Hush.. sigh.. hush.

Consciously, I leave your thoughts out.
Yet they chase me into an empty room,
and everytime my face has an arm over it,
I can hear my breathing.. Hush.. sigh.. hush.

I think of nothing, no possibilities
dawn at corners of my eyes anymore. The quest
of years has exhausted me. I cannot celebrate
the occasion of your marriage.. Hush.. sigh.. hush.

Those memories, like mist, show no vistas of joy.
I feel no suspense of future. Just a dampness fills
my dress. The wind only changes the form of the fog,
pine trees freshly shaken say.. Hush.. sigh.. hush.

The beer in my blood keeps me up
dancing on dark floors, in sweaty trance.
I wake up dehydrated, parched. Birds keep
chirping at a distance.. Hush.. sigh.. hush.

These meandering thoughts arise from
the rustle of laughters, the ring of old jokes,
mention of a movie, a dinner, a song, that
in my present existance sings.. Hush.. sigh.. hush.

So much salty water, that I feel like an ocean.
Boundless. A depth, carved to bear profound joys,
an expense, that can bear every tremor now, while
distress will die out in waves.. Hush.. sigh.. hush.

August 28, 2006
8 pm, Starbucks

Random Couplets in Pahari (Himachali or Mandyaali)

This is a bizarre attempt, and of course, I just typed these without much thought or editing। Pahari comprises of too many dialects, and I guess the one I can understand or speak is prominently spoken in Sarkaghaat in Mandi (or Hattali Valley). Perhaps when I go to India in December, I'll pick more words and see if I can compose some decent verses in our own dialect. For now, few random couplets, for your amusement:)

Poem in Pahari, can you believe it;)?

बडिए, घरा कम्म करने जो कस्ट हुआन
पर रोज़ संझा माला जाना मस्ट हुआन!

मिंझो ठंडी हवा खाने रा ही चौ हा
रिज़ा पैर हवान व्हीच बड़ाभरी लुफ़्त्त हुआन!

ईयान तां माते चाली ही नी हुंदा,
पैर शिमले री सड़कान दा माहौल मस्त हुआन!

ईना मट यान जो कोई कम्म नी हाया,
क़ुाटरा ज़ाइने टेम काटना औखा हुआन!

हुन्न ता ज़बरा हुई चूकीरा, हालि भी पड़ने लगिरा
इन्ना यूनिवर्सिटी वालया न रा, बड़ा लंबा हिसाब हुआन!

देख जे इससा मत्ट इयान जो, कियाँ मटकने लगिरी, आ देख
ऐई पूरा दिन टीवी देखी देखी ना भेजा कियाँ भ्रसत हुआन!

क्या गलाया रहें तुन्हें, हूँ बुसस भी करा
सभी रे सामने छेरना, ता बतमीज़ी हुआन!

ओ बच्चा आजकाला रे ज़माने क्या नाच नाच्यान हे
सुलफ़ा मारी ने, पूरी रात ना टी ते हुऊँ गच हुआन

ओ सेबा के बाग़ीचाय हाइए मेरे वार ली धारा ते
पार पारलिया धारा खा सूरज करने सेब ज़्यादा मीठा हुआन

घरा जो चलने रा यारा मान ही नी क्ररदा आजकल
कुवारया ल्यई माला पर घूमना ता ज़रूरी हुआन.

बीडसा च पार्रिले, या पड़ तू गोवेरमेंट कॉलेजा च
तेरे गलाने रे ढंगा ते सब कुछ स्पस्ट हुआन

इन्या ताह मिँज़ो सारे ही मौसम चांगे लगदे
पैर सौना रे महीने च बड़ा ही धमाल हुआन!

