PFCONE - Pragati and Alive

Hi friends,

We have smaller dreams on the journey to bigger achivements and ambitions of life. Fulfilling these smaller dreams makes of those moments in life that makes the journey as enjoyable as the final destination. One such long cherished dreams of mine has been recently fulfilled and am happy to share with you the fact I managed telling a story in an audio-visual format. I feel quite excited sharing the same with you.

PFCone was a competion for 1 min short movies and we made 2 movies for the same. The compeition is a great platform for inspiring filmmakers. And We (Deepu, Seema, Neha, Shrikant and Me) did not make it to the competitive section but are very proud of things we made. Hope you too like this. Aslo watch more of all the other films on http://www.passionforcinema.com/. It would be highly enjoyable thing to do , is what we promise. Hope you enjoy mine too. Do let us know your comments and criticism

Thanks ,

Jay

Poem - Madness

Once I had been to the Pune Railway station and after bidding my parents a good bye when I was coming back from the overbridge, I saw this old man in his white beard and curled hairs with torned clothes - definitely not sane. He was sitting looking at the sky aloof of the rush of people fighting their ways thorugh the foot bridge singing in a really good voice some English song of yesteryears. His accent made it clear that he would have been once rich or in company of rich and he might have had a story of a life that would have passed through good and bad. I have been thinking about that person for quite a long period now. I think he either would have had a heartbreak from all the loved ones he ever had, and would have lost all he had ever earned. He would have seen a life saner than us and is now choosing this life of a mad person.

भीड़ की इन पागल आवाज़ों पे,
मद्धम मद्धम में गा रहा हू,
वो कहते है,ये प्लॅटफॉर्म है,
पर जहा तुम हो, वाहा बस हम है
चाँद बड़ा सुंदर है,
और तुम्हारा चेहरा बरसो बाद भी वैसा ही है,
में अब भी महसूस कर पाता हू तुम्हारा हाथ मेरी उंगलिओ पे,
आज भी गा रहा हू तुम्हारे लिए ,
I want to hold your hand,
Oh please say to me,
you will let me be your man,
सब कहते है एक हैरानी से, "पागल गा रहा है",
उनको लगता है, पागल कपड़ो से पहचाने जाते है,
उनको लगता है, वो सायने है औरे मैं दीवाना,
अगर कभी उनके पास होता कोई ख़ास ऐसा,
जिसकी ख़ुसी खुद की ज़िंदगी से ज़्यादा प्यारी होती,
जिसकी कत्थई आँखों पे गिरते भूरे बाल में ढलते दिन,
जिसकी साँस की आवाज़ संगीत की किल्कारी होती,
जिसको बरसों करीब रख एक दिन कहा होता,
Oh please say to me,
you will let me be your man,
तो जानते,
की पागल कपड़ो से नही बनते,
धोके से बनते है,
तुम्हे जो सोचना है सोचो,
में उसका हाथ पकड़ आज भी गा रहा हू,
और गाता रहूँगा
एक दिन
उस चाँद के पार से तुम आवाज़ दो ये आस है,
एक दिन
हाथो पे हाथ का एहसास इस भीड़ से दूर होगा.

*The English Part is from a song by beatles
 

My Favourite 5 Song Lyrics This Year

Everyone is making a list of top 10 this and that of the year, so here I come with top 5 of my favourite lyrics of the year. You might disagree with me but I love it. These songs / albums are in the order I liked them :

1. Duniya
Piyush Mishra showed his years of theatrical experience in making the music and songs of this film. I can never forget the goosebumps that the words "Jis kavi ki kalpana mein zindagi ho prem geet, us kavi ko aaj tum nakar do" that comes after a momentary silence in Aarambh. And mention of Gulaal's without mentioning the "Sarfaroshi ki tamanna..." tribute would be injustice. But out of all those works, here is Duniya that just stands out. The song comes as a crux of the movie and in general the world.

I like this song so very much that I might as well call it the song of the decade. What a song! If Saahir's great poetry was an inspiration to this song, then Piyush Mishra very well lived up to it in each and every line of this song. Life and the world are the two things that have been talked about the most by the poets of bollywood after the Lover. And it is too just too difficult to capture all the moods in one song. Duniya very well does that. It starts low and hopeful on a romantic side of life - surmai aankhon ke pyalo ki duniya, satrangi sejo gulalo ki duniya, and then it moves from the greed and the lust of life, and then ends up in to a dark "Ye duniya agar mil bhi jaye to kya hai". This is an absolute classic.

My favourite line from the song:
Khwaahish mein lipti zaroorat ki duniya, Insaan ke sapno ki Niyat ki duniya .....

2. Kaminey

If there is any magical musical pair that exist in today's Bollywood, its Gulzar-Vishal Duo. The whole album of Kaminey, absolutely proves that. Gulzar can make anything sound poetic. A poem on AIDS that sounds so beautiful (Bhanwra bhanwra aya re - Keedo ki basti ka makoda hai), and then a piece on life at the end of the movie were just as good. But above it stands the usual Gulzar style mixing of languages in Dhan te nan, (aaja ke one way hai ye zindagi ki gali ek hi chance hai). Even the romance comes so beautifully to him (hamne gilhari ke jhoothe matar khaye the). No poet has ever given words so beautifully consistent for decades and decades like Gulzaar. He has always been contemporary.

But the song that works for me completely is the title track. A song that not just beautifully gels with the characters of the movie but also makes you relate to the darker side of life when Vishal himself sings mellifulously "Meri Aarzoo kamini, Mere khwaab bhi kaminey, ek dil se dosti thi, ye huzoor bhi kaminey". The whole ides of how difficult and demanding life is comes up with Gulzaar saab penning
Kabhi zindagi se maanga, PInjre mein chaand laa do,
Kabhi laal ten de ke kaha aasmaan pe taango ....

My Favourite Line from the song :
Jiska bhi chehra chhila andar se aur nikala
Masoom sa Kabootar Nacha to mor nikla....

