एक पत्र भगवान् के नाम - ३

पिछली किस्त से जारी.


भेंट वाला चक्कर आप की समझ में नहीं आया होगा - आप के वहाँ इंडियन एक्सप्रेस नहीं आता क्या? पिछले सालों से ऐसी ही एक भेंट का काफी चक्कर चला है.
खैर, मैं बताता हूँ.
आपके समय में न्याय मांगने वालों की भीड़ लगी रहती थी, आप भी परेशान रहते थे (उस समय आप कितने दुबले हो गए थे). अब ऐसा चक्कर ख़त्म.
भीड़ तो अब भी रहती है - नारे लगाती भीड़, चीखती भीड़, लेकिन आप पीछे के दरवाजे से भेंट चढ़ाव और हाथों-हाथ न्याय मिलता है (इस न्याय की विशेषता यह है कि यह हमेशा आप के हक में रहेगा - बशर्ते सामने वाली पार्टी ताक़तवर न हो).
पासपोर्ट बनवाने से  लेकर गैस का कनेक्शन लेने तक, बच्चों का स्कूलों में दाखिला करने से लेकर उनको नौकरी लगवाने तक सब इसी भेंट की माया है. "दाम में दम, काम में दम" वाली उक्ति यहाँ चरितार्थ होती है.
पत्र शायद लम्बा हो गया है, लेकिन इतना समय भी कभी कभी ही निकल पाता है. और फिर, आप सा सुनने वाला भी कहाँ मिलेगा!
आज घर बैठा हूँ, बाहर कर्फ्यू लगा हुआ है. आशा है आपके वहाँ इस किस्म के खेल कूद नहीं होते होंगे. कर्फ्यू का भी एक अलग ही एक्सपेरिएंस है भगवन - पुलिस स्टेशन से पुलिस और छावनियों से फौज को उठा कर अशांति वाले इलाकों में भेज दिया जाता है कि जाओ जंग करो, यहाँ बैठे बैठे जंग मत खाओ. अगर बाहर किसी से नहीं लड़ सकते तो अन्दर ही लड़ के अपनी भड़ास निकालो.
तो कवायद सड़कों पर होती है, चौराहों पे होती है - आम आदमी को बाहर निकलने की इजाज़त नहीं होती, राशन नहीं मिलता, दवाइयां नहीं मिलती. लेकिन बंदूकों के साए में शांति स्थापित हो जाती है, फिर कर्फ्यू-ग्रस्त क्षेत्र से कहा जाता है कि यहाँ पूर्ण शांति है. यह अशांति भी हमारे राजनीतिज्ञ ही करवाते हैं - पुलिस, फ़ौज और प्रशासन को समय-समय पर टाईट करते रहने के लिए.
बाकी कुछ विशेष नहीं है - वैसा ही जैसा पिछले 45 सालों से चल रहा है - राशन की दुकानों पर वही लम्बी कतारें हैं; भूखा आदमी वैसे ही आश्वासन और खून के घूँट पी रहा है.
ज्यादा आबादी हमें करनी नहीं है, इस लिए 15 लाख से ज्यादा बच्चे 5 साल की उम्र से पहले भूख और बीमारी से मर रहे हैं.
पड़ोस वाले समाज सुधारक लाला जी का नौकर अभी भी रोज शाम को नियम से मार खाता है, फिर भी उनसे ही चिपटा रहता है.
टी.वी. पर वही मुस्कुराते चेहरे भारत माता के गाने गाते हैं, भारत को महान बताते हैं और स्टीकर पर चिपकी यह महानता ऑटो-रिक्शा पर टंगी घूमती है.
नन्हे, झुर्रियों भरे हाथ स्लेट - पेंसिल छोड़ कर कप-प्लेट धोते हैं.
रम्भा और मेनका के अनगिनत विकृत रूप आज भी नारी-सुधार के भाषणों तले दबते हैं.
बूढा किसान एक अंगूठे के जरिये अपनी किस्मत जमींदार के यहाँ गिरवी रखता है और लहलहाती फसल के सूखे डंठलों को बटोर कर बेटी की शादी करता है.
बाबू अपनी टूटी साइकिल पर "ब्लैक" की गैस का सिलिंडर लाता है.
जनता को आराम देने के लिए अभी भी काम रुकता है - हडतालें होती हैं, पहले गोरे सिपाहियों की लाठी खाते  थे, अब हमारे अपने जवानों की. आखिर, प्रभु, स्वदेशी में ही सबका भला है - अपने महात्मा जी कह गए हैं.
आप भी बंट गए है - आपको अजीब लगेगा लेकिन ऐसा हो गया ही. अपने लेवल पर आप सब भी अपने-२ चार्ज बाँट लीजियेगा.
(जारी)
 