बाबेक़ बोला ही दादी विवेका जो, ता बुर्रा लगान
बारले मुलका ता विव हुआन, वाई वेक हुआन, विवस हुआन

****

पाहरिया च कियाँ लिखूं, ना लिपि हाइि, ना व्याकरण
मीठि यान बोलिया, मीठे लोगान रा, शब्दान बँधना औखा हुआन

खाने जो कद्दो, पीने जो रेहरू, माह री डाल, ने चीलररु,
इना आगे ता फ़ाइव स्टार होटला रा खाना भू हुआन

नानी बोला ही उँचे उँचे डाल, उँची उँची धारा, उँचे उँचे सपने
एडा ना बच्चा, ख़रा कम्म कारीणे ही यश भी उच्चा हुआन

यह सतलुज, व्यास, चेनाब सारे दरया च आहें नेकि पाई, बहाई ती
आहां ते पानी बिजली लाई लाई ने पंजाब हरयाणा उपजौ, अमीर हुआन


***********************************

Baddiye, gharaa kamm karne jo kst huan
Par roz sanjhaa maala jaana mast huan!

Minjho thandi hawa khaane raa hi chau haa
Rija par hawaan which badaabhari luftt huan!

Eeyan taan maatey chaali hi ni hundaa,
Par Shimle ri sadkaan da mahaul mast huan!

Inaa mtt yaan jo koi kamm ni haaya,
Quatraa jaaine tem katna aukhaa huan!

Hunn taa jabraa hui chukiraa, haali bhi padne lagiraa
Innaa yunivarsiti waalaya n raa, bada lamba hisaab huan!

dekh je issa matt iyaan joe, kiyaan matakne lagiri, aa dekh
ai poora din tivi dekhi dekhi na bheja kiyan bhrsat huan!

kya galaya rahen tunhein, hun buss bhi karaa
sabhi re saamne chhernaa, taa batmeezi huan!

O bachchaa aajkalaa re zamane kya naach nachyaan he
Sulafaa maari ne, poori raat Na ti te huun gch huan

O sebaa ke bagichay haiye mere waar li dhaaraa te
Paar paarliya dhaara khaa suraj karne seb jyada mithaa huan

Gharaa jo chalne raa yaaraa man hi ni krrdaa aajkal
kuwaaraya lyai Maalaa par ghumna taa zaroori huan.

Beedsa ch parrile, ya pad tu Goverment Coleja ch
Tere galaane re dhangaa te sab kuch spast huan

Inyaa taah minzo saare hi mausam change lagde
Par sauna re mahine ch badaa hi dhamaal huan!

babek bolaa hi daadi viveka jo, ta burra lagaan
baarle mulka ta viv huan, vai wek huan, vivs huan

pahariya ch kiyan likhun, na lipi haaii, na vyakaran
mithi yan boliya, mithe logan ra, shabdan bandhna aukha huan

khane jo kaddo, peene jo rehru, mah ri daal, ne chilrru,
inaa aage taa faiv staar hotala ra khaana bhoo huan

naani bolaa hi unche unche daal, unchi unchi dhaara, unche unche sapne
ae daa na bachcha, khara kamm kaarine hi yash bhi uchchaa huan

yah satluj, vyas, chenab saare daryaa ch ahen neki paai, bahai ti
ahaan te paani bijli lai lai ne panjab haryana upajau, ameer huan

(ek purani rachna, feb, 1999)

Omkara and KANK: "Raja" and "rank"

Omkara: an adaptation of Othello, that borders on a literary achievement.
KANK (Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna): An expensive, lavish insult to human intelligence.

Consequence or response of Indian Audience: Omkara was declared flop within a week, while KANK will create all box office records.

Lets examine them one by one first. You can, if KANK appalled you so, jump to Omkaara section by scrolling down.

Observations from KANK (my conclusions):

1) New York is even smaller than Kasauli. It has one street, where ShahRukh and Rani are bound to run into each other or their respective husbands or whoever. It has one train station, which is usually empty, one harbor (view from Jersey City) where it rains most of the time, and only people without umbrella are the dumb Indian Movie stars.

2) Karan Johar's idea of a movie involves BIG STARS, CRYING, SHOUTING, DYING, protagonists living luxurious life in New York or some foreign city, fancy clothes, highly idiotic audience, and a length that will put a television soap to shame.