3. Sapno se bhare naina

There was a time when every other song in the film industry was written by Javed Akhtar. Javed Akhtar comes across to me as one of the most versatile person in the film industry as far as writing is concerened. The trademark of this great poet is his conveying of the most difficult themes with the most easiest words. The movie had some great music and song, but this song, for me was the highlight of the movie.

The song starts with some beautiful slow lines which are etched in my mind for the simplicity of the words,
Bagiya bagiya, baalak bhaage,Titli lekin haath na lage

and then the music alleviates the lyrics to a different level conveying what the song wants to convey as theme ...

Is pagle ko kaun bataye,
Dhoondh raha hai jo tu jag mein,
Koi Jo paye to man mein hi paye....

I dont remember a year in recent history when Javed Akhtar did not come up with a great song.
My favourite line from the song :
Sukh hai alag aur chain alag hai,
Par jo ye dekhe wo nain alag hai,
Chain to Apna hai,
Sukh hai paraye ...

4. Dhoop ke sikkey
Once in a while in an obscure album you might find out a gem. For me this gem features in the blip of a movie called "SIkander". Prasoon Joshi, one of the poets who is young and understands the subtle stream of thoughts and can make you cry and laugh with his words would be remembered for years. This song, especially talks of keeping the innocence intact in life in a beautiful beautiful way.

Dhoop ke sikkey uthakar gungunane do use,
Baigani Kanche hatheli par sajane do use,
Bholi bhali bholi bhali rehne do,
Zindagi ko zindagi ko behne do,

Words like Kanche, sikkey, baigani brings back the memories of childhood to me. The song then goes on to tell how every vice of life has started from an innocent life being destroyed and says it so beautifully with a metaphor.

Barood Jab bachha tha, wo titli pakad ta tha

The song features in my top 5 and Prasoonjoshi in my list of favourite poets ever for this metaphorical writings of his.

My favourite lines from the song
Bahut Jaldi Dupatta Odhna sikhla rahe hai hum,
Kyon Zindagi ko raat se milva rahe hai hum,
Wo pallu se chipak kar maa ki chalti thi to achhi thi,
Akela chhodkar usko kya kehna chah rahe hai hum,
Ek Gehri neend se humko jagane do use ......

5. Masakkali

The Album Delhi-6 happens to have some of the very great songs from Rehman with lyrics that would be remembered for a long long time. The "Rehna tu hai jaisa tu" and "Ye delhi hai mere yaar" Seem to capture the spirit of the place completely with them (kabhi pyaar mein gaali bhi deta hai, kabhi gaali mein pyar bhi hota hai). And the masterful metaphorical Kala Bandar tells beautiful things that makes people think(sample this : Kasmein to moongfali hai, jab chahe hum khate, Upar se na na karte par thali aage sarkate). Every person has a dark side only if he looks in the mirror properly. And then comes the deeply sufi "Maula mere maula". (Jo bhi tere dar aaya jhukne jo sar aaya ...). A really good album for the year.

But after all that, here is one of the most simplest of songs that has come in recent times on the silliest premises. A song on a pigeon, on masakkali that again in the trademark metaphorical Joshi way takes you along with the character.
The best part about this song that I like is the almost onamotoepic first stanza ..

Zara Pankh Zatak,
Gayi Dhool Atak,
Aur Lachak Machak
ke door bhatak,
The song beautifully talks about an attitude to fly like a free bird and to run away from all who dream small. (Dikhla de thenga un sab ko jo udna na jaane). The song is about building up that attitude.

My favourite lines from the song
Itdi se mud, ada se ud,
Kar le poori dil ki tammanna, ....

Hope you liked my top 5 songs of the year :).

Down Memory Lane Part 3

(Here we go with the third part. It feels so very passionate to write about that place, that time and that life.)

So as I welcome you to Narayan Nagar 3, you are greeted with the smiling faces of women and old men greeting you like you have been here before. There as we start moving towards our house we see Vijaya-masi- the lady who thinks that my life has been an exact replica of his son's life (His son repairs computers and owns an Indica for taxi - I agree both of it has some resemblence to my life. He went to ITI, which she feels was the biggest of the coincidence when I joined IIT.). Vijaya-masi seems to be talking to Tara-ba, the only lady from the society who was present with my parents when I was born, she hence feels a special bond with me. As you go on, you see a 'couple' exchanging looks from their windows on the first floor rooms of houses on opposite sides of the lane, hiding away from their parents, pretending to study. They are one of the usual lovestories that every society has and that ends in fights and marriage of one, as the other drinks her marriage away.

And two houses down on the lane, we see Kaana-bhai. A small tin-board outside his house reads in large fonts "Krishna Classes - Best in Spoken English Teaching by Krishna Vyas (M.A in English)". Kaana-bhai insists that I talk to him in English, I feel a little embarassed doing that there though. He will happily come to you and say "How are doing friend?". And you would hear in his voice the distinct Katiyawadi (Kathiawad is a part of region in Saurashtra) accent like the ones you see of Gujarati caricatures in TV shows. Just opposite to the Krishna Classes, we have the old lady looking at us with all her love. She looks at us as if we are her sons that were never hers. This is the house I have spent half my childhood at - Pandyas. The 3 sisters, who first tied Rakhi on my hands when I was 5 months old, have been like my real sisters. We touch their feet, the old man sitting by her side, smiles and asks for your haealth as animatedly with his hands as with his voice which is calm but loud. He has a small machine in his ears, that is not working properly since last few days and you need to talk to him at the top of your voice. I wish I was a better son to them. My house is just a couple of houses ahead. It always takes atleast 10 min to cross the lane till my house which has a nice Gulmohar tree just in front of it from which the kids pluck the flower-buds to eat. Both the houses that we now have to cover to reach mine are owned by Ranas - an 'almost joint family' you might say. You might wonder what almost would have meant if you would not have visited this place. A family that had 2 sons and 2 daughters all of them married now. The two sons will fight due to difference in income and hence needs different houses, but parents dont like it and hence there are 2 houses adjacent to each others. The children of the two sons, play outside, you see the eldest son of the elder son of Ranas, trying to pull and twist the tail of a cow that is standing infront of their house. The younger one is throwing water at her for making it run away. But we need to move ahead.

