by education to the lucky people belonging to the other realm – “Now that education has made you intelligent, be sure to thank your stars!

*Wingies - Wingmates; Students living together in a hostel wing.

PS: A tiring day at office and losing your money due to your silliness is enough to get vitriolic. Now that I have spewed the venom, I feel purged. Thanks for bearing with me.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Hopelessly Romantic

Experiencing love is not a Eureka! Eureka! moment of life. The feeling catches you unawares and by the time you realize it, you are already head long into it. So there is not one moment which you can pick as the moment you fell in love. The reason why I bring this up is to introduce you to the class of individuals who mistakenly search for that special moment and in the anxiousness to do so unwittingly end up playing an Archimedes in Love by proclaiming their love at every killing smile that they catch hold of.

I first fell in love quite early in life after learning about the virtues of seizing opportunity as an early mover. It remained my first love until I learnt an English word called 'infatuation'. From then on, I classify any feeling of attraction to the opposite sex under that category. One, because I want to avoid going through the motions that people go through while in love. Two, because I really don’t know how to go about it and most importantly because I sincerely value opinions that rate me as a disaster in everything besides coming up with awful practical jokes to trap unsuspecting victims. In that sense I have tremendous respect for these gutsy guys who at least listen to the call from their hearts and go out to pursue what it asks them to do.

I have known quiet a few of these hopelessly romantic folks from my school, college and now my professional days and I have often marveled at the commitment that these guys show to these sometimes non existent relation in the hope that it would some day materialize. I had once tried to play a love guru to a first timer (my college room-mate, read Parth!) and failed miserably, so I don’t resort to suggesting them ways to woo their love interest. However, I still love to give them a patient hearing and that forms the basis of this post.

In case you are wondering about what I did to fail miserably as a love guru, I made my roomie write a ‘supposed’ love letter that had references to a robot, remote sensors and some such silly engineering stuff with an aim to create a stud image for him. His 'She' replied back with a mail that had references to words that you won’t even find in Barron’s GRE word list and her impeccable sentence structuring and control over language could put GMAT’s verbal section to shame. Since we were not able to comprehend half of the mail, the love life of my shishya was ruined before it could take off the plane. I am sure he still carries that grudge against me. Parth, if you are reading this, lemme request you to give me another chance if it is in sight to redeem my pride and your glory and do something about this dil pe rakha hua bojh.

Coming back to what we began with, sighting these romantics at heart is not as difficult a proposition as sighting an alien in the holy land of Bihar. Here are a few cues to help you figure out this variety:

Polished look alternating with a disheveled look every now and then

They look polished when they try to catch the attention of the target. This continues for a few days during which this specie tries all possible things under control to win her over. The disheveled look takes over when they think they are already in love but the girl doesn’t give it a damn! The cycle repeats each time a new target comes within striking distance.

Starting to act secretive

The mobile phone is the biggest weapon that these guys possess. After a few public interactions (call it date for their sake) with a girl and post exchanging mobile numbers, they act swift in taking the relationship to the next level. SMSes are exchanged and love blossoms. Please note that this exchange could be two sided as well and that makes me think whether these girls are really so silly not to get the vibes - "Main to tumhe sirf ek dost samajhti thee". Anyways, once these exchanges start, all idle talk with friends about the girl are met with deadpan expressions or a wry smile at most. He doesn’t ever forget to leave his cell phone unattended. All goes well and looks under control. The relationship does start to take shape and long chats follow at nights until the girl drops a bomb one day saying that her family has chosen a boy and she can’t go against their wishes. The disheveled look returns and he doesn’t really care where his mobile is for a change.

Acting sensitive

You will not realize why your abuses and slandering jokes are no more taken in the right spirit. They either stop reacting to it or issue an ultimatum. “Don’t you dare do anything to tarnish my image in front of her.” Point taken!

However, this is a transitional phase. Since these guys switch allegiance every season, you will find them back on track soon after the courtship period is over and they are back to business looking ahead in life and in search of their next tryst with romance.

