Zinadgi Bechain Hai

Zindagi bechain hai

Dekho zara

Uske maathe par wo silwatein

Suno zara

Uske khwabon ki ziddi si aahatein

Zindagi besudh ho chali hai

Dekho zara

Uske haath kuch thaamna chahte hain

Suno zara

Uske honth kuch maangna chahte hain

Zindagi zid pe adi hai

Dekho zara

Taqdeer se kaise jhagad rahi hai

Suno zara

Duniya ki baaton par kaise bigad rahi hai

Ye Zindagi meri hai

Par sab kehte hain

Mere liye nahi hai

Ye unke liye hai

Jo mere khwaabon ko nahi maante

Ye unke liye hai

Jo mujhe jaankar bhi nahi jaante

Ye unke liye hai

Jo mujhe sadak par dekhte hain

Ye unke liye hai

Jo meri jalan se apne haath sekte hain

Jo asaani se jhuk jaaye

Wo meri zindagi nahi

Jo aadhe dil se ki jaaye

Ye wo bandgi nahi

Duniya mein aayi hai

To kuch karke jaayegi

Jab tak rahegi yahan

Kuch naye rang bharke jayegi

Kuch Hai...

Kuch hai andar jo sulag raha hai

Kuch purana sa

Jo naye se ulajh raha hai

Ajeeb si bechaini hai

Sab kuch kar chuki taar taar

Fir bhi dhaar ab tak paini hai

Kya baaki hai

Khatam karne ke liye

Bas zinda hain hum ab

Har roz marne ke liye

Saanson ka aana

Saanson ka jaana

Fir chupa lena wo aansu

Karke naya bahana

Dard ke humdard

Ab ban gaye hain

Naye raaston par puraane

Manzar tham gaye hain

Bas bahut hua

Bahut hua

Ab chehron mein hum

Khushi nahi dekhenge

Kitni bhi zid pe utre dil

Pyaar ke aage mere sapne

Ghutne nahi tekenge

Shayad Mera Kuch Kho Gaya Hai...

Shayad mera kuch kho gaya hai
Ek sapna jaagta tha har raat
Ab na jaane kis neend mein so gaya hai

Kabhi socha na tha jo
Har roz ab usko jee rahe hain
Chehakti aawazon ke mele mein
Sannaton ki dhun ko pee rahe hain

Kehte nahin ek lafz bhi
Fir bhi baat wo bayaan hai
Haan, Haan mera kuch kho gaya hai

Yaadon ki ek slate hai
Jo kabhi saaf nahi hoti
Hanste-hanste beet jaate hain din
Par khushi se mulakaat nahi hoti

Jo bhi ho, zindagi ka andaaz to naya hai
Sach hai ki mera kuch kho gaya hai

Maa kehti hai sab achche ke liye hota hai
Daagon ke baawjood bhi
Chaand apni chamak kahan khota hai

Hona tha jo woh ho gaya hai
Kabhi na kabhi badlega mausam
Mil jayega mujhe woh jo kho gaya hai.

The poetry called Sachin!

I am neither a cricketing enthusiast nor an ardent fan of Mr. Sachin Tendulkar. I do not live upon breathing every bit of the man. I have never followed him like a shadow that doesn't desert him even in the darkest of his hours. I have not worshiped him like a deity. I have never kept count of the fours or the sixes that he struck, the centuries he minted and the records he made.

Despite of living in such despicable oblivion of a legend, I felt soul shaken when I saw him walking down the ground to stand as a part of Team India for the last time. Perhaps this is what Sachin truly stands for. He is love that happens without a reason. He is music that soothes you even when you have no knowledge of it. He is poetry that finds its meaning in your life all of a sudden. To understand what Sachin really represents is almost an impossible task. Will you adore him for being the passionate sportsman that he is or will you bow your heads in respect for the nobility and the unerring perfection that he has championed? In either of the cases, Sachin has been at the altar. Though there are hardly any incidences where I disliked or disapproved of Sachin's behavior but there are two particular instances that left a scar on my memories of Sachin.

The first incidence is related to Rahul Dravid. I was utterly disappointed at not seeing Sachin on his felicitation ceremony for Rahul Dravid is another man who might not have been the phenomenal cricketer that Sachin is, but has always been an inspirational sportsman by every tangible or intangible measure. I understand that every relationship goes through its own share of highs and lows but when it is about a person like Sachin, you just cant digest seeing him as an ordinary man who might have suffered a blow of human emotions that probably kept him from attending the ceremony. The second instance is of the time when Sachin accepted Rajya Sabha's membership. "Why did he do that? Wasn't he born and created to be on the cricket field, in whatsoever form, all his life? Isn't he the God who can never take an unjust decision?" were some questions that kept haunting my heart and my brain. Sachin embodies authenticity, dedication and commitment which is why I did not like seeing him in the synthetic role of a  Rajya Sabha member. A man who breathes cricket would never be able to do justice with a membership of that kind and for heaven's sake who wants to see Sachin as a man who is absent from his duties. Sachin and absenteeism are oxymorons.