And right opposite to a house where the Rojasras lived, is my house. That house would always be of Parimal, a dear childhood friend whose friendship was only limited to childhood. Last I heard of him, he was working as an attendant in some gold jewellery shop. The only non-Gujarati family of my society - Ahivarkars live there now. The Dadaji in that family is a writer and has many interesting pen-friends that he has had since his younger days. But we won't spend time with them, we will straight away head to this small house, painted creamish with Green border and black safety door in front of a peach door with fissures that I talked about, fissures that were the glimpse of my house after ringing the bell. This is my house- the house that I grew up in. And just as we enter we see "Mehrundidi" washing clothes in the open space within our house. We call the open space a "Fadiu", but its difficult to explain it in English, its not a garden space though it could have been, its not even parking, though it works partly so; it has a jhula and it has a small porche; bathrooms are not in the house like cities, bathrooms are in this fadiu. But wouldnot have known it but now you know it as you are here. Coming back to Mehrun didi, Mehrunnissa is what we call in cities, our Bai/ maid, but at my place she is a lot more than that, she is a didi. Her mother too worked at our house and she works since she was 10. She is a muslim and a follower of Amba mata. She happens to be neice of one of the most famous stage show artists in Gujarat. She is married to a man who pulls his hand cart to collect scrap. She is happy to see us.

Before we enter my house let us stop the time once again as we try and move around. See, papa is eating his favourite cashews, sitting on the jhula, and from teh window of the small kitchen that opens in the fadiu, you can see my mommy, making tea for daddy. She is sweating a lot, as the kitchen is too small to house a fan. I and my dad used to sit where the Refrigrator now stands short, while mom cooked rotis which we divided in half to eat in my childhood. There are two gates to the small house, its exact mirror reflection of house on both the sides, with one side having a kitchen that we are looking at. Both the sides have 2 small rooms (11ft X 12 ft). The one on our right is the one that we used to give on rent, while we lived on left. There is a long story of those two rooms and people who have lived in there. They are the closest relatives of my family now. The windows are made up of wood and grill, and has small translucent rectangular glass at the top of it. The windows dont open up on the road, they open up in the open space that we now call Fadiu. We havent build anything on the first floor, its open terrace, which is the best place to be at on Makar sankranti.

We dont give the house on rent anymore. The cieling has the flakes of colors which is now coming off, it happens with the best of paints here. On the left the room that we enter first is half occupied with the dining table and a small temple. On right we have all the storage equipments with a couple of big containers for water. We need to store water well in Surendranagar. There are lofts in both of these rooms, and the two rooms just after that are living room on left and bedroom on right. The living room once had a "Show case" where mommy kept crockeries on display, it was removed when it turned old-fashioned. This was the room that once housed my bed. It had a small monalisa painting which was then replaced by a folk art and then a watch. Nothing is there on that side of the wall anymore.The cupboards are inbuilt in the wall and are made of plywood with wooden 'sunmica'. The bedroom now has a AC and two big Almirahs - mine and mom's, one of which we bought when we were living in Ahmedabad., there are 2 small seetees in the bedroom now. There is a small bathroom, which has been converted into store room. The tenants of the house used it as bathroom earlier. If kids are running from one terrace of the row house to the other terrace then you will hear their footsteps like drum beats from the cieling. So the four rooms with the kitchen forms the main part of the house while the fadiu is divided in to a parking, jhula space, space for washing clothes, a bahroom, a wash basin, 2 water tanks and stairs leading to the terrace. All in all its a compact small place which is small in space and big in terms of the dreams, thoughts and principles that it bred, just like the hearts of the people in Surendranagar.

(Will like to talk about my parents if there comes a part-4)

Down Memory Lane Part 2

Well now that you have got down from the bus, I need to welcome you to my town. Welcome to Surendranagar:). Sorry for keeping you waiting at the bus-stand.

Outside the busstand you see the clouds of burning coal-smoke from a small pot that has been kept over a heap of Khari Sing (roasted salted peanuts) on a hand-cart. Behind these swarms of smokes you see a couple of autos, who would charge you 5 rupees more, mainly for your looks, to travel to my house. You find it cheap. Still you negotiate as you think you should; he reduces that 5 rs. and you would know later how you pay for it. A friend of his would jump-in to sit beside him on the drivers seat chatting with him in Gujarati that you would not understand even if you were Gujarati. He wouldnot look friendly for the first 100 mts. of your drive and then he would tell you how, there is no rain this season too and how municipality gives water once in every 5 days. As you move along you realize the other aspect of the place- roads are almost non-existent. You would find enroute an arts and science college, with the only Tennis court (cemented) of the town. You dont see boys and girls gossiping together here like your cities. There would be a group of eve-teasers in the parking lot that you might catch a glimpse of. There, just ahead of it you would find people selling cricket bats and earthern pots; No there are no shops, you dont earn enough out of that business to create shops; its on the road-side. As your 3-wheeler jump over a few pot-holes no one cares about, you would realize that you are still not into the market area. You see buses enroute- private buses waiting for passengers to be taken to Rajkot, Bhavnagar, Ahmedabad. Most of the people in it are paitient enough to wait for the bus to get filled. The auto-wallah would stop near to a theatre where his friends get off and where a female of about 50 stands. She is wearing a typical banjara dress (Bharvad as the tribe is known as in Gujarat) with a black ghaghra and a black choli with an open back showing her aged, wrinkled and dark back and the tatooing on her hands giving her name like - "Devu Ba". She will smile at you with a golden teeth and scars of tobacco (Bajar) that she brushed on her teeth. You get uncomfortable with the smell of cattles that comes from her and unwillingly you look down on a friendly lady, and shout at the autowallah as he tells you that for 15 rs. you need to share the auto. Your negotiation for the money goes for a toss.

