Shaitan - Movie Review

It has been long, but I had to get back to this, this has been waiting for a long time. A movie review. Though this is an old one, I had to write this.

A few months back I was on a dose of short films. Had been through various forums and watched many short film. One, suggested by a friend who did not know who Mohanlal was (and its hard to forgive a person for that), was especially brilliant. The film was called Reflections. I genuinely found the movie brilliant. Here is the link : (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tTBYYPTi-lU)

So I searched for other short films that the director Bejoy Nambiar would have made. And I got to know about him being the first time director for Shaitan for the first time. I had to watch it I knew right when I saw reflection.

Some of the most delicious lunches that you would have had it life aren’t the most expensive ones. So is it for movies too: Smaller the budget, higher the innovation, more life in the movie. Nambiar has a knack for thriller, and that fact comes through not just in the story that he puts forth, but also the background score, the screenplay and most aptly and surprisingly through the camerawork. Shaitan is typically a kind of movie that I would imagine would have required a lot of pre-production work. The very tight script and a sharper screenplay would mean that actors need know their characters well. The plots and subplots are nicely intertwined to give space to each of the characters for its development. I am sure considering the number of experimental shots that Nambiar has taken in the movie, defining the camera angles too would have been a very detailed activity.

The movie is the story of 5 friends – rich brats who to save themselves from the aftermath of a road rage accident, gets embroiled in making money to bribe the cop through a fake kidnapping of one of them. Everything that you as a viewer might expect will go wrong for the character goes wrong after that. There is a motley crowd of a mentally disturbed youngster (played intricately and beautifully by Kalki), another aggressive arrogant rich kid, an all-fearing Parsi lad, a responsible model-to-be and a young middleclass boy in the group who wants to make quick money. They are friends. They trust each other when they start their journey and by the end you see how one character’s personality eats the space for other’s resulting into Mayhem.

Nambiar, as a writer and as a director adds many thoughtful pieces that gives the movie its flavour. I would specifically like to mention a few things:

· Sketches that he uses to show the mental state of Amy (Kalki’s character). Amy’s obsession with Saira is so strongly conveyed through those that the end seems very beautifully built up

· There is a sequence where the friends are on a run from police and a brawl in the shoddy lodge where they were hiding takes ugly form and they have to run. At the same time there is another story unfolding for police. The mixing of shots in this sequence is brilliant and even better is the background score with a lilting, dragging and intoxicated Khoya Khoya chand being played. A must watch

· Smaller things like Blood marks on Amy’s Body and her bouts of insanity builds up the climax.

· Gore and Blood. The scenes are raw and leaves an errie impact. It gets so dark at times that it feels overpowering

Everyone acted very well but Kalki was outstanding in the group. Her portrayal of the character was beautifully apt. It beautifully comes out in the scene where the 5 friends are hiding in a cinema hall and while everyone is worried about life, she says “Mujhe pata nahi ye hero doodhwali se pyar karta hai ya item wali se”. Rajeev Khandelwal as an honest cop with broiling anger hidden under the layers of responsibility has done a commendable job. I wish his dialogue delivery was as good as his expressions and he would have been my bet for future superstar. Shiv Pandit is confident and plays his part with confidence. Gulshan Devaiya shines in his role for KC. It wasn’t an easy role to play but there are points where he could have done better. There are many scenes where his quirky nature and sudden bout of anger had to look natural and it doesn’t. To me both Neil Bhoopalan as Zubin Shroff and Kirti Kulhari as Tanya were the surprise package. Senior actors like Rajit Kapoor and Pawan Malhotra delivers what they were expected to, which wasn’t awful lot. Both actors are in the list of my all-time favourites and seeing them in smaller roles is little underwhelming. Nikhil Chinnappa, wasn’t required though he plays his part earnestly.

Writing – especially the story and screenplay, were outstandingly brilliant, the best part of the movie. Both Bejoy Nambiar and Megha Ramaswamy needs to get all the credit for the movie having a turn at every corner of the zigzag route it takes from the start till end. Though I think the dialogues for the movie could have been much better. I would have expected the central characters to speak more English and slip into it everytime they were tense / nervous. Hindi at time looks unnatural on the characters.

Two other departments that shines were editing (well-seasoned Sreekar prasad) and cinematography (R Madhi). Checkout the smaller jewels like the gunfight that happens between the cop Mathur played by Rajeev and 2 gangsters. The Camera pans on the ceiling above the fan as it moves across the lobby exchanging the gun shots. Beautifully shot and remarkably mixed with the background score. Use of light and space shooting in various smaller location is remarkable

Overall it’s a movie with the right thriller bone. You will definitely enjoy it when you watch it the first time. If giving stars is important in a movie review, I would give it a 3.5* - just my point of view .

Personal Rambling again, My Fears !

***Personal Rambling, like Diary Pages Again – self centric but liberating **********

Emotional Outburst about My fears.

Yes that is exactly what it is. I turned 30 a couple of days back. It felt good. I kind of reviewed my last 10 years and could see that I more or less managed to match all the expectations that my family and friends had from me.

Thought again, did I match all of MY expectations? Well never had much of it as I have never been very ambitious person. But yes I had a few. I was thinking about it again. I realized I have been giving just a little too importance to the destination and not to the journey or may be 30s show you the first routes to escapism.

I am not sure.

way back, I chose engineering because that is what everyone said was the best thing to do then. But I liked chemical engineering and thought I can do something really good with it.

I chose MBA, as that is the most secure thing to do after engineering. But I loved Marketing Management and I was confident that Brand Management is my calling.