There is also an endless list of beautiful moments that Sachin has gifted everyone of us with. Though it would be impossible to cherry pick the best out of them, but there is one vivid memory of Sachin where I saw him as a vulnerable human being. It was perhaps a show on NDTV that took Sachin to meet family members of the 26/11 martyrs. He met a woman whose husband had sacrificed his life in the 26/11 military operation. The woman hugged Sachin with brimming eyes and a choked throat. Later, when Sachin was interviewed by the reporter about his experience of meeting the people, he was petrified. He silently turned away his face from the camera and a stream of tears trickled down his cheeks. Sachin took over 5 minutes to gather himself and face the reporter.

These and many more stories of Sachin will keep inspiring and moving people. He is like an ocean whose depth cannot be estimated even if you dive into it an infinite number of times. Moreover, I think I've found the answer to a very important question. I can see Sachin losing as a batsman but I cannot see him losing as a human being!

 
          

Maa Ke Naam...

Raat ki aankhon mein jo neendon ki kami hai

Maa kuch aur nahin tujhse doori ki ghami hai

Ek bechain si subah ne bhi apna chaaadar failaya hai

Par maa ismein bhi kahan tere aanchal sa saaya hai

Har roz rasoi se ye jo dhuaan nikalta hai

Lagta hai teri khushboo choone ko tarasta hai

Diyon ki dagmagati law, mandir mein aarti ki jo aawazein jhoolti hain

Teri aankhon ki chamak,  teri aahaton ki dhun ko kahan bhoolti hain

Deewaron par lage har aaine ki shikayat hai

Teri aankhon mein apna aks dekhne ki aaj bhi unki chahat hai

Jab bhi aangan mein boondon ki jhadi lagti hai

Ehsaas hota hai ki teri payal ki rum jhum ko hi thagti hai

Suraj bhi teri god mein garmahat dhoondhta hai

Chaand bhi sone k liye teri loriyon ki aahat dhoondhta hai

Maa ye kaisi teri mehek hai

Kabhi mitti si saundhi to kabhi panchiyon ki chehak hai

Door hokar bhi maa tu hamesha paas hai

Jism ko rooh se jo jode wo ehsaas hai 

Talaash: The search that missed something.

Aamir Khan, the unerring perfectionist and a master of getting things right on 'his' Fridays. Needless to say, the audience are ready to fall for everything that is Aamirilicious (ofcourse Mangal Pandey was an outrageous exception). This movie was no exception. Talaash is Indian cinema's second step towards spawning substance thriller narratives. The first one of course was 'Kahaani'.

Written jointly by Reema Kagti and Zoya Akhtar, Talaash is a very intelligent blend of the logical with the supernatural. It is perhaps this clever juxtaposition of the paranormal with the real that did the trick for 'Talaash'. The story revolves around the life of Inspector Shekhawat (Aamir Khan) his wife Roshni (Rani Mukherjee) and a prostitute Rosy (Kareena Kapoor). Shekhawat, who is solving a mysterious high profile accident case is himself haunted by ghosts of his past. Inflicted with the guilt of failing to save his young son from drowning to death, Shekhawat struggles to protect his ailing marriage. He finds refuge in Rosy, a prostitute, who also aids him in solving the accident mystery.

Technically, the film scores high on grounds of cinematography (K.U. Mohanan), background scores (Ram Sampath) and direction (Reema Kagti) . Kareena's acting needs to be lauded the most, for she has finally managed to curtail the loudness that she is known for. Rani's excellent acting skills sat largely idle, as the script didn't offer her character any significant room of importance. Though the characters have been etched with utmost attention, the film suffers from an unwanted drag. The pace of the film has fallen victim to the songs that pass uneventfully and end up dwindling the thrill and the interest in the plot. The director does not give into the viewer's curiosity but the story journeys through several monotonous patches that end up damaging the mood of the story.

Compared to Kahaani, Talaash scores low. Following are the reasons why Kahaani should score high:

• The fact that Kahaani was filmed without using sets, rendered extra ordinary richness to the look and feel of its entire narrative. 
• Kahaani did not have a star cast as impressive as Talaash but each character was inevitable for its plot
• The pace at which Kahaani progressed was outstanding. The suspense ensued and in fact multiplied with every passing second.

Talaash is definitely marred by some flaws but overall it is a cleverly crafted fabric of suspense that will entertain you. If you are a cynic who always thought that Indian cinema could never produce intelligent thrillers then knock-knock.....winds of change have started blowing and of course the change is worth welcoming.

The noise called Introversion

I have vivid memories of my childhood when I used to shy away and bury my face into my mother's Saree upon seeing some strangely known uncles and aunties. My parents would pester me for uttering a courteous Namaste to welcome the guests. But my uncompromising self never relented to their repeated pleas. I chose to be the person I was. At that tender age I could hardly decipher anything about my behaviour. But as I grew up, it dawned upon me that I was inflicted with a phenomenon called Introversion.