You move on and as you reach the underbridge, just after an ambedkar statue, you see traffic police taking 50rs. from a person driving without helmet. Its so typical of our times, guards -who are entrusted with the responsibility of serving and guarding rules, are so powerful that you fear them. You smile. There are a few things that you can relate to. There on your left you would now see the only mall of the town with a "Jay Khodiyar Auto Parts" board at the entrance, with red and green font on white in gujarati. The Mall also houses the courier company and the tiles merchant and many more, but from outside you would just find it like a building. Its a mall without any escalators and with the corners of walls stained red. There is a juice center just a few hundered mts. down the line in the market, where the soda is more transperent and less saltier than water. This is a crowded area, the roads are full of chattering people, newspaper-eating cows, pigs, dogs while the bikes and auto try to move on the fringes of the road or footpath. Mid way every now and then you might see a lavish bungalow, not a huge one but something interesting and outside most of these you would find a hand-cart of a dabeli-wala or Kulfi-wala. I would not like to leave you in the auto for a while till you reach my lane, you can enjoy the roads that arent on your way. Had you had come by train, you would have seen nothing of Surendranagar that you just saw, inplace you would have seen a lonely temple on a barren land where I first went with some special friends- these days they call it a "date".

By the time you get down of the auto purshottam(the driver) would have befriended you. Now as you get down and pay him at the end of the lane of my society (we call it society, rightly so). Enroute you would have already noticed a few things but we will pause the time at the end of this lane and take in a few things that our city life makes us notice. Almost every lane of any Middle class society (read it as relatively poor lower middle class with your city classification) in surendranagar has 3 things in common - Open uncovered gutters where the sludge from each of the house would flow in, a hand pump for the lack of municipality water where you might catch a few passers by drinking directly from the pump and a "Hanuman" Temple. Grapejuice (Vine/wine is a word you should not use in Gujarat), says that Surendranagar is registered with Guiness book of world records for highest number of templesfor the monkey god. Every Hanuman Jayanti the young boys of society get together to build a temple with their hands. So just on the sides of gutters or beside the handpump you might find a Hanuman temple. There just on the other side of the 25 mt. long lane, you would see a common plot which happens to be a playground for all the kids there, a dumping ground for all the kachra and the place of the thorny acacia weeds to grow. A small boy would run from the play ground to collect the cricket ball hit by a rowdy old friend of his into the gutter. The gutters are shallow and cemented in a half a feet deep canal-form; they look black and smell pungent. Very pungent to you. The young boy first herds the group of pigs lying in front of the gutters after their bath in it. There are marks they leave from gutters till the place they are lying. The young boy then runs and puts his hand in to the sludge taking out the red rubber ball, it looks black on one side. He runs down near you to the side of the handpump, pumps water out, washes the ball and his hands drinks a handful of water and runs back in to the playground. That young boy could have been me if you were here a 20 years back.

As the time has paused for us, we can look at each of the house carefully. For your eyes the two doors at the main entrance of all houses are unusually colorful green, blue or yellow with little fissures on them from which the kids look into their house after they knock to see if mummy is coming to open the door. The skyline, that is a long strip as you stand on the narrow 8 ft wide lane is marred with electricity wires and kites, on which you might find an array of bright green parrots with red beaks if the time is morning else it would either be pigeons or most likely crows. The row of small houses on both the sides are painted with equally vibrant colors. There outside the houses are small tanks with municipality taps. Each of the tank shas a cover to safe guard the waters from pigs/dogs and safeguard kids from falling into it. Women are out sitting on the porche infront of their house which covers the gutters. You have a peculiar sense of warmth and welcome on all faces that are turned towards you as you are standing at the end of the lane. You are Gotu's friend here. So let the Gotu formally welcome you to his society - Narayan Nagar Society no.3. We are back home!

Down Memory Lane Part 1

I might have written an incidence or two about my life but I generally haven't written about myself, ever. The reason was pretty simple, there is nothing interesting in my life, is what I feel, its a mundane story of a simple guy, going through life as things happen to him, everything gets induced, nothing comes out of the inner desire that is not affected by things around him. Life has happened to me, I dont know what to write about it. I dont have a story to write on my own, or let me put it this way, I would have to accept my incapabilities and shortcomings and inferiority complex as a child if I were to write an autobiography. I would not be able to write that. But there were interesting stories around. I never wrote about it as I think it would be unfair to write about someone else's life without their permission. But these posts made me think more. I need to write. I want to write. I want to write about the places that have had importance in my life, about the people I saw. I was only an observer. I was only a kid - too simple and too simplified. With the feeling of guilt of not taking permission, I am starting this post, I want to write about personal experiences, mostly of others as I watched them. I want to write about the lane where I grew up, the school I had gone to, the cultural shocks I got in my life, about friends I had in my childhood, about my cousins and so much more. Pardon me if I am getting self-indulgent here, I ought to write this for myself. I am not sure if there will be a follow up post to this but would start.

My Place
Let me start today and introduce you to places that have been important in my life. A person living at a place would never realize what is different or special about his place, but as a visitor you might make sharpest of observation. Let me take you with me to my place, let me take you to Surendranagar as a visitor. The stories are sparsed across times of my parents, my childhood and present times. Timelines are blurred but the place has a character, it survives.

Gujarat is developing and there are expressways running around the length and breadth of Gujarat. Surendranagar doesnt fall on that map. Its a district and a town. Town its quite difficult for average reader of this blog, many of whom grew up in cities to imagine this word. Its not a big city, it doesnt have huge buildings,and it is not a village with farmers and cattles. It is a town. It is a town like the ones you see in the fringes of your IT cities. It has its own schools and it has its cinema theatres, it is an urban place for the villages in the district and a rural place for Mumbai and Delhi walas, who have their ancestral bungalows in there. The villagers around dream to make it to this place for living and the dreams of Surendranagar reaches Ahmedabad. It has the warmth that comes to a place by the virtue of knowing your neighbours, and it has the indifference that comes by having self-centered community-less goals of personal life. And by the very definition of this place and for that matter of any town, it's always in flux.