3) I imagined Preity Zinta to be alright before this movie, and even remarked to my friend that she is not that fat. Next I see her dance with dozen background dancers, and my friend points out how every girl behind her was much slimmer than her. Amitabh has a stature and immense talent which can be put to waste by someone of the calibre and name as Karan Johar Only. Shah Rukh Khan needs to be told he is too old for playing both football and loverboy, and he never appears cute when he makes those faces. Rani does well to come down in my eyes as a person with mind enough to choose her movies. As actress, she does great, pocketing a fat checque, most of the footage, and all this for a role that will make every married man shiver.

4) Karan Johar loves trains. Each movie needs a train sequence. So ShahRukh must go to Toronto (from New York) in a train. He is also able to pull the chain of a New York train. Of course, this train like every other train in New York, leaves from that one station. That one station which has only the hero heroine running into each other that precisely the right time, and somehow crowds vanish before they enter the station. Why do crowds hate them, if the same crowd throngs to see the movie when it is released?

5) What is editing? What is story? Is movie a form of artistic expression? Does a reasonably successful director need to go by formula finishes, cliches, fancy package-garbage food? Are Indian audiences really this gullible? After the movie is made, is it not even shown to a single person for constructive comments? As another friend remarked, if Karan Johar lived in US, I would have sued him for mental trauma.

6) Of course Karan Johar will never read this. In his mind, he has made an awesome movie that earned him all the money that he might not have even dreamt about. Shah Rukh will imagine another Filmfare for his role and cry foul if National Award committee ignores him and Rani for nominations. The film will make more money in coming weeks, and Karan Johar will get to produce and direct more such shows. Maybe he should marry Ekta Kapoor, and I will love to see that as a reality show.

Omkara on the other hand was dubbed as too rustic, too much fowl and rustic language, and a box office failure. My take on Omkaara

1) Othello is a Shakespearian tragedy. The drama already exists, but is placed in a different time, and different space (Cyprus was it?). Vishal Bharadwaj brought the drama frame by frame into Hindi first, into Uttar Pradesh, into Indian village setting and of course, if we did not know Othello is the inspiration, we would see it as a very realistic portrayal of Indian society. In fact, a brilliant portrayal.

2) The choice of setting smells of villages. There is blood, dust, mist, love, hate, treachery, and people wear rural clothes. Words are not derived from recycled Ekta soaps, clothes not degined to dazzle, and star cast is chosen for precisely the role they are intended to play. The film in a sense is all too original to be compared to most of bullshit we are served in name of cinema. Hence it fails to fascinate an audience that runs scared of every attempt of calling to their intellectual and artistic prowess.

3) Saif Ali Khan may not have deserved the award for Hum Tum, and maybe he will not get it for Omkaara's role as Langda. As an actor, I will respect him forever in my life. His portrayal in every frame is of a despicable character (of IAGO) that he does with such finnesse that I am forced to admire him and cheer for him. (Contrast with Shah Rukh Khan, and my stomach starts to churn thinking of KANK again, and also that the latter is said to be biggest star in India).

Ajay Devagan as Othello, as Omkara, as a Moor or half-caste, has a screen presence that rocks. Even Kareena gets a pass from me, for playing the role of fair Desdemona. The old lady who comments on Kareena's complexion is my winner for the debut of the year award. If in last few years, Rani has earned all the awards and money for her roles, Konkona Sen Sharma has deserved them and more for her every role. Be it a south Indian wife, or a journalist, or a wife in unhappy matrimony or in Omkara, Langda's better half, Konkona slips into her role perfectly. She is as beautiful to look at as is her delivery as an actor. I am in love with her (for whatever that counts for). Nasserudin Shah is, was and will always be a great actor, one of the greatest we've had, and it takes him only a line or two in a movie like Omkara to let his presence be felt. Viviek (the dumbo who thinks my mispelling his name, he would get any wiser) is alright as Cassio, plays the role of Kesu Firangi alright. Bipasa sizzles! If you can show me such sizzlers in village next time, I am staying back forever.