Speaking in terms of psychology Introversion is a central dimension of human personality where the person tends to restrict himself into his own existence. Simply put, Introversion manifests itself in quiet, reserved and shy behaviour. Also, there exists a very fine line between shy and introvert personalities. Whereas shyness arises from the fear of facing people, introversion springs from an inclination to guard one's own space with a certain degree of stringency. Anyways, I'm not here to discuss the technicalities of the matter. Fortunately or unfortunately I always made friends who were extroverts to a fair degree. Consequently, I grew up with a sense of inferiority, for my friends were always the life of the party though my presence hardly got noticed. While people admired me for the calm and suttle creature that I was, they loved spending time with my extrovert counterparts.

Eventually, I started feeling handicapped, socially handicapped. I had to hunt for people who shared the same introvert traits as I did. The harder I tried to embrace the extroversion that was so coveted and valued, the greater the sense of self negation engulfed me. I consistently kept trying to broker a truce between the person I was and the person the society would vouch for. The society has always been blinded by its biases. One one hand, it claims to worship those who never compromise with their individuality and on the contrary,  it breeds circumstances that force you into doing so. I encountered the bias everywhere. From my school to every social institution that I became a part of. When I decided to join a course in Broadcast Journalism I was ridiculed by a good number of people. They mocked at me saying that a person who distances himself from petty social gatherings could never be a part of a community that was all about being loud mouthed. I denied to surrender to their criticism but I forgot that the place I was going to is no different from the society that we live in. People who spoke quantities were always preferred over people who spoke quality. 

Researches prove that introverts find refuge in creative engagements. Composers, writers, painters are more likely to be introverts. Perhaps, my love for writing can also be credited to my introversion. Some of the finest contributors of the human history were introverts. Steve Wozniak of Apple is an outstanding example. Even Mahatma Gandhi, the flag-bearer of the Indian freedom struggle saw himself as a part of that introversion spectrum.

I am not against extroversion. It is an equally important shade of the variegated, puzzling human personality. After all, life is all about balancing between the odds. But the sort of rejection that introverts are subjected to in our society, is deeply disturbing. They are forced into a relentless battle of distancing themselves from their essence. The societal skeleton rewards extroverts and outrightly ignores introverts. If an introvert could be subjected to such a degree of aloofness, imagine the humiliation that a physically challenged person may have endured in each and every moment of his life. Introversion is not a sick state of mind. It does not imply by any means a sense of self obsession. It is the power that reunites you with your spirit, binds you with your strengths, confronts you with your weaknesses and rewards you with meaningful introspection. Caring for the external is important but segregating the internal can be disastrous.       

Of  Barfi  and  Khichdi...
Indians are the maestros of "Jugaad". It runs in their veins much like blood. I had my first confrontation with this omnipotent Indian phenomena when I was in tenth standard and after that there was no parting ways with it. What does "Jugaad" actually signify? It is an innovatively twisted way to get things done that is illegally legal and foolishly intelligent. While scams and corruption scandals are the most noteworthy children of "Jugaad", hardly any sphere of life, particularly Indian life, has remained untouched by this phenomena. You must be wondering how does the title of this post relate to what I've been saying in the past few lines? Perhaps the following paragraphs might lend you a perspective.

Barfi, Anurag Basu's smartest brainwave, India's official entry to Oscars and one of the finest movies that has touched the Indian silver screens is  reportedly being claimed to have morphed scenes from classic Hollywood flicks. I saw the movie last week with my mother. Surprisingly, I found her sleeping during the movie. I was irate and jolted her out of her nap so that she does not miss the sheer mastery with which Anurag and the actors had brought to life the entire plot of the movie. The unhampered playfulness of a mute Barfi, an Autistic Jhilmil wrapped in innocence, the unabashedness of an affluent girl Shruti, all tossed with those witty intelligent gags,left me awestruck. Though my mother had a second opinion. She complained that the movie had an unappealing and monotonous plot except for the gags. She was correct. The movie without those smart gags would bore you to death. And we least of all, did not expect those gags to be aped versions of some classic Hollywood flicks.

Though Barfi received an overwhelming response the controversies questioning its originality come as a shocker to the average Indian viewer. Indian cinema has always been known more for its volumes and less for its quality. We are the largest film producing nation but when it comes to substance movies we hardly have a handful of movies to our credit. Given all the dynamics, Barfi was being lauded as a welcome change in the stereotypical organisation of our entertainment industry. It was anticipated as a movie true to its genius where the characters would speak volumes through their work rather than their glam avatars. Though the actors did full justice to their roles, the fact of the scenes being morphed does no good to their efforts.