There are two ways to reach Surendranagar from here, by train and by bus, but we would take the interesting bus route to reach my home. As we take a diversion from the expressways of Gujarat going from Ahmedabad to Rajkot in a State Transport bus whose windows rattle more than its engine, and which moves creating clouds of dirt behind it in which the small villages diappears. Villages on the side of a small pond, where the gutters flow in, where people take bath at one end and cattles on the other and there is a small part where females bath. You might see the teenage kids from the villages going to Surendranagar for weekend peeping on to bathing females from the seat ahead as the dirt comes in. You might even smell the dung cakes that burns to cook the food for people here. But everything runs away fast as you move on that road. More and more of such places that we never thought would have existed. And then as we come just near surendranagar, there is a small town called Wadhwan, a forted town, which even housed an engineering college once. It is what people in cities sell for high price - a gated community. We would come to this place too, it has a special importance in my life. As you cross the bridge over the dried front where you migh see a hut or two and where the river never flows, you would see a the green colors of Dargah at the entrance of the city, and the autorickshawwallahs there would should "10 Rs. to Meldi Maa's Temple" if you happen to be there on a weekend. The person next to you in bus would look at your jeans and red T-shirt and the cap and the Sidney Sheldon novel you hold in your hands and might ask you if you study in the Medical college or if you are visiting your family. You might find it odd to answer questions on your salary and work and family life. But they would be curious to know about your life.

As you move in looking at the industrial establishments around, you would realize that the main stay of the economy of this town is this Industrial belt, small scale and medium scale industries.Conductor would stop the bus virtually every 200 mts. to let people down with a smile. There en route on your right you might see the big electric towers and people hovering around it with the board reading "Pachim Gujarat Vij Co. Ltd." - A place where my dad worked for more than 30 years before his retirement. And just on the left where your bus passes you will see a big banyaan tree. There is a "Parab" (A place to get free water from the matkis) run by an old man there. You would see people gossiping while sipping the tea from saucers making the sipping noise and the "Aah" after gulping the extra-sweet tea. But you dont have time to take absorb all this as the bus stand is just next to it. and your bus stops with a jerk, which might make you fall, if you were standing. But you would not be standing as the smell of the villagers that mars you nose like some allergy might make you feel sick if you stand the kids, would be running all over the aisle of the bus over luggage kept. The bus jerks and takes a brakes as the conductor would get down to help the herds man who is moving the herd of buffaloes out of the way and one of the buffalow is in the process of caking the road. The cakes would be picked by someone by the time you return the next day. Once the road is cleared the bus is parked in the bus-stand at its regular place, and you got to push yourself out of the bus as there are scores of people fighting to get in to the bus. The big red fonts on top of the dirty white building reads "SURENDRANAGAR" in two languages - one you know. There are ads of the international giants like Vodafone and Cococola that fills your eye if you look just a level above the level where you are seeing the Daal-vada vendors and the rickshaw stop. Just about 10-12 years I would have craved for these daal-vadas, but if I eat it now, it would upset my stomach. You definitely dont look at it, as you move past, paan-spitted building and walls of bus stand that gives you the stench of how the urine of the entire town smells.


(Not sure if I can continue this in further series, if I can I would like to take you to my home, my school, my parents first home, their childhood places and see what I can see of it. Sorry for making it so long, but for once, I dont want to stop myself writing this.)

Poem : Ek

Origin of Life on earth is a very interesting subject. As interesting as origin of society and Humanity is. Some of the researchers says that human beings are creature from another planet who landed on earth in some collision billions of years ago. Well if that is true there, far away in some corner of this universe would be a planet, where there would be a person who looks like me, but would he be thinking like me? Over ages we developed society, we developed identities. We developed the concept of "You" and "me". We developed ways to divide resources, we developed ways to create our own individuality along with which came the idea of superiority and inferiority. We developed the idea of being "better". There is a lot that has been added to humanity after its creation. Do you think this would be different from that image of mine on some other planet? Here is a poem on those lines

एक
-Jaykumar Shah

कायनात-ए-बिसात में एक दिन बेफ़िज़ूल टहेलते इंसान को,
एक क़ौम, एक सोहबत, एक दुनिया मिलेगी है अभी अंजान जो,
उस क़ौम की समज अलग होगी हमसे, आदाब भी अलग होगा,
उनके सफ़र में उनसे ना खुदा होगा अलग, ना नाखुदा अलग होगा,
हर शक्स अपनी तकदीर लिखेगा, और खुद ही ढोयेगा अपनी कश्ती,
बेकार के नाम-निशानी के कारण ना होगा बटवारा ना जलेगी बस्ती,
एक आवाज़ होगी, सबका एक ही होगा नाम, क़ौम एक, रंग भी एक,
सब का सब होगा और किसी का कुछ भी नही, खुद एक सब भी एक,
ये एक की गिनती भी नही होगी, ना होगा सब से उपर कभी कोई एक,

एक दिन,
एक दिन मिलेगा कोई ऐसा कायानत-ए-बिसात में कोई ऐसा,
सोचता हू, क्या बात करेगा इंसान तब उस क़ौम से?
सोचता हू, उस क़ौम की नज़र में होगा इंसान का ये ढंग कैसा?
सोचता हू, क्या वो कुछ सीखेंगे हम से, या हम उनसे?

"हम खुदा से है, हम अलग है, में जो हू वो ये नही" कैसे समज़ेंगे वो ?
"में हिन्दुस्तानी, ये अमेरिकी, ये हिंदू, में ख्रिस्ति" कैसे समजाएंगे उन्हे?
कैसे समजाएंगे की हमने ही डुबोया है जो एक घरोंदा था हमारा,
कैसे समजाएंगे की क्या है जंग और क्यों एक ने एक को मारा,
जब वो पूछेगा की क्या ज़रूरत है क्या ऐसे नाम के बटवारे की
कैसे समजाएंगे की ये तो फ़ितरत है इस दुनिया में रहने वालो की,
एक बार अगर समजा भी दिया हमने उनको और उन्होने हमें,
कौन सही है, और किसको बदलना चाहिए , ये फ़ैसला कौन करेगा,
या फिर "हम" हम रहेंगे, "वो" वो, अलग थे अलग ही रहेंगे,
हम ना देखेंगे की उनकी भी बातों में भी एक बात है अनोखी सी,
क्या हम कभी अलग ही रहेंगे उनसे भी,
पता नही है मुझे पर मुझे भी इंतेज़ार है उस दिन का, वो एक दिन,
एक दिन,
जब बेफ़िज़ूल टहेलते इंसान को अपना वो रूप मिलेगा जिसे खुदा ने बनाया था

Poem : Dark Corners Of My Mind

There is this tinge of evil that all of us know exist within us. A tinge that though does not go away as we grow up, though it doesn’t grow up, it does not completely fades against our morality. It’s base, it’s mean, it’s gross, it’s selfish and still you relate to it at some level in your personal thoughts. This one is to the dark side of everyone.

