tamanna

A ridiculously weird observation...

2012-01-20T15:05:00.000+05:30

It's a weird observation I made last night. Of the people I know or claim to know, men are writing more books than women giving birth. No, I wasn't smoking up and wasn't high on Scotch. It is a ridiculously right observation. And I don't even live in the god's own country. All the books have been written outside that state.

Let me put in the numbers. In the last three years, seven women I know have attained motherhood. Colleagues, sisters-in-law, friends and all. In the meantime, the men I know have written eight books. Add the women and the count is up to 10. No wonder I was surprised when Irctc.com was showing messages on my screen that I should not take the prints of my tickets and keep them on my phone the last time I booked train tickets.

Guys, save some trees for me.

Jokes apart, the good thing is that people are writing. That people are buying those books and reading them is equally better for both the writer and the reader. At least the habit of reading is back.

For people who argue about the quality of the books that have started printing in tonnes, I would like to give the example of The Times of India. Many are concerned about the so-called degenerating quality, but the paper remains the top selling English daily of the nation and by quiet a stretch. That it can’t beat the god's own newspaper, the Malayala Manorama, in numbers is another matter. Maybe some paper, if Rajini chooses to start one someday, will beat the Malayalam language daily in overall circulation. One must also remember that a Neruda or a Galib are not born every decade.

That said, a book has to have something in it to sell. Most of the books I have read in the past three years have been fun. And that is enough for me. I read a new book with exactly as much expectation as I watch a Bollywood movie with. Not having any expectation will surprise a person one way or the other. And this is where books have proved to be different from movies. There aren’t 10 new silver screen releases I have liked in the past three years.

On the contrary, and to the disbelief of many-a-intellectual reader of this post, I have liked Chetan Bhagat’s books. I have, to say the least, enjoyed them. And I don’t know him personally. Go on, take a walk. Have a glass of water and calm down and we will restart then.

Done, OK? We shall restart.

So Chetan Bhagat. I have to give it to him for bringing India back to reading. “BUT THE BOOKS ARE SHIT,” you must be fuming. Light a smoke. You still read the Delhi Times, even if it is the tiny little square sheet you were eating your boiled eggs on. So, hushhh.

Revolution 2020 is good. Forget about the writer. I am sure, if you were given the book with the cover torn away, you would have liked it. Even better, if I were to convince you it was written by someone like a Rushdie, Adiga, Seth or any such names, you would have written a book of your own in its praise.

Even the people I claim to know have surprised me with the ability of churning out pages after pages in black. And most of them, I must admit, have made me smile. Is there anything more you want when you are on the way to office apprehensive of the surprises the day can bring in office? Or on the way back after a bad day when a mistake was caught and you ran from one corner of the office to another, one that you never knew existed saving your rear? Or when sleep eludes you after a long tiring day?

I know the expression on your face right now, but if you still say no, go become a writer. The world needs your intellect.

I am making a conscious effort here not to list any of the books authored by people I know because I might sound biased. More about their writings in the next post.

Which brings me to the concluding point I want to make before I sign off. This I must put in the form of a very short story that makes me feel sad everytime I think about it. A person buys a book. Likes it. Takes it to the author who happens to be, to say the least, an acquaintance and asks the author to sign it. The author, on the pretext of being a little tied up, puts it off for a later time when he can come up with some nice thing to say about the reader. And that later time never comes.

If I happen to ever have the talent, courage, luck and right contacts put together someday to come up a book of my own, I will never return a person seeking me to sign a copy. After all, isn't it the reader who is doing a favour? Buying your book so you can earn a cut to add to your pension fund? Isn't it the responsibility of the author to make sure the reader doesn't go without a smile on her/his face when the two happen to meet? All it takes is two minutes to sign, unless your name is Mariam Marykutty Abraham Varghese PQRS WXYZ, and talk to her/him about what s/he liked in the book, and even a dimwit will know you will sell at least 10 more copies of every book you write in the future. Or is this generation of authors too arrogant to acknowledge the presence of people over the crowd and the greenbacks?

जन्मदिन और फेसबुक

2011-10-31T16:16:00.002+05:30

वाजपेयी जी के शब्दों में कहूं तो एक बरस और बीत गया. कुछ खट्टे-मीठे वाकये, कुछ अच्छी-बुरी यादें, चंद पन्नों पर बिखरी स्याही में छुपे कुछ जज़्बात, अधमुंदी आँखों में कुछ ख़्वाबों का अक्स, गुज़िश्ता साल को इन शब्दों की परिधि में बाँधा जा सकता है.

बाल-दाढ़ी में गंगा जमुना के अलावा काफ़ी कुछ और भी बदला पिछले साल में. एक नया घर बना. माँ-बाबूजी की चाल थोड़ी और धीमी हुई. कुछ नए सवाल उभर कर सामने आये. कुछ पुराने सवालों ने पिछले वाले बेंच से अपनी-अपनी मुंडी फ़िर से उठाई. सोना ज़िन्दगी के चारों सिरों को जोड़कर हमारे रिश्ते की नींव को और मज़बूत करती गयी. नए दोस्त बने, कुछ पुरानी यादें मुरझाकर दरख्तों से गिर पड़ी. पुरानी यादों के खोने का दर्द बहुत होता है, पर क्या करें जब उनपर जमी धूल को पोंछते वक़्त वो टूट कर बिखर जाएँ? टुकड़े भी समेटें तो किरचों से दिल पर गहरे घाव बन जाते हैं. फिर एहसास हुआ कि कुछ भी शाश्वत नहीं होता. होरेस की कविता का छंद याद आता है तब: कार्पे दिएम.

दिल है, कि फ़िर भी नहीं मानता. कितने सपने टूटेंगे, कितनी यादें बिखरेंगी, नहीं जानता. और फ़िर ख्वाब देखना तो इसकी आदत है. याद है न, आदतें भी अजीब होती हैं. और दिल की इस फ़ितरत पर दिमाग का कोई ज़ोर नहीं होता. सो दोनों दो दिशाओं में चलते हैं, एक दूसरे से विपरीत. रस्सी जब काफ़ी खिंच जाती है, तो दम घुटने लगता है. सपनों पर लगाम लगनी पड़ती है. जीवन की क्षणभंगुरता फ़िर उभर कर सामने आती है. विरक्ति का अंकुर प्रस्फुटित होता है. फ़िर भी चल पड़ते हैं उसी राह पर. सब कुछ जानते हुए भी. रास्ते में कोई पारखी मिल जाता है जो बताता है कि जीवन कि इन सभी अनुभूतियों के जोड़ को ही अनुभव कहते हैं. वो ये भी बताता है कि जीवन के समीकरण हर रोज़ बदलते हैं.

मैं सोचता हूँ... हाँ, जीवन के समीकरण हर रोज़ बदलते हैं. पिछले साल के फ़ोन काल्स इस साल मोबाइल संदेशों में बदल गए. कुछ फेसबुक की परिधि से आगे नहीं निकल पाए. कई डायरियों से नाम खो गए.

भला हो फेसबुक का, याद तो दिलाते रहता है... फ़िर सोचता हूँ, ये फेसबुक नहीं होता तो क्या होता?

history lesson number 2 in 2030

2011-08-28T20:30:00.000+05:30

The modern Indian history can be divided into two periods: the Pre-Anna Period (1617-2010) and the Post-Anna Period (2011 till now).

In 1617, the East India Company was given the permission to trade in India by Mughal emperor Jehangir.

The East India Company gradually kept spreading their claws, and, in the decades to follow, started influencing the political decisions. By the turn of the 19th century, they started making laws, and before a blink of the eye, India was held a hostage.

The second half of the 19th century history is full of stories of sacrifice by the natives and their endurance, as they worked up a movement to drive the British out of India, the task in which they succeeded in 1947, when, on 15th August, at the stroke of midnight, India was declared free.

Between 1947 and 2010, much had changed in India. The population almost quadrupled to 1.2 billion people from 350 million. India managed to write a Constitution, but had to make 94 amendments in it. India moved on from silent black and white movies to 3D multi-coloured movies, producing Mega Heroes at the drop of a hat. The country named a sport as the National Sport, dominated it for some decades and then let it go into oblivion, only to embrace another money-churning sport as a religion. This sport, which was played by 10 major countries, became such a craze that every child in the street wanted to become someone or the other playing it. It made the players billionaires, and the followers, lazy. People sold off their entire fortune to be able to fly overseas, buy a ticket and get a glimpse of their favourite sportsmen. And they wouldn’t work because they had the moral responsibility to cheer the team on the grounds, which was, more often than not, in a losing cause.

The fast-developing country, during this period, achieved close to double-digit economic growth, which was only second to China, and, was in contrast with the low single-digit growth the developed countries cold muster.

The golden bird that once symbolized India was molted into souvenirs and securely kept in 1.5 million vaults in Swiss banks, belonging to the 150 thousand dollar millionaires.

The turn of 2009 brought a global disgrace to India when, in January, the country faced its biggest corporate fraud. The unprecedented event blew the lid off and the whole country succumbed to scams one after another. The cash-for-vote scandal, the telecom scandal, the Commonwealth Games scandal to name a few (you name it, and they had it).

By the end of 2010, the common man woke up from the slumber and started realizing that something was wrong. That the country was in the middle of chaos. That the day-to-day life was leading him to nowhere. That the people he had chosen to rule him and his brethren were holding them to ransom. The alarming situation summoned a change.

In the spring of the year, when the outside world was fighting the so-called Jasmine Revolution, and Uncle Sam and his cousins were busy doing calculations in order to keep their countries afloat, India was going through its own share of changes—its second struggle of independence. The agent of change was a product of the first independence struggle of the early 20th century, a follower of the Father of the Nation, the Anna of the Nation.

Anna, born in a village of western India, made his mettle with the Father during the first freedom fight. He turned his village into a model village, and the villagers, self-dependent. He was reaping the benefits of his endurance as a youth during his retirement when this call of duty came beckoning. Supported by a brigade of able subordinates, Anna started his movement.

Some revolutionaries, during the first freedom struggle in the early 20th century threw a bomb at an ongoing British parliamentary proceeding in India, for they believed the British were deaf and an explosion was needed to make them hear what the natives wanted. Anna, in his freedom struggle, decided that it was necessary to teach the nation’s overeating (people ate everything—from fodder for cattle, to cotton, to human beings, to cement and concrete) population, where half the countrymen went without supper, the need and importance of fasting.

Anna, a septuagenarian, started fasting. Millions followed across the country. He had struck a chord with the common man. The issues he was fighting for was the common man’s. With wavering flags and chanting slogans, the common man showed solidarity. He became Anna, Anna, in turn, became the nation.

Thousands of Anna’s supporters gathered at Ground Zero to pledge solidarity. Millions across the country did the same. The roads were choked, the traffic standstill. Those at the ground were treated to hot meals of rice, lentils and curries; and the ones on the roads were stocked with plenty of liquor to keep the energy going. Anna, lying on the bed, lost more than 10 lbs in the 13 days he fasted.

The movement, however, kept gathering momentum. It was like another civil disobedience movement.

People started breaking rules. Traffic rules were the first to be violated. Riding bikes without helmets, only in caps saying, “I am Anna”, with often more than two pillion riders. Driving after couple of swigs at the No.1 whisky bang in the middle of the road with the boot of the cars open. Hanging dangerously out of the car windows.

Like the Jasmine Revolution outside the country, this one too was aptly fuelled by the social and mass media. Nothing coverage-worthy happened during period in the summer, when Anna was on fast for the first time. The coverage was even stronger during the rains. Even the parliamentary proceedings played second fiddle to the ongoing fast and resulting controversy and expert commentaries.

The whole country was witnessing a movement that was unparalleled in its history.

Finally, the government blinked. Anna won. The common man was victorious. They rewrote history. The Constitution was rewritten. The representative democracy was customized, where the people with will to hold fasts until death were protected by law and were given certain privileges, not to mention the immense respect they got in the society.

The federal government, under the new Constitution, was composed of two branches—the executive and the legislative—both of which came under the ambit of an ombudsman. The judiciary, which was the third constituent of the federal government before 2011, became defunct.

The Union Ombudsman now has the final decision over both the executive and the legislative. Ombudsman is the two-tier decision making system, which consists of the Union Ombudsman, and state ombudsmen heading the trial courts in the states. The Union Ombudsman is also the ultimate interpreter of the new Constitution.

to you my doll

2011-08-15T01:44:00.005+05:30

ढाई दशक कैसे बीत गए, पता ही नहीं चला. कल ही की बात लगती है, छोटी-सी तुम, मुंडन के बाद रो रही हो. गोलगप्पा-सा चेहरा लाल, मोटे-मोटे आँसू. याद है, हमारी साथ में एक तस्वीर है, जिसमे दूसरे मुंडन के बाद तुम मुँह फुलाए pink फ्राक पहने ऐसे कड़ी हो, जैसे अभी फ़ोटोग्राफ़र को नोंच डालोगी.

या कि सात-आठ साल कि तुम, किसी बात पर नाराज़, मेरे पीठ पर चढ़ी, मुझे पीट रही हो. मैं चिल्ला रहा हूँ, लेकिन तुम्हारी पिटाई चालू है. अचानक मुड़कर अगर मैंने एक हाथ लगाया तो तुम जोर से चिल्ला उठती हो. और मेरी शामत आती है. छोटी हो न तुम, सबकी दुलारी.

मुझे वो भी याद है. नवीं क्लास में जब तुम्हारा स्कूल टूर पर जाने का मन था. माँ- बाबा हमें स्कूल टूर में जाने की permission नहीं देते थे. डरते थे, उनके बच्चे गुम हो जायेंगे. मैंने तुम्हारी तरफदारी की. तुम गयी टूर पर. रात को जब मैं तुमको लेने स्कूल पहुँचा, तुम्हारे चेहरे की थकान और आँखों की चमक मेरी यादों में अभी भी ताज़ादम हैं.

जिस दिन मैट्रिक की परीक्षा का परिणाम निकलने वाला था, उस दिन लाइट नहीं थी, याद है? तुम्हारा नतीजा जानने के लिए शाम से मैं इन्टरनेट कैफे के चक्कर लगा रहा था. रात करीब दस बजे जब मैं लौटा, लाइट तब भी नहीं आई थी. दरवाज़े पर ही रोक लिया था तुमने. और नतीजा सुनकर जोर से गले लगी थी मेरे. मुझे मालूम है कितना सुकून मिला था तुम्हे रिज़ल्ट सुनकर.

इस उछल-कूद, लड़ाई-झगड़े, हंसी-मज़ाक में दिन कैसे निकलते गए, पता ही नहीं चला.

छः साल हो गए तुमसे राखी बंधवाए. तुम अभी भी मुझे राखी बांधे बिना कुछ नहीं खाती न, मुझे पता है. इसलिए, हर रक्षाबंधन, मैं जल्दी उठकर नहा-धोकर, सबसे पहले राखी बंधता हूं. हर साल तुम्हारी राखी मिलती है. पिछले साल की तरह इस साल भी मैंने राखी खुद ही बाँधी. किसी और से बंधवाना अब अच्छा नहीं लगता.तुमसे पिटते हुए जो आँसू आये थे, वो अज दुबारा आते-आते रह गए. उनका लम्स अभी भी ताज़ा है.

एहसास हुआ, बहने बनाने से नहीं बनती.

तुम, मेरी छोटी-सी गुड़िया, मेरे जीवन में मेरी बहन बनकर आई. मेरी पहली दोस्त, my first playmate. तुम्हारे बिना जीवन बहुत अधूरा और नीरस होता. तुम्हारा celebrations उधार रहा.

till we meet,

love you buna

इति

dada

good riddance

2011-08-08T01:35:00.006+05:30

I am one of those who hates disturbing public life. For, I am the traveler, whose auto gets stuck when Anna Hazare observes a fast at jantar-mantar... I am the one who gets late for work because some loonies come out with an idea of a gay pride march right in the heart of the city... I am the one who is affected by one rally or the other marring the public transport system and the day-to-day life in the zoo that is the nation's capital.

Mind you, I love Delhi, every bit of it, more than I love any other city I have lived in. But I hate the way this beautiful city suffers during one of those dharnas and rallys.

So no wonder I was swearing at the bunch of idiots called the besharmi morcha who conducted the first successful so-called Slutwalk of Asia in Delhi the Sunday before.

Lunatics, they need help, I thought that day. Why are they toning down he entire issue of crime against women? Why are they making it cheaper by even worse placards and directionless campaigning?

ASS*****. Worthless, I thought, cursing them non-stop, even when I was processing a story on the theme and looking for the pictures of the event.

Worthless??? till just this past Sunday.

I was just surfing through my Facebook page, when I came across the status update by this gentleman, who will further be referred to as ASS****. I generally hate the kind of verbal diarrhoea people suffer from when their status messages on Facebook say nothing more than 'good morning' and 'good night' everyday to 'i am going for a movie', or 'i am going for a bath' or 'i am off to sleep' or 'i can't sleep, i need to jerk off'. But this gentleman in question surpassed all the barriers that day.

He has irritated me with one-line-from-the-holy-texts-every-hour speed of his off late, but this past Sunday was extraordinary. I felt so compelled to retaliate, I could feel the ghost of John Terry standing behind me with a smirk on his face.

I have to admit I have never been more enraged. Here, I present the notification and the war of the words between me and the ASS****. It's kind of long, but I hope you stay the course:

***

ASS****: 2 Moqo par ALLAH k Farishty hansty hain

1-Jab Be-parda Aurat ko KAFAN diya jaye

(Jab Pardy ki Zarurat thi to us waqt kiya nahi,ab Parda Kaisa)

...

2-Jab Be-namazi ka Janaza parha jaye

(Sari Zindgai Namaz k Qareeb nahi aaya ab kaisi Namaz.

Angel Naaz wah subhanallah

ASS****: thnx a lot 2 every one

Wazeha Fatma: WAH WAH

Angel Naaz: thanx kisliye?.....

ASS****: avi v kuch achhe log zinda hai..............

Pradip Kumar Saha: are you, by any chance, deciding to give up a progressive live and the job and land up in one of those madrasas where the teach the budding maulavis?

Angel Naaz: woh tu hai

Arshi Mehdi: Tab to farishtey mujhpar zarur hansege...

ASS****: istagfar karo in randhan.inshallah allah 4give u

Arshi Mehdi: Ya , i wil do dat may b he wud forgive me.

ASS****: y nt

ASS****: ‎Pradip Kumar Saha,its nt 4 any maulavis,its 4 all who has nt follow that thing.

Pradip Kumar Saha: u know, all the texts in this world, be it the bhagwat or the quran, or the old and the new testament, the torah and the granth sahib

Pradip Kumar Saha: they were all written ages ago...things have changed over time...it is on the human beings to interpret it the best way we can in our times and act accordingly

Pradip Kumar Saha: for example, 99 per cent of the progressive women in the country today, be they of any cast, creed or religion, dont use the hijab or parda

Pradip Kumar Saha: do you mean to say that all those women, in the country and outside, will be laughed upon when the judgement day comes?

Pradip Kumar Saha: grow up buddy... dont read the text mindlessly or post it to show that u have read it well...interpret the best meaning possible...that makes sense...read between the lines

ASS****: i knw ur perceptn is unilateral,u seeing only 1 aspect of hijab.but u cant see the whts worse impact without hijab.