4) The dialogues are extremely well written. Each one, whether it is a derivative of Othello or Bharadwaj's creation, is extremely well-scripted. Editing of the movie is as brilliant as is the cinematography. I think we people need to spend time on each frame, each dialogue, each aspect of the film to appreciate how much thinking, intellect, planning, creativity and heart has been put into the movie. Songs by Gulzar are like tasty icing on an already fine baked cake.

5) The movie does not pander to anyones needs. If you can't handle the language used in the dialogues here, pray, you never went to the street or college or school or villages. If you dislike tragedy, I have news for you. You life will have multiple instances that are tragic. Life is not about kuchi koo or running around trees, and is not about expensive clothes and foreign locales. Oh! the village setting does not appeal to you. Dude, more than half of our billion Indians live and die there.

6) Vishal Bharadwaj, if he reads this ever, must know that we stood up and clapped when movie ended, and even after two weeks, we are still clapping. This we might be a small number, but we are a dedicated number, rooting for you from everywhere. I have so much praise for nearly every aspect of film that I can continue typing for weeks. Your music is good too, but your screenplay and direction makes you, in books of many of us, one of the best things that happened to Bollywood, EVER.

Couplets for rejection

My dear, I confess, I adore thee, I do, mostly,
But my declaration requires, a profounder inspiration.

There are no charms, trust me, that you don't possess,
But curse my heart, it cultivated a different aspiration.

If you make it too easy, the love just shies away,
We appreciate things, gained by considerable perspiration.

Don't cite the examples of similiar couples who made it work,
Least valuable ideal of love, o dear, is loving by imitation.

Why ask me, if you I'd chose, if my dreamgirl existed not,
Who knows darling, why fish for such a consolation.

You mean a lot to me, I certainly value your feelings,
If I can't reciprocate, its just my own limitation.

These tears are too precious, to be wasted on me sweetheart,
You'll find a better match, the one among billion in our nation.

The time together we spent, was a happy time, I agree,
Good-bye my co-passenger, we chase different destination.

We all outlive our passions, you too will pronounce later,
I hadn't the qualities, worth a perpetual fascination.

Last note, I add with severity, it must be a neat cut,
Untouched it will heal, caresses cause aggravation.

New Graduate Student Cometh

Its Fall season. The leaves have begun to turn colorful, the wind is cooler and more cheerful and days extend late into evening. The stupor of summer is beginning to awake into realization of what has not been accomplished, and needs to be done. Well established routines of procastination have been tried over and over again. We, the tenured graduate students, the keepers of the flame, the intellectuals who have piles, high and deep, and yet the abbreviation PhD is not ours, we defy common sense and indulge in new graduate students.

The motives are as varied as our researh areas. The singles need to mingle. Suitable graduate students of opposite sex. Pick them when they are young. Catch them fresh off the plane. Provide them roti, kapda aur makaan, i.e. food, clothes and house. Start from basic needs. Americanize them in a way that you deem is most appropriate. Hand them keys to your house, passwords to your machine. Cook tasty food for them. Shave each day, and even iron your clothes (for newbies haven't yet realized how important unshaved face and haggard look is for an able graduate student. No Actually many do it because of the competition. Survival of the fittest).

Get them groceries, show them movies. Take them to Walmart, displaying it with a pride that honeymooning husband feels when he asks his wife to open her eye, and she gushes at the vista of rising Alps, bathed in setting sun. Give them stolen hours from the daily routine, which your advisor thinks is being used for writing the research article that was due last month. Throw a party or two. Appear social, popular, funny, artsy, intelligent, great cook, glib talker, shy, young, well-read, adventerous: as the case may be. Plan each day better than any experiment done in your lab. Even clean up your kitchen, and with much emotion, even your room. In your room, discover the vestiges of such enterprise of last year, and smile at yourself, thinking what mistakes you made when you were young. Belief, you know by now, and faith in your own ability must stay in spite of all the evidence that seems contrary to that claim.

Besides the singles of opposite sex, there are married and committed ones too. They must be attended to. Once they are amused by your deeds, they will recount these to the beauties they will know, room with or attend classes with. A word of mouth, a personalized recommendation obviously can get you a favorable prejudice even from the ones full of pride. Sense and sensibility. Praise their hubbies, and show how committed you are to the cause of new graduatestudentkind.