There in some dark corner of my mind stays the bird red,
Which shrieks red of desire, and gets my thoughts shred,
The corner in my mind sees no light though the sparks fly,
It burns, it longs, it dreams and it sobs in cacophonic cry,
The corner that it is, is inaccessible, my hopes it daunts,
It orders, but seldom I know why it wants what it wants,
That corner in my mind, turns the boy in me into monster,
Innocence it knows not, lust, greed and sin rules its roster,
From deep within the abyss of that dark, today I hear a call,
“Grab, if no one can get it back, it’s yours”, it says take it all,
But the corner that it is, is cornered and lonesome like me,
It tries to be all it desires, pleads, but then no one lets it be,
Then all it can do is to whisper low in the silence of my guilt,
“Good boy, you are son, but cover your goodness with a kilt,
For if you forget and keep it exposed to the darkness of mine,
I promise, I will eat it raw, and nothing in you will ever shine.

Imagine!

Here is a small exercise for your Imagination:
Read this first and then try doing it.
Take a deep breath, its a short exercise, but do spend atleast 50-60 seconds on it. Let the whole thing build up in your mind, try to get the details of what you are going to imagine. Dont react forcefully, let it come naturally to you. So here goes the small exercise.

Close your eyes. Forget about what is around you and imagine yourself to be in the big garden infront of your palace in the morning. Think of the person you love the most coming towards you and sitting by your side. Take 50-60 seconds to imagine the entire thing with all its details, dont be in a hurry and play it twice, just let it come, slowwwwwwwwly.

So what are you trying to do?
Ok.... so here is what the exercise was about, though I am not sure what the outcome of it would be so do pour in your comments .....

What did you imagine?
When you closed your eyes did you See the green lawn of the garden around you as you sat may be in a chair or a table or a bench, surrounded by trees / colorful flowers and with a tea pot on the tea while the big palatial structure was in the background, may be white marbled and polished with a couple of caretakers moving around? And then did you see the young girl/boy you love walking down in her/his luxurious attire, walking don towards you with a smile on his/her face, and sitting beside you? Did you see his / her eyes and face and the hairs moving in the flowing direction of air? In short did you See all that?

Or did you feel the cold air of the garden blowing on your face giving the morning a special fresh feeling. And did you feel the air of joy rising over you as you know that you have riches and the person you love both together? And did you feel excited about your loved one walking down towards you? Did you feel the joy of knowing the togetherness and security of your being with the person? As she/ he came and sat by your side did you feel his/her warmth / closeness to you? In short did you feel all that ?

Or similarly you can talk about hearing. Did you hear the rustle of the leaves in the garden and the clanking of the tea cups and spoons in front of you? Did you hear the footstep of the person who moved towards you and did the bench make a sound and did she/he speak anything that you heard? Was there any chirping of birds in the garden? Were the caretakers serving you saying anything? Did you Hear all that?

Some people have strong sense of smell or touch and accordingly in your imagination, you might have smelled the fresh air and the scent of your loved ones. You might have similarly felt the touch of her hand or a the touch of leaves in your garden.

So what does it all concur to?

I believe that every person has his own sensory style of imagination. There are patterns in which a person thinks. Someone Sees their imagination, someone would be more on Hearing things, Someone feels the touch, while someone would Smells and for many it would be mix of all these things but generally you will have one strong sensory faculty and the other faculties and senses would support it. I am not sure is it good if you can do all of it for your imagination or is it good when you can use one in its complete details.

But I know one thing, if you know what is it for you, there is a lot you can do with your imagination. Your writings, your daily work, your memory can be tagged to that sense and I believe that would improve the way you store information in your sub-conscious.

I am more of "Feel" person. Even in my dreams I feel the emotions and touches. When I see someone dieing in my thoughts or if I imagine my death, I dont see myself dieing, but I feel that numbness and something stirs within me. Similarly when I firstly feel her proximity and than I feel her touch and can see her in minutest detail after that. Though I am not sure if my analysis about myself is accurate.

What is your primary sense for imagination?
(I am reading a book called "Hannibal", the book gets irritating at times because the writer has a strong "Visual" imagination. Even the thoughts that he depicts creates visuals. Got inspired to write this from there. Hope you liked it.)

Poem : बहते खून का बहाव

(Pre-Script: I am not fan of Nathuram Godse, and I love ideas and life of Mahatma Gandhi. This is an effort to understand the fictitious thoughts of the villain, I still cant understand).

Nathuram Godse happens to be one of the most controversial figures that lived in 1948 till date. He killed the one who believed in non-violence.

Lets read the irony completely. He killed the one whose Idea of belief in forgiveness and non violence ruled the country and he was hanged for it!

I was reading Nathuram Godse's last speech, in the court. He did not plead for mercy. He did not run away or shoot himself when he killed Mahatma. He wanted to give his reasoning in the court before dieing. And he did.

Well I agree that his reasoning was as flawed as his act that it led to.