Pradip Kumar Saha: okay... i believe you know about both the aspects... could you, in that case, please enlighten me?

ASS****: graph of rape ,molestion is gradually increase wihtout hijab.women felt insecure n sluting..u knw wht i mean

ASS****: it has no any relatoin wd the liberty of women

ASS****: a/c to islam - u get educatn,improve ur skill anything under the hijab

Pradip Kumar Saha: dude...grow up...are you trying to say that hijab and molestation of women are inversely proportional...as in the one increases if the other decreases??? in that case my friend, women should be safest in the gulf countries and pakistan, right??? is that the case???

Pradip Kumar Saha: and that's pathetic of you to say that it has no relation to libetry of women

Pradip Kumar Saha: i dont ask you to stop reading the holy texts, but with that my friend, also read the world... the outside world, which is incredibly huge and larger than what you can ever imagine

Pradip Kumar Saha: men make texts, texts do not make men

ASS****: it protects to women from molesting

Pradip Kumar Saha: u know, you can be lynched by women for this comment of yours...THE ONLY THING THAT PROTECTS THE WOMEN FROM GETTING MOLESTED IS THE CIVILEZED MAN... if one day people can be civilized enough to understand the basics of societal courtesy, and understand that women are not mere objects of their fantasies, women will be safe thereafter... hijab or no hijab, thngs wont change until the animal mentality changes...

Pradip Kumar Saha: so in order to stop crime against women, teach the men that women have equal rights to live in the society the way the ant to and not FORCE the HIJAB DOWN WOMEN'S THROAT

***

For the uninitiated, Mr ASS**** was my classmate in school. Since he could not write Urdu, he wrote the Sanskrit papers in the X board exams. I honestly doubt he would be able to name all the five namazs. And here he is, teaching me some of Islam.

All of us are adults here. I don't have to say much about how I feel. John Terry is still grinning. And I am just worried at the fate of my beloved nation. We can't move forward till we have thinkers like out great ASS****.

As for my final answer to you, Mr ASS****, since you went off to sleep and couldn't complete the conversation, you are out of my friend-list on the social-networking sites. Out of the contact-list in my cellphone, and all I can say is: good riddance to bad rubbish.

And mind you, I know, my Allah will never ask me a question for abusing you during the holy month of Ramadan.

yo seekh kebabs

2011-07-24T15:37:00.005+05:30

My love for tandoori cooking went up a notch and this time I tried the seekh Kebab. Easy dish but very tasty. Try it guys.

Ingredients:

Mutton mince: 250gm

Onion: 1 medium-sized, very finely chopped

Green chilies: 5-6, finely chopped

Ginger garlic paste: 1 tbsp

Garam masala powder: 1 tsp

Roasted cumin powder: 1 tsp

Red chili powder: ½ tsp

Black pepper powder: ½ tsp

Turmeric: ½ tsp

Salt to taste

Time of preparation: 30 minutes

Method:

Mix properly all the ingredients. keep it in the refrigerator for around half an hour. Light the tandoor.

Now divide the mixture into eight equal portions. Thread the mixture onto skewers. Put the skewers on the charcoal oven/tandoor. Keep turning the skewers around so that the mutton is evenly cooked. NO NEED TO BASTE WITH OIL. Serve hot with onion rings, lemon and green chutney.

Or if you are as hungry as I was after cooking, don't even bother with the garnishing. Hell, it is tasty anyway.

PS: mutton mince doesn't need a binding agent... and no oil is needed for cooking as there is enough fat... the only trick is threading on to the skewers... as it turned out, if the ends are loose, the mutton tends to come off the skewers... so do it carefully... if it comes out even then, don't worry... take the skewer out, take the mixture, roll them into patties and put them on a tava... and you have your own version of shami kebabs.

Maa

2011-07-13T01:42:00.003+05:30

a fellow blogger reminded me of this beautiful poem by Nida Fazli...one of those early days poems, which shaped my life...dedicated to all the mothers in the world

बेसन की सोंधी रोटी पर खट्टी चटनी जैसी माँ

याद आती है चौका, बासन, चिमटा, फुकनी-जैसी माँ

बान की खुर्री खाट के ऊपर, हर आहट पर कान धरे

आधी-सोई, आधी-जागी, थकी दुपहरी-जैसी माँ

चिड़ियों की चहकार में गूँजे राधा-मोहन, अली-अली

मुर्गे की आवाज़ से खुलती घर की कुण्डी-जैसी माँ

बीवी, बेटी, बहन, पड़ोसन थोड़ी-थोड़ी सी सबमें

दिन भर इक रस्सी के ऊपर चलती नटनी-जैसी माँ

बाँट के अपना चेहरा, माथा, आँखें जाने कहाँ गयी

फ़टे-पुराने इक एल्बम में चंचल लड़की-जैसी माँ

----Nida Fazli

tikka

2011-07-03T01:50:00.003+05:30

In the past couple of years, I have developed a taste for the tandoori food (read roasted meat). No meal at a restaurant would ever be complete without a plate of tikka/seekh kebabs. Being someone who loves cooking, I always wanted to try making these kebabs at home. So finally, when I got hold of a charcoal oven close to a month ago, it was only a matter of time before I gave it a shot.

Here is the mouth-watering chikkkkkkkan tikka. And believe you me, it was as tasty as it looks.

For my vegetarian friends, just substitute the chicken with paneer, and you have one of the best paneer tikkas...

Ingredients:

Chicken: 500gm (boneless)

Onion: 3 medium-sized, cut into 1/4^th

Tomato: 4 medium-sized, deseeded and cut into 1/4^th

Green bell paper: 4 medium-sized, deseeded and cut into 1/4^th

For marinade:

Yoghurt: 100-120gm

Ginger garlic paste: 2 tbsp

Garam masala powder: 1½ tsp

Red chili powder: 1½ tsp

Black pepper powder: ½ tsp

Turmeric: ½ tsp

Salt to taste

Oil: around 2 tbsp

Time of preparation:

Around 30-40 minutes

Method:

Wash the chicken properly and drain excess water. Add all the powdered spices and salt with yoghurt and marinate the chicken and vegetables for a couple of hours (overnight if possible). Thread the chicken and vegetable onto skewers. Put the skewers on the grill/charcoal oven/tava (I used the last two). In case, you are using tava, you need to grease the tava with oil first. Keep turning the skewers around so that the chicken is evenly cooked. Serve hot with onion rings, lemon and green chutney.

main tainu fir milaangi

2011-06-30T17:41:00.000+05:30

मैं तैनू फिर मिलांगी...
कित्थे, किस तरह, पता नहीं

शायद तेरे तख़य्युल दी चिनग बन के
तेरे कैनवास ते उतरांगी
या खोवरे तेरे कैनवास दे उत्ते
इक रहस्मयी लकीर बन के
खामोश तैनू तकदी रवानगी

या खोवरे सूरज दी लू बन के
तेरे रंगान विच घुलांगी
या रंगान दिया बाहवां विच बैठ के
तेरे कैनवास नु वालांगी
पता नहीं किस तरह, कित्थे
पर तैनू ज़रुर मिलांगी

या खोवरे एक चश्मा बनी होवांगी
ते जीवन झर्नेयाँ दा पानी उड़-दा
मैं पानी दियाँ बूँदें
तेरे पिंडे ते मलांगी
ते एक ठंडक जाही बन के
तेरी छाती दे नाल लगांगी
मैं होर कुछ नहीं जानदी
पर ऐना जानदी
के वक़्त जो वि करेगा
ए जनम मेरे नाल तुरे गा

ए जिस्म मुगदा है
ते सब कुछ मुक जांदा
पर चैत्यान दे धागे
काइनाती काना दे होंदे
मैं ओन्हां काना नु चुनांगी
धागेयाँ नु वालांगी
ते तैनू फिर मिलेंगी

the great indian fast-till-death fest

2011-04-18T16:18:00.004+05:30

Over the past 10 days, many people have asked me what I thought of the Anna Hazare movement and the kind of national fervour it generated. I was also asked whether I supported it. My blatant ‘no’ to the second question has raised many a brow. As the great Indian fast-to-death episode settles down, at least for the time being, and people celebrating their first win over the ever-denying government turn back to their normal routine, I would like to take this opportunity to defend my stand.

But before that, let me reiterate that the views expressed here are my personal.

It struck me on Tuesday, the 5th of April, while I was still recovering from a sudden ringing of the phone, which cut short my uneventful night’s sleep, that Anna Hazare had begun his fast until death, or till his demands are met. The venue was anybody’s guess.

Still scratching my head, and yawning, I reluctantly put on the television, which showed a septuagenarian in a white khadi dhoti-kurta, lying down with folded hands, in front of a picture of the Bharat Mata—her figure a little distorted and slightly tilted towards her right. Accompanying her on the poster were Rani Laxmibai, Swami Vivekananda and Mahatma Gandhi. This old man, for my memory could not help beyond this, is a Padma award-winning social activist, best known for his contribution towards the upliftment of his native Ralegan Siddhi village in Maharashtra and establishing it as a model village.

So what’s the fuss all about this time around, I asked myself. This time he was campaigning against corruption. He demanded that the government pass the Lokpal, or the public ombudsman, Bill—a draft that has been in limbo for around four decades now—in order to eradicate corruption.

In the past 12-odd months, the country has witnessed rampant corruption—the Adarsh Society scam, the cash-for-vote scam, the CWG scam, and the mother of all, the 2G scam—the combined magnitude of which, even by Indian standards, was unprecedented.

I followed the non-violent protest by the so-called Gandhi version 2.0 on my TV and through newspapers. I could see the entire nation participating, TV channels going berserk in a race to go one-up, before the fast came to an end on Saturday, 9th of April, around 11am. I saw a group of so-called agents of change, which comprised of Kiran Bedi, Swami Agnivesh and Arvind Kejriwal to name a few, sharing the dais to address the nation; and Bollywood figures such as Anupam Kher, Kabir Bedi and Rahul Bose voicing their concerns from other parts of the country.

I also saw young kids from schools across Delhi participating live and talking about bringing change, change in the governance. I saw an old man, past 100, sitting in the front row, fasting, joining the cause. I also witnessed people conducting a candlelight vigil in my society on Saturday evening shouting Anna Hazare zindabad and Vande Mataram, reflecting the emotions of scores who were doing the same at the India Gate. (I have to admit, I didn’t see the same jubilation in my society when Team India brought home the cricket World Cup.) A scene from the 2006 movie Rang De Basanti flashed by.

But never in those five days, I felt like I should also go to Jantar Mantar and register my grievances.

Why?

I think the recent happenings across the world and my constant following of those were one very prominent reason. For India is not Japan. Ever since the recent earthquake—followed by a tsunami and a nuclear crisis, the worst disaster since the World War II—rocked that nation, the Japanese are trying hard to rebuild. No hoarding of food, no looting has been reported yet. In the community shelters they share, no Japanese encroaches more than two-and-a-half-odd feet she is entitled to. Even while searching the debris to find something they can recognize, if they find valuables that don’t belong to them, they are handing it out to the cops. It’s impossible to think of such feeling of society over individual in our country where, worshipers bribe the pandas at temples to beat the queue and have darshan through a secret passage. Or where people jump the line at various ticket counters, pushing there way through and making an entirely new queue.

So far as corruption goes, let’s face it, it can’t be eradicated. For a society to be corruption-free, it has to be a Utopian world which, in practicality, is impossible. For there will be a certain someone, who will be greasing the palms of some babu or the other, to get her work done swiftly, or in the way she wants to. And let’s face the fact that we cannot change that.

These basic problems apart, the so-called movement itself was not completely flawless. Commentators have discussed in length the implications of this fast-until-death strategy, its pros and cons, and certain experts have called it emotional blackmailing where democracy and freedom are held hostage by its practitioners.
What if tomorrow my sweeper goes on the non-violent fast-until-death or till I meet her demand for a sari and a couple of thousand of rupees as a Diwali bakshish?

Jokes apart, there are bigger problems at hand. The way I can it, this menace called corruption is more rampant in the public sector than the private sector. The reason: the sarkari babu thinks that the job has come to them with their dowry. It doesn't matter whether they work or not, no one’s baap can question them, let alone suspending them. Honestly I have known such babus who can’t write a single word correctly without dictation. The office for them is their garden or, at times, their spittoon, and the office hours, long periods of leisure.

It’s this attitude that relegates work to the last in their list of priorities. And it’s then that the common man has to run over and over again to these offices and persuade these babus to do what was supposed to be heir duty. This persuasion translates into some currency notes, denominations of which depend upon the nature of work.

Why then can’t the government simply put into place a system, which can check the productivity of a sector and the individuals who make it, and then take proper action against people found guilty of ignoring their work. But of course, for that the government needs to wake up from its deep slumber.

I am glad that this idea has at least found a place in the wish-list of the agents of change. That brings me to the role these agents will have to play in order to bring about the change, and their authenticity and commitment.

Many of the people I saw sharing the dais with Anna Hazare were oblivious of even the name of the protest. They went there, it appeared to me, to get some political mileage or to blow their own trumpet. Baba Ramdev for example—who has done a commendable job to introduce yoga to this pizza generation of ours—had to look at the banner for the name of the movement before elaborating further on the topic. And when he found himself all at sea despite all his efforts, he took the easiest way out—started singing a self-created unity song. One advice for him: he needs to look after his own institutions, because I can see the rot spreading there. For the record, when I asked for a certain medicine at one of his shops in Delhi a couple of weeks ago, the attendants there had no idea when it will be available and were ready to give me a substitute for some chai-paani in return.

The biggest agents of change, however, were the young people participating in the protest. But what gets me worried is the participation of young school kids. It’s hard to imagine how much the children, still in their early teens, would understand about governance. After a day of protest-cum-picnic, over a couple of choco bars, they will be content with their pocket money of a couple of hundred rupees and pizza parties at friends’ place over the tunes of Akon or Lady Gaga.

Honestly, though I would be sounding pessimistic, what is the guarantee that this Bill, even if gets Parliament’s approval in the upcoming monsoon session, will be able to tackle corruption? What are the chances that, while taking a decision on some case, the members of this committee—who are advocating the Bill’s passage—wouldn’t be bribed? For humans are susceptible to corruption as bees to nectar.

And again, in case we really want to change things, the first change has to brought within ourselves. Because, it's the corruption of thoughts that lead to other forms of it. And unless we learn to practice that sort of discipline in our daily lives, it's a waste of time to talk about any other change. For the way I see it:
इस सड़क पर दूर तक कीचड़ जमी है,
हर किसी का पाँव यहाँ घुटनों तक सना है...

PS: reading 1500-odd words on a screen ain't an easy job. for brave-hearts who have managed to reach till here, i appreciate your patience and thank you from the core of my heart for reading this one...

cheers

our moment of glory

2011-04-05T01:13:00.014+05:30

There were 1.2 billion Indians celebrating the six M.S. Dhoni hit of Nuwan Kulasekara in the 49th over of the World Cup final. And there was one West Indian sitting quietly in his sit, heaving a sigh of relief. For, the next time television channels promo the World Cup winner Team India, they will show Dhoni clearing the long-on boundary with ease and not the embarrassing sight of a determined Kapil Dev running backwards to catch Viv Richards at the deep midwicket boundary off Madanlal.

Kapil’s Devils brought glory home for the first time in 1983 when the underdogs, who had managed to win only one game in the previous two editions of the tournament, defeated the two-time defending champions—mighty West Indies—in one of the biggest upsets in the history of the game.

That game changed the way cricket was perceived in India. It also gave birth to a new generation of Indians who wanted to relive the moment. Those who were there in 1983, still swear by that day in June. For most of our generation tough, that memory is strictly limited to watching the highlights of that match. The closest we came to feel that euphoria was in 2003, when Ricky Ponting spoiled the Indian party, and, scored a blistering 140 not out to bat India out of the game.

This time around things had changed. India went to the tournament with the tag of the favourites. Aussies weren’t the same side. And the mighty South Africans choked again. The final, therefore, became the first all-Asian one, and I dare say, the two best teams played.

And thus we reclaimed our moment of glory.

Presenting here an analysis of the World Cup 2011 from the Indian players’ point of view, followed by some highlights.

Virender Sehwag: For the blistering 175 in the first game. Playing his third World Cup, he gave India just the start they wanted. Though he did not score enough runs in the later half of the tournament, his 38 off 20-odd balls against Pakistan in the semi-final was a crucial one.

Sachin Tendulkar: For his sheer presence. Plying his sixth straight World Cup, the little champion’s quest for his personal Holy Grail has finally come to an end. Though he failed to make a big score in the final, he remained the second top scorer in the tournament with 482 runs.

Gautam Gambhir: For his consistency. Despite throwing away his wickets, sometimes at crucial points, the gritty Delhi left-hander showed his metal in the final with a gritty 97 amid huge pressure in the final. He has only himself to blame for not getting the three-figure mark.

Virat Kohli: For being a livewire at the field. Playing for the first time at the biggest stage, he formed an almost unbeatable ring with Yuvraj Singh and Suresh Raina inside the 30-yard circle on the off side.

Yuvraj Singh: For being the star of the tournament. In him India found not only a solid middle-order batsman who can hit the long ball at his will, but also the leg-arm spinner who could bowl 10 miserly overs and get some important breakthroughs. After the forgetful 18-odd months of his career leading to his third appearance in the World Cups, he claimed 15 wickets and 362 runs, including four man of the match awards, making him the most deserving candidate for the man of the tournament title.

Mahendra Singh Dhoni: For being the leader. He is the god-send man for the Indian team, who, in a short career of just over six years, has not only guided the Indian team to World Cup titles in the 50-overs and the T20 formats, but also has led them to the No.1 Test playing nation. A sheer gambler, he never hesitated to take controversial decisions and, to his credit, most of his moves bore results. He also picked up his game when it was needed the most and got India home in the all-important final with his faster than run a ball, unbeaten 91, despite being in a poor form for most of the tournament.

Suresh Raina: For his crucial role lower down the order. He held the fort with Yuvraj in the tricky chase against Australia in the quarter final and provided the impetus against Pakistan in the semi-final.

Harbhajan Singh: For taking only nine but important wickets. Despite looking a bit off-colour during the World Cup, he claimed the wickets of Umar Akmal and Shahid Afridi in the round of four and Tilakaratne Dilshan in the final.

Zaheer Khan: For getting breakthroughs everytime he got the ball. Zaheer had a forgettable final in 2003. He made sure India get beyond the line this time around with 21 wickets in the tournament. Second best show by a bowler in this Cup behind Shahid Afridi and the best ever by an Indian bowler.

Munaf Patel: For keeping a cool head when it mattered most. After being creamed around the park by the Aussies for more than six runs an over, he made a good comeback in the following games giving away just 81 runs in 19 overs and claiming two wickets.

S. Sreesanth: For making even MS believe that his moves can backfire. Did nothing special, got a lottery of one crore.

Asish Nehra: For the inspiring spell he produced in the semis. Though unfortunately, he had to sit out for the most of the tournament.

Piyush Chawla: For making India believe that Sachin is still the best leg spinner they have. One crore wasted again.

R. Ashwin: For showing the team what great potential he has. Should have got more games though, but he showed the glimpse of a great prospect in the two games he played.