Directors like Anurag Basu are the torch bearers of the new face of the Indian Cinema. They have an inherent responsibility of breaking the norms that have impeded the quality evolution of the Indian cinema. Indians have somehow been programmed to believe that anything of exceptional quality and worth cannot be Indian. Thats what I thought when I saw the movie "Is this movie really a brainchild of an Indian?" Though I instantly criticized myself for being such a cynic, reports of Barfi scenes being morphed have proved my cynical self true. The reluctance to parent something original and the notion of western superiority has paralyzed the creative acumen of our budding artists.

I am completely of the opinion that replication is a medium that circulates creativity. Creativity cannot survive without being replicated but it is also true that replication should also result in multiplication i.e. creativity must get multiplied when replicated. It is a two way process. When you replicate someone's work you also inherit a responsibility of returning something significant in the process. It is high time that India has been on the receiving end. Its time we start giving back. Its time we see Bollywood movies being remade in Hollywood and not the vice versa. I would have been a much happier viewer if the amount of "Jugaad" and time that was invested in creating a Khichdi of the scenes in Barfi was utilized to fabricate a story that could have been worth copying by the Hollywood .

The cherished cooler is back!

As I write this I so strongly feel as if I'm writing a missing chapter for Santosh Desai's book "Mother Pious Lady".

It is the nastiest part of the year in Delhi. The sweaty, sticky summers when the heat boils you and your body condenses all the steam and sizzle into drops that drip and slip all over it. So I bought a small portable cooler for my room.

Considering the enormous pace at which India's middle class is growing and breaching the levels that define the so called 'middle classness', coolers have reduced to symbols of austerity. It is still not odd to find coolers at homes, but one would mostly find them in the corners that are not ventured into frequently. The journey of coolers from the erstwhile middle class to the contemporary upper middle class is remarkable.

Now just rewind your life to some twelve years back, when the Air Conditioners were looked upon as luxuries of the affluent. Remember the fancy shopping bags that had "Fully air conditioned shop" printed in bold letters upon them? People would flock to the shops to enjoy that gentle and noiseless cooling of the air conditioners, especially because it was free. And the story did not end there. If at all, the stingy middle class woman (not man!) dared to purchase something from the air conditioned shop she would proudly flaunt it in her gossip circle for sometime. Not to forget, the shopping bag would be preserved for sure!

Coolers at that time were the messiahs for the middle class in summers. People who had a cooler in each room were envied. I still remember those summer vacations at home. We did not have a refrigerator at that time so my mother, being a housewife and having the 'jugaad' gene ingrained in her, made an innovative use of the cooler. She used it as a refrigerator! All the summer special delicacies: Flavoured milk, Custard, Mango shake were dearly preserved in that water brimming roof of the cooler. Amused and elated, I used to stare at those colourful glasses full of mango shake, resting royally in a pool of unusually cool water. Remember the odd sound of the pump? It was almost a burp-like sound, which gave me a feeling, that the cooler was mysteriously gulping all the preserved stuff on its roof.

Coolers gave a sense of belonging that was unmatched. My father used to return from his office on a scooter. Smelling of the much touted 'mehnat ka paseena' he would inadvertently sit infront of the cooler. Within minutes the lingering fragrance of the 'khas' consumed his fatigue and the smell of it. I fondly cherish the time, when I would sit infront of the cooler, just to let that gently furious gush of air, rush past my hair and wave them all over my face. At that time, I used to feel no less than the pretty silver screen actress, who was waiting for her prince charming on a picturesque breezy mountain; her hair swinging to and fro her face, much like the clouds that hover over a bright full moon.

Today the ACs have replaced coolers. While ACs are given VIP treatment, by making them adorn, only the bedrooms or the drawing rooms, coolers have reduced to guest house servants. Recall the scene from the movie 'Three Idiots' where Frahan's father proudly declares that only his son's room had an AC. AC is like the rich father who remains away from his children and thinks that his only duty is to help them financially. Cooler is the commoner who may not be rich and advanced but stays close to you and keeps talking to you (Virtually). A cooler is a humble employee, who would walk to its customers to serve them while AC is a sophisticated manager, who wont budge from his cabin and would rather ask his customers to walk to him. A cooler is a little kid, who troubles you by asking for water again and again while AC is a fully grown, expensive to maintain adult. So do you still see the charm in the classical coolers?

Happy Rebirth-day Birthday Party!!

Perplexed reading those lines? Recently I got a chance to attend a kid’s Birthday Party and it was only then that I realized that Birthday parties have taken an absolutely new avatar.

The kids are no more those innocent little creatures who could be fooled with some silly magic tricks or scared with the famous “daadi waala baba” who would kidnap them if they tried disobeying their parents.

While my eyes were busy flirting with the cake adorning the table my ears just hopped to sneak into the kids’ conversation. “Hey I love your shoes...where did you get them from?” The girl though a bit confused carefully drafted her answer and replied “My mom got them from somewhere.” The other kid instantly reacted “I think they are from Reebok” to which the girl said “No they are not from Reebok, do you see a Reebok signature anywhere on my shoes? The boy was stupefied and so was I! Reebok…I came to know about the brand when I was in sixth grade and it took me another one year to recognize its signature and signatures of some other similar brands. And these kids who have just entered their first grade are almost living with these brands. Wow!! I have always detested the brand fad for robbing the innocents off their innocence.