Besides them, there are the Pappus, who are related to the aunt of your mother's grandmothers' sister's granddaughter's sister-in-law. If they were of same sex, this could have been used as a reason to tie you together (for relation is far fetched) or claim the person is your relation or sibling (and incest is unacceptable). If one of these arrives, your whole planning is crumbled into the biscuit crumbs that they carry in their luggage from India. You tend to become more productive at work. Suitable instructions are released to friends, who must watch their words. Whatever happens in graduate school stays in graduate school. You need the Pappu to become pregnant with his own guilt, before he can see your mistakes run amok in large numbers.

There are juniors you can command around. You suddenly know all the answers as you talk to the senior who has joined so late as he was working for some time. You drive home the message asto whos the boss. Whos your daddy now? You say that and share the joke with another batchmate in another university, who grins and has his stories to tell. These people have arrived from your undergraduate school, where rumor has it, you spent the best years of your life. Where (it doesn't matter how nerdy you seem to me now, how high your GPA was which got you here in the first place, and I damn value educational achievements) where, you had lots of pun, parties, booze. SUmmer of 69, Red red Wine and Those were the best days of my life.

There are unfortunate ones, the Laawaris ones, some are meek and humble, and bumble like Raj Kapoor from Shree 420. Amusing, respectful. They are nice chaps. You take them under your wing. They give you homage throughout their life. They help you cook, clean, find names of the newbies you need to be introduced and find their own Nargis in them. You remind them of "Pyar hua hai, ikraar hua hai" song, tell them to be curious but careful and of course, the song is mentioned for they used it in a commercial. You find out all the commercials are changed by now, and this guy was too young to remember any of the commercials you saw in your time.

There are certain Amitabh Bachchan's in the new group. The angry young men. They think they know what they need to know for they were educated in Hollywood and have tickets to Las Vegas shipped by confident Papas in India. They look at your apartment and either smirk thinking how shoddy your living conditions are, or just mention it to their high class girlfriends they left in India. These anti-establishment ones need to be educated. They need to be broken, bruised, beaten. Satya must be watched all over again. Some break into bits and their mothers arrive in haste. Some break into your heart and you laugh about how wrong your initial impressions were. Some move in with Americans and after loosing their first blood, return to the fold in a year or so. Like a good shepherd you allow them to come back, and for their pride, they will be made scrapegoats in due time, or reared for their wool. You are an elephant in this jungle of studenthood, and an elephant never forgets. You really are trying to be Mast, but the Advisor reins you with deadlines.

There are homesick ones. As if they have travelled to US by sea, they look pale, wan, nauseated, tearjerkers. They have no interest in your food, for their Mamma used to feed them with her own hands. What depravity, they think, when you announce this is the biggest feast of year, serving them homemade Rice, Daal, Curry and Mix Vegetables, cooked by four different household put together. The house that cooked Rice also got beer, which the homesick one cannot touch. Like Mahatma Gandhi, before leaving home he promised to keep away from White Wine and White Women. So you explain to him that everyone there has had made similar promises, and this means the playing ground is still quite big. You chuckle as you explain, no white women, but tanned ones are alright, and of course there are Brown ones, Black ones and the Yellow ones.

You are positively high when you explain Beer is not Wine, and Vodka is essential for survival in this cold cold country. The homesick one recalls from his Bollywood education that excessive drink is harbinger of a woman that very night and child nine months later. The idea of woman urges him on, the thought of a child holds him back. He is too naive to know that the species of opposite sex is already gone into the arms of old students, Amitabh Bachchans and promises made in India. He doesn't know even the tanned ones have taste, Yellow ones are lost due their foreign tongue and Black Beauty was never happy when she was tied down.