Yusuf Pathan: For making the world understand that slogging can’t win you games after games. Needs to work more on his batting.

Gary Kirsten and the support staff: I dare say this, but I think Gary has done to India what Mourinho did for Intermilan. Calm and collective, he finished the mission John Wright started as India’s coach. It’s a pity he is leaving to spend time with his family. Whoever replaces him will have big shoes to fill.

And amid all the celebration, let’s not forget the contribution of Anil Kumble, Rahul Dravid and Saurav Ganguly to this team over the years. It would not have been the same team without them.

World Cup rewind:
India-England match ending in a tie.
England losing to Ireland, defeating South Africa, and then losing to Bangldesh.
New Zealand defeating South Africa.

Memorable performances:
Sehwag’s mesmerizing ton in the opener against Bangladesh.
Anrew Strauss’ gritty performance against India.
Kevin O’Brian’s blistering knock against England.
Ross Taylor making a mockery of the Pakistani bowling attack.
Dale Steyn’s brilliant comeback against India.
Wahab Riaz’s five-for against India in the semi-final.
Ricky Ponting’s brave century against India.
Martin Guptill’s brilliant run out of AB de Viliers.
Mahela Jayawardene's knock in the final, becoming the first player to score a century in the final and end on the losing side.

Photo courtesy Viresh Verma

a false life

2011-03-29T12:39:00.004+05:30

Over a cup of tea sometime last week at a senior colleague’s place, I came across a disturbing piece of news. Another woman was forced to sacrifice everything to save her marriage of 10 years, which had hit the rough terrain a couple of years ago.

This woman, lets call her A, is another former colleague; a nice, strong and pretty successful (till we last spoke) individual. In the three years that I have known her, I have only seen her upbeat. Her husband, I am told, is a multi-faceted, enterprising man (an MBA, now a civil services aspirant) working with an MNC.

They had a love marriage. Due to the caste-difference, there have been many problems over the years too, but then, they had each-other during those testing times.
It all started going wrong when the guy returned from an official Europe tour. He started questioning A’s erratic work timings first. So much so that A had to quit her job to save the marriage.

Next he revealed that he felt embarrassed to introduce A to his friends and peers. The reason, A was a misfit in the south Mumbai sort of crowd for her want of English-speaking skills. The solution: he got her enrolled into a spoken English course.

So now, after quitting office, A attends the English classes and also goes for driving classes. What a dramatic change. It’s hard to comprehend what went wrong in the past 10 years. I assume they were aware of the qualities of each other and also of the weaknesses. How did they priorities change over the decade? Isn't marriage all about love and having faith in one-another. Isn’t it accepting the other individual with all his/her flaws?

*****
Now, though there might be people around who will find no offense with A taking English lessons, I would like to differ. The very fact that she has to learn the language only because she is considered a misfit without it makes me feel sick.
My question to all is why on earth can’t someone feel proud speaking any other language, their language, than English? Why has English become so essential for survival? And, I hate to ask this, why speaking that language has become synonymous to being cool and vice-versa?

And honestly, I don’t see most of the world suffering form this craziness. Is it also a third-world syndrome?

But then I see Latin America content with Spanish and French. Why on earth then we Indians can’t be content without English. After all, our national language is Hindi.
But the irony is that Hindi has been reduced to a language of translation. The Hindi-tag has become a stigma. So much so that my Hindi teacher, a professor for close to 20 years, has stopped teaching Hindi and become a full-fledged spoken English teacher. Surpsised? Don’t be. Ninety-nine per cent of the people teaching spoken English in that region have not studied English after school. Hardly any of them have a post-grad degree. On a recent visit, he told me that no one is interested to study Hindi. “They learn it anyway they think,” he had said.

The two people this blog started with also belong to the Gangetic plains of Hindi heartland.

I am no bearer of the Hindi flag going all out against English. I love when kids, still in their diapers, blow people away with their lovely English. I love the fact when people say Indians speak the language better than the English. But what saddens me is the fact that this generation, in the race to go one up, has completely ignored Hindi. I bet half the people in the metros won’t be able to write the full Hindi alphabets or read them. They won’t be able to count till 100 in Hindi. And that is what is being passed on to the next generation. A generation, which crowns the Chetan Bhagats, Stephenie Meyers and the J.K. Rowlings as bestsellers, but is oblivious of Pant or Nirala or Dinkar. In my three years in Delhi, the nation’s capital, I am yet to discover a bookshop with genuine titles in Hindi and not the translations of Chetan Bhagat and the crappy Shiv Kheda titles.

I, however, found some works of Jayshankar Prasad lying amid kitchen dusters, tiffin boxes and sanitary pads at a superstore. That’s how much we respect Hindi or acknowledge it. “No one who has served Hindi has lived a good life,” my teacher had told me. “Some died of hunger, others because they could not afford medicines.”

I can only think of one language which went this course. That language--Sanskrit--is near extinction. At the current pace, I shudder to think, what will be Hindi like 50 years from now?

PS: For all my support for Hindi, some of you could be thinking why this post is written in English. Couldn’t help it. Most of us have left Hindi so far behind that we can hardly make out what those curved lines mean.

nutrela kebab

2011-03-22T00:54:00.010+05:30

The festival of Holi came with a lot of emotions this year. Nostalgia dominated mood. The week-long preparations. Cutting off branches (often even green ones) from trees. Taking away the little wooden gates or windows of people who refused chanda (or the ones who would not give us the cricket ball back once it's been hit for a six into their veranda), and burning them off in the name of Holikadahan. The full-on celebrations the next day. The face coloured beyond recognition. The repeated scrubs. Not to mention the variety of dishes we made for the occasion.
Staying alone bites at times. Keeping off non-veg for a while made sure I had nothing to do on the morning of Holi.
But fate would have it otherwise. Woke up early at 9 (9, by our standards, is early). Was just reminded of laughing the matter off when a friend had pointed out the previous day, "it just so happens that when you have nothing to do and want to sleep till late in the day, you end up rising early."
So I woke up in a grumpy mood. Was feeling hungry too. Had to cook something. Wanted something new. Suddenly, the thought came over and I thought to give it a shot. 30 minutes later, with the first bite, all the negativity was gone.

so I share with all of you here the wonder recipe. This one is to you mom :)

Nutrela kebabs:

Ingredients:
Soybean nuggets: 100 gm
Chana (Bengal gram) dal: 50 gm (soaked for an hour)
Onion (finely chopped): 1 large
Ginger (finely chopped): 6-7 pods
Garlic (finely chopped): ½ tbsp
Coriander leaves (finely chopped): couple of sprigs
Green chilly finely (chopped): 2
Turmeric powder: ½ tsp
Red chili powder: 1 tsp
Black pepper powder: 1 tsp
Garam Masala powder: 1 tsp
Corinder powder : 1tsp
Salt: to taste
Oil: for shallow frying

For garnishing:
Green chili cut in juliennes
onion and tomatoes cut in rings

Method:
Boil water in a pan. Add one teaspoon salt into it. Soak the soybean nuggets for around 10 minutes. Drain excess water. Put them in the mixer with soaked chana dal and the spices. Add one-quarter of a cup of water. Blend them to make a nice paste. Take the paste out in a bowl. Add the rest of the ingredients and mix well.
Heat oil on a tawa. Make small balls of the mix and press them softly between palms to give it a shape of a tikki. Shallow fry them over medium heat like they fry tikkis till they are nice golden brown and crispy. If the paste is not thick or consistent enough, add a tablespoon of flour (ata).

It's done people. garnish it with tomato-onion rings and green chillies. Excuse my poor skill at garnishing :).

A nice evening snack is ready. Serve hot with a cup of cardamom tea, or, as I did, with a glass of chilled beer, and suddenly, the cricket match was more interesting.

As I have always said, a little innovation is always welcome.

PS: The recipe comes from someone who hates soybean nuggets and, trust me, doesn't feel or taste like soybean.

the sun never sets here

2011-03-10T00:26:00.008+05:30

For all those who have hated Kushwant Singh and his writings, stay away from this book and my review of it here.

It is quite amazing how this man still manages to write. In fact, he is writing them faster and, at times, better. At 96, Khushwant Singh is at his crassiest best (if I can take the liberty of describing it that way) in the now-not-so-new novel The Sunset Club.
I remember reading some interview where Singh had said that Burial at Sea would remain his last novel. But then, as he says, Sheela Reddy of the Outlook magazine suggested I record memories of my dead friends about whom I talked so much. The idea germinated and I got down to doing so.

The book follows a year—2009-10—in the lives of three friends—Pandit Preetam Sharma, a right-wing, Hindutva-seeking, Oxford graduate Punjabi-Brahmin; Nawab Barkatullah Baig Dehlavi, a courtesan-wooing, mild-mannered, liberal and mostly neutral Sunni Pathan; and Sardar Boota Singh, an abuse-hurling, pseudo-agnostic, stocky Sikh with a paunch who eats more pills than food, twenty-two and a half a day at times, to keep at bay his ailments.
Boota Singh, with his enthusiasm for scotch and women, and also as a person who likes doing things that are forbidden, strikes a strange resemblance with the writer. Sharma describes him as a cunning Sardar. He writes about Sikhs and their religion and receives honours from them and at the same time pretends to be an agnostic and rationalist. He wins it both ways.

The other two characters are also very keenly observed and might well be the portrayal of some very close real-life friends.

The three men, all in their eighties—the sunset period of their lives—are friends for over 40 years, and visit the Lodhi Gardens everyday without fail around sunset. They share the metaphorical park bench—the Boorha Binch—in front of …the most popular place in the park…on the southern side of…the Jami Masjid… The reason for its popularity is its dome, which is the exact replica of a young woman’s bosom… You will notice that men sprawled on the lawns have their face towards it; their womenfolk sit facing the other way.

They exchange views on the news and scandals of the day, talking about everything ranging from religion, politics and society, to love, lust and sex, pausing in between to talk about their own sexual exploits and fantasies—often in great detail.
But it is not only sex that they talk about. In his own peculiar way, Khushwant Singh quips about events such as Varun Gandhi’s speech in Pilibhit about the weird names of Muslims, the shoe hurling incident on George W. Bush by an Iraqi journalist and a similar attempt in India on home minister P. Chidambaram by a Sikh journalist Jarnail Singh, the riots in Godhra that followed the burning of the Sabarmati Express, the demolition of Babri Masjid and the Liberhan Commission report, 2009 general elections, the Delhi high court verdict on legalization of gay sex, the S.P.S. Rathore-Ruchika case, comparing Rathore with Michael Jackson and Tiger Woods, the N.D. Tiwari sex tape incident to name some.

The most compelling of them is about the earthquake that shook Haiti in January 2010.

…on the 12th of January 2010, a violent earthquake devastated Haiti’s principal city Port-au-Prince, taking a toll over twenty thousand, one of the worst earthquakes in world history. What had the Haitians done to be punished like this? Where was Almighty and Merciful God?
Perhaps He had gone to Hardwar to have a holy dip in the icy-cold waters of the Holy Ganga during the Kumbh Mela. Was He washing away the sin He had committed in Haiti? As expected, there was a huge crowd at the Kumbh Mela, running into millions. But He saw it to that this time, there was no stampede to take the lives of innocent people, as He was among them. In any event, He organized a solar eclipse to express His regrets for what He had done.

Never have I read a writer describing Delhi in the minutest of details that Khushwant Sigh comes up with. The book—divided into 13 chapters—talks about the months of the year in the first 12. The author describes the subtle changes in the weather and the effects they have on Delhi’s flora with amazing grace.
Read this for example:

In the flatlands of northern India, the mustard is in full flower. At places, it is a sea of bright canary yellow. In honour of the mustard flower, men wear mustard turbans, women yellow dupattas.

Or, this one:

In February, quite a few trees are in flower. At the western side of the lawn with the Boorha Binch are towering semuls—silk cotton—with large, ungainly red flowers neither beautiful nor fragrant. Further down the lawn…are a few dhaks, better known as palas… No one plants them in their own gardens because they have nothing to show for themselves except for the week or two when they are in flower.

Another one:

Sparrows, rarely seen in Delhi now, used to be a sight to watch: the cock strutting around his lady friend who pretended to be indifferent to his amorous advances. Then changing her mind…to let him mount her.

And yet another:

The one thing that makes May in Delhi memorable is the flowering of laburnums. There are a lot of them along the city roads. People don’t notice them because most of the year they are nondescript middle-sized trees with long black seed pods hanging down from the branches. Then suddenly flowers appear: a mass of canary gold dripping down like bunches of Kandahar grapes.

This is a kind of book which not many people will attempt to write. A very unhypocritical, unambitious in scope, tender in its recollections, the book has a very simple plot and a bald prose.
Khushwant Singh is at his crassiest best when he describes the bowel movements of the constipated Boota Singh, the sex trysts of the men, and at two more places—when Boota Singh cracks a non-veg joke and when he describes the various stages of development of the male phallus.

At its best, The Sunset Point is an ode to the Delhi found in the Lodhi Gardens. But its real achievement is in its very existence.
In the last couple of pages, Boota Singh discovers his unparalleled zest for life.

He argues with himself. He must come to terms with the realities of life—and death. Both Baig and Sharma had had good innings and lived longer than most Indians do. He is much the same age. His turn will come soon. When? No one knows.
He opens his telephone book and turns over its pages from A to Z. Every second or third entry has a line drawn down it. And beneath it one line saying D. 1981, D. 1985, D. 1987 and so on. he turns back to B, draws a line down Baig, Barkatullah and writes D. 3.1.2010; then turns to S and crosses out Sharma, Preetam and writes D. 15.1.2010. He also has his own name in the telephone book—not because he is in his dotage, but for anyone who asks for his telephone number. Against his own name he adds:
D. date?
month?
year?

In the afternoon he goes to Lodhi Gardens. There is quite a crowd of people picnicking. The Boorha Binch is unoccupied. He sits down and gazes at the Bara Gumbad. …It does resemble the fully rounded bosom of a young woman.

...................................................................................

The turn off: the translating of Urdu poems and couplets in English.

PS: And lest anyone forget that it is Khushwant Singh we are talking about, read what Baig has to say about, you guessed it right, Sardars—The Almighty in His wisdom created Sardars to keep us laughing.

saat khoon maaf

2011-02-22T11:35:00.003+05:30

ज़िन्दगी एक सुलगती-सी चिता है साहिर
शोला बनती है न ये बुझ के धुआँ होती है...

और एक रास्ते की तलाश में हम चले जाते हैं. उस वक़्त नहीं सोचते शोला चाहिए या धुंआ. कोई एक मिल जाए, फिर बाद में देखी जायेगी. और साहिल पकड़ने को ज़िन्दगी एक किनारे से दूसरे किनारे ठोकर खाती जाती है. असल में ज़िन्दगी चलते रहने का नाम है. किनारे चुनना उसपर विराम लगाने जैसा है. अतएव, जीवन की रफ़्तार के साथ एकसार होकर बहती दरिया के मानिंद चलने में ही सभी सवालों का हल है. मुश्किल बस इतनी-सी है कि ये बात समझते-समझते ज़िन्दगी थक जाती है.

तक़रीबन तीस साल, छह पति, अनगिनत गलतियां और आठ मौतों के बाद सुज़ाना को ये बात समझ में आती है. तब जाकर कहीं उसके जीवन को एक नयी दिशा मिलती है.

सुज़ाना के जीवन में बस चाह थी--सच्चा प्यार. और बस एक सवाल--कि दुनिया के सारे गलत मर्द उसी के हिस्से क्यूँ आये. उसकी चाह ही उसके सवाल का जवाब है. सच्चे प्यार कि तलाश, पिछले रिश्तों की नाकामी का बोझ और कुछ परिस्थितिजनक कारण उसे अनायास ही हर बार एक नए रिश्ते की तरफ धकेल देते हैं. और हर नए रिश्ते की नाकामयाबी उस घंटे की आवाज़ में चीखते हैं जो सुज़ाना अपने पतियों को मारने से पहले बजती है.

विशाल भारद्वाज की नयी प्रस्तुति सात खून माफ़ रस्किन बॉन्ड की अब प्रसिद्द हो चुके लघु उपन्यास sussana's seven husbands का फ़िल्मी रूपांतरण है. किसी भी आलोचना के पूर्व ये कहना पड़ेगा कि इस पेचीदा कहानी के लिए पटकथा लिखकर उसे अंजाम तक पहुँचाना बहुत कठिन व जोखिम भरा काम है. अतएव ये प्रयास निश्चय ही प्रशंसनीय है. भारद्वाज अपनी फ़िल्मों में प्रयोगधर्मिता के लिए जाने जाते हैं. तदनुरूप शायद ये फ़िल्म बॉक्स-ऑफिस पर अपने जलवे चाहे न भी दिखाए, परन्तु एक कठिन और उलझी-हुई कहानी को प्रस्तुत करने में अवश्य सफल मानी जाएगी.

तक़रीबन ढाई घंटे के लिए फ़िल्म काफी लम्बी है. सम्पादन और बेहतर हो सकता था. आख़िर तक आते-आते मानो कहानी थक के बिखर-सी जाती है--टुकड़े जोड़ के पढ़ लो. निर्देशक कि पकड़ कमज़ोर होती जाती है. चाहकर भी रहस्य बन नहीं पाता. फ़िल्म का शीर्षक आगे क्या होगा ये प्रतिपल बताता रहता है. दर्शक अपने मन में एक पूर्वानुमान बनता रहता है और अगले दृश्य में बिलकुल वही चित्र सामने आना कुछ हद तक फ़िल्म को नीरस बना देता है.

फ़िल्म का सबसे मज़बूत पक्ष है अभिनय. सुज़ाना के किरदार में प्रियंका चोपड़ा अपने अभिनय जीवन की सबसे अविस्मरणीय भूमिका निभाती हुई नज़र आती हैं. फ़िल्म उन्ही के अंतर्द्वंद्व का एक प्रतिरूप है. पतियों की भूमिकाओं में नील नितिन मुकेश, इरफ़ान ख़ान व नसीरुद्दीन शाह ने अपनी मौजूदगी बखूबी ज़ाहिर की है. अन्नू कपूर की वापसी सुन्दर है. अरुण की भूमिका में उस किरदार के जद्दोजेहद को विवान शाह ने प्रशंसनीय ढंग से प्रस्तुत किया है. संगीत रोचक है. गीतों पर गुलज़ार की चाप अचूक है. चलचित्रण बेहद सशक्त है.

एक चीज़ जो खलती है वो ये की थियेटर से बाहर निकलते समय दर्शक के मन में कोई मलाल नहीं रह जाता. सुज़ाना से उसे न कोई हमदर्दी होती है न उसके किये पर कोई गुस्सा आता है. ये एक किनारा अगर मिल गया होता तो शायद ये फ़िल्म भारद्वाज की अबतक की सर्वश्रेष्ठ प्रस्तुति मानी जाती. ख़ैर, फ़िल्म शोला बनती या धुआँ, ये देखने के लिए एक बार इस फ़िल्म को देखना लाज़मी है.

chikkkkkkan biryani

2011-02-07T01:06:00.005+05:30

Though the original recipe might have come from Persia, but the biryani has got more than a second home in India. It is a popular dish across the country and there are several preparations. Two very different and equally popular preparations are Lucknawi and Hyderbadi. I present here my adaptation of the chicken biryani, which doesn’t adhere to any particular style, but has the same mouth-watering aroma and gives the same flavour.
As I have said, there are many ways one can make biryani. What I have done is that I have semi-cooked the rice and chicken differently and then mixed them together.