Everything I do, I do it for you

Don’t be surprised to see them trying out a radically different look or doing something weirdly unique to please her. I have seen a fairly dark acquaintaince of mine buying green contact lenses to look different. Some outspoken romantics at heart go that extra mile to make sure that the love of their life understands it. An approving nod makes them go ga ga and it’s understandable. But at this point the hesitancy of trying to be something out of your skin gives way to a swagger that bellows – “Don’t you know that I am happening?”

All stays rosy until someone up there decides to play games and by a quirk of fate, they get back to where it all started and the cycle is repeated. After all Saccha pyaar saal mein ek baar to zaroor hota hai.

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
('If' - Rudyard Kipling)

I salute the infallible spirit of these people.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007


With Sholay and Aag already used, I had to come up with a new title for my tribute to Ramu's Aag and what better than Angaarey. It goes well with the tone set by Sholay and carried forward by Aag. The characters might remind you of Sholay but all resemblances to characters from that film are purely coincidental. I have been solely inspired by RGV in coming up with this script.

My apologies for the formatting issues with this post, I tried hard to get the HTML work fine but failed :(

Act I - Prequel: How it all began?

Gabbar (front), Thakur (back), Helen (Right) in their childhood

Two kids - Gabbar and Thakur who came from diverse backgrounds were the best of friends at one point in time. Gabbar, coming from an uneducated background, was not well cultured. Profanities came out from his mouth as if it were poetry - "Suwar ke bachchon..dhikkar hai"

Thakur's family was against this budding friendship between Gabbar and Thakur as Thakur had begun showing signs of hooliganism at home. One day while Helen, the small little daughter of Thakur’s neighbours, was dancing at a b'day party in the village, Thakur exclaimed with joy – “Naach chhamiya naach”. This was enough for the well cultured Thakur family. They decided with a heavy heart to send Chhote Thakur to the city to complete his education while Daaku Hari Singh sent Gabbar to Chambal to learn the tricks of the trade.

Fifteen years on, Thakur and Gabbar both returned to the village on Holi. Happiness knew no bounds for Gabbar. He had been waiting for this day all his life and used to ask all and sundry the same question over and over again while in Chambal - "Holi kab hai, kab hai holi?"

As fate would have it, both Thakur and Gabbar were returning to the village oblivious of the fact that they were on the same train - Thakur as the police inspector and Gabbar as a bandit. Keeping up his tradition, Gabbar was travelling without ticket and when asked by the TC to furnish the tickets, he unleashed a barrage of curses - "Kutte kameene tu ticket lega Gabbar se..bahut naainsaafi hai ye"

Thakur heard these noises and was stunned to see his friend up against law. He was in a fix. He had to either stand by his childhood friend or respond to the call of duty. He chose the latter and arrested Gabbar. Gabbar could not take this lying down as his pride was hurt when he was made to kneel down holding his ears while others sang praises for Thakur Sahab. Gabbar's gang attacked the train mid-way to save Gabbar from the clutches of law and also took Thakur as captive.

Gabbar: Thakur tu dosti ke naam pe kalank hai. Tuney aaj mujhe kisi ko munh dikhane layak nahi chhoda. Ab jab gaon se 50-50 kos door bachcha royega to maa kahegi ki beta so ja warna tujhe bhi Gabbar ki tareh kneel down holding your ears kara dungi
Thakur: Well, it was all your mistake

Gabbar: Dhikkar Hai! Inhi haathon se tuney mujhe hathkadi pehnaayi thee na, ab ye haath humko de de Thakur
Thakur: Nahi..

Gabbar: Ye haath humko de Thakur
Thakur: Nahi....iii..(faints and wakes up without hands)

Act II: Jai and Veeru

Signing the contract - "Tum mujhe Gabbar do, main tumhe paise dunga"

Jai and Veeru were two fugitives who were on the run. 30 years back when they were born, Ramesh Sippy's Sholay was released and their parents named them on the two popular screen characters Jai and Veeru. They enjoyed all the respect and love from their near and dear ones when by the twist of fate Ramu decided to remake the film Sholay. These poor fellows were banished from their town and were on the run ever since Ram Gopal Verma Ki Aag released. When they came to know about Thakur and Gabbar in a distant village, they decided to go and help him fight this Gabbar's menace to redeem their pride.