There are philanthropic interests. There are communist interests. There are social reasons, for the animal in you needs to know more people. You do it, becuase when you came no one did it for you, or someone actually helped you. You do it because it relieves your stress when you notice these new recruits who have been pushed to the front with half as much training and half as much expertise. You do it to get new ideas, stories, readers for your blog. You envy their enthusiam, their optimism, and scold your cynical self, the hardened soul to come alive again. This is a particular problem when you tell a new person of opposite sex that this is not possible, that will never work out or time will show them that you are right: they think you don't have faith in them, shout at you, and there is definite danger that they will start hanging with their age group kids. The worst fears always come true, but thankfully you are the only one with a running car and your time in graduate school in years shames their stay in months.

I see new graduate students everywhere. Maybe I have a sixth sense. The happy faces amused by all they see, springy steps (Aajkal Paon Zameen Par Nahin Padtay mere: These days my feet never touch the ground), curious and friendly. The frowning faces, who see danger everywhere (Ye haadson ka shahar kai, yahan mod mod pe hota hai koi na koi haadsa: this is a city of disasters, at every mod, waits a disaster). The new pairs who have just dicovered freedom from India's prying eyes, and are perhaps more happy in doing what they never perceived possible, "dating, flirting, eating out, watching movie at guys house", more happy in actions that perhaps with their partners, discovering the beauty in Classic Romantic Movies (Chotay chotay shaharon mein ..... nahin nahin nahin... Bade bade deshon mein choti choti baatein hoti rehti hai: Small things keep happenning in big countries) and even find the romance of walking at late hours outside (Yeh kahan aa gaye hum: O where have we arrived) and loose their way in the streets.

The New Graduate Student Cometh. You realize you actually know things that you can talk about to them who don't know things. You realize similarly in real life when you go and get an actual job, you will be able to say things and people might be there to listen to you for various reasons. You will figure that you have yourself gotten to that age, few years ago which age people you called uncle or auntie, and laughed at the idea "Auntie mat bolo naa" (Oh please, don't call me aunty). You get an opportunity to flaunt your skills, your experience and breadth and depth of knowledge. There is a kind of romance in the air. You feel life is not all that bad, and yet decide that you will be out of here before the new students come in next year.

The Fall leaves are a music below your feet, the moonsoon season of new students is over, the fields of your friendships are full of a promising crop. In the end you win some, you loose some. You move on. The only thing that hold you back now is the new student who will be here for long, and you will need to stay more than a year for companionship. You tell yourself, learning from seniors who have trodden this path before, that life's decision must not be based on any other individual, and your steps move faster and faster towards your lab. You suddenly realize months have passed without any progress in research, and you start afresh with new enthusiam. Like always, you start with a break, you check email, blog enteries and end up forwarding this piece to everyone you know.

We are all so similar. Except that one new graduate student, who I am aching to be introduced. (I let out a big sigh, and decide I'll much rather concentrate. Pick up old notes, and start typing a new research paper. How I wish writing papers was as easy as writing and reading long blogs!)

Ghazal: kuch nayi nahin

Kuch naayi nahin, wahin puraani baatein kehta hun
Log kya kya samaj letay hai, mein jab ghazalein kehta hun!

Woh roshni hoti zindagi ki, ya zaruraat meri saanson ki,
Toe kya abhi hokar khadaa, keh paata, joe bhi kehta hun?

Thoda sakun milta hai, inn shabadon ke thande jhonkon mein,
Andhar rehtay hai jab tak ehsaas, julsa jhulsa rehta hun!

Zarurat nahin mujhe abhi, kissi paimaane ki doston,
Aajkal mehkaada ek mehangi UmraoJaan ko kehta hun!

Joe toot-taa hai, wah phir se, ik koshish se sanwaarta hai
Uss koshish ki kashish mein, tootaa tootaa rehta hun!

Aajmaa ke dekhaa humne bhi hai, ishq ki har fitrat ko
Nahin kahaniyon sa hota hasin, Isiliye mein kehta hun!

Nazaar hi aa jaatay, kab mulakaat humne chaahi thi,
Har anjaan hasin se shikwa hai, tanha tanha rehta hun!

Aug 01, 2008

These days I am experimenting with Hindi and English Ghazal forms. Also trying to check how I sound when I read these poems on phone:) Seems they don't have desired effect on people. I will be delighted to hear criticism and comments about the recitation as well as diction.