Ingredients:

For chicken:
Chicken: 750gm (with or without bones)
Onion: 200gm (around 4 nos, medium-sized, finely chopped)
Yoghurt: 100-120gm
Tomato puree: 4 tbsp (fresh finely chopped tomatoes can also be used)
Ginger garlic paste: 2 tsp
Garam masala powder: 1½ tsp
Red chili powder: 1 tsp
Black pepper powder: ½ tsp
Coriander powder: 2 tsp
Turmeric: ½ tsp
Salt to taste
Oil: around 2 tbsp
Cloves: 4
Green cardamom: 3
Cinnamon: 2, 1’-long sticks
Bay leaf: 1, medium
Cumin seeds: ½ tsp

For rice:
Rice: around 200gm
Bay leaf: 1, medium
Cinnamon: 2, 1’ sticks
Green cardamom: 2
Black cardamom: 1

Garnishing:
Fresh coriander leaves
Brown onions: 1 cup
Rose water: few drops

Time of preparation:
Around 40-50 minutes

Method:
Wash the chicken properly and drain excess water. Add all the powdered spices and salt with yoghurt and marinate the chicken overnight. Aash and soak the rice for around 15 minutes. Boil water with cinnamon, bay leaf, cardamoms and add rice. Cook rice till about 40% done. Strain and keep aside. Now, slice onions and deep fry them till they turn brown. Spread them on a tissue paper so they absorb the extra oil.

Heat the oil in a pan. Put in the cloves, cinnamons and cardamoms and let them crackle. Add onions. Sauté for 2 minutes till the onions get little pinky.
Add ginger garlic paste. Fry for another 5-8 minutes till the onion is deep brown.
Add the marinated chicken, stir it well and cover the lid. Turn the flame to sim.
Cook for another 10 minutes and add tomato puree. Cook the chicken till its little tender.

Now take a deep bottom handi. Place it on hot tava. Make layers of chicken, rice and then the deep fried onions. Repeat the layers in the same order. Put in some of the coriander leaves. Add around 6-8 drops of rose water.

Cover the handi well with aluminium foil. Put the flame on sim and let it cook for another 10-15 minutes. Turn the gas off. Take off the cover. Mix the biryani well. Garnish with some more coriander and split boiled eggs (I did not use them though). Serve hot with your choice of raita.

As I say, a little innovation is always welcome. This was the basic recipe and preparation of biryani and there are many more innovations that can be done. Instead of rose water, you can use kewda. Or saffron milk. Use of nutmeg, mace and star anise gives the biryani an even better flavour. Those innovations will have to wait some more.

the middle east crisis

2011-02-04T03:07:00.005+05:30

The inevitable has happened, and the Arab world now finds itself in a situation it would have dreaded most three weeks back. On 14 January, as the Tunisian strong man Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali fled to Saudi Arabia with his beautiful but corrupt wife and 1.5 tonnes of gold, the Middle East was jolted awake. (Middle East here refers to the geographical situation of the countries involved and not as a political entity.) Though they wouldn’t admit it then, and completely rubbish chances of the protests having a domino effect, the Arab world knew the real dangers of it happening.

As Egypt simmers and waits for this Friday to pass, the neighbourhood can already be seen in the damage control mode. Yemeni President has said he will step down after his term ends in 2013; Syria’s Assad has said in an interview with The Wall Street Journal that he will push for more political reforms in the country; Jordan’s king has sacked the cabinet and appointed a new prime minister to bring about “true” political reforms.

Even the best of allies (read the US) has said that the time for transition has come and it should start “now”.

In many ways, this is going to be a very remarkable Friday in the history of the world in general, and Egypt, in particular. It will change the face of politics in the region and, by extension, in the bigger world.

As the opposition parties in Egypt march from the Tahrir Square, under the leadership of Mohamed ElBaradei, calling for some final departure for President Hosni Mubarak, later in the day, all eyes will be set on Mubarak. Will he quit…may be not. He has said that he will step aside after September polls, but the anti-government protesters won’t buy that promise. “He promised that to us before the 2010 polls, he promised that so many times. He will not do that. We want him to leave now,” a lady had said on Wednesday during the so-called million-man march at the Tahrir Square.

Does he stay and crush the protests, as he has done many times in the past? That would certainly result into a catastrophe.

The best option for the president is to leave with dignity. Mubarak himself should be the last man to deny the power of popular revolts.

At the core, this uprising is not about politics, well entirely.

The so-called Jasmine Revolution in Tunisia gathered momentum after the self-immolation of a fruit vendor. People suddenly realized the life they were leading was worthless. Years of living in penury and suppression, mounting corruption, deepening problem of joblessness, an indifferent state and a dictator ruling the country with an iron fist for 23-odd years makes the recipe to a disaster. And that’s what happened.

When people in Tunisia were celebrating the expulsion of Ben Ali, the outside world was worried about the fate of Egypt. The symptoms here were the same. Will the outcome also be the same?

Since Mubarak took over as the head of the Egyptian state in 1981, the population of the country has grown from around 40 million to around 80 million. Egypt still remains more or less the same. An impoverished, underdeveloped, corrupt autocratic state. What Egyptians want is what the most of the developed/developing world has. Democracy. Employment. Development. Prosperity. Living without fear of someone watching from behind the back. To be sure, democracy is not always the perfect cure to these problems, cases in point will be that of the US and India itself, but it is the best tried method.

Lot’s at stake here right now. Strategically, the Middle East is a very important bastion for the developed world. And Egypt is one of its pillars. The last thing the world wants now is Egypt to fall. But the winds are change have arrived. President Obama, in his State of the Union speech to the US, asked the country to be more competitive. Create more job opportunities. He can’t deny the same for other nations and their population. Especially, when that nation is one of the biggest recipients of the US grants.

Worries mount here regarding the role of the Muslim Brotherhood, but the Brothers have so far kept themselves away from the limelight and instead grouped under the secular image of ElBaradei. And they will do well not to take the country into the depths of radical, communal schizophrenia.

The most important thing, right now, is ensuring a peaceful transition of power, as and when it happens. The world might not be ready for another economic jolt and end of a chapter in history.

the padma awards mess

2011-01-26T12:20:00.004+05:30

25th January 20... I really don't know how long will this take me, but, looking at the way things are going, I might be there in another, say, seven-odd years. Okay. So, it is 25th January 20... And PTI will carry a Central government press release saying: "...The recipients of the Padma awards this year includes, among others, Mr Pradip Kumar Saha. Mr Saha has been conferred this award for his invaluable contribution to the world of journalism. He revolutionized the way the copydesk used to function in the 2000s. He, by his extraordinary work, has changed the perception of the erstwhile copydesk." (Yeah, really. changed the perception that it actually works.)

Since I think I will be sitting in some newspaper office editing this story [yeah, unless Danny Boyle decides to cast me in his new movie called, ummm...lemme guess, 150 days(yeah, bingo! btw, the way this man is going, I won't be surprised to see Rakhi Sawant in his next movie.)], I am allowed to take a few liberties, which, in case you people haven't noticed, I have already taken.
Anyway, that time is still some years away. For the time being, going by the trends, any shortlisting of names guys for the next year? Well, here goes my list:

1. Sania Mirza (Already given the Padma Shri in 1996 for great achievement in sports and for a great run. Watch out this year for her name in the top 2 padma categories for, lemme guess, making a complete hash of her career.)

2. Rakhi Sawant (Does that surprise you? I am not surprised. For revolutionizing reality TV, where people tune in to know what her opinion is about their personal lives, and oh hell, even agreeing to what she has to say.)

3. Raghu Ram (Shit. This is the guy who revolutionized reality TV. Eight years ago, he started a series which has grown into obsession. People starve themselves overnight on footpaths only to hear him call them ch***, b***, m***. I must say, it takes some courage to hear those words about you, and mind itt, you will kill a person who otherwise greets you with these abuses in the public. Thank you Raghu Ram for teaching people season after season how to take'em politely and then use them according to their convenience.)

4. Raj Thackrey (Do I need to say what he will win it for? He is just the 60-year younger version of Lal Krishna Advani. Advani did it for hindus and almost got the PM post. Thackrey is doing it for the maratha manoos, and he won't even get a Padma? not fair.)

5. Rahul Mahajan (For teaching people the art of how to fool the public. Emotional Atyachaar kinds.)

6. Suresh Kalmadi (For fooling the entire nation and pulling of, hmmm...the sister of the mother of all scams. Hold the thought. Shouldn't he be given the Bharat Ratna? Pt Joshi's soul would be cursing me for this.)

7. Niira Radia (For teaching 1.2 billion people the art of how to get your work done the way you want it. Also for helping others in pulling off the mother of all scams. Lalu Prasad wiil be cursing himself.)

8. Prabhu Chawla (For the same reason as Ms Radia. Barkha Dutt wasn't considered because she will get the I&B ministry in the next govt.)

9. Himest Reshammiya (Do I need to elaborate?)

10. Ekta Kapoor (For revolutionizing the TV viewing experience in the past decade. When star plus came out with those two shows in early 2000s, I knew, watching TV will never be the same again.)

okay. I made a list of Top 10, in no particular order though. Others who came really close were Mukesh Ambani, S Sreesanth, Mukesh Kapoor and Prasenjit.

Hold the thought for a second. Need to reconsider this. If, as a friend pointed out, people like these get the Padma awards (I am sure they will, one day or the other), I'd rather go on a fast-till-death kinda strike on Rajghat. I deserve a Bharat Ratna then.

dhobi ghat

2011-01-23T12:58:00.007+05:30

हसीन ख़्वाब, शरीर ख़्वाब, जगमगाते ख़्वाब, झिलमिलाते ख़्वाब, मचलते ख़्वाब, सुलगते ख़्वाब, धड़कते ख़्वाब, पिघलते ख़्वाब, सिसकते ख़्वाब, बरसते ख़्वाब; जाड़ों की सुबह कॉफ़ी जैसे गुनगुने ख़्वाब; माजी की ज़ुबां से फिसले अनकहे-अनसुने ख़्वाब--ज़िन्दगी जाने कब कितने ख्वाबों की तस्वीर बुन देती है. वक़्त बदलता है, किरदार बदल जाते हैं. जो नहीं बदलता, वो है ख़्वाब.

आँखों के पर्दों से ख्वाबों को छुपाये ज़िन्दगी एक रफ़्तार इख्तियार किये जाती है, मानो, इससे पहले कि सुबह हो, वो ख़्वाब के नज़राने को शब-ओ-सेहर के क़ैद से दूर ले जाना चाहती हो. न सुबह होगी, न ये ख़्वाब जागेगा. न रात जाएगी, न इस ख़्वाब कि इन्तहा होगी.

कुछ ऐसी ही कैफ़ियत है इन चार किरदारों कि. अरुण--एक चित्रकार, ख्वाबों को शक्ल देता है. अपने सबसे खूबसूरत ख़्वाब से महरूम रहा आज तक. शाई--ख़्वाब पता नहीं कितने देखे, कोई शक्ल ही नहीं दे पाई. शायद यही वजह है कि उसका दिल आ गया इस चित्रकार पर. यासमीन--अपने ख्वाबों में ही खोई रही उम्र भर. उनका पीछा करती हुई पहुँची एक तिलिस्म तक, दुनिया जिसे मुंबई कहती है. ख़्वाब कितने पूरे हुए उसके पता नहीं, पर उन ख्वाबों में उसकी ज़िन्दगी कहीं खो गई. और मुन्ना--इस तिलिस्मी नगरी का सबसे बड़ा अय्यार. जो सूरज कि बदलती किरणों के साथ अपने रूप-ओ-रंग बदलता रहता है.

ख़्वाब और हक़ीक़त के बीच झूलते हुए ये चार किरदार मिलते हैं मुंबई में. उस मुंबई में जो एक समंदर कि तरह है, जो कि यासमीन के शब्दों में "सबकुछ अपने अन्दर ले लेता है". सारे ख़्वाब समां जाते हैं उसमे, वो कुछ नहीं दिखता. सब छुपा लेता है. जिसे हिम्मत है आये, ढूँढ ले अपना ख़्वाब, जी ले उसे.
यासमीन हार जाती है. अपने ख्वाबों के भँवर में दफ़्न हो जाती है. अरुण और शाई--पता नहीं उन्होंने जो ख़्वाब देखे, वो सारे मिले या नहीं. पर अपने ख्वाबों का एक हिस्सा तो वो ढूँढ निकलते हैं इस समंदर के पेट से. मुन्ना अभी भी भटक रहा है.

किरण राव की फिल्म धोबी घाट के ये चारों किरदार, या कहें पाँचों, उनके सपने, और मुंबई शहर कि हक़ीक़त, सब मिलकर आँखों के सामने वो दृश्य प्रस्तुत करते हैं जो कि असल में एक बड़ी समष्टि का छोटा प्रतिरूप है. उन आठ आँखों के आठ सौ सपने भारत के अस्सी करोड़ लोगों के सपने हैं. मुंबई मूलतः अपने और उन सभी महानगरों का प्रतिबिम्ब है, जिसकी आधी आबादी प्रवासी है. वैसे लोग जो अपनी पिछली ज़िन्दगी दरकिनार करते हुए, अपने ख्वाबों के पीछे-पीछे, अपनी जन्मभूमि से दूर एक ऐसी नै ज़मीन पर कदम रखते हैं, जहाँ सब कुछ अंजना, अनदेखा होता है. ख्वाबों को शक्ल देते-देते, हक़ीक़त कि हर दस्तक पर, उनकी ज़िन्दगी बिखर-सी जाती है.

एक लम्बे अंतराल के बाद एक ऐसी फिल्म सामने आई है, जिसे हम सिनेमा कह सकते हैं. फिल्म का सबसे अहम् किरदार है मुंबई, उसके अलग-अलग रूप, और उसमे बसे ये चार किरदार. पटकथा ससक्त है और संपादन बहुत सुन्दर. नेपथ्य में जो संगीत है, वो फिल्म की आत्मा-स्वरुप है, जो इन अलग अलग कहानियों को एक साथ बांधे रखती है. निर्देशन उम्दा है. दृश्यों की सटीकता व कुशल प्रस्तुतीकरण परदे पर साफ़ नज़र आता है. एक और चीज़ जो बड़ी उभर कर सामने आती है, वो हैं खामोशियाँ. वो बात करती हैं, बशर्ते आप सजग हो. अभिनय के दृष्टिकोण से प्रतीक का किरदार काफी सशक्त है. आमिर अपनी खामोशियों से काफी कुछ कह जाते हैं. शाई सुन्दर दिखती हैं, और एक अंतर्द्वंद्व उनके चेहरे पर साफ़ दिखाई देता है. यासमीन, सामने नहीं आती, पर उन विडियो क्लिप्स की मदद से एक एक सुन्दर एवं करुण कहानी बुन जाती है. जितनी उत्सुकता से आमिर फिल्म में वो टेप देखते हैं, दर्शक भी उतनी ही बेताबी से यासमीन की कहाँ सुनने का इंतज़ार करते हैं.

मूलतः कह सकते हैं कि धोबी घाट राव के सिनेमा कि समझ का एक दृष्टिवंत उदहारण है. निर्देशक के रूप में पहली फिल्म करते हुए इतनी सारी बातें कह जाना काबिले-तारीफ़ है.
जाएँ, देखें धोबी घाट, और ढूँढें, ख़्वाब और हक़ीक़त के दोराहे पर आप कहाँ खड़े हैं.

चित्र: साभार गूगल

salaam ghalib

2010-12-27T02:55:00.000+05:30

आपके २१३वे यौमे-पैदाइश पर आपको पुरख़ुलुस ख़ेराज-ए-अक़ीदत...
और आपकी हस्ती को मेरा सलाम

हैं और भी दुनिया में सुख़नवर बहुत अच्छे,
कहते हैं के ग़ालिब का है अंदाज़-ए-बयाँ और...

बल्लीमारान के महल्ले की वो पेचीदा दलीलों की-सी गलियाँ...
सामने ताल के नुक्कड़ पे बटेरों के कसीदे...
गुड़गुड़ाती हुई पान की पीकों में वो दाद, वो वाह वाह...
चंद दरवाज़ों पर लटकते हुए बोसीदा-से कुछ टाट के परदे...
एक बकरी के मिमियाने की आवाज़...
और धुंधलाई हुयी शाम के बे-नूर अँधेरे
ऐसे दीवारों से मुह जोड़ के चलते हैं यहाँ,
चूड़ीवालान के कटरे की बड़ी बी-जैसे
अपनी बुझती हुई आँखों से दरवाज़े टटोले...
इसी बे-नूर-सी गली क़ासिम से,
एक तरतीब चराग़ों की शुरू होती है...
एक क़ुरान-ए-सुख़न का सफ़ा खुलता है...
असदल्लाह खां 'ग़ालिब' का पता मिलता है...

almost human...again!

2010-12-23T01:27:00.004+05:30

“almost human…again!” SHE said.

“so nice of you,” i said, my mind immediately trying to find out when was the last time i looked “almost human” to HER. simultaneously, i was devastated by even imagining what i would have looked like otherwise.

rest of the content is...ummm...dunno

Sachin, Sachin!

2010-12-20T02:23:00.003+05:30

Even as a defeat looks inevitable at Centurion, and there are serious considerations for team India to make after the first Test, there should be little doubt over what the match would be remembered for in the future of the game. No prize for guessing this one. Test match No. 1985 at SuperSports Park in Centurion will go down in history as the one where a batsman, for the first time, completed his 50th century.

Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar has been the mainstay of Indian batting for over 20 years now. He made his Test debut on 15 November 1989 against Pakistan at Karachi. In the next two decades to follow, he would become arguably the most complete batsman of his time—he holds almost every possible record in the game, most number of runs and centuries in both the formats. He is also the only batsman to hit a double century in ODIs.

His first century in Tests came against England at Old Trafford in 1990. Often compared with Australian great Sir Donald Bradman, Sachin is the only Indian to feature in the all-time Test squad ESPN-Cricinfo recently came out with.

This year has been of sublime form for the man from Mumbai. He has scored seven centuries in Test matches so far, most in a calendar year by him, piling up 1,539 runs. The double century in ODIs also came this year. His fans would like nothing more than such form to continue, at least for the next four-odd months.
For one feather Sachin still has to add to his otherwise-illustrated cap is a World Cup victory.

When he drove Dale Steyn between cover and extra-cover for a single to reach the magic figure in the third session on Day 4 of the Centurion Test, it wasn’t an extravagant celebration. The helmet came off, and a look towards the sky. That was it. Running out of partners at the other end, may be the match situation got to Sachin.

It was his 28th centuries on foreign soil. It might still go in vain, but who can forget the third Test in the 1996-97 series at Jo’burg, when a defiant century by Daryll Cullinan in the second innings, aided by rain, denied India the victory. As a reader points out, is it the payback time? We will get to know in another day. Or is it that with a wagging tail, we would see something we always waited for—a Sachin triple… Overly optimistic, most would say. Wishful thinking??? May be. But let’s hope for the best. For now, hail all the Master Blaster!