I joined IT, one of the most secure things I could have chosen after my MBA. But I loved….well, actually I did not love anything in IT except the money it offered.

So, am I a good chemical engineer, marketer or very rich compared to my friends who followed their passion. NO. A big NO. Do I regret it? I don’t regret anything. Because that is the way life teaches you.

On the hindsight security and the feeling that my family considers me responsible and wants me to behave in a particular fashion has always been the most important thing in life. Well I pretty much served my priorities on the hindsight. Though I have never been able to come to terms with the fact that I have had the best of game changing thoughts, as I would like to believe but had no guts to follow any of it. I am an average mediocre escapist who has been finding ways to console himself that he is good. Well consoling himself that he is brilliant.

Now I have said it. Yes that is on me.

I don’t feel like a loser. But I feel like I have achieved wrong goals; If not wrong atleast the ones that came from misplaced ambitions.

While I write this, alone in my room, in a beautiful and romantic country, which I have never got enough enthusiasm to travel in, I am waiting. I am waiting for my family’s Visa , I am waiting for an editor to tell me how bad I have written my first book, I am waiting what would be the next creative thing I will do, and when I show it to people they will say, “Hey, that is so good, you are talented. What are you doing in this industry?”

And I will feel good that someone appreciated what I enjoy doing. And get back to manage my work and the things I like doing as hobbies. But there is a catch here. Slowly I have come to enjoy the comments and encouragement for my writings more than writing itself. Not good. Definitely not good. Because it is no more about the Journey.

I sit on my laptop with a pressure that I HAVE to write, I haven’t written anything in days. I sit to write having an end in my mind; Thinking of a novel that would be loved by all. I start working on an idea at work, thinking of the change in team at workplace and the false feeling of achievement that it will bring. I think of following business news, with something in my mind expecting me to remember it and utilize it in some discussion. It is all about the end and that is bothering me today. Yes, like everyone else, I too want to be loved, get respected for what I love doing and be happy but then I am not enjoying it. I think I need to re-wind and get the focus of enjoying right.

I fear being judged and judgement is all that I look for.

“How good was my decision to do that with the team?”

“Hey, How did you find my poem?”

“ How was that photograph I clicked?”

“I am trying to create business understanding in an IT world. Isnt that correct?”

“Those stories I wrote are different, aren’t they?”

I expect my friends to answer in my favour. Always. And good friends that they are, they always do. But I fear being judged differently. I am insecure and that insecurity comes in mind because I start with an end in mind.

I want to correct this. I want to start DOING things that I enjoy, without the fear / expectation of being judged good or bad at it. I want to write so that I can enjoy writing. I want to make some short videos so that I can enjoy making it. I want to create some change in office, so that I can feel the joy of changing things for good while they are changing. I do not want an appraisal of its outcome. I want to be in it while it happens. But then it doesnt mean it would not have purpose. Purpose of anything can not just be the end of it.

I need to get even with myself on this. This post has been cathartic and I hope things I do ahead is more of it.

I enjoyed writing this. I really did. :)

Wouldnt have posted it otherwise but I think many of you might relate to such confusions.

"સ"

Experimental and Inspired ! :)

યુવાની ના પ્રેમ માં,
તોફાની ઍક વ્હેમ માં,
નવો જ કોઈ કક્કો હું ઘૂંટીરહ્યો'તો ,
ઍક અક્ષર થી પ્રેમ લૂટી રહ્યો'તો,
હાથે વહાલ થી ઍનિ છુન્દણી કરાવી,
તને tattoo કરી હંમેશ મે મારી બનાવી.

તૂ કૉલેજ થી ઘરના રસ્તા થી ભટકી,
મંદિર ની પાછળ મારી રાહમાં અટકતી,
હૂ સ્કૂટર ઉધારી ના તારી કાજ લાવી,
તને ભોડપણ મા ફોસલાવી મનાવી,
ક્યાક્ દૂર ગામ થી લઈને ગયો'તો,
સમય ની હૂ ચોરી કરતો રહ્યો તો,
ઍ ચોરી મારી જ્યારે પકડાઈ ગયી'તી,
તૂઝ થી અલગ થઈ જ્યારે ભારે થઈ'તી,
જગતે મારા પ્રેમ ને જ્યારે દીધો નમાવી,
તને tattoo કરી હંમેશ મે મારી બનાવી.

નિષ્ફળ રહ્યો પણ રહ્યો મારા કર પર,
હજી લીલો લાગે છે તારો આ અક્ષર,
મારૂ નામ પણ શરૂ "સ" થી જ થાયે,
બચતો રહ્યો વર્ષો હૂ ઍના છાયે-છાયે,
ઍક બીજો જ ચેહરો નિશ્વાર્થ પ્રેમ સાથે,
મૂઝ થી પરણી ત્યાથી ચાલ્યો સંગાથે,
મારા અક્ષર ને ચૂમી રહી પોતાનો બનાવી,
તેને પણ જ્યારે મે તૂઝ થી અળગી ચલાવી,
જ્યારે તારા અક્ષરે મને ઓડખ અપાવી,
તને tattoo કરી હંમેશ મે મારી બનાવી.

આથમતા સૂરજે હૂ ઍકલો બેઠો છુ બગીચે,
કાલે સાંભળ્યુ તૂ જતી રહી હરી-સમીપે,
પ્રખ્યાત બહુ હતી તારી ઍકલતા ની ગઝલો,
ને શબ્દ-તળાવે જોયો તો મે યાદો નો બગલો,
બહુ આસાન હતુ આ વાતો થી બચવુ,
પણ તારે ક્યારે હતુ મુજ ને સાંભળવુ,
ગઝલ ની જગા ઍક "સ" થી નિપટાવી,
કાશ મને સાથ રાખ્યો હોત ઍમા છુપાવી,
કદી ગયી નથીઆ મને ઍકલતા સતાવી,
કારણ,
તને tattoo કરી હંમેશ મે મારી બનાવી.