जज साहब, वो कहता था,
बदलाव अगर देखना चाहते हो तो, खुद ही तुम बदलाव बनो,
जलाओ ज्योत राष्ट्रभाव की, अपने बहते खून का बहाव बनो,
जज साहब,
में भी एक बदलाव हू,
में भी सुलगती एक सोच का बहाव हू,
वो सोच के जिसकी मशाल पे उसने अग्नि दाह दिया,
में उसी मशाल मे जलता उसका ही उल्टा दाव हू

धर्म निरपेक्ष रहे हम, अमन रहे गली-मोहल्लें में,
चाहे बीवी की लाश दिखे, और बहेन लूटे कलकत्ते में,
आज़ादी चाही थी जो उसएक आज़ादी के सौ टुकड़े मिले,
मेरी कॉम के खून से लाल हुए, जो सफेद थे फूल खिले,
तब मेरी पीठ पे हाथ रख बापू बोला,
"क्षमा ही सच्चा शौर्य है",
क्या क्षम्य था वो सब जो उन्होने किया? नही,
मेरा वार उसकी अविजय ग़लतीओ का जवाब था,
जज साहब,
प्रतिउत्तर पाप नही होता,


सदीओ बाद भी आज़ादी का जब इतिहास पढ़ाया जाएगा,
वो पिता, और में पिता का हत्यारा ये सबको बताया जाएगा,
पर मुजको उससे कोई आर नही है, उसकी सारी बातों से है,
मेरे लिए आज भी ज़ालिम का इंसाफ़, ज़ालिम पे ज़ुल्म से है,
हज़ारो चाहे अलग ही समझे, मुझको गर्व है कोई सोग नही,
अपने देश की बर्बादी देख धरे रहने का मुझको कोई रोग नही,
जज्साहब,
मुझपे आप कोई रहम ना करना, फाँसी मेरा अंजाम रहे,
गाँधी जापका दंभ दिखलाते, मेरी मौत से खुशहाल रहे,
वो एक बाप था, जो भटक गया था,
में बेटा अपनी माँ का हू,
हे, भारत माँ,
तेरी लाज बचा ना पाया,पर
जो बचा पाता, और जिसने बचाई नही,
उस बापू का में हत्यारा हू

(I hope we are mature enough not to feel offended by a poem that tries to understand the psyche of an offender.)

(Inspired by Nathuram Godse's speech and KK Menon's performance in "Shaurya" :):) )
 

Poem : ले पतवार पकड़ और नाव चला

१८वी सदी के अंत तक दुनिया भर में ये बात ज़ाहिर सी हो गयी थी की एक ना एक दिन इंसानो को गुलाम बनाकर उनका व्यापार करने वाले लोगो को ये व्यापार बँध करना पड़ेगा I जगह जगह जहा पे हिन्दुस्तानी गुलामो को बेचा जा रहा था, गुलामो के हुजूम अपने हुक्मरानो के सामने बग़ावत कर रहे थेI ये कविता ऐसे ही एक ग़ुलाम का गीत है जिसे ५०० और ग़ुलामो के साथ एक जहाज़ पे दक्षिण अफ्रीका ले जाया जा रहा था I दिन भर पतवार पकड़ के महीनो तक नाव आगे बढ़ाने वाले ये ग़ुलाम भारत के हर प्रांत से एकत्रित किए जाते थे! ये कोशिश उनकी मनोस्थिति को समजने की है, वो मनोस्थिति जिससे एक बदलाव जन्म लेता है I

ये शफ्फाक़ थमे से पानी पे,
बेदाग वो बढ़ती लहरे देख,
जो ख़ुद में छुपे हर मोती संग,
आज़ाद आसमान का अक्स दिखलाती है,
हम आसमान में उड़ते उन परिंदो की छबि जैसे,
पानी पे क़ैद तस्वीरे है,
परिंदे उड़ सकते है उनकी तस्वीर नही,
परिंदे उम्मीद की दुनिया में जीते है, तस्वीर नही,
तू आस के खारे पानी से, ये खुरदुरे ना घाव जला,
भूल के सब तू ले पतवार पकड़ और नाव चला

गर याद आए मा का आँचल, गर याद आए बच्चो के खेल,
गर याद आए मेहबूब की आँखें, गर याद आए गाँवो के बैल,
बदन पे साहिब के वार झेल तू, ज़हन से साफ वो यादें कर लेना,
दरिया के पानी को अपने खून से लाल करने की बातें कर लेना,
एक बात बता तेरे ईमान तेरी यादों पे चाबुक न्याय नही है या है,
पर सिर्फ़ बातों से इस जग में कभी कोई इंक़लाब नही आया है,
दर्द से लिख तू अपनी किस्मत, यादो का तू ताव चढ़ा,
सोच ये सब तू आगे बढ़,ले पतवार पकड़ और नाव चला

ये उधार की साँसें, ये बीमार से दिन, कोई मौत के जैसा है ज़रूर,
जो इंसानो से जीने का हक छिने वैसा इस ज़ालिम का है फितूर,
छोड ये मौत से भरा जीवन, मौत से मिलकर जीना सीख,
ले पतवार उसे कलम समज, मार उसे अपनी कथनी लिख,
गर सारे हम साथ हो तो फिर, कमज़ोर नही हम ताक़त है,
मौत मरे तो अपनी हो, जिए अपना ही जीवन ये चाहत है,
आज़ादी के अंगारो को तू अपने खून का घी-तेल पीला,
हो फ़ना आज़ादी पे तू ,ले पतवार पकड़ और नाव चला

Poem : ले पतवार पकड़ और नाव चला

१८वी सदी के अंत तक दुनिया भर में ये बात ज़ाहिर सी हो गयी थी की एक ना एक दिन इंसानो को गुलाम बनाकर उनका व्यापार करने वाले लोगो को ये व्यापार बँध करना पड़ेगा I जगह जगह जहा पे हिन्दुस्तानी गुलामो को बेचा जा रहा था, गुलामो के हुजूम अपने हुक्मरानो के सामने बग़ावत कर रहे थेI ये कविता ऐसे ही एक ग़ुलाम का गीत है जिसे ५०० और ग़ुलामो के साथ एक जहाज़ पे दक्षिण अफ्रीका ले जाया जा रहा था I दिन भर पतवार पकड़ के महीनो तक नाव आगे बढ़ाने वाले ये ग़ुलाम भारत के हर प्रांत से एकत्रित किए जाते थे! ये कोशिश उनकी मनोस्थिति को समजने की है, वो मनोस्थिति जिससे एक बदलाव जन्म लेता है I