ये अनजान नदी की नावें...

2010-12-10T09:34:00.015+05:30

हाथ में DSLR लिए तसवीरें खींचते हुए अनायास ही कक्षा नौ में पढ़ी एक कविता स्मरण हो आई. वो आप सबके साथ बाँट रहा हूँ.

ये अनजान नदी की नावें जादू के से पाल
उड़ाती आती मंथर चाल.

नीलम पर किरणों की सांझी,
एक न डोरी एक न मांझी,
फिर भी लाद निरंतर लाती सेंदूर और प्रवाल...
ये अनजान नदी की नावें जादू के से पाल
उड़ाती आती मंथर चाल.

कुछ समीप की, कुछ सुदूर की,
कुछ चन्दन की, कुछ कपूर की,
कुछ में गेरू, कुछ में रेशम, कुछ में केवल जाल...
ये अनजान नदी की नावें जादू के से पाल
उड़ाती आती मंथर चाल.
--धर्मवीर भारती

अब वो तसवीरें, जिन्हें देखकर ये कविता याद आई!

सिन्दूरी

काले कपासी

श्वेत, उज्ज्वल

मनमौजी

जाल...

PS: all the images have a copyright. and they are NOT FOR SALE.

matters of faith II

2010-12-06T19:15:00.020+05:30

...after the bhog at nabadwip, we left for mayapur, which is often claimed as the birthplace of sri chaitanya mahaprabhu. located around 130km north of kolkata, the small town is also the world headquarters of the International Society for Krishna Consciousness, more popularly known as ISKCON. we came to badal ghat in nabadwip to take a ferry from there mayapur. the fare this time was a little higher—Rs1.50 per person. (there are direct bus services between kolkata and mayapur via shantipur. the ISKCON also has bus service between kolkata and mayapur.)

the way to the ISKCON was similar to the roads in nabadwip, the only difference was that roads here were lined both sides with various different mathas

and then there were small roadside shops, and there were ladies :)

the shops with no accessories wore a deserted look

and finally, we reached ISKCON

the temple is a lovely one, but sadly, they don't allow photography inside. here are the few shots from outside the samadhi temple

there are plans to build an even bigger temple, which would be three times the size of the samadhi temple. the proposed temple would look like this

and there is massive construction going on for the project. the estimated cost is supposed to touch around Rs800 crore

from the samadhi temple, we moved on to the radha-krishna temple. on the way, we realized that it was the sandhya aarti time. these monks here are chanting the hare krishna mantra, dancing their way to the temple

we followed the monks. on the way, we saw this gentleman was making an alpana at one side of the road

and again, we had to submit all our bags, and cameras and mobiles :(. but worry not, i got the main image from the temple :). it was mesmerizing inside to say the least

and we had to leave the temple without completing the aarti because the last bus was supposed to leave in 15 minutes :(
and we bid the place goodbye. and i take your leave with this lovely image

hare krishna

PS: all the images have a copyright. and they are NOT FOR SALE.

PS II: for the uninitiated, ISKCON was founded in 1966 in new york city by abhay charanaravinda bhaktivedanta swami prabhupada (born abhay charan de), the proponent of the hare krishna movement. the second ISKCON temple was built in san francisco in 1967. the mission of the movement was to propagate gaudiya vaishnavism. in the years to follow, the mission travelled across europe, including london. the first big temples in india were built in vrindavan and mayapur in 1970s.

PS III: gaudiya vaishnavism was founded by sri chaitanya mahaprabhu in the sixteenth century in nabadwip. its focus is the worship of radha and krishna and their divine incarnations.

matters of faith I

2010-12-06T10:50:00.010+05:30

...the journey begins from here...krishnanagar is located at 23.4°n 88.5°e. it has an average elevation of 14m (source: wikipedia).
the headquarters of nadia district, krishnanagar is situated beside the jalangi river. situated 100km north from kolkata, this town of around 140,000 is well connected by road. around 40 minutes’ drive from krishnanagar is located one of the most important religious sites of the state—nabadwip, the birth place of sri chaitanya mahaprabhu—one of the greatest religious leaders and a prominent reformer in 16th century india who led the bhakti movement.

after the 40-minute ride in an autorickshaw, we reached nabadwip ghat from where we needed to take a ferry, at an unbelievable price (Re1 per person), across to the other side. there are other ways too to reach the place which can be found upon googling, but i found it convenient since i was already in krishnanagar

the ferry ride was a nice one and came like a pleasant experience after a long time. but there was something unusual i noticed.

in the picture on the right, the old fellow is pumping out the extra water that accumulated in the boat during the journey.

on the other side, there were interesting creatures ready to welcome us. among the herd, i liked this particular group. reason: they were quiet and indulged in their own world. the one on the extreme right was, i guess, feeding the young one and that made it a must shot.

we were now in the land of the mahaprabhu and were proceeding towards the mahaprabhu temple. no wonder even the locality was called mahaprabhu para. on either sides there were temples ans shops selling sweets. and where there were no temples, there were enough posters, lest one forgot where s/he was.

and then we reached the mahaprabhur mondir.

the temple from inside

then there were group of vaishnav babas, a usual scene at such temples

then i noticed another familiar thing, a tulsi plant

also noticeable were the paintings on the walls of the temple

it was one of the very few well-known temples where photography is allowed, and i made the most of the opportunity. this one is of the mahaprabhu himself

and this is his paduka which, according to people over there, has travelled many countries

all the clicking around and a couple of hours later, the bhog was finally served. not to us, but the babas first.

looks good, doesn't it? but, as they say, appearances are deceptive. we sat inside to get the bhog, which was served to us on banana leaves.

the hygiene of the place as well as the food was definitely questionable, but as the name of the blog suggests, these are matters of faith and faith doesn't know hygiene.
the quietness was broken by the loud and ugly ringtone. mere mehboob mere sanam of duplicate to be precise. and surprisingly, the mobile belonged to this man

this incident made me despise more these pakhandis.

after the bhog, we left nabadwip for mayapur, the world headquarters of the ISKCON.

to be continued...

next in series: matters of faith II

PS: all the images have a copyright. and they are NOT FOR SALE.

photoblogging

2010-12-05T23:47:00.008+05:30

photographs are very powerful mode of communication. each photograph tells a story. for me, as for many others, they’re generally journeys down memory lane. but it’s the artistic expression and that particular moment, which actually make me smile or leave me at awe.
not that i am an artist or click amazing pictures, but i am happy-to-click 24/7. just need to have that feel.
so one dslr, around eight months, half a dozen trips and 2,000 photographs later, i think it’s time to share with the blogosphere some of my memories.
and to all my friends out there, do stop by and let me know if u can connect with any of these…

the journey starts from here this time...

to be continued...
next in series: matters of faith

PS: all the images have a copyright. and they are NOT FOR SALE.

the anatomy of indian sports

2010-11-19T02:40:00.005+05:30

there are many reasons to believe that the year 2010 has been the tipping point for indian sports. the indian cricket team has been able to cling on to its no.1 position it acquired in december 2009 after beating sri lanka. saina nehwal has become world no. 3 in women’s badminton. sushil kumar and tejaswini sawant brought home world championships in wrestling and shooting, respectively. arjun atwal became the first indian in august to win a us pga tour event. in the recently-concluded commonwealth games in new delhi, india won 101 medals in 12 disciplines, including 38 golds. it all augurs well for sports in general in india. but there’s the million-dollar question here: has india become a sporting powerhouse? or is it at least on course to becoming one?

i am afraid to say my answer will be no. it’s a pity that the best performance by a country, which represents every sixth individual in this world, at the olympics has been an overall tally of six medals, including one gold (2008 beijing olympics). even shameful is the fact that india has won a total 20 medals, including 9 golds, in the 22 editions of the games it has participated in. from six editions, it returned medal-less.

and if the first week of the ongoing asian games is any indication, 2010 could very well prove to be an anti-climax in indian sports. no body could have expected india to emulate its performance at the delhi commonwealth games at guagzhou, but even then the performances by indian athletes so far at the asiads can be called, at best, dismal. barring the first ever medal in gymnastics at the games and another first in 25 years in swimming, there has been very little to cheer about. the only gold came in billiards with pankaj advani. shooters who won 14 golds at the delhi games have been, well, disappointing as has been the badminton team.

that the lack of infrastructure and poor training facilities are the reasons behind such a poor show is well known. but the authorities look lost for ideas to find remedies. the delhi games cost the state exchequer rs70,000 crore. one-tenth of this amount actually spent on the development of sports would have fetched more medals at the world events. it’s time to look beyond showing the door to corrupt bureaucrats. if india has to emerge as a powerhouse at the 2014 asiads at incheon, south korea or even, the 2012 olympics in london or the 2016 edition at rio, it needs to promote sports at the grass-root level and make sure that the money goes in the development of sports and not in the private coffers of the greedy.

the broken lock and suppi maitra

2010-10-18T03:50:00.004+05:30

shit happens, and when it rains, it pours…

for the uninitiated, this legendary theory was propounded (literally) by dear supratik maitra. how this brilliant line came to his otherwise bald (again, literally) head, remains unknown to me till date. maybe someday, when this gentleman is still away in udaipur (i need to check this) adding his inputs to make the hospitality industry “world class”, i should learn about the events of the historic day form his partner-in-crime, shreyas sharma (another great friend who actually introduced me to the masterpiece).

anyway, the reasons why i am writing about suppi and his great theory, while the world is snoring under the blanket of night, are the events in the last 20-odd hours leading to this post.

i had this sinking feeling as i woke up last morning. the alarm at 9.30 not ringing was bad enough an appetizer to the main course, still unknown.
waking up past 12 made sure the bad taste stays and i fail some promises.

pulling my jeans up in a heist to minimize the damage, only to discover that none of the house keys are in the back pocket, was, to say the least, catastrophic. more so, when you have just delivered a long lecture on being more responsible some 10 hours ago. i could feel the two pairs of eyes (i saw an evil smile there) puncturing my inflated ego.

as the feeling seeped in, i could see a crowd building around me. loser is the word i translated their murmurs into. and i was in the middle of it all, looking for cover. a not-welcome-at-all-at-other-times knock on my knee pulled me back from my transgression of thoughts. the damn chair came to my rescue.

knowing myself, i am not this absent-minded generally. it would suffice to say that i am a little less irresponsible than others. but there i was, 8km away from home, running out of time, not knowing what to do.

i did the best thing i could at that time. ran away. saved me some embarrassment for the time being.

breaking into my own place was the next item in the menu card. my landlord came as a saviour. i couldn’t have broken a three-lever iron lock in my dreams. not even when i played phantom in the dreams. the other, weaker locks ran out of their luck.
it was close to 4pm when i changed into my home clothes. some relief, i managed to get in, but, the bigger task, breathing down my neck, made sure i had put my running shoes on.

i raced against time (literally), to make it to at least some commitments i’d made. as expected, i was torn apart by the conversations or the lack of it between me and the Lady. but i had deserved that, failing on many accounts.

we bid goodnight after a customary dinner, which was mostly quiet this time. but i was fortunate for even having Her there, eating out with me.

to sum it up, it was a day when, anything that could have gone wrong did go wrong.
as the night goes into the last lap and i fight to even blink, i look back at the events and take a lesson. and another opportunity to thank the Lady for bearing with a moron of a boyfriend.

i hope when i get to the details of the “shit happens…” story, i can actually smile now.

PS: before ending this post, i say sorry to everyone i have hurt, irritated or troubled today. words can't always do justice to our feelings since they are mere containers, which can at times demean the content, but i don't have anything else to convince all you people that i wont behave like a moron. and to you, Honey, i can just say THANK YOU for being there, and kill me the next time i am not there when you need me...

is the home ministry listening???

2010-10-12T02:55:00.007+05:30

I generally switch my identities according to my surroundings. In the office and when with friends, I become a fellow dilliwala. The presence of babumoshais around me brings to fore the bhadralok inside me. And when flocked by the bhaiyalog, I become a devoted bihari. In the larger scheme of things, of course, I am an Indian first.

The bihari inside me revolted last time, I remember, when I went to get my dinner packed from Happy da dhaba. He took offence to the dhaba owner’s use of the word bihari and its generalization for the illiterate, uncivilized, ill-mannered, uncultured group of the society. Friends from Bihar would know how the blood comes to boil at comments such as “saala bihari kya janega” or “bihari hoke hero banta hai” or “achcha, bihari ho! (blink, blink)”.

On the same night, as I was getting a paan packed and talking to my panwari about the price rise, a 50-year-old drunk fellow, in his not-so-polished communication skills, doubted my intelligence after asking me from where I belonged to. “Bihar se aake humein sahi galat batata hai!” he had said more out of vengeance than anything else.

Honestly speaking, I felt like punching the fellow flat on his overgrown mid section, but for his age and drunken state.
As a routine, I shared my much disturbed mind with the Lady over the post-dinner telephonic conversation. Well-read and politically correct that she is, she laughed the matter off like only she can do. Gave me some intellectual kind of lessons for free and asked me to forget the matter. Not only that, she also told me that I should not be so volatile in matters of such insignificance.

With much difficulty, my mind had come over it. And I have behaved as she had prescribed me to ever since.

But my wicked self had a broad grin after going through the newspapers on Monday.
The ministry of external affairs had summoned the New Zealand high commissioner last week and handed him a dressing down over the alleged insulting remarks by a news commentator on Delhi chief minister Sheila Dikshit’s name. The man in question has since apologized for his “distasteful” comments and resigned from his job, refusing to be the “lightening rod for racial disharmony”.

No wonder the MEA officials are always running short of time. Now that someone has taken the task of correcting the foreigners, we need another similar watchdog for incidents at home too. And since it seems like the eruptions in the valley have cooled more or less, the home ministry should come off its hibernation and take the guard.

After all, there are more than 100 million biharis across India who take offence to the popular use of the word.

mamma's special

2010-10-10T15:44:00.004+05:30

It’s that time of the year again. The Bangalis will rejoice the rhythms on the dhak even when they are asleep. The air has a different fragrance—and a little nip—no matter which part of the country you are in. lovely mornings and even better evenings. Bangalis love this season. Smell of the harsingar announces the beginning of the month long festive season—starting with the Durga Pujo.
Durga Puja is celebrated in different parts of the country with different fervour. The north celebrates it as navratri—celebrating nine different characters, also called roopas, of Durga—with jagrans and fastings to go with it. In UP, people stage the ramleela—celebrating the life of Ram. Gujaratis take to the parks to show off their garba skills (they do it all the time anyway).
But for the Bhadralok, it is the celebration as well as the feast time. They will gain not less than five inches around their waist in the ten days and then crib about it later on and go on dieting, only to be back in form for the next Pujo.

Kolkata is in its full glory this time of the year, and the eateries are better than ever. People swear by biryani, sorshe ilish, rui macher kaalia and kosha mangsho, among other things.
So as the Pujo fever catches up, and homesickness grows, yours truly tried hands on mama’s special kosha mangsho recipe. It came out well…

Ingredients:
Mutton: 500 gm
Onion (finely chopped): 100-150 gm
Ginger garlic paste: 1 tbsp
Turmeric powder: ½ tsp
Red chili powder: 1 tsp
Black pepper powder: 1 tsp
Garam Masala powder: 1 tsp
Cloves: 4-5
Small cardamom: 4-5
Cinnamon (1’ sticks): 2
Yoghurt: 150 gm
Cumin seeds: 1 tbsp (roasted and powdered)
Salt: to taste
Oil: 4 tbsp

For garnishing:
Green chili cut in juliennes
Ginger juliennes

Method:
Heat the oil in a deep bottom pan. Add the cloves, cinnamon and cardamom. Let them crackle. Put the finely chopped onions in. stir well. As the onion turns pink, add the ginger garlic paste. Mix well and sauté. As the mixture turns brown, add turmeric, chili powder, pepper powder, garam masala and salt. Cook the spices.
Add the meat after the oil separates from the spices. Cook on high flame for around 8 minutes. Turn the heat to medium and sauté.

In the mean time, beat the yoghurt with the roasted cumin powder. Add to the meat as soon as the fat starts separating. Cook for around 5-7 minutes on high flame.
Now this is the tricky part.
After checking for the salt and all, cover the lid. Turn the flame to sim. Put a tava on the gas and then put the pan on it. Don’t cook it directly since the spices can burn. Now with the lid covered and flame on sim, let it cook for around 30 minutes.
The yummy kosha mangsho is ready. Garnish it with ginger, and chili.

It’s done guys. And as I always say, a little experiment is always welcome.
Serve hot with rice, roti or luchi (by far the best combination). And after you eat, pay thanks to all the mothers of the world.

PS: Shubhu Sharodiya everyone

labours

2010-09-02T00:35:00.002+05:30

It's like going through labour... tried it, wanted it, went down the wire for it amid adversities... and finally came out triumphant...
cheers to myself...
thanks to SONA, ARUN AND RUDRANEIL...
first print byline in over two year

time to have some veg

2010-08-27T23:38:00.006+05:30

Okay guys. Time for a veggie break :).
Friends from Bihar know this dish as ghughni. In the north, friends know it is kala chana. As a kid growing up in the city of Patna, I have cherished this dish at every corner. Remember the litti-ghughni, I bet you do. I will keep the litti for some time later.
At home, I remember, when ma used to cook ghughni, I used to finish most of it. :)
Without further ado, I will like to share the dish with all of you.

Ingredients:
Kale chane (black gram), soaked overnight: 200 gm
Turmeric powder: ½ tsp
Onion (finely chopped): 75-100 gm
Ginger garlic paste: 1½ tsp
Cumin powder: 1 tsp
Garam Masala powder: 1 tsp
Red chilli powder: 1 tsp
Black pepper powder: 1 tsp
Tomato puree: 1½ tbsp (you can also use 2 medium-size, finely chopped tomatoes)
Salt: to taste
Sugar: one pinch
Oil: 2 tbsp
Cloves: 2
Small cardamom: 2
Cinnamon (1’ sticks): 2
Water: 500 ml

For garnishing:
Onion rings
Lemon slices
Ginger juliennes

Method:
Heat the oil in a pressure cooker. Add the cloves, cinnamon and cardamom. Let them crackle. Put the finely chopped onions in. stir well. As the onion turns pink, add the ginger garlic paste. Mix well and stir. As the mixture turns brown, add the chana. Add the masalas. Add half a cup of water so the masale are mixed well. Add salt. As the mixture gets dry, add the tomato puree.
Fry them well. As soon as you get the aroma, add the water and sugar.
Cover the lid. The flame on high. A couple of whistles is what you need. After two whistles, put the flame on sim. Three more whistles and put the flame off. Don’t take the whistle out yet.
Open the lid after 10 minutes. The ghughni is ready. Garnish it with ginger, onion and lemon.

It tastes best with parathas. But in case you want to have it with rice, add some water to make a thickish gravy.