I was still recuperating from my stupidity when snacks were announced and my stomach was almost jumping with joy though my brain was still feeling starved. Staying away from home it didn’t take me more than a moment to fancy the delicacies that would be treating my taste buds and my growling stomach. I could see the ‘ pooris’, the ‘chhole’ and the ever green ‘gulab jamun’ ornate my plate. That moment I was literally reduced to my childhood version who was impatiently waiting for the best part of the Birthday bash..the food! But what came on the plate was a punch on my greedy fancies. All I got was two slices of pizzas, a slice of garlic bread, cheese roll and french fries all ‘made in Pizza Hut’. The kids were flying with joy with those plates in front of them and I was abusing Pizza Hut. What happened to that traditional old menu of Birthday Parties? Why has Pizza replaced ‘Poorie’? Where did ‘Gulab Jamun’ go missing? I was frowning and it took me a while to

Somehow I contented myself with that ‘somewhat-like-food’ stuff. Now came the time when the kids were leaving but what was I seeing? Kids lined up right in front of the Birthday boy and the boy instead of looking intimidated was wearing a broad smile with a tint of pride . Slowly my eyes floated to a table adjacent to the Birthday boy. I saw a pile of lovely boxes each one having a label attached to it which was supposedly someone’s name. Oh! These are the return gifts and the boy is perhaps taking pride in giving away such quality return gifts to his friends. Birthday parties in my age never had any concept of return gifts. I silently regretted having missed out on an uncalculated number of gifts or more appropriately return gifts. The kids gracefully received the gifts and greeted good bye to the boy. The party had been officially concluded but since I was a family member I still had some more time.

So I ventured into a room that was full of Birthday presents. Boxes of all shapes and sizes wrapped up in shimmering colourful papers piled on top of each other. Once again I felt like a jealous child and I started guessing what all could the boxes contain. My birthday parties had extraordinarily predictable gifts. I could make out the gift without unwrapping it. Geometry cases, sketch pens, Tiffin boxes and at the best a set of a variety of colours. Either I was living with a bunch of misers or with a bunch of absolutely unimaginative people who could never think of good Birthday presents.Anyways I gave up my envy and asked the little one to unwrap his amazing gifts. So he called his dad and a mat was unrolled on the floor. A notebook and pen was summoned for and the presents were lined up on the mat. The child started tearing off the lovely papers and I asked him not to tear them but carefully unwrap them because as a child I used to preserve those beautiful gift wrapping papers. But the kid gave me an obnoxious look as if he was saying you used to do that because you never got gifts good enough to preserve so you quenched your thirst by preserving the papers but I am not under any such constraint. I instantly gave up.

As he continued unwrapping the gifts he continued commenting on them too. “I already have this game”; “Oh this game was on my list !”His dad carefully documented all the gifts and the names of the children who bought them. A part of me was still jealous of those gifts. After the gifts were all out the kid instantly stood up and asked for an iPad. Within seconds he was playing a game on that amazing piece of gadget. And once again I was stupefied.

The kids have changed, the age has changed and certainly Birthday parties have taken a Rebirth. So Happy Rebirth-Day Birthday Party!!!

Happy Rebirth-day Birthday Party!!

Perplexed reading those lines? Recently I got a chance to attend a kid’s Birthday Party and it was only then that I realized that Birthday parties have taken an absolutely new avatar.

The kids are no more those innocent little creatures who could be fooled with some silly magic tricks or scared with the famous “daadi waala baba” who would kidnap them if they tried disobeying their parents.

While my eyes were busy flirting with the cake adorning the table my ears just hopped to sneak into the kids’ conversation. “Hey I love your shoes...where did you get them from?” The girl though a bit confused carefully drafted her answer and replied “My mom got them from somewhere.” The other kid instantly reacted “I think they are from Reebok” to which the girl said “No they are not from Reebok, do you see a Reebok signature anywhere on my shoes? The boy was stupefied and so was I! Reebok…I came to know about the brand when I was in sixth grade and it took me another one year to recognize its signature and signatures of some other similar brands. And these kids who have just entered their first grade are almost living with these brands. Wow!! I have always detested the brand fad for robbing the innocents off their innocence.