ફિલસુફ રમૂજ થી થઈ ગયો

ક્ષણ-ભંગૂર પ્રેમ મારો,જો અમર તુજ થી થઈ ગયો,
વ્યંગ જોઈ હરવાત મા,ફિલસુફ રમૂજ થી થઈ ગયો,

મંઝિલની મીટ માંડતા,હતા સપના સમય ની કૈદ માં,
ઈચ્છા ના ડામથી વધ્યો,ઘાયલ હૂ રુઝ થી થઈ ગયો,

ઘર થી ઍટલા તો દૂર હતા,રસ્તા સફળતા ના અહી,
નાનો વહાલો નીકળ્યો,ને મોટો હૂ મૂઝ થી થઈ ગયો,

અહમ્ના સૂકા દરિયામાં,મહત્તા ગરીબ બનાવે છે,
ઍક બૂન્દમાં સમાઇ,ધનવાન હુ જૂજ થી થઈ ગયો

ક્ષણ-ભંગૂર પ્રેમ મારો,જો અમર તુજ થી થઈ ગયો,
વ્યંગ જોઈ હરવાત મા,ફિલસુફ રમૂજ થી થઈ ગયો.

Please raise your hands in support and get counted

Some of us might see negative things in any initiative, but there are a few things which has to have a generation to support it.

A generation of young people doesnt need a young man to lead them. One Anna Hazare can do it.


Its a small begining, its a small step. I see people forwarding his videos on facebook, people talking about him on lunch tables, people talking about his initiative and its importance on a coffee break. It is all good.

I hope the young men and women of my time stand up and support this. Please give a thought, corruption is one thing that has spoiled every other thing in our country. Please support the movement against corruption. Please stand up against it.

Before giving off that note of 100 rupees to a dishonest officer at any level, which would percolate every rupee of it and nurture this demon till the top of the government, think. Think of where will it all end.

I wish this young generation that is mine will have the guts to stand up and get counted. I am standing up against corruption, are you? Dont just say yes for the sake of it, give your heart to it and the nation will change one day.

I might be overreacting like an idealist poet, but I dont think that a "practical" approach can solve the basic issues that our country faces. Lets join hands. Salute to you Big Man!



कितना खोया नही गिनती है,
अब दाव पे ये माँ हमारी है,
अब मिल के चीख लगानी है,
अब कुछ करने की बारी है,


रिश्वत से घरो के मंदिर में,
भगवान ना भोग अब खाएँगे,
अब राम ने धनुष उठाया है,
कॉपायमान अब चक्रधारी है,
प्रजातंत्र के ओ रावण सुनो,
अब जलनी लंका सारी है,
अब कुछ करने की बारी है

कितने ईमान बिक गये है,
कितनो ने हिम्मत हारी है,
सिसकियाँ मिलके चीख बनी है,
अब सच की नयी तैयारी है,
बेखौफ़ जवानी जागेगी अब,
बेरोक सफाई छाएगी अब,
अब हाथ मैले करने है हमें,
अब भगानी सब बीमारी है,
अब मिल के चीख लगानी है,
अब कुछ करने की बारी है

Pune - Mumbai - Zurich - Basel

Every face, every heart, every talk has a stoy. The more faces you see the more stories you pass by. Closer and longer you look at these faces, the stories get detailed, interwined and you never know when is it that the story has touched you and impacted you to take some actions. I am not yet pushed to actions more than writing a blog but some day, it will go beyond it.

Travel gives you intersting opportunities to visit more of these stories. I was on a holiday last week. I had been to my family. 6 months away from the family has taught me a lot, and I miss them every moment I am here. My son, he is growing faster than ever, my parents are growing older and my wife is growing prettier :). Ofcourse more about it has been written by happy. While coming back from home to Basel, I started on a KK travels shared cab. Exactly at 5 in the evening after a full day and a full week of total fun and joy, I was going away from my family, back to my work. I really did not want to.

I thought Happy, my son, being so small, would not understand that I am leaving him again for may be next few months. But he started crying and it melted me. I felt like crying. There were 3 more people sitting in the cab. I thought I will rather talk and talk about them then thinking about happy as that would have made me cry. Out of the 3 the one sitting next to me was an uncle. He was a banker. He was going to drop his son sitting next to him to New Zealand. His son Sourabh, with whom I happened to have a common friend was returning to NZ where he had done his studies and was going back for job. And there was a young girl sitting in front sit next to the driver, with a colorful green - pink bag. While we 3 were talking at the backseat she remained silent, and I thought she might be a little edgy and may be one of those whom you meet most often in offices, young software engineer working 5 hours a day, enjoying good phones, great chilled-out life and having little idea about the difficulties of the world. She must have been of my cousin Chirag / Sis Pooja's age. I look at all kids of their age with a "bade bhaiya" look trying to find what is wrong with the generation.

Sourabh happened to be a cricket fan and someone who had loved playing the game in college, dedicated follower. I could see a sportsman from heart in him. I am not a sport-type. I would be lying if I say I follow cricket. I dont even follow that. Long years back I ued to follow Lawn Tennis. I had tried keeping myself updated about major players in various sports and how they are playing but keeping myself updated with tournaments and teams was something I never did. We started off talking some very interesting stuff as the car glided over the mumbai express. The girl was still silent. With occasional calls. Uncle was very nice, trying to talk to all, making friends. I think he too must be thinking about the stories behind faces the way I do.