It’s done guys. And as I always say, a little experiment is always welcome.
You can add a spoon of lemon juice or yoghurt. Trust me, its yummy. And if you relish the taste, pay thanks to all the mothers .

chicken delight

2010-08-23T00:45:00.007+05:30

Chicken is the most common type of poultry in the world. It is the most common and widespread domestic animal according to Firefly Encyclopedia of birds, with a population of around 24 billion in 2003. No wonder, it is one of the most common meats consumed around the world. Depiction of chicken as meat dates back to 6th century BC carvings.
There are many ways in which chicken is cooked. I learnt a new one a couple of weeks back, yeah you guessed it right, from the same fellow who gave me the liver-fry recipe.
He calls it butter chicken, but I will call it just chicken because there is no butter involved. :)
This recipe is very simple and without much complication.
Lets do it:

Ingredients:
Chicken: 750gm (with or without bones, I prefer with bones)
Onion: 200gm (around 4 nos, medium-sized)
Yoghurt: 100-120gm
Tomato puree: 4 tbsp (fresh finely chopped tomatoes can also be used)
Ginger garlic paste: 2 tsp
Garam masala powder: 1½ tsp
Red chili powder: 1 tsp
Black pepper powder: ½ tsp
Chicken masala powder: 2 tsp
Turmeric: ½ tsp
Salt to taste
Oil: around 2 tbsp
Cloves: 4
Cardamom: 3
Cinnamon: 2 1’-long pieces

Garnishing:
Ginger juliennes

Time of preparation:
Around 40 minutes

Method:
Wash the chicken properly and drain excess water. Add all the powdered spices and salt with yoghurt and marinate the chicken with the paste for around an hour so that the meat takes the flavours of the spices.
Heat the oil in a pan. Put in the cloves, cinnamons and cardamoms and let them crackle. Add onions. Sauté for 2 minutes till the onions get little pinky.
Add ginger garlic paste. Fry for another 5-8 minutes till the onion is deep brown.
Add the marinated chicken, stir it well and cover the lid. Turn the flame to sim.
Cook for another 10 minutes and add tomato puree. Cook the chicken till its tender. Add a pinch of sugar to balance the taste.
You can add water here in case you want the gravy a little thin. I prefer my meat without water though.
The chicken is ready. Garnish with ginger juliennes. Serve it hot with boiled rice or chapattis.

A chicken recipe can’t be easier to cook. Cook and eat. It’s yummy, and, as I say, a little experiment is always welcome. :)

a myopic church

2010-08-03T02:17:00.002+05:30

Most of us would agree with me when I say there is no dearth of lunatics in this world. To put it the Hardian way “sanity is but an occasional episode in the general drama of absurdity”. And we get evidences for the same everyday.

The latest in the series is a statement made by senior pastor John Terry of The Dove World Outreach Center of Gainesville, Florida, saying that Islam is of the devil. Hell he has written a book with the same title.

What’s worse, the church says on its Facebook page it will hold an International Burn A Koran day on 11 September, ninth anniversary of 9/11.

Pastor Jones considers Islam and Sharia responsible for what happened on 11 September 2001, reports AFP.

Obvious as it is, radical Islamist groups have threatened to spill American blood in case anything like that happens.

Religious institutions are the messengers of peace, tolerance, fraternity, humanity and love. I have not read the Bible or the Quran or the Bhagwadgeeta, but I am sure no God has supported the mass killing of people.

9/11 was the brainchild of a perverted mind. The ones who were involved in it directly were brain-washed. Their vulnerable minds were distorted by wrong ideas, incorrect facts, and their deprived existence was motivated in the wrong direction by perpetrators. For this crime and its fallout, any punishment is too light for the mastermind, shall we ever catch him alive.

But the truth is, he does not belong to Islam. For Islam may be primitive, but doesn’t allow anyone to kill innocent people.

When pastor Jones call or the Christians to stand up and be active and weed out Islam, does he realize that he might very well be the next Osama? Though he might not have that force and ammunition or the power that Osama wields, but he is putting in the seeds of hatred in people’s hearts.

Why create hatred when you can’t preach harmony? Pastor Jones, through his speech in the Braveheart show, taught radicalism, and sighted Jesus as saying that the only way to God and truth is through Him.

But may be he forgot that the Son of God Himself had said, “Forgive them Lord! For they don’t know what they are doing”.
May be it’s time for us to know the real meaning of co-existence and follow the word in its true spirit.

once upon a time...

2010-08-01T23:56:00.003+05:30

long time...eh...
went for once upon a time in mumbai this weekend. as some reviews have said. the movie is a good one...the first half is slow and could have been edited more, but the second half was crisp, fast and intriguing... but the best part of the movie was Mr A... remember my friend i have mentioned in my earlier posts...

so on this very rainy saturday afternoon, the two of us were there at select citywalk... we actually could not do anything else in the downpour outside... how i survived from being completely washed away is another story, but i got completely drenched by the time we reached there... and to top it all the ac was on full blast giving me shivers (actually...ain't funny i swear)...

after getting ourselves a little warm with a cup of nice hot cardamom tea (i so wish we had a couple of swigs at Old Monk), we proceeded towards the multiplex...
for the uninitiated, the movie is about pre-1993 mumbai, about the relationship between a smuggler (haji mastan, known as sultan mirza in the movie and played by ajay devgan) and his prodigy (dawood ibrahim, known as shoaib khan played by emraan hashmi), the shift of power and the metamorphosis of mumbai, once the beloved, into the one exploited...

Mr A was long-faced when we left the theatre...looked like he had just visited his past... told me how the movie resembled his past three years of professional life. how he has seen his office change completely during the period...
"once upon a time," said Mr A, "there was a nice man, who treated that 2000 sq. yard place as his beloved, knew everything about it, took care that it should not be spoilt." "he had an amazing journey, made a mark on the industry, came to be recognized as one of the best minds in the business."
"but the winds of change had just started blowing."
"the good 'ol man was forced to leave and was replaced by someone who looks like a tortoise ans walks like a reptile," he sighed.
"the worst problem with these change of guards is that the inheritor feels like it has always been his right to become the 'king'," Mr A enlightened me.

"and with that, come the comrades, the so-far second rug nerds, dressed in designer clothes, Gucci glasses, sporting BlackBerrys even when they are not really using it," he continued, "thinking that they are the king of the world and can do whatever they want to."

i could not but just nod at what he was saying.
then he said how he would have loved his old boss to continue just like how he wanted sultan mirza to deport shoaib khan to some unknown place and run mumbai forever...
and i was thinking...

हुई मुद्दत कि मर गया ग़ालिब पर याद आता है
वो हर बात पे कहना कि 'यूँ होता तो क्या होता'...

yaaron ke liye

2010-08-01T23:53:00.002+05:30

a very dear friend says, "yaaron ka koi din nahi hota"... i agree, but as the day draws to a close, i recollect the memories of all the friends who have been around, some walked ahead, some left back...some unfortunate ones (:D) still have to bear me till this day...
and loved every bit of the recollection... thank you all dear friends...

inter inter da da da...

2010-05-25T22:07:00.000+05:30

Jose Mourinho weaves his magic again to end Inter Milan's 45-year old hunt for European title. Becomes only the third coach in the history to win the championship with two different teams. Milito's day it was as the Italian champs completed a treble. With the win in the bag, mystery mounts over whether the Chosen One will stay at Milan. Stay or not, but Mourinho, you are the Chosen One...

in the line of fire

2010-05-13T15:27:00.000+05:30

There are many fissures visible in the performance of the Indian cricket team right now. Our best batsmen look rookies when facing quality bowling, pace or spin. The best bowlers bowl as if they are inviting toddlers to hit them over the fence. As the press decodes the recent debacle of the team in the Caribbean, one can’t help looking at some glaring issues.

When asked on 26 April about the overall preparation and the condition the players were in after several weeks’ IPL frenzy, MSD had said the team has to go by the schedule and that they can’t do anything about it. Two days later in the Caribbean, when asked again if the IPL has got fatigue creeping in the team, he had said, “If you look at it, the two-hour bus-ride from the airport was more tiring and difficult for us than the last few weeks of the IPL.”

It is completely ridiculous then when the captain is blaming the IPL late night parties for their dismal performance in the ICC World Twenty20 tournament.
Though MSD is not blaming IPL completely for the failure, he is saying that the players need to respect their bodies. Question is, who asked them to play all these matches, and worse, attend all the post-match parties?

Yes, the players were certainly tired after so much of non-stop cricket. Hold on, there’s another tri-series coming up in a week’s time. It’s the duty of the cricketing board to keep the health and shape of the payers in mind when fixing the schedule for the cricketing season. So Rajiv Shukla cannot get away by saying that in case the players feel tired, they can opt out of any tournament after taking the board in confidence. If that is the case, the fans must not expect the team to win even half of the tournaments they play in one season.

Again, the selectors have to choose a team, which they see as the one that can win the big championships. Honestly, the squad that was sent to the West Indies, looked anything but winners. The most successful players in the format, Uthappa and Ojha could not make the cut. On the field, the final eleven picked for the super-eight match against Australia and the hosts looked a horrible combination. Going in with just three bowlers was a horrendous mistake. One needs to understand that if seven batsmen can’t win you a game, the eighth one never will. Also, one needs to have a good bowling attack to make sure the batsmen don’t end up every time chasing an impossible total.

So what’s the solution?

First, the selector must respect the physical abilities of the players and deter from making an overbearing schedule.

Second, they HAVE TO make more bowler friendly, quick wickets with some grass if they want the team to do well overseas.

Third, commercialization of the game has to put to a limit. After all, it’s the team winning more games that satisfies the fans most and not the players chasing some hot chick in a car ad or making a pitch for some beauty products and etc.

Fourth, the team has to be picked judiciously, non-starters can go find their form and come back.

These are some issues the board will have to sort out quickly to save the team from deteriorating into another Zimbabwe, West Indies or Pakistan.

PS: As the men in blue are busy relaxing and taking some much-needed break from the game, the eves are set to battle it out against the mighty Aussies in the semis at Gros Islet later today. The match starts 20.00 GMT. All the best to the ladies.

go, hang Kasab, but what after that?

2010-05-06T16:53:00.003+05:30

The television channels have just gone insane.

Breaking News? Not really. We all knew that. But the kind of hypersensitivity that’s creeping in to the 24x7 news channels is simply regrettable. (A colleague just shared a tweet saying that if Arnab Goswami was in Jail with Kasab, Kasab had never been able to complete a sentence.)

For the past couple of days, the only debate running on the news channels is whether Kasab should be sentenced to death or not.

The question itself is incorrect. What do we do with him if not hang him? Keep him alive under life imprisonment in a HIGH SECURITY jail or something and spend crores of rupees on him? (An estimate says the Maharashtra government has spent around Rs40 crore on his custody so far. And this is the same state where Kasab and accomplices wrecked havoc on that fateful November evening in 2008.)

Again, a death sentence doesn’t mean the end of the world to Kasab. Now that he has been sentenced to death on five counts and to life imprisonment on five other by the special court, it’s his right to challenge this verdict in a higher court till the Supreme Court turns his case down. The road doesn’t end here as well. He can move a mercy plea to the President asking for clemency.

There shouldn’t be a question—Kasab should be PUT TO DEATH. The crime he committed falls under the rarest of the rare category as made necessary by the Constitution for the judiciary to award the capital punishment. But that’s what the courts did to Afzal Guru as well in 2001. Nine years down the line, he is still alive, in full health, eating India’s food and sleeping on her soil for free. Isn’t it a mockery?
So the question should rather be, “What after the sentencing?”

Hang him or not, it’s not really going to make much of a difference.

Come to think of it, does it really make any difference to our daily life whether Kasab is dead or alive? Maybe to the families of the 163 killed or to the scores injured, it does make a difference. But the general public—emotionally charged and up in arms, saying hang him—isn’t really bothered much beyond that.

But hanging him, if we ever do that, should be seen just as an act of getting rid of that man. His death, as well as his being alive, is not going to act as a deterrent at all. Kasab would have long been dead. That was the initial plan. Unfortunately for him, he could not attain martyrdom that day itself. So what? He lived in a carefree manner for the next year or so; eating and drinking what he wanted, without a single foreign thought in his mind, enjoying life; waiting for the day he will become a martyr—someone who the jihadis-in-the-making will idealize. (They will sing praises about how he went through the hellish life in India after being caught and would vow for a redemption.)

It’s a shame for India that we are making a hero of a pawn. In the actual scheme of things, Kasab must have just been a foot soldier. There must have been hundreds of them involved in the entire plan including some from this side of the border. What about all these people? Who are they? Do we know? What are we going to about them?

As of now, I do not think the government knows anything about anyone of them at all. Or, they are not in the mood to do the dirty work, find them out and prosecute them.

random thoughts

2010-05-05T01:54:00.005+05:30

Time to write about mundane things again.

Toilet etiquette

I have read many articles about the lack of washroom etiquette in the Indians. Why am I writing on it then? All the previous ones were regarding the common man. One who craps squatting on his haunches. And washes his ass instead of wiping. It’s a pity that this common man has now got access to the big multiplexes and such places, thanks to liberalization. No doubt, we need to train this common man how not to spoil the toilet seat and not wet the floor of a Western-style toilet.

But this post is about a different kind of problem. What if, in your own hurry, you push the main bathroom door open and in doing so, break the nose of a colleague? I saved mine at least five times the past week.

Office-goers like yours truly, who don’t have their own cabin, have to share the washroom too. Imagine a scenario. You, after relieving yourself, hold the doorknob to pull it open, and suddenly, bang! The door hits you in his face breaking your nose, and you see a fellow colleague standing on the other side grinning sheepishly. Saying sorry for what he just did, but smiling cheekily at your messy state.

I understand the hurry when one rushes to the restrooms, but this kind of behaviour can’t be excused. Thankfully, I have been able to save my nose thus far, and have finally learnt that while opening the door, I should be at least two feet away.

What should be done to teach these corporate honchos some washroom etiquette? Any suggestions, anyone?

It’s getting hotter in the days

A few days back, I received a mail with a photo of a thirsty koala that came in the middle of the road and asked people for water to quench its thirst. The mercury is northbound in Delhi and I can empathize with the koala. Starting today, I am keeping a bowl filled with water in my balcony for the thirsty birds. No collecting brownie points here, just paying my debt to the nature, my gratitude to the Almighty who has made me capable enough to find water myself and help others with it.
I request the fellow bloggers to spare a thought for those helpless creatures.

The art of saying thank you

I have learnt it in the past couple of years, through a couple of seniors and friends. The art of saying thank you to who matter and otherwise. There are six lifts in the office and more than 15 people who handle the lift. There are 17 floors in the building and around a couple of thousand of faces going up and down everyday. Some regular faces and some visitors. Tough job for the guys handling the lift to entertain everyone, keeping their cool under, sometimes, very challenging situations. Doing a thankless job adds to the misery. Over the past couple of months, I have noticed a smile on their face when they see me. Some even start conversations. No, I am not someone who people know (or for that matter would like to know). I am, just like many others, a faceless, almost non-existent, behind-the-screen person. (Doing something thankless again.) But, I have learnt to say thank you. Thank you to these people. And they respond with a smile. Respect, they give to everyone, but smile, that is bestowed upon a handful of people.

And trust me, saying thank you to such people as drivers, autowalas, rickshaw pullers, guards, security men brings a positive change in one’s attitude. Gives one a better understanding of humanity and helps becoming a better man.

Try it to believe it yourself.

And to sign off, a thought that just came—Supreme Court’s verdict last week overruling all charges against Tamil actor Khushboo for her so-called public statement about marriage and virginity, which allegedly hurt public sentiments, comes as a welcome step. In a country of intellectual hypocrites and double-faced politicians, such steps are necessary. It’s high time the judiciary comes out in open in support for the Right to Freedom of Speech.

another dish learnt

2010-05-03T01:19:00.008+05:30

Last afternoon, a colleague (the bugger is fast developing into a good friend) treated me to some delicious liver-fry. I was impressed. I am generally impressed with men who can cook good food. No wonder he is considered the “perfect husband material” by some :).

I have had liver-fry only once before, thanks to Shalu di (sister of another colleague and friend), and by the time I left office around 8pm, I knew what I had to cook for dinner. Yours truly is an OK cook. Around 11pm, I was satisfied with my maiden attempt at making liver-fry, and hence thought I will share it with you all. There are various preparations of this dish, and a little experiment is always welcome :).

Ingredients:
Liver (mutton or chicken, I uses chicken) ---- 250gm
Onion (finely chopped) ----100gm
Tomato (finely chopped) ----1 small
Ginger garlic paste ----1 tbsp
Turmeric powder ----1/2 tsp
Red chilli powder ----1/2 tsp
Coriander powder ----2 tsp
Cumin powder ----1 tsp
Garam masala powder ----1 tsp
Cumin seeds ----1/2 tsp
Oil ----2 tbsp
Salt ----to taste

For marinade:
Yoghurt (optional) ----75-100gm
Black pepper powder ----1/2 tsp
Salt ----one pinch
Turmeric powder ----one pinch

For garnishing:
Finely chopped coriander
Ginger and Green chilli juliennes

Time: 30-40 minutes

Method:
Cut the liver pieces into medium-sized dices. Marinate them for 10-15 minutes.

Meanwhile, heat the oil in a deep-bottom pan. Add the cumin seeds and let them crack. Add onion and sauté them five minutes till they turn pink. Now add the ginger garlic paste and keep stirring till the mixture turns brown. Add all the spices and ¼ cup of water. Mix it well till you get the aroma of the spices. Add tomato and cook until pulpy. Now add the marinated liver pieces cover the lid and cook for five minutes.

Remove the lid and add ½ cup water. (Increased the quantity to double in case you have not used yoghurt.) Add salt to taste. Cook for another 5 minutes.

Garnish it with finely chopped coriander and ginger and green chilli juliennes (I had run out of ginger :). Serve hot with chapattis or paratha.

PS: If you haven't marinated the liver pieces, DO boil them for around 15 minutes with a pinch of salt and black pepper.

do share your experiments and views.
cheers

can Mourinho do a Porto with Inter

2010-04-29T22:40:00.002+05:30

It was the match between arguably the best team and the best coach in the contemporary football world. As the two teams took the field at 2045hrs on Wednesday (0015 IST on Thursday), Camp Nou was set to witness one team sneaking closer to creating history.

On one hand, Barcelona, the defending champions, were playing for a place at the finals next month in Madrid and were chasing the dream of becoming the first team to win back-to-back Champions League titles. On the other, Inter were eying their first finals spot since 1972 in the championship, when it was still called the European Cup.

When Jose Mourinho’s boys in white arrived in Barcelona, they had a good two-goal cushion, and one away goal would more or less have sealed their destiny. That was not to be.

Inter were pushing forward in search of that one goal, but the equations changed in the 28th minute when midfielder Thiago Motta was sent off for a rough challenge. Bad decision, experts say. Reduced to 10 men, Inter had to dig deep to keep the Catalan strikers away, and they did just that. Lucio in defence and Julio Cesar inside the net were outstanding.

Barca on their part, tried really hard to penetrate the Italian team’s defence, but could not find the back of Inter’s net until the 84th minute when Gerard Pique converted a beautiful move into a well-crafted goal. But the hosts could not take advantage of the one away goal at San Siro and Inter reduced to 10 men.
We played with 10, against the world champions and in their stadium. Yet the players knew what to do in every episode, playing with intelligence,” Inter Milan president Massimo Moratti said on the club’s official website.

As the hooter signaled the end of the match, Mourinho ran out to the middle of the pitch celebrating the victory against the club he once served. As expected, the emotional quotient was high. Despite Barca winning the tie 1-0, they lost the semi-finals on 3-2 aggregate, setting up a clash on 22 May at the Bernabeu in Madrid between Mourinho and his one-time mentor Louis van Gaal.