I was still recuperating from my stupidity when snacks were announced and my stomach was almost jumping with joy though my brain was still feeling starved. Staying away from home it didn’t take me more than a moment to fancy the delicacies that would be treating my taste buds and my growling stomach. I could see the ‘ pooris’, the ‘chhole’ and the ever green ‘gulab jamun’ ornate my plate. That moment I was literally reduced to my childhood version who was impatiently waiting for the best part of the Birthday bash..the food! But what came on the plate was a punch on my greedy fancies. All I got was two slices of pizzas, a slice of garlic bread, cheese roll and french fries all ‘made in Pizza Hut’. The kids were flying with joy with those plates in front of them and I was abusing Pizza Hut. What happened to that traditional old menu of Birthday Parties? Why has Pizza replaced ‘Poorie’? Where did ‘Gulab Jamun’ go missing? I was frowning and it took me a while to

Somehow I contented myself with that ‘somewhat-like-food’ stuff. Now came the time when the kids were leaving but what was I seeing? Kids lined up right in front of the Birthday boy and the boy instead of looking intimidated was wearing a broad smile with a tint of pride . Slowly my eyes floated to a table adjacent to the Birthday boy. I saw a pile of lovely boxes each one having a label attached to it which was supposedly someone’s name. Oh! These are the return gifts and the boy is perhaps taking pride in giving away such quality return gifts to his friends. Birthday parties in my age never had any concept of return gifts. I silently regretted having missed out on an uncalculated number of gifts or more appropriately return gifts. The kids gracefully received the gifts and greeted good bye to the boy. The party had been officially concluded but since I was a family member I still had some more time.

So I ventured into a room that was full of Birthday presents. Boxes of all shapes and sizes wrapped up in shimmering colourful papers piled on top of each other. Once again I felt like a jealous child and I started guessing what all could the boxes contain. My birthday parties had extraordinarily predictable gifts. I could make out the gift without unwrapping it. Geometry cases, sketch pens, Tiffin boxes and at the best a set of a variety of colours. Either I was living with a bunch of misers or with a bunch of absolutely unimaginative people who could never think of good Birthday presents.Anyways I gave up my envy and asked the little one to unwrap his amazing gifts. So he called his dad and a mat was unrolled on the floor. A notebook and pen was summoned for and the presents were lined up on the mat. The child started tearing off the lovely papers and I asked him not to tear them but carefully unwrap them because as a child I used to preserve those beautiful gift wrapping papers. But the kid gave me an obnoxious look as if he was saying you used to do that because you never got gifts good enough to preserve so you quenched your thirst by preserving the papers but I am not under any such constraint. I instantly gave up.

As he continued unwrapping the gifts he continued commenting on them too. “I already have this game”; “Oh this game was on my list !”His dad carefully documented all the gifts and the names of the children who bought them. A part of me was still jealous of those gifts. After the gifts were all out the kid instantly stood up and asked for an iPad. Within seconds he was playing a game on that amazing piece of gadget. And once again I was stupefied.

The kids have changed, the age has changed and certainly Birthday parties have taken a Rebirth. So Happy Rebirth-Day Birthday Party!!!

FROM MUMMA'S GIRL TO MEDIA GIRL

From a bachelor of engineering to an apprentice at NDTVmi,I had audaciously attempted to see myself beyond the usual me.Hailing from a small-town middle-class background,where careers are supposedly born in IT industries,brought up and nurtured in business administrations or are pleasantly married and settled with soft-cushioned "sarkari naukari",my bizarre decision sparked a series of mixed reactions.While some panned my decision by calling it ridiculous ,others saw sheer heroism in my pursuit of passion.

Cornering all my doubts and fears;i began my first week at NDTVmi.The ambience of the place was charismatic.While i was wondering about the symbolism underlying the red carpet elegantly draping the floor;for red is the colour of passion,Dr.Nigam entered and kicked off the formal introduction session.I must admit that the session blew me much like a hurricane that wipes out everything that blocks its way.The people around me were adorned with enormous caliber and indefatigable confidence.A sudden realization dawned upon me that I had committed a mistake;that I was at the wrong place.As the week progressed with interns pouring in to lend us an insight into the course ,I kept figuring out my place in that elite crowd .I was working hard to break the ice between my introvert self and my extrovert colleagues.Integral to the day were Dr.Nigam's sessions that had an overwhelming affluence of knowledge and intellect.There were times when I felt stupid but then his abstract concept of "its cool to be stupid" spelled magic for me.

My journey entered into the second week.Things were gradually falling into place.Roof-top breakfast served a delicious,fun-filled beginning to the hectic day ahead.Mr.Sumit Singhal took over the newspaper sessions .His looks indeed defy the very jolly character that he owns,although he turned out to be a pioneer of some very innovative punishments.During the second week I walked through the second floor and got a glimpse of those cabins which were actually the epicenters of creativity to me.I was enthralled by inexplicable feelings and boundless enthusiasm for I wanted to see myself working in one of those cabins one day! Later in the week JR visited and intoxicated the air with his magnificent baritone .Theater session had been the talk of the town since the beginning of the week .I thought about skipping the session for I had always been a stupid shy girl who had never stepped a podium to dance or even speak for a few seconds but I fought my inhibitions and turned up for theater .Although I could not match the levels set by my colleagues ;I had taken the first step towards ushering a change in myself.With many more weeks of exploration to come I hope that I'd rediscover and reshape the self inside me!

JAAG RAHE HAIN HUM!!!

Aankhon mein junoon dil mein sailaab liye

chal pade hum...