Half way during the tea break, I saw Shekhar Ravijani (Vishal-Shekhar duo) having Wada pav on highway outlet. I am not sure why any one did not recognize him there. I would not make a mistake in identifying a film personality. I did not want to disturb him. I thought even if one person would identify and go for his photograph / autograph, his entire evening would be ruined with mob trying to do the same with him. I had the best Misal Pav you get on expressway.

While getting down from the cab for this misal pav, I noticed the girl ahead with a Yonex Kit. I found it interesting. And when I came back she was having a discussion in Marathi with uncle and Sourabh. Well she did not sound the way I expected her to be. She told us her name was Aditi Mutatkar. It did not ring any bells never heard of that name. She had to tell us that she is a badminton player and has been playing for India for years. Well a surprised look on our face. It was only after a couple of more minutes that I realized that she is a National Champion.

First thoughts : Why the hell is a national champion of a sport travelling in a cab with ordinary people like us- the "Bhedchal"?

And then everyone in the car was talking. Discussion started with Badminton and my knowledge of Baddy was not as little as knowing fact that Saina Nehwal plays badminton and Deepika Padukone's dad used to play it and nor was it as high as knowing that there is a Swiss Open Badminton Championship, right in the city where I live, with 8-9 Indian player being a part of it. The discussion went on to how is the plight of badminton players? How they need to shell out money from their own pocket to participate in games. How highly unsustainable a life of baddy player is if s/he doesnt have the zeal for spending life on it without earning much. While talking this I personally realized that the Baddy champions too dont earn as high as most of those boring software engineers who live "onsite" i.e. people like me. And that is shame. I mean comeon - she is a champion. I would not write more about this, you can visit Aditi's Blog to hear it first hand. Kudos to her.

I had made up my mind by the time we reached Mumbai airport that atleast once I will go to support the Indian players and take my friends along. Unfortunately Aditi's match was in my office timing, and office after a week's break is very demanding. She lost and that is what sports is not about I understood. Its not winning or losing, its playing. We made a big group though and did go to Swiss Open. Though I never met Aditi there, but I did follow all our baddy stars - Saina, Ajay, Thomas, Rupesh, Jwala and it was very very interesting. The Indian turnout at the matches were so high that even the Swiss Open websites mentioned it.

One thing that I disliked about it, we are celebrity crazy. We love people and make big figures out of them but dont really appreciate the sport. I wish as many people who turned out came to watch Badminton as they came to watch Saina. Hopefully some day it will happen.

So closing that part of the story, after I reached Mumbai airport, I boarded my swiss air flight, and I knew it was going to be a good night sleep. But there was one more interesting story by my side on board. There was a lady - Christine or Catherine, I dont remember her name any longer. She was going to Barcelona. And she was talkative. She told me that she was in India learning Yoga. So I thought one more, fake Yoga follower from west. I am getting a little too cynical I believe at times. I asked her , where all did you go and I was expecting, Taj Mahal and Himalaya, and Rajasthan and Haridwar on her list. But she started with Hampi, Gokarna, Mysore ... DIfferent indeed. She mentioned that she was in GOa for 10 days where she got robbed, but then she also said Goa is not India. I really appreciated that.

The most interesting comment from her was that India is a place where you cannot generalize, a person you meet would be very bad and the very next person sitting next to that might be very good. She told stories of her travel by Sleeper class train, local buses, autos etc. She was indeed a low budget traveller. And she said that now she has got a bill from bank asking her to pay a lot of money that she did not have. She worked as a freelance Journalist writing for Greek newspapers in Barcelona. But there was a story, very intersting and very nice in all her talks.

I specially remember 2 incidences that she said. First that with her maid in Mysore who spoke and understood only Kannada, she used to talk in her half learned Spanish, and still they could communicate. I found that very interesting - thinking of both of them talk! Another one was about Indian food. She found it very spicy and interesting but soon had caught disease. She also talked of a Baba she met enroute , who she said looked sad when she left him to go to Mysore :). I could see what she meant! SO yes I was back in Zurich. Meeting quite a few interesting people .

From Zurich to Basel too I met an Interesting person ,who would be a part of our team here and who was a Gujarati too - Nikunj. LIked talking to him as well. But because I know him now and meet him, no stories here :).

I really wish my son can read these stories that life brings forth. These stories are written with heart and emotions and not in language. I hope Happy has the heart to feel all of it.

Poem : happy I love you! :)

Missing Happy, wrote just like that


मेरी लंबी उंगलिओ पे,
वो छोटे हाथ तुम्हारे, याद आते है,

बेरंग दिन की दौड़भाग में,
वो तेरे लाल गुब्बारे, याद आते है,

ये ठंडी हवा की गुदगुदी पे क्यों,
तेरी हँसी के फव्वारे, याद आते है,

रोशन शहर, तन्हा रहे है,
तेरी आँखों के दो तारे, याद आते है

હુંફાડી ઍક કોઈ ક્ષણ રહે - A poem

(Tried posting everything I missed posting from my Infosys internal blogs from last year)

વાતો પ્રેમ ની ઍવિજ રહે છે, સદી કોઈ પણ રહે,
દાનત રહે સાર વચન નો, પછી જે કોઈ પ્રણ રહે,

બે હૃદય ના વચ્ચે સંબંધો ને નામ ની નથી જરૂર,
ઍક સ્પર્શ રહે પ્રેમાળ, હુંફાડી ઍક કોઈ ક્ષણ રહે,