Thakur needed the help of these two dullards to do his household chores. He hired them on the pretext of fighting Gabbar and used to make them feed his cattle and bring water from the well in the name of physical training. Jai fell in love with Thakur's widowed daughter-in-law Radha while Veeru found solace in the incessant blabbering of the Tanga wielding Basanti.

Act III - Bhaag Dhanno Bhaag
Gabbar eve-teasing: "Basanti aaj to main naha ke bhi aaya hoon. Please chalo na"

One afternoon Basanti and Dhanno were at the lake side on the outskirts of the village drinking water when Gabbar appeared with his men. Basanti, sensing that Gabbar was after her, pleaded with Dhanno to save her.

Basanti: Chal Dhanno..aaj fir se teri Basanti ki izzat ka sawaal hai
Dhanno: Aaj to faisla ho hi jaane de..tu roz roz gaon se itni door paani peene aati hi kyun hai? Acche ghar ki bahu betiaan aisa nahi karti. Ab to jo karega Gabbar karega

Gabbar: Utha lo chhamiya ko..Jalal Aaga aur Helen ki jageh isse aur Veeru se item number karwayenge
Kaalia: Sarkaar bahut bhaari hai..humne aapke yahan sirf namak khaya hai...thoda khaana khila dete to utha bhi leta.

Tum teen aur ladki ek..fir bhi nahi utha sakey? Dhikkar hai.

Act IV - Jai and Veeru at Gabbar's den

Jai and Veeru at the battleground

When the news of Basanti's kidnapping reached Veeru he was aghast. Hearing Gabbar’s invitation for a dance performance in the beehad, Veeru developed cold feet. Although Basanti was trained in classical dance, Veeru had two left feet. Performing in front of a demanding audience was going to be a daunting task. Jai came forward with a plan to wipe out Gabbar and his gang to soothe Veeru’s nerves. He asked him to take this performance as one of those Nach Baliye couple dance performances.

Veeru finally relented and trusting Jai’s promise accepted Gabbar's invitation. As the entire ravine reverberated with the nasal twang of RDB (I hope Asha Bhonsle's not reading!), Jai managed to steal a whole lot of ammunition from Gabbar's armoury. Meanwhile Thakur Sahab went shopping for a fresh pair of spiky shoes.

Act V - The Fight The last laugh!

A tussle ensued at the break of dawn when all the dacoits were busy attending their respective calls from the nature. Sambha was the first one to die as he was the easiest to spot sitting at the top of the hill.

Veeru tu basanti ko leke ja..bak bak karke bahut paka rahi hai
Veeru: Nahi Jai main Basanti ko chhod dunga par tujhe nahi

Jai: What the f*** man, this is not 'Brokeback mountain'. Take her away and let me get some quality screen space alone!
Jai..jab tu angrezi bolta hai na..meri kuch samajh mein nahi aata. Mujhe darr hai ki kahin Gabbar Basanti ko pata na le is liye main usse leke yahan se chala jaata hoon.

Jai fights hard but is eventually killed by the ruthless Gabbar. Veeru comes back to find his friend lying in a pool of blood.

Veeru: Imli ka boota beri ka ped..
Jai (dying): Ye wrong song hai

Chaahunga main tujhe..
Jai: Mere paas waqt bahut kam hai..antakshari khelna band kar aur ye dosti gaa (dies)

Veeru: Nahi Jai…Gabbar main tera khoon pi jaaunga..main aa raha hoon Gabbar

Thakur: Ruk jao Veeru
Veeru: Nahi Thakur Sahab, usne mere dost ko maara hai

Thakur: Can't you understand simple logic? It was I who killed Gabbar in the original. We have to repeat the formula dickhead.
Veeru: Angrezi..fir wahi angrezi. Ye cross-over hinglish filmon ne mera market down kar diya hai?

Act VI - The Climax

Hoardings on display in Ramgarh. Thakur had launched an extensive campaign to catch Gabbar

Literally dressed to kill (with his spiky footwear), Thakur Sahab left for Gabbar's den after pacifying Veeru. Gabbar was busy packing his bags to run away but the super acrobatic Thakur Sahab displayed some unbelievable stunts straight from those Chinese Martial Art Films and beat the hell out of Gabbar. Ramgarh heaved a sigh of relief and Gabbar lost it again!