Saaf seerat ko surat dene

nikal pade hum...

Aaj ek ho gaye hain hum

jo kal tak the juda juda...

Sajda kar rahe hain wo

jo bane firte the humare khuda.

Humare pasine se

jinhone apni duniya chamkaai...

Humari mehnatein lootkar

jo badhate rahe apni kamai.

Aaj kyun hai bebas

garibon k is ANNAdata k aage?

Hazaare se hazaaron ko dekh

fir rahe bhage bhage!!!

Kabhi andaaza na tha unhein

ki hum ek ho jayenge...

Hum bhi na jaan paye ki ;

gandhi k naam pe jeene waale...

Unhi k usoolon se bair nibhayenge.

Shuru hui hai ab badlaav ki jung;

Jab tak chalega karvaan...

chalenge hum sang sang.

~~God&Religion~~

God has summoned all the religions
Why....its an unending list of reasons
He is agitated with his division into pieces
Humanity stands bruised,which religion preaches
Religion now faces the jury of Gods;
Humanity,its lawyer against all odds.

"Religion why did u trigger ma division?"
Humanity said"God,selfishness is the new religion"
Have the people lost faith in religion and its values?
Said defense"They turned it into a mirror of their selfish virtues."
How could religion fail in uniting my children?
Said defense "They see enemies in their own brethren"

Did'nt religion preach that I can never be divided?
It did,but some evil souls left people misguided.
They used your manifestations and names
Sentiments turned hostile and they played games.
Now spoke religion"I was the path to u almighty;
I struggled to teach ur children humanity and piety."

"I have been defeated and now I stand here,
I was God's mirror to the people everywhere...
The human creed demonized my existence and me;
Turned me into the biggest hurdle to the path of Thee.
God save the world from this hatred and acrimony
Enlighten those lost in sin and blasphemy."

The jury is in deep shock and despair;
The damage to the beings looks beyond repair
Religion is not guilty and wont be punished
Selfishness in the name of religion has flourished
One day each sin would bear its consequence
Nothing but death and destruction would be the penance.

~~Flee Me....Free me~~

I was ruled by white blooded people
Now they are no more...
All say I'm free...
All say a new dawn stands on my door...

Is it real or is it surreal?
What I see is my children basking
in their spirit's burial....

I see them selling my name
Obsessed with lusts of flesh...
Engrossed in a blaspheming game!

They call me 'shining'...
They call me 'incredible'....
When in fact I'm bleeding with scars
Of hatred,injustice and corruption indelible!!

I can hear some youthful sputters
But why cant they be more than a mutter?
They can spark the change I need...
Unwilling to fight for me;
They surrender to their greed!!

Is this is what you call freedom?
If not then free me...free me
from this disguised freedom
If at all you love me then
flee me from this disguised freedom!!!!



"Our motherland needs us...we,the much touted youth
have to share this brunt of liberating our mother from
the devilish traps of our gruesome polity...
come lets pledge on this independence day
to unite our hearts and our efforts and make this land
a "Truly Shining India".....

Kya mere sapne kya meri khushi....

Kabhi mann ki gali mein machti hai ik hulchul si...
Zindagi lagti hai anjaani pal pal mein hi...
Kabhi wajah nai milti jeene ki
to kabhi fursat nai milti yaadon ko seene ki...
Kabh mann ki gali mein machti hai ik hulchul si...

Har waqt,waqt guzarta jaata hai...
Ik lambi si sadak par sapnon ka ghar nazar aata hai...
Us ghar ka raasta gum hai kisi andhere mein...
Ulajhta hi chala jaata hai zindagi ke har fere mein...
aaj pehli baar sawalon ko dekha jawabon ke ghere mein...

Apne mann ki baat khud hi nai samajh paati....
Agar bazaar mein bikti khushi to thodi main bhi kharid laati...
Har waqt badalti hai zindagi apna rang....
Har pal mann nikal padta hai ik naye sapne ke sang...
Aadhe adhure sapne khushi aadhi adhuri...
Dhoodhti rehti hoon wo ek cheez jo kar paaye isse poori...

Aankhon mein tairte sapne hi sapne...
na jaane kaun paraye kaun apne???
Waqt guzarta jaata hai magar
raasta fir bhi door hi nazar aata hai...
Kab sapnon ki pechaan hogi kab milegi khushi???
Kabhi kabhi mann ki gali mein machti hai ik hulchul si....

~~Lo f!r beh chale hum~~

Lo fir beh chale hum
samet kar saari maayusi saare gam...
Namkeen hai zindagi;
namkeen hain hum...
Aaj jo bahe hain
Kar chale tumhare mann ka bojh kam...

Lo fir beh chale hum
Aaj khushi ne kar di aankhein nam;
Jhilmil dikhta hai chehra
Har rang humari chamak se ho uthta hai gehra...
Pal pal aankhon mein nahi rehte...
Par behte hi saari kahani kehte...