પ્રીત ના પતંગ મા, કાંના ની ગાંઠ ધીમે બાંધજો,
થોડી હવા થી ડગમગતી રહે, થોડા કોઈ કામણ રહે

ભોમિયાઓ માટે પણ, વિચિત્ર છે ભૂગોળ પ્રેમ નો,
આગ નો દરિયો કહે કોઈ, કોઈ વિરાન છે રણ કહે

મીરા-રાધા ભાગલા કરતાનથી,કૃષ્ણ અર્થ પ્રેમ નો,
પૂજા મામારો રહે, અને રાસલીલામાતારો પણ રહે

थोड़े और गंभीर बनो - A poem

धीर बनो तुम वीर बनो, तुम बहता कोई नीर बनो,
वक़्त है बोलो, देखो-सुनो, ऐसे ना मूक-बधिर बनो,
युद्ध भूमि में प्रबीर बनो तुम, अपनी सोच में कबीर बनो,
सीखो सब से अच्छे गुण, तुम राम के दस-दस सिर बनो,
कंटक पथ पे फूल बनो तुम, शत्रु पे बरसते तीर बनो,
अधिकांश में आम रहो तुम, अपनी बातों में माहिर बनो,
दीपक राग बनो सत्य-ताल पे, ना अज्ञान का तिमिर बनो,
वक़्त यही है, नौजवान हो, संभलो, थोड़े और गंभीर बनो

हम बुलबुले तो है, पर ये गुलशितान मेरा नही - A poem

Wrote sometime last year after the various blasts and train derailment etc.

वो जो जल रहा है कही, वो बदन मेरा नही,
वो बेवा मेरी नही, बच्चों पे कफ़न मेरा नही,
हम बुलबुले तो है, पर ये गुलशितान मेरा नही,
जो चाहा था वैसा रहा ये हिन्दुस्तान मेरा नही,

वो तो कोई तेज़ उड़ती चिड़िया थी सोने की,
उसको नादान हमने कोई गुड़िया सी होने दी,
ये गिद्ध कौन है, जो चिड़िया के अंडे खा रहे है,
गुड़िया के जिस्म को बेच बेच दौलत पा रहे है,
गर हम-वतन है ये, तो ये हम-वतन मेरा नही,
जो चाहा था वैसा रहा ये हिन्दुस्तान मेरा नही,

मातृभूमि के वीर की राह में जो फूल बीछे मुरझाए,
बारूद की एक-एक फूँक में सारे राख बन उड़ जाए,
कहीं पैसो की लालच में अब कौभान्ड बनाए जाते है,
कही लाशों पे चल राम के सारे स्वांग रचाए जाते है,
सीता को लज्जित करे वो भगवान मेरा नही,
जो चाहा था वैसा रहा ये हिन्दुस्तान मेरा नही,

जिनके खून के रंग भी बसंती रंग गये थे कभी,
जिनकी हर एक साँस में आज़ादी ही थी बसी,
उनके नाम पे राहे है पर उनका मान ठहरा नही,
हम बुलबुले तो है, पर ये गुलशितान मेरा नही,
जो चाहा था वैसा रहा ये हिन्दुस्तान मेरा नही,

Trying different types of poetry

घर घर तुझको पूजे सब,
कहकर एसु-राम,
सब में छुप कर तू कहे,
में हूँ तेरा काम

पटरी पे चलती रेल से,
सब ने पाए भाग,
जहन के माथे पे जो लगे,
धो कर ना जाए दाग

आँगन की अटखेलियाँ,
खेल जो बीते साल,
छोड़ ये आँखें होती क्यों,
मेहन्दी के संग लाल

गीत बने संसार के सारे,
जोड़ के हर एक सुर,
बूँद ना रहे संग नदी जो,
वो बह ना पाए दूर

युद्ध की अपनी भाषा है,
बम-धमाके सुन,
शहीदो को सुनाती धरती,
लॉरी की कोई धुन

आम जो पकते धूंप में,
मीठे लगे जब खाए,
समज भी हार में छुप के,
कठिनाई से आए

अपने सपनो ही के लिए - A poem

मुश्किल बहुत है यहाँ पे अपने सपनो ही के लिए जीना,
अपने लिए जीना हो या हो अपने अपनो के लिए जीना,

दोराहें है और मोड़ भी है,सफ़र मे हर कदम जहा जाओ,
मंज़िलों के लिए जीना हो, या हो कदमो के लिए जीना?

दिये लिए चलना, रोशन नही है राह सूरज से हर जगह,
आँख बँध हो तो किसी और लौ मे जलने के लिए जीना,

अकेले आए थे पर रिश्ते जो हम बनाते चले, तो अब है,
कुछ कसमो के लिए जीना तो कुछ रस्मो के लिए जीना

मुश्किल बहुत है यहाँ पे अपने सपनो ही के लिए जीना,
अपने लिए जीना हो या हो अपने अपनो के लिए जीना

ये जग के चाँद - A poem

याद है मुझे, कुछ दिन पहले की ये बात है,
मुन्ने ने ली थी ज़िद, रहना उसको साथ है,
नाइट-शिफ्ट के टाइम कहा उसे ले जाता मैं,
बात घुमा, हर बार नयी लॉरी कोई गाता मैं,
"पापा, कब जाएँगे हम रात में टहलने को",
पौने चाँद को दिखा बोला "उसे पूरा होने दो",