"Louis is a winner and I'm a winner—we will both want to win and we are both going for three trophies, so we are in a similar position and neither of us will be saving ourselves for the final, which I think is a good thing," Mourinho said after the match.

Inter lead Serie A and are in the final of the Coppa Italia. Bayern are on course for a treble in their first season under Louis van Gaal. They lead the Bundesliga and have reached the German Cup final.

Will the ‘Chosen One’ prove his worth once again, or the mentor will show again why he is revered as one of the best European coaches?
Your guess is as good as mine, but as in the semis, I will once again put my money on the Intalian giants.

the big match

2010-04-28T17:58:00.000+05:30

Speculations are rising as we are drawing closer to Champions League’s THE match of the tournament. Pep Guardiola’s boys will try to forget their last encounter with Inter and focus on the match later tonight (12.15am IST). That’s their best chance if they have to move a step closer to defend their title. Not only they have to score at least two goals, they also have to hold Inter in the midfield. Considering the man-marking of Messi in the last match and Puyol sitting out as a result of a suspension, it looks a real hard task.

Puyol’s absence gives way to another interesting rivalry in the match. It would not be the first time that the Milito brothers will be playing against each other. But, when the younger sibling, 29-year-old Gabriel, will line up at the back of Barca’s defence to repel, amid others, his brother Diego, he will know that there is much more at stake this time.

When the Inter side led by Jose Mourinho takes the pitch at Nou camp, they will know that they need to play out of their skin if they have to defeat barca at home. Midfieldeer Thiago Motta said in a press conference, "We will give everything to reach the final. And personally, I will give everything to do well, just like in the first leg."

"They will certainly want to win, but we want to reach the final and we can do it with merit," he continued.

Meanwhile, Bayern Munich, as expected, marched their way into the finals after a 3-0 victory at home against Lyon, courtesy a hat-trick by Olic.

After the match, however, the Bundesliga team manager Louis van Gaal expressed his wish to face the Serie A team. He told Welt Online: "Bayern can beat any team, that's why we are here. I hope that Jose Mourinho reaches the final, but I have a commitment to Barcelona."

In another eight hours, the line-up for the finals will be decided. I am still putting my money on Inter. Who are you betting on?

a not-so-alien thought

2010-04-28T02:55:00.002+05:30

What drives human beings out of their homes? The curiosity of knowing the outer world or the need to expand his/her reach and exploit the available resources to earn his/her living.

History is testimony to the fact that whenever men have ventured out to discover new places--at times just out of their curiosity--they ended up exploiting that particular place to their fullest. Aryans moved towards east and did the same. Christopher Columbus did the same with the Americas. In fact, he went on to such an extreme that the Native Americans had to flee. What the British did to their colonies is not hidden from anyone.

This is precisely what Stephen Hawking is trying to tell the world when he says that an encounter with the aliens (it is only logical to think that life exists outside earth given that there are around 100 billion galaxies in the universe and each one has hundreds of millions of stars like the Sun) may be too risky.

“We only have to look at ourselves to see how intelligent life might develop into something we wouldn’t want to meet. I imagine they might exist in massive ships, having used up all the resources from their home planet. Such advanced aliens would perhaps become nomads, looking to conquer and colonise whatever planets they can reach,” Hawking said in a new series on a TV channel.

Human beings are optimists by default. But, no matter how optimistic one might be, it will be foolish to think that the aliens will be cool, peaceful, nice, fun-loving creatures and not otherwise.

Again, it will be unwise to think that they are not as developed as we on the earth are, or that they don’t have as deadly weapons of destruction as we have. And just as most of our modern civilizations rest on heaps of bones, they also might have evolved from a species used to exploit whatever they find.

May be they are also searching new planets. In the event that we find them or vice-versa, we also will be alien to them and they will act accordingly.

When two alien groups come in contact, uncertainty and resultant hostility are likely to be the dominant factors, and if it remains this way, encountering the aliens will be riskier for one of the two.

The puritans, however, ask why we see aliens, if there are any, as our mirror image, and that too, of our darker side. And that until we reach out and see for ourselves, we won’t be able to see, and realize, their true nature.

Question is, whether we should just sit back and put this whole issue on the back burner and take care of the bigger, better things in life, waiting for something to happen?

Or we follow the spirit of the incessant discoverer and go all out in their search?

Take your pick.

advantage internazionale

2010-04-22T03:10:00.002+05:30

Can Jose Mourinho do it again?

The much anticipated first semi-final of this year’s Champions League turned out to be an anti-climax. Mesmerizing Messi didn’t click, Barcelona’s defence tested for once, Julio Cesar made some great saves, and the volcanic ash played damp squib; all these factors conspired and the result—a 3-1 score line in favour of Inter Milan at home.

Pedro Rodriguez scored the opener at San Siro in the 19th minute and it looked like the flood gates would open anytime. But it was not to happen. Sneijder equalized for Inter before the half time and Barcelona never looked like winning the tie again. Sixteen minutes into the second half and two goals late—Milcon (48) and Milito (61)—Barcelona seemed like anything but winners despite their pushing forward till the very last moments of the game.

Mourinho proved once again why he is regarded as one of the best coaches in European soccer. Remember the 2004 season when he inspired, at best an average, Porto team to win the European title. Can he do repeat the magic with Inter this time?

Mourinho is one of the best thinkers of the game. The way Messi was marked in the entire tie was a testimony to his strategizing. Messi, the leading goal scorer in the tournament and arguably the best footballer today, had only two shots at goal. Barcelona looked fatigued as well after the 900-odd kilometre road trip to Milan. They didn’t play their best football.

Some poor decisions by the referee, including the one overruling what seemed to be a definite penalty when Dani Alves was brought down in the closing moments of the match, also came to Barca’s undoing as a dejected Pep Guardiola watched the dismal performance of the team from the sideline.

Inter, on their part, played good football. Their defence, especially Lucio looked immaculate, with Mourinho at helm, it was always expected. Milito and Maicon were magical upfront and Julio Cesar was the show stopper in the net.

As the two teams move to Nou Camp next week for the return leg, Barca has a few things to watch out for. Their defence looks shaky and Puyol missing the crucial tie can make things worse. They also need to find other goal scorers than Messi in case they want to retain their title.

But one still can’t write Barcelona off. They will, for sure, fight back. But will the 1-3 deficit prove to be a little too much? Will Barca be able to hold Milan at Nou Camp? Or will Mourinho move a step closer to his second European title? All these questions will be answered next week, but till then, it’s advantage Internazionale.

pakistan!

2010-03-26T01:40:00.000+05:30

pakistan gets a royal snub...but did it ever deserve a civil nuclear deal? i would say, no...
here's why

Persistence pays

2010-02-26T01:52:00.000+05:30

Geeez. It’s as good a feeling as being taken. I am happy that I finally got things moving, and excited to get first byline in the new organization. Though it is just a blogpost, it is a byline. I feel liberated.
I had head once my gurudev saying that when an artist creates something s/he likes, it feels like giving birth to a child. I can’t agree more sir.
Persistence eventually paid… read it here…
And do leave your comments if you find the post worthy enough...

Mission accomplished

2008-12-28T21:18:00.001+05:30

Saturdays. I bet half of the Indian population is afraid of the day, for some reason or the other; but Mr A has a different opinion altogether.

The other weekend, he visited, on an invitation, to his better-half’s (lets call her B) place. The occasion, well Mr A did not reveal that to me. Anyways, the background was ready a couple of days ago.

He told me he was in the office when he got a call from B, inviting him to visit her place. As I could guess Mr A was overwhelmed by the invitation, he told me that B was also not far away from being ecstatic when inviting her.

I think both were happy, for they were both waiting for this day to come.

So as the days went by, both were biting their nails out of nervousness, B for whether she did right by inviting him as she did not know how would he react and if he will be accepted at her home; and Mr A as he had to remember everyday and revise it what to do there and what not to and also, if he will be able to hold the ground. Battle on!

So, as they were heading towards B’s place on that Saturday, there were lots going through their minds. At the end of that two-and-a-half hour journey, they reached home.

Mr A was, to start with, feeling a bit apprehensive, but as he pounced on the kebabs, all those apprehensions were gone.

He was then given a round of the house, during which he met the other family members, interacted with them and tried to be himself. He did not remember what B had told him.

But he managed. At around 11 that night as the family was watching TV, and was ready to sleep, Mr A was satisfied. He did not fail to do what he wanted for so long. He did not fail B.

Behind the scene

2008-12-05T21:56:00.000+05:30

A lot has been said (I wish I could have said ‘and done’) about the last week terror attacks in Mumbai, which some media houses term as 26/11 (in line with the 9/11 terror attacks in the US seven years ago). It is said that the government knows who the perpetrators were, where they came from, who had trained them and who they had links with.
Almost everyone is disgusted at the steps the Centre and state governments have taken post attacks. Starting from the state deputy chief minister R.R. Patil’s comment that these small things keep happening in big cities (which cost him his job), to the BJP leader Mukhtar Abbas Naqvi’s comments on women, a rejig in the Union Cabinet, even the Prime Minister himself saying that he is a politician by chance (I just wonder what took Singh almost 38 years to realize this given that he joined the government of India as economic adviser in the commerce ministry in 1971), every event has only resulted in the heightened anger in the public.

The aftermath
Now even as the government is saying it will take “stern actions” against all involved and Pakistan promising all its support in the investigation (under the guidance of the US), there is no action visible, on the government’s front at least.
The problem is what can the government do?
Though the popular sentiment is against Pakistan, a military action is highly and strictly unadvisable. Again, as the new home minister P. Chidambaram is saying that security lapses also played a major role in the terror attacks, don’t we need some introspection?
Also, if we look back, we can see that this was probably the most organized, well planned and perfectly executed terror attacks at least in the past decade. I some how can’t digest the fact that the terrorists risked the success of the operation upon finding a ship (Kuber) and then hijacking it to travel hundreds of kilometers into India. Instead, this might also be one of the million examples of corruption and smuggling where the crew might be involved for some petty rewards but unfortunately were dumped and unfortunately killed.
So, a lot of introspection is needed.
As for the relationship with Pakistan, let me tell you a small story.
Lets suppose, there is a man who has a half-brother. As usual, the relationship between the two is not cordial. That half brother is suffering from a contagious disease. What shall the man do? Can he leave him as he is? No, he cannot, because the ill half-brother affects the man’s health as well.
He has two options: kill him (ask for mercy killing) or take care of him till he gets well. Most of us will take the second option, so did he. Now in order to get the sick brother well again he needs help, help from the neighbours, the doctors and other people.
Now, lets view the entire terror scene in the same context. Are we absolutely sure that the Pakistan government was also involved in the attacks? No, no one is.
Then who attacked? Some terrorist outfit (may be LeT or Al Qaeda). Why did they attack? What was the motive?

The planning
No hostages taken show that they did not demand anything. If they wanted to kill people, they would have targeted any shopping complex or something on a weekend (as done in the past, remember Hyderabad blasts last year and Delhi in September). Did they ask to free someone? No, they did not. So, no demands either.
What was their motive afterall?
The only motive as I can see is the lockout, which they executed perfectly. They were able to lock horns with the state for almost 3 days (52 hours), got the maximum media coverage they could have asked for. Live telecast of the action on the television and played up lead stories with gory pictures in the newspapers, they had it all. They wanted to catch the attention of the entire nation and they did it. But what did they get in addition? The wrath of the entire nation.
Wait a minute, they know that this anger will only grow against Pakistan and would urge the government for a military action against Pakistan (which is very evident from the ongoing protests in Mumbai). How would it really help the terror group (if it is LeT) if India mobilizes its troops on the border?
There lies the catch. The motive of the terrorists was to fuel anger in the public and the governance, so much so, that the government is forced to move the troops along the border. That will, in turn, give Pakistan an excuse to move its troops as well along the eastern border, denuding its western parts. Who will it help eventually? Can’t guess yet???
Al Qaeda. It will help Al Qaeda tremendously. It will help the now sandwiched Al Qaeda
operations between the US forces on the west and the Pakistan troops on the east, to expand further to both the sides. (Terrific strategy, no?)
Again by the attack on the Jews at Nariman House, they also have sent a signal to Israel.
All the above reasons and the accuracy, planning and mode of execution point to the fact that it can only be Al Qaeda, and no Deccan Mujahideen or LeT. Afterall, LeT has a free presence in Pakistan and any attack on the country can result in the extinction of the group itself. I bet it is not that fool (neither are we or in fact are we to set aside Al Qaeda and hold Let responsible for the attack?).

The solution
So the entire analysis brings us to one point. Pakistan is ill. The terror groups on its soil are eating into the prosperity, the well being of the country…and as I write the analysis, a bomb blast has claimed at least 16 lives and injured at least 75 in the Western city of Peshawar in Pakistan. The toll is going to rise, said the police officers and the politicians quoted by news agencies.
The last thing the world needs is a war between the two n-powered brothers. Right now Pakistan needs our help, and together, with the help of the world, we can kill the terror forever.

Dance of democracy

2008-12-01T14:06:00.000+05:30

As I was walking down the 10 minutes stretch between my peaceful and convenient 2BHK apartment flat in Jeevan Nagar and the ring road, I realized how witty and true was the statement made by Plato, saying democracy is a government of fools.

Democracy, that too in a country as diverse in India, can’t actually work though it a point of argument. I just wonder how this system has sustained in the country for the past 60 years.

Okay. Now lets come to the incident. 12:30 in the noon, I was already running late for the office. And congestion on the road that time of the day generally drives me mad. But it was different today.

Scores of kids returning back from school, vehicles and goods carriers blowing horns and I, in the middle, trying to get my way through them. Suddenly I saw something that instead of making me mad, ignited a thought.

Dozen of kids, all ageing between 10 and 13 carried a paper batch of a particular party, their mouth filled with pan masalas, shouting slogans in favour of that particular party’s contestant who is contesting for the Delhi assembly seat from Jungpura constituency.

Following the kids were some adult people with drums and crackers, shouting the same slogan.

Lets come to the kids first. It looked like all of them belonged to a lower middle-class household, most of them looked like they have never attended school, or if they did, they must have dropped out.

How are they supposed to know what is right and what is not?

What notion of democracy do they have in their minds (do they have any at all?)?

What are the signals that the leader is giving by engaging these kids in the election campaign?

And how much will this style of campaign affect the people’s mind in exercising their franchise?

Now, there were rumours (?) about the same contestant distributing liquor among the people in turn of their votes for him.

I wonder how long will these tactics go on in the name of democracy. How can people who promise their votes to contenders for some money or liquor have equal rights to choose who will lead the country.

Someone has answers???

Kill terror

2008-11-27T15:34:00.000+05:30

In the face of the ongoing combing operation in Mumbai against the terror attacks, one fails to understand how helpless we are.
Why does it always take a blast or an attack to wake up the public and the administration?
How many lives do we actually intend to sacrifice before we finally understand that it is not gonna stop like this?
If we only count the most recent two attacks on the Indian soil, we will find that we have not only sacrificed scores of civilian lives, but have lost several officers who were behind the arrest of several terrorists.
Be it the Jamia Nagar encounter in South Delhi, where we lost M.C. Sharma of the Delhi STF, or the encounters in South Mumbai where we lost Hemant Karkare of the Mumbai ATS and Vijay Salaskar, it seems that we always fail to see these coming.
I know the terrorist don’t come on fixed appointments but there is something called the intelligence, which I am afraid to say fails, more often than not, to foresee things as coming.
More shocking is to digest the fact that we lost around 120 lives including around 15 police officers (the toll can increase) in an encounter with the bastards (please excuse my language here) who were moth more than 20 in number.
And now we will take all sorts of precautions to avoid this kind of misshappenings in the near future. I wonder if only we had taken these precautionary steps before, things would have been different.
Only one request is what I am going to make to the authorities and would ask the public to help them in the capacity they can. Just as we flood the farm when rats invade them, flood these bastards out of the country, kill them in a manner that the species called terrorists never risk attacking India. Just as they show us the clips of their inhumanity to spread terror, make videos, which will kill their morale.
Leniency wouldn’t do, and we can’t risk our brothers every time they (militants) want to prove their metal to us.

Reviews

2008-11-23T14:31:00.002+05:30

Alvida is not the last word…always

Who says it takes a Shah Rukh Khan or an Amitabh Bachchan and a huge starcast, blended with all the spice in the script, to make a nice film?

For the people who believe in that concept, Dasvidaniya- the best good-bye ever is an eye-opener.

A plump, nerdy, spineless middle-class accountant, on the wrong side of 30s, a loser in every sense, puts life in what is one of the most memorable characters in the age of mindless movies, some of which are not even worth to make it out to the box-office.

No one doubted Vinay Pathak’s metal as an actor, but the actor has come a long way since Bheja Fry—remember the witty comedy of errors.

A recent review in The Times of India rightly says the actor reminds of RK (Raj Sahab for his ardent fans), as clearly seen in a couple of scenes—watch out the scene when Alok expresses his love to Neha in the good-old dumb charade style (silence says a million words. Actually reminded me of Raj Sahab on the stage with that red glass-heart), and the helplessness he shows when beaten up by a group of hookers.

Also, though might be a co-incidence, the choice of Russia as the outdoor location gives the movie the “Raj Kapoor” touch. Remember the Russian artist in Sree420 who could not speak hindi? Here also the lady can’t speak hindi. But both understand the language of love.

The central theme of the movie is a “wish list”. What are the things you want to do before u die? And what can you do to achieve all those things before the clock ticks over.

Though the subject is not very new or untouched, the thing that makes the film stand out is the treatment. The emotion-quotient is high. Watch Alok go through a traumatic time when he overhears the conversation between his best friend Rajiv (Rajat Kapoor) and Rajiv’s wife (Suchitra Pillai). And when he meets his brother Vivek (Gaurav Gera). Debutant director Shashant Shah has treated the subject very well. The way Alok musters up courage to do things he wanted to but could not do so far, or which were not expected from him, makes you smile. (Watch out for the red-shoed rock-star of an alter ego.)

Arshad Syed has done a good job with the script, which could have been tighter, say some critics. The movie has some incredible moments, but a few things left unsaid (the guitar teacher, the girl who sells Alok the car and the Russian love of the protagonist).

The music is okay. 3 out of five for me. A couple of songs are nice and pleasing to the ears, which include Alvida and Mumma. Kailash Kher still has to scale the heights to create a good overall musical.

Sorry to notice not many people turned out for the movie and instead went for what I would dare to say Karan Johar’s worst (may not be commercially though).