Ajib hai ye namkeen sa paani...
Kabhi chehre ki chamak kabhi dard ki kahani...
Behte hain,ho jaate hain khaak..
Khushi ho ya gum har pal rehte hain saath...
Dard to karte hain kam..
Par khushi ka ajab izhaar hain hum..

Beh kar khaak hona humari zindagi..
Aankhon se hai ik khatti si dillagi..
Kya hua jo mitna hi;hai humara naseeb
Aankhon mein sapnon ke baad
Hum hi rehte hain sabse kareeb..
Kabhi humein na samajhna galat...
Zameen ko bhi tab thandak milti hai jab ro padta hai falak!!!

I never wanted to give life to death..........

The first time you opened your eyes
my eyes brimmed......
I rejoiced thinking that i gave my life
a new life.....
All my sorrows and miseries dimmed.

you painted my world
with thousand colours of bliss....
My expectations and dreams
in you I saw personified....
you fulfilled my life
i found nothing to miss....


One day some vendors of religion
stole your spirit and you....
I was robbed off my wealth
when I saw your hands smeared in blood....
you scarred my upbringing,my religion;
lost the sight of evil and true....

I never wanted to give life to death...
The eyes which made me cry with joy...
Now make others cry by ceasing their breath...

Why did you squander my love,my faith?
I never taught you to hate...
Curses are all that you have earned,
Religion and belief into ashes you've burned...

Humanity was the greatest religion...
you slaughtered it without any reason...
you made our heads hang in shame;
Not others but you killed yourself in religion's name...

Hatred is all that you've made,
you waged a genocide not a righteous crusade...
Cursed I feel,for being your creator...
Of your sinful life and devilish deeds;
you became the narrator!!!

(This was what a suicide bomber's mother had to say to her son)

L!Fe SuMmaR!sEd....

All the world's a stage..but we are not mere puppets
cherish life...its the greatest gift u can ever have
never reminisce your past for it will always move u to tears...
plan your future but not at the cost of your present
make lots of friends but never expect them to be friends"INDEED"
don't be too serious about life...
things get going when u smile at ur tragedies
wear ur attitude,no matter what people say about it
love the skin u r in....always believe that u r beautiful
love happens only once is a surrealistic saying
if someone dumped u..no big deal
love will again come to u perhaps in a better package
be practical always...that's the key to a prosperous survival
search for ur passion no matter how long it takes
learn to gamble upon ur wishes
great men wrere great because they gambled it perfect
dont regret being hypocritical
world's full of hypocritical idiots
wear a smile and let the world know how happy u r
never forget to flaunt ur gems...they deserve it
bring happiness to your parents
they are the ones who sailed with u through all ur blues
dont accuse others for ur miseries
u r responsible for everything that comes to u
accept changes for they are inevitable
talk to yourself because nobody can understand u better than u
live life and fall in love with it............

Irony Of my L!fe....

I m a girl.... fortunately or unfortunately,an Indian girl. I got some quality education which is a luxury to middle class Indian girls and ambience that was conducive to shape up a non-conservative outlook for life.My best pals at college are guys and not gals(a blow to the Indian precepts for an ideal girl) and i hate blowing myself into books with all the sincerity that is believed to have been embedded as an integral part of a girl's existence.Being an average middle class Indian girl what i envy the most is the freedom that is always in the air for guys.
Its an amenity for them but a luxury for me......
There is no denying the fact that ma parents endowed me with freedom that can be too much of a treasure for any other girl falling in my societal vicinity but then I'm a greedy creature.Some restrictions came as a price tag on my expensive being (i don't think i need to mention them,they are too explicit in our society) and i have always found myself struggling to break that edge somehow to get carried away by that breeze of liberty.To my dismay,i always saw people pointing fingers at my values and sometimes even my character.
I fail to understand how can something be justified for guys and unruly for gals. When they smoke,it becomes an add on to their coolness quotient and when a gal does the same its a sin.
Forget about this,when i bunk classes at college ,my teachers,who don't even have the right to call themselves sensible creatures ,hop around to remind me that I'm a girl and all this didn't suit me(i don't give a f**** to all these taboos).
Last night all the guys partied hard at a friend's house to celebrate his birthday...and then I had this sudden realization that freedom had altogether different meanings for guys and gals...I felt like I'm a bird whose feathers have been tailored neatly(which are feathers in disguise,when in fact I've been crippled)and let off to fly"FREE".
We may claim that its an equal world for both(sexes),but in fact,we are cheating on ourselves by saying that because somewhere or the other that line of demarcation prevails forever inside our mind and hearts.A girl is always expected to bear the brunt of her family esteem,its somehow her sole responsibility to uphold it and safeguard it.
The restrictions are also much of a self-imposed nature because,as a girl,its imperative that they are followed,else she gets robbed off her dignity.Perhaps this is the irony of my life,irony of a girl's life........i can be free only when this world and this society frees itself from the shell of the dogmas as it has rightly been said ......the shell must break before the bird can fly.......