कल सुबह ऑफीस से जब में घर लौटा तो,
देखा सुबक़ सुबक़ कोने में बैठ था रोता वो,
"किसीने हमारी बात सुनी थी, कोई तो नया है,
हर रात चाँद को काट काट के घर वो ले गया है,
"हम टहलने ना जाएँगे, उसने हम दोनो को लूटा है,"
कैसे बताता उसको मैं, एक काम था वो भी छूटा है,
अब कोई ना नाइट शिफ्ट है, कोई पैसा ना आएगा,
अमावस के चाँद सी ही रोटी भी घटती अब खाएगा,
सुबह फिर हम दोनो चुपचाप दुखीसे सो गये यहाँ,
फिर आज रात दौड़ के आया, बदल रहा था जहाँ,
"पापा चाँद फिर आया है, काफ़ी सुख गया है लेकिन"
क्या आपको लगता है, हम टहलने जाएँगे एक दिन?
चाँद के पूरे होने की हरदम, ऐसे ना बेटा तू राहें देख,
तू ही मेरा पूरा चाँद है, किसी और चंदा की बातें फेंक,
चल आज संग चलते है, शीतल चाँदनी में हम साथ नहाएँगे,
ये जग के चाँद बढ़ घट के किसी दिन साथ हमारे हो जाएँगे

A Few couplets just like that

Tere naam ki pehchaan mere chehre se hone lage,
Mein mohabbat ki aisi wafadari se darti hu,
_______________________________________________
Ye aaj mausam mein ek anokhi si dhanak lagti hai,
Apne dupatte ko meri aankhon pe yunhi rehne do.
_______________________________________________
Wo Harroz meri angrezi ke talaffuz pe hasa karta tha,
aaj "miss you" bhi bada sisak sisak ke kaha hai usne
_______________________________________________
Mutthi mein kaid kar sakta hu nazuk phoolon ko bhi, jalte suraj ko bhi,
Tu magar dhoonp sa hai, mehak sa, tujhe bandh kar ke rakhu to bhi kaha?
________________________________________________
Dagmagati ye naav hai, kadam zara sambhaal ke rakhna,
Waise to in maujho ka bhi ye dariya nahi hota
________________________________________________
Bandh aankhon mein ujala bhar dete hai,
Tumhare khwaab meri neend ke suraj se hai
________________________________________________

Ek awara si hokar bhatakti hai jab se gaye ho,
warna ye saas chalti thi to rukti thi tum par.

जीवन जैसे धक्का गाड़ी - A Poem

चोरस पहियों पे धक्के खाती , जीवन जैसे धक्का गाड़ी,
कभी संभले कभी लड़खड़ाती, जीवन जैसे धक्का गाड़ी,

मंदिर के और रुख़ कर चलती, फिर कोई मन अगन मचलती,
पूजा के फूल बालो में लगाकर, गानो की धुन पे मन्त्र उगलती,

रास्ता बदल के ढूँढने जाती, कोई बीकाउ कलकत्ता साड़ी,
अपनी होकर अपनो को सताती, जीवन जैसे धक्का गाड़ी,

रूह से अंधी, कर्म से बहरी, चह-चह कर पीछे भागती हर पल,
किसकी खातिर भूल के पैसा, भोग, खुशी सब मांगती हर पल,

थक-थक के जब रुक जाती, तो अपने पैर पे मारे कुल्हाड़ी,
सपने जला के फिर बढ़ती जाती, जीवन जैसे धक्का गाड़ी,

चोरस पहियों पे धक्के खाती , जीवन जैसे धक्का गाड़ी,
कभी संभले कभी लड़खड़ाती, जीवन जैसे धक्का गाड़ी

વાહ રી ઝિંદગી - A poem

ઍક આયખુ જીવતી રહી, ઍક પલ મા વીખરાઇ ગઈ,
વાહ રી ઝિંદગી

લાગતી'તી સમંદર જેવી તોયે બે બૂન્દમા ભરાઈ ગઈ,
વાહ રી ઝિંદગી
મળ્યા'તા જે દોસ્ત જીવન ના, બની યાદ છે ખોવાઈ ગયા,
છે હમસફર ને છે સફર, ખોબા મા થી મંઝિલોં વેરાઇ ગઈ,
વાહ રી ઝિંદગી
કાઇ પર્વતો કર્યા છે સર, કૂચ ની ઍકલી આગેવાની કરી,
ઍક કદમ પ્રેમાળ ઍ, વધારતા તૂ આટલી ગભરાઇ ગઈ,
વાહ રી ઝિંદગી
તૂ બની છે ભોમિયો, રસ્તા ની આંટીઘુંટી ની જાણકાર તૂ,
મૂઝ થી મૂઝ ના રસ્તા મા ક્યાંક તૂ ઍકલી ખોવાઈ ગઈ,
વાહ રી ઝિંદગી

ઍક આયખુ જીવતી રહી, ઍક પલ મા વીખરાઇ ગઈ,
વાહ રી ઝિંદગી

Flash Fiction : The Kill

It takes a while to get used to it - the rat meat and the road side animal. Initially for the first time you might feel like vomiting, you might vomit too, but if you roast it properly after washing, its just ok after a couple of meals. Its filling and it costs nothing.

He lived on the highway; had no money, no food, no life. He was old and begging needed hardwork. He didnot beg. He did not kill even. He waited. He waited for road accidents to happen. This was not for the first time. He saw a dog lying dead on the side of the road. Half crushed by a truck. It was a massive kill. He need not worry about the day's dinner and next days lunch. He went there when there was no traffic and when people would not notice him - the typical evening time, just before the dark. He chopped the part he wanted to eat. He did. Roasted them. Ate them.

The next day he saw a dead cat lying on the other side of the road. He knew he had to go get it. The intestine looked yummy from this side of the road. He crossed his side of road and the cat looked all the more interesting from the middle of the divider. He jumped over. He did not notice the truck coming. He was hit by a truck. He fell. Died. All the dogs hiding in the places near by, were out for a long waited feast as they took the cat - trap away.