Monday, October 08, 2007

Shaadi Ke Side Effects

Warning: Not meant for people under-21. It won't make sense to them.

The only problem with growing old is that you start running out of time and options. One of my early fantasies was to own a yacht and sail around with a Miss World. I was maybe 13 then but times have changed today. Even the fantasies are now grounded in realism. The enthusiasm to get a Miss World on board my yacht has given way to answering the more pertinent questions that life throws at me every single day – did I pay my credit card bills, when is that meeting with the client, why did they deduct so much of tax from my salary? I defer the question of marriage to a later date and avert the prospect of being burdened with another question – When are you getting back home?

I am at a stage when people begin getting married. The approaching marriage season would see me on an India tour to wrap up a round of marriage invites so as part of a home-work, I finally put on my thinking cap and gave marriage a deep thought. I managed to come up with certain observations on how life undergoes a metamorphosis post marriage. My case studies were essentially my friends who interact with me on a daily basis and are or about to face the inevitable – Marriage!

While we (read 'the useless lot') while away our time playing TT or pool at the office during office lunch breaks or after office hours, these guys have appointments with Insurance and Loan agents. Your request to join the vella group meets with a wry smile from them that sums it all – “It’s over dude..I am married!”

Getting home early, increase in the frequency of attending social functions at relatives’ places, routine calls to check if she is doing alright and morality questions coming to hound the conscience whenever a beautiful girl smiles back at you are part of the baggage that marriage brings along with itself. With Metros coming up with the idea of huge Shopping Malls, life becomes tougher for the poor soul. A shopping spree is inadvertent and sometimes justified. However, that strangely crafted piece of decorative furnishing with a price tag that makes your heart bleed forces you into realizing that life is not all about breathing in and out but also about watching that three pronged candle stand with fragrance candles hanging in air just above the corner of your dining area. Note that I might be incorrect in the positioning of the candle stand bit but it doesn’t matter, I am not married after all!

It's not that marriage only has down sides. There are some good things about marriage as well. It changes the way you are perceived by people. Recently I met with this guy who was “just married”. Standing in a queue to pick up some sandwiches for his wife at a shop, the “Help me! I am married” look on his face could be read from quite a distance. Now, I have this reputation of getting into the act of unleashing sarcastic verbal vollies that I brand as my sense of humor at people the moment I get a chance to. Moreover, this guy was a specimen of a few good people who unwittingly end up entertaining a group with their off the mark remarks and jokes that go awry due to their timing. The one special thing about them is that they don’t really know what they are upto – they are, in short, the Bharat Bhushans (Bheja Fry fame) of the real world!

With his wife at his side, he felt that it was an opportune moment for him to seize initiative and make an impression. After proclaiming that post marriage he was searching for the real meaning of life, he talked at length – disagreeing with us on topics as diverse as why HLL started calling itself Unilever and if a brand name really matters while going to a B-School. Had it been a different setting with Bhabhiji not around, we might not have submitted meekly to him with a – “Maybe you are right” reply to all his arguments. But we controlled, all because of respect – not for him but for the fact that he had braved to enter a different world that he had lived in for the past 25 years.

I could probably go on and on but people have complained to me saying that I write pretty lengthy stuff so let me just shut up. Discussion on marriage is a never ending topic and you will never find yourself short of examples that are pro or anti marriage. Although the transition is imminent, till we lose our freedom and space let’s just live as if there is no tomorrow - "Jaa jeeley apni zindagi"

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Taaron Bhari Wo Raat - My Sufi Conquest!

Every now and then I love to do a Ramu. No, I don’t make a load of shit and package it an as inspiration and tribute to Sholay or remake a disaster like James to end up creating another one in Shiva. I try to explore the other world, a world of “intellectuals” who essentially are apostles of the elitist society. Last year I tried to rub shoulders with them at the MoMA, NYC and returned vanquished and acerbic. I really couldn’t find sense in a crude depiction of a pregnant woman or a giant olive green canvas and I was convinced that I really didn’t belong to the exclusive variety. Maybe that’s a reason why I love watching the “Sannate ko cheerti hui Sansani” brand of news channels rather than the news channels on a mission to unearth and dissect information to its deepest levels (Although I must admit that my preference for these pesudo news channels is just to get my daily doses of laughter!)

