चौराहा

साथ चलकर चौराहे तक, राह बदलते रास्ते...
हमने भी देख लीए.. कुछ.. बनते बीगड़ते रीश्ते !

Those LONELY MEN on Celluloid .....

Well as I write this post I am trying to collect my thoughts in a proper order but they seem to be just going astray as they often do :)

So first things first I have been a single man for a lifetime now and going out for dinner or a movie on my own is almost my second nature. I have always seen a heroic trait in men who have been single doing their own thing amidst a chaos called life.

Now as I look Back there have been some really favourite characters or performances in hindi cinema which revolve around this phenomenon of single men full of CHARACTER.
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There is this famous scene in DEEWAR (old) where in Amitabh Bachhan (Vijay) is having a drink in a bar all alone when Parveen Babi (Anita) joins him and asks the reason for being all alone and there comes a reply " Kis Kambakht ko Marna Hai , Jo Is Waqt Mere Saath Hoga" then we realize the doomed sense of humour from a guy who has just set up his own assasination.
This sense of aloof ,introvert, self destructive person has been seldom so well captured in cinema there after.
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The next setting is amidst a gloomy surrounding of coal mines where every character is ALONE in its unique way. A wounded man enters a dispensary to get his wound treated.He has tried to save a co-workers life at the cost of his own and the lady doctor tries to give him a painkiller to ease the pain of treating the wound. But the lanky man refuses and the frustrated doctor says" Why don't you understand ?" and the introvert labourer replies in chaste english " Why don't you understand doctor ? pain is my destiny and I can't escape it !"

And thus unfolds the character of a fugitive captain of a ship ,who abandoned his sinking ship instead of going down with it and reaching an honourable end. Who went through the humiliating process of a courtmartial and being labeled a COWARD for life.

He is on a life mission of attaining redemption through self inflicted pain and is hoping to die with it unsung,unknown,unheard. Vijay (Amitabh Bachhan) from Kala Patthar is another favourite brooding character who meets me every now and then with a renewed sense of poetic empathy for his plight.
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" Vijay Dinananath Chauhan Pura Naam......
" Umar 36 Saal ...Mahina...Din.. Ghanta....
" Aaaj 6 Baje Apna Maut Ke Saath Apuinment Maloom
" APUINMNET englis bolta Hai Hain

So says a Man who lost his innocence out on the streets to poverty and the strife to survive.His eyes are almost dead but for the Surma that he uses to brighten them. He has seen it all and is about to walk into death once again to give devil its due and pit his belief in destiny against the moves of his enemies. So begins a journey of a man trying to gain back his sense of innocence on a path full of fire and so begins the lonesome swaggering walk of Amitabh Bachhan on a warpath called AGNEEPATH

Hum Tere GHULAM........

" Ek Humein Awara Kehna..
Koi Bada Ilzaam Nahi...
Duniya Wale Dilwalon Ko AUR BAHUT KUCH KEHTE HAIN !"

Said The Sultan OF Gazal's Ghulam Ali in one of his impromptu poetry renditions and to me these lines are the very hallmark of an enigma called GHULAM ALI.

It was a sense of Deja Vu for a kid ,who's introduction to the world of music was with the help of a battery operated tape recorder which would play endlessly to bring some sense of company in a place quite distant from the known civilization and would have to play the same tapes again and again for lack of available variety.Amongst those tapes was a tape of an unusual voice which was not singing the oldies from bollywood but a completely different set of songs in a language people called urdu .

The songs were melodious and the voice was silken which belonged to a man called Ghulam Ali.

That kid grew up harbouring a dream of watching that man perform live once in the life time , to be able to almost touch the notes coming from a rustic instrument called Harmonium.

Some dreams do redeem themselves true and today the kid saw his soulful friendly companion of all these years performing live on stage. The moment was almost unreal and the ambiance was like a dream but what was real was the rustic unpretentious voice touching hearts after hearts in a manner completely new to them poetry would pause and the composition would take over or some times just the notes would be played on the harmonium and the baritone voice would just hum the notes but the experience would continue.

It continued till a clapping full crescendo filled the auditorium and with every exit out of the auditorium the magical spell broke into a million tributaries which have been enriched and would in turn continue enriching lives for a long time to come.......

"Do Deewane, Shehar Mein...."

" Do Deewane Shehar Mein,
Raat Mein , Aur Dopher Mein,
Aabodana Dhondhte Hain, Ek Aashiyana Dhoondhte Hain.." ( Gharaonda)

Is a song playing in my mind again and again as I write this post. The trigger was a very tiny one, may be it wasn't . I was on my way back from a bank in the afternoon , and it was business as usual in the business district I was walking through. What caught my eye was a couple trying to get cosy in the afternoon in the thinly populated by lanes of the business district full of offices and people working indoors.