Flash Fiction : Synthesize

"You are going onstage after this, to assist him" Rehana said to me as I moved to assist him carrying the synthesizer. I was ready. The evening meant two hundred rupees.

I was having that piece of newspaper in my hand. I remembered daddy.

We went on the stage. His presence made the crowd go mad. I was following him and had recieved the delayed cheer meant for him. They stood up on their legs, waved, fell for him, girls had his name tatooed everywhere, boys were dressed like him. It was a rock-star hysteria. The man had to start with a remix, I tuned my synthesizer to sound like sehanai. The tune played, the crowd Jhoomed, the smoke flew, the day faded.

I got my 200. I kept it along with the newspaper before I went to sleep.

The lines of the 7th page top left corner news read "Another Sehnai Maestro dead in the darkness of poverty"

Dad was amused I remember at the synthesizer "Ab to Sehnai bajane ke lie sehnai ki jaroorat nahi hoti."

Flash Fiction : Pleasure Play

I went out on the balcony. It was dark there. Closed the curtains behind me, so that mom doesnot notice me watching her.

There I see her! I cant see him in full, but I can see him in the shadows.

I think she is a devout Hindu, she would be burnt on her death. She is a fatal beauty. He is a casanova, a reflection of the biggest desires of life. When the need be, he would break codes of any religion. She likes him. He is obsessed with her smell. They come closer, I hope my mom doesn't disturb me in between this. He wraps her with himself. She resists a little but then squeezes herself to him. He would consume her, she would burn with his desire. For a moment they will engage and then disengage, the most beautiful love making for my mind. I see her, I cant see him. She seems to be going through this silently. He makes little noise in the process.

My mom, opens the curtain. I have to stop and throw her from the balcony as I clean him. My cigarette goes down on the road half burnt and my lips, he is left alone panting smoke and trying to hide the desires.

A Small Tribute to Great Nida Fazli

(Catching up on old posts that I could not post earlier)

I was listening to this gazal in the morning. It is sung by Chandan Daas "Apna Gam leke kahin aur na jaya jaye, ghar mein bikhri hui chizon ko sajaya jaye" and written by Nida Fazli. A poet whose words have impacted even my thoughts for long. I am his ardent fan. It takes a great perspective for life and painful experiences to pain down things that he did. He has written some of the best lines ever in Hindi-Urdu combination. I dont want to make this blog a collection of his poems, but still would like to quote a few things.

Nida Fazli shifted to India after Independence and his parents were staying in Pakistan. When they died he could not even go for their funeral. He could not go to their grave later and pray. So he used to go to any random grave in India and pray for them. On his dad's death, he had write na poem called "Vaalid ki maut par" and anyone who has read that will agree that its a master piece. I found the one in english words on net. Copying here.

तुम्हारी कब्र पर मैं

तुम्हारी कब्र पर मैं
फ़ातेहा पढ़ने नही आया,

मुझे मालूम था, तुम मर नही सकते
तुम्हारी मौत की सच्ची खबर
जिसने उड़ाई थी, वो झूठा था,
वो तुम कब थे?
कोई सूखा हुआ पत्ता, हवा मे गिर के टूटा था ।

मेरी आँखे
तुम्हारी मंज़रो मे कैद है अब तक
मैं जो भी देखता हूँ, सोचता हूँ
वो, वही है
जो तुम्हारी नेक-नामी और बद-नामी की दुनिया थी ।

कहीं कुछ भी नहीं बदला,
तुम्हारे हाथ मेरी उंगलियों में सांस लेते हैं,
मैं लिखने के लिये जब भी कागज कलम उठाता हूं,
तुम्हे बैठा हुआ मैं अपनी कुर्सी में पाता हूं |

बदन में मेरे जितना भी लहू है,
वो तुम्हारी लगजिशों नाकामियों के साथ बहता है,
मेरी आवाज में छुपकर तुम्हारा जेहन रहता है,
मेरी बीमारियों में तुम मेरी लाचारियों में तुम |

तुम्हारी कब्र पर जिसने तुम्हारा नाम लिखा है,
वो झूठा है, वो झूठा है, वो झूठा है,
तुम्हारी कब्र में मैं दफन तुम मुझमें जिन्दा हो,
कभी फुरसत मिले तो फातहा पढनें चले आना |

Many of us know about the song he wrote for mother, which was sung by Pankaj Udhas "Resham ki Sondhi Roti pe, khatti chatni jaisi maa", but the beauty of the song lied in two stanzas for me :

बिवी, बेटी, बहन, पड़ोसन थोड़ी थोड़ी सी सब में
दिन भर इक रस्सी के ऊपर चलती नटनी जैसी माँ

बाँट के अपना चेहरा, माथा, आँखें जाने कहाँ गई
फटे पुराने इक अलबम में चंचल लड़की जैसी माँ

If ever there were a heart warming tribute to parents, it had been these for me. That angst of missing home and place that can be called his own can also be read in the lines :

तुम जो सोचो वो तुम जानो हम तो अपनी कहते हैं
देर न करना घर जाने में वरना घर खो जायेंगे

बच्चों के छोटे हाथों को चाँद सितारे छूने दो
चार किताबें पढ़ कर वो भी हम जैसे हो जायेंगे

There are lines in many of his Gazals that uses time so poetically that you are surprised by the deep metaphors. Two sample two that I am remembering right away, in a song by Jagjit/Lataji/Ashaji, Nida Fazli write a line