Time is a good healer and I mustered enough courage to try out something different yet again. On Sunday, I attended the Qutub Fest at Qutub Minar and waited with bated breaths to be mesmerized with the voice of Sufi singer Shafqat Ali Khan. Being from the lesser world, I generally find it difficult to get someone tug along with me to such places and I had to go all out to ensure that Nishant didn’t change his mind to go to the belle dance performance that someone else was taking him to.

As we neared the parking lot at the fest and were about to park the car next to a beautiful damsel’s straight from the page 3 of Delhi Times, we got our first taste of “You don’t belong here!” looks. The parking was at a secluded place and she preferred to take another round of the parking lot to find a slot far removed from ours. Prevention is better than cure but we didn’t look like rapists for sure!

Anyways, the greeting at the main entrance wasn’t all that good either. We first tried to get into the Qutub Minar with that pass and were politely shown the door that took us to the concert. At the other gate, a 50 something man was quite shocked to see two 20 somethings walking in amidst a swarm of educated and formally dressed lot. The divide between the two worlds was quite evident here in the tone of this 50 something gentleman who literally shoved off a family who had by mistake tried gaining entry to the concert with a ticket bought to visit the Qutub Minar.

The show had already begun and we managed some standing space just behind the seated rows. It was a bollywood night to start with and two successful participants from a popular singing talent show held last year were trying to woo the audience. Call me a born cynic but their performance was enough to convince me why these singers coming in dozens don’t make it big after the initial hype and hoopla.

They egged Delhi to sway to the rhythm but our feet were just not moving. That gave us a reason to loiter around and we ended up meeting one of our batchmates who was standing in the queue to get something for his wife. What followed with him gave me ample masala to cook up another blog entry so I would leave him aside for the time being and focus on the ‘Sufi’ trail of mine.

We finally settled on the green lawns of Qutub while Shafqat Sahab cleared his throats by singing the alaap. Some raagas followed and I tried sounding a music connoisseur by talking about what a Jhala is in a raag. The fact that I ended up being a laughing stock for having been fooled into learning a Hawaiian Guitar (Mohan Veena) instead of a Spanish one during my childhood was a different matter altogether. You sometimes walk on a razor sharp edge if you are in a gathering with a school friend you have known for the past 18 years. They know it all and have potential weapons to embarrass you anytime with a small anecdote dating back to the days when you first blushed when a girl said a happy b’day to you and smiled.

We finally managed to seat ourselves later besides Uncle White Kurta. Uncle was all alone and a true romantic at heart. All sufi verses met with appreaciation in the form of “Waah Waah!” and “Uff..ahaa”. We too got into the same mould. But I must admit that the appreciation was not fake. “Taaron bhari hai raat” was a soulful rendition. We finally made a retreat and ended our Sufi conquest by celebrating at Yo! China in Priya.

Talking of China, Red FM faces a ban for uttering something against the Darjeeling lad who won the Indian Idol recently. Oops! Did I say something more than required? I wonder why we Biharis and UP wallahs too don't take up cudgels against being called the Bhaiyaji's?

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Bengali Poetry

Poetry is something that I could never ever attempt. Here's a piece that I got in some forwarded mail. Don't know the original source. With all due respects to the community, here's presenting - "Jongole Ka Sher":

Through the jongole I am went
On shooting Tiger I am bent
Boshtaard Tiger has eaten wife
No doubt I will avenge poor darling's life

Too much quiet, snakes and leeches
But I not fear these sons of beeches
Hearing loud noise I am jumping with start
But noise is coming from damn fool's heart

Taking care not to be fright
I am clutching rifle tight with eye to sight
Should Tiger come I will shoot and fall him down
Then like hero return to native town

Then through trees I am espying one cave
I am telling self - "Bannerjee be brave"
I am now proceeding with too much care
From far I smell this Tiger's lair

My leg shaking, sweat coming, I start pray
I think I will shoot Tiger some other day
Turning round I am going to flee
But Tiger giving bloody roar spotting Bengalee

He bounding from cave like footballer Pele
I run shouting "Kali Ma tumi kothay gele"
Through the jongole I am running
With Tiger on my tail closer looming

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