Dasvidaniya for me is a movie worth sacrificing a Sunday evening for. Watch out for a wonderful exhibition of acting from a man who in all likelihood is the next Pankaj Kapoor in the making. Well the contribution of the other actors cannot be underplayed for all have chipped in with nice performances, no matter however short their appearances might have been.

harakiri

2008-05-24T00:18:00.002+05:30

So friends here I come again... with something that came out of the mind this morning...
I hope u all can relate to it...
The purpose though is not only relating to it but trying and changing what u can to make it different....to make it count...
Just give it a thought
Cheers

मेज़ पर पड़े अखबार से पूछा चल भाई आज की ताज़ा ख़बर बता ...
चुपचाप उसने कुछ उलझी हुई तसवीरें पेश कर दीं ...
आँखों के शीशे से उनकी चमक साफ दिखी ...
कई लाशें, एक धमाका,एक ज़लज़ला कई और लाशें...
कुछ बच्चों की सिसकियाँ, कुछ सूखी हुई आँसू की बूँदें...
कुछ टूटी चूड़ियों के टुकड़े... कहीं लहूज़दा हिना की बू...
कुछ चीखें, कुछ परछाईयाँ, कुछ सूनी गलियाँ
फूले पेट को सूखी हड्डियों में लपेटे
भूखे नंगे कुछ इंसान के बच्चे
कुछ सितारों से सजी महफिलें....
कुछ हाथों में जाम...
कुछ खादी में लिपटे सौदागर,
कुछ खाकी पहने मक्कार...
कोई जिन्न हवा में घूमता, किसी जल्लाद की हँसी...
और आखिरी पन्ने का विज्ञापन
India shining, भारत भविष्य निर्माण

harakiri

2008-04-17T17:11:00.003+05:30

Mr A went to a press conference today. By his reaction towards the event even before he left, I knew there will not be anything great about it. But when Mr A came back in the afternoon to the office, drained out completely, thanks to the unbelievable heat, his grin told me that there was something fishy here.
I could not help myself but ask what had happened.
And Mr A in his ever familiar style, only let this couplet out to do the talking:

मेकअप से है छुप गयी असली की पहचान,
बाहर से तू ताजमहल, भीतर कब्रीस्तान...

As obvious all of us laughed at the pun intended but I bet this created all the more mystery about the event.
Out of curiosity I asked Mr A again about the event.
Then he started: What do these girls think? They would wear anything and people will appreciate?
The mystery deepened.
The event was as usual a boring one. At max it would be a 100 word piece for some inside page, Mr A said.
But I tell you these girls na...
अरे A साहब, भाई क्या किया उस लड़की ने...और भाई किस लड़की ने, we all asked in the same tone.
क्या बताऊं... When I went inside the hall she was at the reception desk clad in a saree. But you know her blue saree and the auburn highlights in her hair did not gel and I guessed at the time that why is the girl forcing herself into wearing something that does not suit her.
Anyway the press con started. All of us beared with the ass of a chairman speaking, who, believe me, did not even know what to say. Every 20 seconds, he was peeping into his papers to "enlighten" us with what they were doing to benefit the crowd of Indian population.
Finally it ended and he invited us to the "delicious food waiting outside".
As I was having lunch, I saw the same lady leaving the desk with a blue polybag in her hand. I thought that was all about our brief introduction.
As I was about to finish my food i saw a lady trying to be a "bebe", approaching us.
F***, this is the same girl... What a transition in just 5 minutes. Black Gucci (won’t comment on the originality of it) T-shirt with a bold "bebe", embossed just on the rise, black low waist killer jeans with a number of leather belts wrapped around the back side, and a trendy pair of at least 4 inch heel footwear. Phewwww!
"ओये होए क्या बात है," I said.
"क्या ख़ाक बात है," replied Mr A.
She was looking like a chop stick. Horrible I should say. आजकल की लड़कियां, I don’t know what they think. And then I eventually saw her diet as I was having my third helping alongside her obliging the tiniest piece of chicken she could find in the gravy and the remains or I should say the miniscule of a naan.
"But that is the dietary habits of the genY girls," I said.
"That’s sad," sighed Mr A.
India needs to change, be it the dietary habit or the way they dress up. The lady had everything to eat but she did not touch it. On the other hand there are millions of people in India who don’t have anything to eat at all. As I was coming back to the office, I saw, at a traffic signal a family, broken in every aspect, trying to break a sugarcane into pieces so that every member could have a piece. And we, the elite class, throw remains of our food everyday. The food that is wasted everyday by the Indians, if saved, can serve two meals for the entire population below the poverty line everyday.
The dressing sense, however, is something I really have no clue about. On one hand, where almost half of the population is forced to reveal their body because they don’t have anything to cover it with, the elite class does it voluntarily because it is a style statement, they say.
"So I don’t know what to do and where is this nation heading towards...," a completely depressed Mr A said to the crowd flocking around him.
And I had nothing to say except, "That’s the way the world goes!"

Khoya Khoya Chand...story of the half moon

2007-12-10T18:48:00.000+05:30

Khoya Khoya Chand...story of the half moon

Life keeps on moving, and so should we. No one cheats on any one, it is the time and destiny which keeps on playing games with us. That is the message that Khoya Khoya Chand gives us along with the one of moving on with the waves of life. The show must go on after all...

After rather disappointing second half of the year, with films like Lagaa Chunri mein daag, Bhool Bhulaiya, Saawariya and many more of the same kind Khoya Khoya Chand is a refreshing change to the eyes and the soul too.

But beware. Khoya Khoya Chand (KKC) isn't an easy film to peel. It is pretty complex and needs tremendous amount of concentration to understand. Its appeal lies in the onion effect that writer-director Sudhir Mishra has created while denying that sentimental quality which generally makes movies about the past so moist and dewy.

The tale is of a pretty young starlet — who has been more couched than cast, right from an early age — and her compromises to break into the silver screen by giving in to the reigning star. Enter, then, the ruthless screenwriter who tells it like it is, and who she ends up falling for.

The film can be divided into three acts. First from the moment Zafar (Shiney Ahuja) meets Nikhat (Soha Ali Khan) till they separate. This act takes us through their personal lives from the struggling starlet and writer to two successful individuals and eventually their falling for one another.

Act two is when Zafar decides to give up, followed by the rather sudden and dramatic downfall of the actress, amalgamated with her discovery of the disease.

And finally act three when Zafar returns; old lovers reunited; their fight with destiny and the disease of course till the end.

The film does not loosens its grip for a single moment over the audience. Though a bit slower in the second half and more painful too, but it leaves an impression on the minds of the audience.

One of the film's finest sequences is when Nikhat and Zafar throw stones at a producer's house after Nikhat tells the pained Zafar about how she was raped by a producer at the age of 14 while mama dearest — those self-gratifying ammas of filmdom — sat in the next room listening to baby's whimpers of pain, we are not allowed the luxury of tears.

At the core, KKC is a triangle about a successful and manupulative actor Prem Kumar (Rajat Kapoor), as temperate as ever, a used actress (Soha) and a conscience-stricken artisté (Shiney) who wants to 'rescue' and 'redeem' the fallen woman.

Soha Ali Khan has the biggest chunk of role, as an author-backed character that requires her to emote and over-emote, to go from merry to melancholy in a blink, and she manages this well. Sure, she is given unreal lines, but there is a fiery-eyed conviction as she toils on them, visibly straining to stay in character. It is a solid performance, and — called on to act for probably the first time in her yet-budding career — she delivers. But yet somewhere it was loose. No doubt she has acted fantastically but well, she just acted. Somehow the realistic touch was missing.

More than that (but with much less to do) is Sonia Jehan, a ravishing beauty brilliantly cast as a diva, and in the film's finest scene outdoes herself when she asks, equal parts coy and manipulative, why she should sign a certain film.

Shiney looked good (apart from the sequences where he over react). It would be foolishness to compare Shiney with Guru Dutt or Soha with Waheeda Rehman, Madhubala and Meena Kumari. They belong to completely different ages and represent different genres. The film should be remembered as a true effort to portray complexities of human relationship and as said by Prakash Jha himself, as a tribute to Guru Dutt.

Most of all this film should be remembered as a sincere effort by the entire team to bring alive a difficult plot and credit must be given to the real stars of the film — cinematographer Sachin Krishnan and art director Gautam Sen who create an aura of fleeting mocking flamboyance around people who are picture-perfect in appearance but fractured in their inner world.

The title track is brilliant and holds the plot together. Lovely lyrics by Swanand Kirkire and some soothing music makes it the icing on the cake. Finally, it is a hard film to crack but the effort is worth it because at the end it leaves us with a lot to think about. It makes us take some time out and look into ourselves if we all have that Haramzaada in us. Do watch it for this is a sincere effort, a work out of sheer love and passion for the medium.

HARAKIRI

2007-06-04T15:22:00.000+05:30

No talent without Opportunity

For Mr A the life is posing a new threat. A new challenge. A life of leftovers. I know him for quite some time. He was arguably one of the best in his school. At college, though not the best, he was good. But this new life of leftovers has suddenly shattered him. He is busy picking up the rags these days.
Mr A is someone who always liked challenges and lived life on his conditions, no matter whatever the people say. For a little over three years, at his workplace, he was bombarded with sudden responsibilities and he never turned his back to them. Most of the times, he turned out successful.
But as they say, “ameeri ki kabr par panpi hui gharibi badi takleefdeh hoti hai” (poverty after the life of prosperity poses new kind of threats). That has been the case with him suddenly.
He had a few dreams, a passion to do well, and a challenge to sustain the pressure before coming to the present scheme of things. It was all quite well till he suddenly realized he is worth nothing here. Hell broke out suddenly and shattered all his dreams. It is always nice to see people around you prosper but it does not feel that good if you are not one of them.
As of now, Mr A is uncertain of his future, only dealing with the leftovers that he is given to tackle. Still he cannot do anything about that because I have said that there is no talent without opportunity. He is walking alone to his uncertain future with an urge to win one day because he has promised that he will not give up, no matter how worse the situation may be. At present he is down on morale but certainly not out of the equation.
I wish Mr A all the good luck he needs in his endeavours from the bottom of my heart.
All the best dude…

2007-05-30T17:29:00.000+05:30

The debate on live-in relations is still alive notwithstanding the societal advancements in India. It is believed that the young generation is scared of taking responsibilities and so chooses live-in.

WHEN IT COMES to relationships, they say the young generation is going wayward. They do not want to plunge into the depth of any relationship. They say that the youngsters lack the determination to dare to do so. With every relation comes responsibility and the youngsters are incapable of taking up the responsibilities. This has led the society to a completely wrong direction where relations are falling apart like a pack of cards. The society and families are rapidly degenerating giving rise to the feeling of loneliness and insecurity. Relationships for them are no more than cobwebs which they try to escape.

In an urge to be free, the young generation has tore apart each and every notion of slavery, be it of their parents or anyone else. The live-in culture is one of those inflammable issues which the moralists will associate with the young generation as their act of irresponsibility. But believe it or not, it is the need of the hour.

There are two things we find ourselves hanging between in this 21st century. One is responsibilities and the other is needs. These two ingredients of life are not new, only their notions and meanings have changed with the time.

In this era of cut-throat competition, our prime aim remains to succeed. Every individual, blindfolded, is a part of this rat-race to be the best of the lot. Striving for perfection has become our first responsibility, which we owe to ourselves. And that is not wrong. After all, the struggle for existence and survival of the fittest theories of Darvin are still pretty much modern and applicable. And in the urge to be the best, everything seems to be so secondary.

From the very childhood, the parents start comparing their children with others in the neighbourhood, thus inculcating the seed of competition inside them. Their each triumph, their every success story is scrutinized under the shadow of others’ success. Therefore, if these children, later on sacrifice everything for the sake of winning competitions, it is not their fault.

Carried away with this urge of success, these youngsters grab every possible opportunity lying in their domain. Often they are taken away from home to get successful. Staying away from home it is now that they feel alone. This solitude is not blissful for them as everybody can not be a Wordsworth. It is during this lone period, that they need a support. These might be mental, emotional or even physical and that is how one lands into a live-in relationship. Things generally begin normally like sharing the flat or sharing the stress or pleasure. Gradually the live-in partners get intimate and the physical urge gets better of them. And let’s accept that both of them enjoy this freedom. There are no obligations, no restrictions in these relations, simply because live-in itself, is an escape from restrictions.

Things start going wrong when the partners or one of them becomes possessive or the lady conceives a child. The problem is because they are not ready to take up the responsibility and let’s face it marriage can not be a solution in these cases. Marriages in these circumstances are no more than a compromise, a deal. Moreover, marriages are all about devotion and sacrifice, and the people who are not used to sharing things cannot devote or sacrifice things for each other.

People need to understand that a live-in relationship is basically an arrangement, to satisfy their common needs, emotional and physical and there is no harm in it. Purists will argue that this did not happen at their time. I would like to ask only one question to them: Did such cut-throat competition exist in their times that one cannot think of anything other than the competition? They were married before they could understand the needs. They were not compelled to leave their family and go somewhere else in search of say a good job. Thus they were hardly alone and did not have to look for a shoulder to cry, or a caring touch at the time of despair, which is the case with the lonely folk of today. So live-in relations are the need of the hour and it is not bad or immoral but what one needs to understand its fine lines and complexities. One needs to take care of these and be very clear about them before getting into a live-in relationship.

SHUDHU TOMARI JONNO

2007-05-25T14:55:00.000+05:30

HARAKIRI

Aaj hotath eto eka holo keno mon,
Aaj hotath kom hoye je gelo jeebon;
Bheshe jachchi jani na kon aandhar pothe,
Hotath jeno keno holo choto ei bhubon.

Ontorer bedonai phete jai aaj pran,
Ushno oshrudharay sriti kore snan;
Sondher baati ekla ondhokare-jhore,
Eto shundor hoi nei kobhu diner oboshan.

Tumi ashbe je kobe chokku buje aachi,
Tomari kotha bhebe aanondito hoye haanshi;
Eshe poro e bar aar korona deri

Ebar gele janina go, kobe je aabar phiri

The Perfect Chaos

2007-05-19T17:15:00.000+05:30

“We could not have allowed them (the police) to enter with their shoes on.”

This statement by a community member inside the Mecca masjid sums up the chaos after the blasts here on Friday.
It is estimated that at least 14 people were killed and more than 50 injured in the blasts, though many would argue that more than half of the killed succumbed to the bullet injuries. But no doubt, most of the deaths were the result of a chaos that followed the blast.
The blast occurred at about 1:30pm after the Zohar Namaaz, and the police could enter the masjid premises only after 3:30pm. May be the rules mean more than human lives for some people.
Hyderabad city is known for the harmonious relation between the people living here. But what happened on Friday was not really an evidence of the feeling of fraternity. Instead of taking the deceased and the injured out of the blast site, people were busy in pelting stones at the police and the shops around the area. Violence spread, and several buses were torched down around the state. Nobody cared for the wounded wailing around, crying for help, did they?
People need to understand that fighting with the state, protests cannot be carried out at the cost of human lives. No doubt, several of the deceased were killed in police firing to disperse the crowd but that would not have been the case if we, the people would have let the police do its work and would have helped them instead of creating the ruckus.
The violence now, can only worsen, and the peace-loving sect of humanity can only pray. But those who are dead will never return. It is high time now that we realize, we only compound our problems by disturbing the state. Many human lives could have been saved, if we had let the state do its act and been supportive.

YAADEIN

2007-05-03T21:53:00.000+05:30

So here I come again, but this time it is for u sweetheart...

I still cherish the moments we shared together. My every touch, your every reaction... still remember those. And I know YOU will also have a journey DOWN MEMORY LANE after you read this.

Chalo jo hua so hua... but I still miss u and will miss you always.

TAKE CARE...

NA JAANE KYON....

HOTA HAI YE ZINDAGI KE SAATH....

ACHANAK YE MAN...

KISI KE JAANE KE BAAD;

KARE PHIR USKI YAAD

CHOTI CHOTI SI BAAT......

NA JAANE KYON...

BACHPAN

2007-05-01T14:51:00.000+05:30

So all dear friends I am back here. As I have always said that I am a great lover of poetry, so I will start my post with one of my compositions. This I had written long back, may be an year or two, but I realised the meaning of this piece once again yesterday. So here comes the first piece of poetry from my side.....

Bachpan!

Jab yaad aata hai to yaad aate hain,
woh pyare se din, woh suhaani shaamein,
Jab saahilon par PAPA ka haath thaame,
Ghanton ghooma karte the....

Wo MAA ki god,
Jisme apna sabkuch bhoolkar
Bekhabar, ghanton soya kart the;

DADA DADI ki woh kahaniyan,
Jiske rajkumar aur pariyon mein,
Khud ko dhoondha karte the;

Woh AAM ka DARAKHT,
JIski chhanv tale, doston ke saath
milkar, khub shararat karte the;

waqt beetta gaya
aur kho gaya kahin...

Woh SAAHIL...
Jo aaj bhi mujhe aawaz deta hai,

Woh MAA ki god...
Jo mujhe dhoondh rahi hai,
Magar jisme sone ki ab mujhe fursat nahi hai,

DADA DADI ki woh kahaniyan...
Jo ab khamosh ho gayi hain,

Kabhi kabhi khwabon mein dhundhli lakeer ki manind
Dastak de jaati hain...

Woh saare DOST jaane kahan chal gaye...
Mutthhi mein band ret ki tarah fisal gaye,

Kho gye jaane kahan...
Woh masti bhare din, woh bekhauf raatein;
Woh aasmaan choone ki tamanna, woh be-takallufi ki baatein,;
Jab har sapna haseen tha, har lamha rangeen tha;

Aaj kyon har manzar surkh-syah-safed-sa dikhta hai...
Kya duniya badal gayi hai ya main badal gaya hoon;

Ab ehsaas hota hai

KE SHAYAD MAIN BADA HO GAYA HOON...
KE SHAYAD MAIN BADA HO GAYA HOON...

Bus Yoonhi

2007-04-28T15:25:00.001+05:30

I have always been a great fan of GHALIB.
Hell everybody who has a sense of poetry, is a fan of him, one of the greatest stalwarts in world poetry. So the blogging should start with his poetry....
So here comes one of his finest creations, and my favourite one.....

Baazeecha-e-atfaal hai duniya mere aage,
Hota hai shab-o-roz tamasha mere aage,

Hota hai nihan ghard mein sehra mere hote,
Ghista hai jabeen khak pe dariya mere aage,

Mat pooch ke kya haal hai mera tere peeche,
Tu dekh ke kya rang hai tera mere aage,

Imaan mujhe roke hai to khenche hai mujhe Kufr,
Kaaba mere peeche hai to Kalisa mere aage,

Go haath ko jumbish na sahi aankhon mein to dum hai,
Rehne do abhi saaghar-o-meena mere aage,

Baazeecha-e-atfaal hai duniya mere aage,
Hota hai shab-o-roz tamashaa mere aage...

A Friend's Request

2007-04-28T15:02:00.001+05:30

Last evening one of the best of my friends asked me not to call him ****. I thought about it.
Though i didn't want to carry the change he wanted to me make... but dude you are precious, and moreover, that thing is just between YOU and ME. So I would not call You **** in the public, but can't help myself laughing at what I am doing...

The journey begins

2007-04-27T14:47:00.000+05:30

Kahan se shuru karoon samajh nahi aata....

It is quite late to start a blog...

but better late then never, as they say....

To start off Iwould convey my sincere thanks to SHREYAS SHARMA (****) as I always caal him, DEEPTI CHAWLA, and NABANITA DUTTA. The three people who inspired me to start a blog....

Three wonderful people and lovely friends, though the lattest has not confirmed me in that regard..

But THANK YOU GUYS for such inspiration

and to Shreyas, thanks a lot buddy for such lovely memories of the past...

you will soon see my blog postings....

bye and take care....