And then as if on a cue I kept on stumbling on the cupid struck souls trying to catch a private moment. My first reaction was of AMUSEMENT and then it went on to feeling a sense of Pity for these faceless peers of mine trying their level best to fight this metropolis in their own way and their struggle to exercise their right of humane existence.

We might ridicule them many a times for their stupid behaviour or just ignore them , but they exist and PERSIST.

These are the people who can not afford the luxury of a coffee shop or a separate enclosed space of their own to share a private moment of love,care,affection,passion as the need be.

I really wonder whether they are really oblivious to the stares of the curious bystanders or the amazed look on the face of the casual passer byes . May be they know it all and CHOOSE to ignore this reality and embrace their moments of love whether in public or not.

For a country blessed with a population like ours and a huge list of social taboos their is a little option left to these people but to be courageous and blatant about their actions.

I am reminded of many friends of mine who would give their lives to get a private enclosed space in company of their loved one.

Apart from the socio--economic strata their is hardly any difference in their plight from that of those less endowed souls.

I don't know whats the solution , but at least I know that there is a SOCIAL problem and some times its a good enough thing to begin with ........

Of Forgotten Addresses..........

"Aaj Woh Phir Purane Khat Khol Baitha,
Aur Bhoole Pate, Yaad Ate Rahe !"

These lines of mine sum up the frame of mind with which I am writing this post . Well, It was again a rainy day in mumbai and the activity was slow , so I decided to sift through the heaps of papers in my room and as usual I stumbled upon a plastic bag which contains letters I received over a period of three years in my life .

I was never much of a letter writer but for a period of about three years I wrote a LOT of letters. I still wish , I could get all those letters back just to see what was I then.

This phase of my life was full of passion for letter writing , emails had not really arrived and I had just found this new tool of expression. A few people had to pay excess postage many a times for these fits of expression of mine. I really can't recollect what were the things that were written about in all that correspondence but all I remember is I USED to be EXCITED to send and receive letters.

Going through these letters is like opening a window to the past, life has moved on on all these years and still these things can make me smile or make me sulk in retrospect. My friend says best way to deal with letters is just to BURN them and live in the present, but I have never really felt the need , may be I enjoy this trip down memory lane . whether they make me happy or sad but now but they are proofs of my sense of being in the era gone by.

I also wonder do all those letters that I wrote still exist and represent me in the lives of all those people who received them ? Do they matter to them? Do they remind them of Me ?

Every time I take this frozen trip back in time , I feel I have lost a lot of sensitivity since then, I am more COLD emotionally when I come out of this pleasure trip and attain sense of PRESENT.

May be I will BURN them all one day, till then...

"Gali Chuti Shehar Chuta..
Gali Chuti Shehar Chuta..
Pata Magar Yaad Raha..
Milte The Kabhi Hum,Jis Ped Ke Niche...
Kehte Hain Bhare Patzad Mein Bhi
Bas Wok Ek Ped, Abaad Raha!"

Just a beginning

I Have had a blog account for centuries now, but never have been enthusiastic enough to write some thing.
But its raining cats and dogs as usual on a monsoon night in mumbai and have nothing better to do so this post. I love the rains and specially those days when this metropolis comes to a standstill just like a frozen moment in time. I think its necessary for the lesser mortals in this city to just to be able to catch a breath in silence instead of gasping for air as usual.

I have been reading a few hindi and urdu poets off late, both languages are really close to my heart.

It takes one to know one they say , so here are a few of my own couplets just for record.
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"Woh Filmein Bahut Dekhta Hai.....
Woh Filmein Bahut Dekhta Hai.....
Sunte Hain........
Bachpan Mein Use Kahani Sunane Wala Koi Nahi Tha!"
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"Woh Filmein Bahut Dekhta Hai.....
Woh Filmein Bahut Dekhta Hai.....
Sunte Hain........
Bas, Ek Sapna Tuta Tha Uska!"
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"Woh Hara Rang Bahut Pehenta Hai.....
Woh Hara Rang Bahut Pehenta Hai......
Sunte Hain........
Registan Se Aaya Tha!"
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"Woh Ab Bas TV Ke Channel Badalta Rehta Hai......
Woh Ab Bas TV Ke Channel Badalta Rehta Hai......
Kehte Hain......
Usne Bahut Duniya Dekhi Hai!"
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"Gali Chuti Shehar Chuta..
Gali Chuti Shehar Chuta..
Pata Magar Yaad Raha..
Milte The Kabhi Hum,Jis Ped Ke Niche...
Kehte Hain Bhare Patzad Mein Bhi
Bas Wok Ek Ped, Abaad Raha!"
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Yeh Hamari Nazar Nahi
Nazar Ki Laash Hai........
Ghoom Liye Makaan Bahut
Aub Hamein GHAR Ki Talash Hai"
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ONE OF MY FAVOURITES BY JAVED AKHTAR

"Makaan Mera Oonchi Imartoon Se Dhank Gaya ...
Kuch Log......
Mere Hisse Ka SURAJ tak Kha Gaye"