"Ham koi waqt nahi hai humdum, Jab bulaogi chale aayenge"

and in another Gazal he has written a line which reads like
"Waqt Rutha raha, bachhe ki tarah, raah mein koi khilona na mila"

And the temporary nature of life could be heard in

"Ek musafir ke Safar jaisi hai, sab ki duniya,
Koi jaldi to koi der se hai jaane wala "

Nida Fazli has gone through this and heartbreaks and many more things in life that gives this poet a depth like no one else. You need to see a lot of life before coming up with words like :

दुनिया जिसे कहते हैं जादू का खिलौना है
मिल जाये तो मिट्टी है खो जाये तो सोना है

or something as deep as

"Kabhi kisi ko mukammal jahan nahi milta ,
Kahin zameen to kahin aasmaan nahi milta,
Jise bhi dekhiye wo apne aap mein gum hai,
Jabaan mili hai magar ham zabaan nahi milta" (its beautifully sung by bhupinder)

And he would also write songs like "Tere mere naam naye hai, Dard purana hai, jeevan kya hai tez hava mein deep jalana hai"

And many of you would have heard this old title song of a tv serial called "Sailaab". This is one gazal that I relate to the most now :)

अपनी मर्ज़ी से कहाँ अपने सफ़र के हम हैं
रुख़ हवाओं का जिधर का है उधर के हम हैं

another one we can relate to is : )

कभी कभी यूँ भी हमने अपने जी को बहलाया है
जिन बातों को ख़ुद नहीं समझे औरों को समझाया है

And also the lines famously rendered by chandan daas (gazal : apna gam leke kahin aur na jaya jaye)

"जिन चिराग़ों को हवाओं का कोई ख़ौफ़ नहीं
उन चिराग़ों को हवाओं से बचाया जाये

घर से मस्जिद है बहुत दूर चलो यूँ कर लें
किसी रोते हुए बच्चे को हँसाया जाये

Such advises makes a great read when given as simply as :

धूप में निकलो घटाओं में नहा कर देखो
ज़िन्दगी क्या है किताबों को हटा कर देखो

There is a lot that he has written about the peace that should prevail between hindu and muslim but my favourite line of all of it are in this doha :

सब की पूजा एक सी, अलग अलग हर रीत
मस्जिद जाये मौलवी, कोयल गाये गीत

And

चाहे गीता बाचिये या पढ़िये क़ुरान
मेरा तेरा प्यार ही हर पुस्तक का ज्ञान

and one more that I pariticularly like is the one which is a part of the album "Dil kahin hosh kahin" and sung by Udit Narayan. It talks about Pakistan and India and how America is becoming an unwelcomed third party in it.

"Kya tera hai kya mera hai, ye ishq diwana kya jane,
Dil mandir bhi hai masjid bhi, bedard zamana kya jane,

Ye kaun hai jo tere mere rishton ko mitane aaya hai,
Mere tere ghar aangan mein deewar uthane aaya hai,
Dharti ka ye kaafir batwara imaan ki izzat kya jaane"

He has also written romantic gazals like "Hoshwalon ko khabar kya" and "chand se phool se ya meri zubaan se suniye". But the depth of contemplation is not as great in those. He was rather more impressed by the love of Meera for Krishna. And that kind of love of his can be heard in the lines :

पूजा घर में मूर्ती मीर के संग श्याम
जिसकी जितनी चाकरी उतने उसके दाम

and also in

फिर मूरत से बाहर आकर चारों ओर बिखर जा
फिर मंदिर को कोई मीरा दीवानी दे मौला

Infact the other two stanzas of the latter is very much impressive in terms of the composition

गरज बरस प्यासी धरती पर फिर पानी दे मौला
चिड़ियों को दाना, बच्चों को गुड़धानी दे मौला

दो और दो का जोड़ हमेशा चार कहाँ होता है
सोच समझवालों को थोड़ी नादानी दे मौला

These and htere are many other poems of his that I am remembering right now, but I would like to leave you guys with 2 small poems written by him.

First one is about a woman trying to identify people who burnt his house and family in a riot :

नहीं यह भी नहीं

यह भी नहीं

यह भी नहीं, वोह तो

न जाने कौन थे

यह सब के सब तो मेरे जैसे हैं

सभी की धड़कनों में नन्हे नन्हे चांद रोशन हैं

सभी मेरी तरह वक़्त की भट्टी के ईंधन हैं

जिन्होंने मेरी कुटिया में अंधेरी रात में घुस कर

मेरी आंखों के आगे

मेरे बच्चों को जलाया था

वोह तो कोई और थे

वोह चेहरे तो कहाँ अब ज़ेहन में महफूज़ जज साहब

मगर हाँ

पास हो तो सूँघ कर पहचान सकती हूँ

वो उस जंगल से आये थे

जहाँ की औरतों की गोद में

बच्चे नहीं हँसते

And another one is about a courtesan - a tawaiaf :

यह तवाइफ़
कई मर्दों को पहचानती है
शायद इसीलिए
दुनिया को ज़्यादा जानती है

-उसके कमरे में
हर मज़हब के भगवान की
एक-एक तस्वीर लटकी है
ये तस्वीरें
लीडरों की तक़रीरों की तरह नुमाइशी नहीं

उसका दरवाजा
रात गए तक
हिन्दू
मुस्लिम
सिख
इसाई
हर ज़ात के आदमी के लिए खुला रहता है।

ख़ुदा जाने
उसके कमरे की-सी कुशादगी
मस्ज़िद
और
मन्दिर के आँगनों में कब पैदा होगी!

Kushadgi = Vishaalta




(Hope you enjoyed reading through this)