ये शफ्फाक़ थमे से पानी पे,
बेदाग वो बढ़ती लहरे देख,
जो ख़ुद में छुपे हर मोती संग,
आज़ाद आसमान का अक्स दिखलाती है,
हम आसमान में उड़ते उन परिंदो की छबि जैसे,
पानी पे क़ैद तस्वीरे है,
परिंदे उड़ सकते है उनकी तस्वीर नही,
परिंदे उम्मीद की दुनिया में जीते है, तस्वीर नही,
तू आस के खारे पानी से, ये खुरदुरे ना घाव जला,
भूल के सब तू ले पतवार पकड़ और नाव चला

गर याद आए मा का आँचल, गर याद आए बच्चो के खेल,
गर याद आए मेहबूब की आँखें, गर याद आए गाँवो के बैल,
बदन पे साहिब के वार झेल तू, ज़हन से साफ वो यादें कर लेना,
दरिया के पानी को अपने खून से लाल करने की बातें कर लेना,
एक बात बता तेरे ईमान तेरी यादों पे चाबुक न्याय नही है या है,
पर सिर्फ़ बातों से इस जग में कभी कोई इंक़लाब नही आया है,
दर्द से लिख तू अपनी किस्मत, यादो का तू ताव चढ़ा,
सोच ये सब तू आगे बढ़,ले पतवार पकड़ और नाव चला

ये उधार की साँसें, ये बीमार से दिन, कोई मौत के जैसा है ज़रूर,
जो इंसानो से जीने का हक छिने वैसा इस ज़ालिम का है फितूर,
छोड ये मौत से भरा जीवन, मौत से मिलकर जीना सीख,
ले पतवार उसे कलम समज, मार उसे अपनी कथनी लिख,
गर सारे हम साथ हो तो फिर, कमज़ोर नही हम ताक़त है,
मौत मरे तो अपनी हो, जिए अपना ही जीवन ये चाहत है,
आज़ादी के अंगारो को तू अपने खून का घी-तेल पीला,
हो फ़ना आज़ादी पे तू ,ले पतवार पकड़ और नाव चला

Poem : Everything Comes With a Price

Walking square over the round sewer line,
I thought, "Getting rich" would be fine,
Fine it would be to own a villa and a car,
And to drive her along, a little too far,
Fine it would be to have a good dinner too,
And the fire of alcohol to take me through,
But dreams are dreams and I cannot get that,
Now I have to fence the night with sewer rat,
for now there are no books or street lights,
For now I promise myself - no more red fights,
As I walk down I see a dead man and an open bag,
A bullet in his head and another on the left leg,
He was almost dead, breathing a little every time,
I thought of the open bag more than obvious crime,
I thought of the money in counts of thousands,
I thought of the dreams-all my castle of sands,
Sand and dreams would now fortify the life's essence,
I would rejoice, in a villa and car in her presence,
I ran snatching the bag from the almost dead's hand,
I saw some blood running over the open bundles' band,
I hesitated, didn't I? before running fast away,
Not a thought past me, nor thank-yous did I say,

Now,
In my villa, my place- I rejoice with her, car and my dreams nice,
Everyday my guilt cries to tell me, everything comes with a price

Poem : जन्वरी में जून

बहता हुआ ये खून, उसका भी है मेरा भी,
नफ़रत का जुनून उसका भी है, मेरा भी,
दोनो ताने हुए है बंदूक एक दूसरे की ओर,
गुज़री यादों का संदूक, उसका भी है मेरा भी,
दोनो को सता रही है चीखे बड़ी बेबस,
जलता हुआ हुजूम, उसका भी है, मेरा भी
बहता हुआ ये खून, उसका भी है मेरा भी

दोनो है ताक में एक दूसरे की मौत के,
बैखौफ है, कसम पे ज़िंदगी को झौक के,
नस नस में आग है, जंग जीत लाएँगे,
खून की गर्मी में रंग लाल पोत लाएँगे,
जन्वरी में जून, उसका भी है मेरा भी,
नफ़रत का ये जुनून उसका भी है मेरा भी,

पिछले साल की बात है, मेरे गाँव में खून की होली थी,
पिछले साल की बात है, उसके गाँव में भूख बोली थी,
मेरा गाँव, पहाड़ो की शान था, और मेलो के मेल भी थे,
झेलम की पहचानमेंबसे कुछ रेतों के हंगामी महेल भी थे,
उसका उस पार था घर झेलम के पर ऐसा ही होगा वो भी,
बारूद की बू से बचा बचा सा बारिश में भीगा होगा वो भी,
वो बर्फ़ीली पहाड़ियों पे, आज चाँद आया है,ये
बेकार का सुकून, उसका भी है मेराभी

मेरा धर्म है मेरा मुल्क, उसके धर्म को मुल्क की तलाश,
दोनो ने सफ़र में बिछाई है, बेगुनाह बच्चों की कई लाश,
एकअल्लाह-इलाही हमारे, दोनो का है एक नाम सिपाही,
में जायज़ सियासतदारो का, उसकी पहचान है जिहादी,
ये पहचान का क़ानून उसका भी है मेरा भी,
बहता हुआ ये खून, उसका भी है मेरा भी

Random Couplets

The Company which I work for has some really great platforms that help people develop their personality and air their view. One of such things is the internal blogs. I do regularly blog there. Trying to get a few relevant things from there and tune this blog with things that might make sense here. Starting with a set of Random Couplets.

मुक्कमल ना सही महफूज़ से ख्वाबों को फिर भी सजाया करते है,
दुनिया की तक़दीर किसी मुकम्मल चीज़ ने कभी नक्श नही करी
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"मुल्ला नसीरूद्दीन" कह कर मज़ाक किया करते थे वो,
हम ख्वाबिदा लोग मज़ाक से भी इंक़लाब ला सकते है
_____________________
तू एक है, हज़ार है तुज़से यहाँ, तेरी फ़िक्र क्यों करे कोई?
हम है की उनकी खातिर गुलाब के रंग की फ़िक्र किए बैठे है
_____________________
फूल तू, बहार तू, तू बारिश की बूँदें,
मेरे सेहरा में तू मेरा ख्वाब आँखें मुन्दे
_____________________
दो रोज़ ही हुए है, सरहद पे कुछ लोग हुए फ़ना,
मुझे आज टीवी देख क्रिकेट में हारी इंडिया का सोग है