पहली किस्त - एक पत्र भगवान् के नाम - १
दूसरी किस्त - एक पत्र भगवान् के नाम - २

एक पत्र भगवान के नाम - २

(पिछली किस्त से जारी)

भगवन, एक ख़ुशी की की बात यह है कि अपना मुन्नू पांचवी कक्षा में पास हो गया है. हेड-मास्टर साब हमारी ही दुकान पर पधारते हैं, पान खाने, और जब उनकी बिटिया के हाथ पीले हुए थे, उस समय हमने भी मुफ्त में हाथ बड़े लाल किये थे.
वैसे, मुन्नू खेलने में बड़ा माहिर है - कितनी बार तो मैं उसे नुक्कड़ से गिल्ली डंडा खेलते हुए उठा कर लाया हूँ.
भगवन, मैं सिरिअस्ली सोच रहा हूँ - मुन्नू को खेल की लाइन पकडवा दें तो कैसा रहेगा? बड़ा होगा तो मौज करेगा - बाहर देशों में जाएगा, खूब पैसा कमाएगा, हर जगह हार जायेगा - और घर पर खूब गालियाँ खायेगा.
गालियों की आदत तो मैं डाल रहा हूँ - कान पक रहे हैं उसके.
और नयी खेल नीति की बात बहुत धड़ल्ले से करता है - मोहल्ले में उल्टा सीधा सुनता रहता है न, इसलिए. बार्सीलोना में जो कबड्डी प्रतियोगिता हुई थी, बड़े चाव से टी. वी. पर देखी उसने.
बार्सीलोना आप गए नहीं होंगे कभी - वैसे अब कभी जाओ, तो यह मत कह देना कि भारतीय हूँ - लोग बाग़ उलटे सीधे मज़ाक करते हैं. अब आप पूछेंगे कि मज़ाक क्यूँ? कहते हैं हम इतने लोग खेलने कूदने गए और कोई पदक वगैरह नहीं लाये. उन्हें अब क्या समझाएं कि अरे भैया, जितना सोना देश में हैं, उसे ही हम गिरवी रख रहे हैं, अब और ला कर क्या करेंगे? और इज्जत का क्या है - वह तो आनी जानी है - बाहर घूम आते हैं, किताबों के कवर पर छप जाते हैं, यह क्या कम है? मुन्नू ने तो ऐसी बातें सुन सुन कर भारतीय टीम का एक गाना बना लिया था - न मांगू सोना चांदी, न मांगू हीरा मोती....
और भगवन, अब राजनीतिज्ञों की चौपाल - संसद - में यह बातें चल रही हैं कि हम क्यूँ हारे? नतीजा निकला - नीति ख़राब है. अरे, नीति किस चीज में अच्छी है तुम्हारी, जो तुम खेल नीति को दोष दे रहे हो! आपके जमाने के जो विदुर जी थे, उन तक की नीति तो कैसेटों में बंद है, जनता चीर-हरण देख लेती है, और नीति की बात आते ही कह देती है - लाइट चली गयी.
और बार्सीलोना में कुछ लोग अपने स्टेटस से अच्छा खेल गए तो इसका हमारे पास क्या इलाज है? एक देश है भगवन, टोटल हमारे मोहल्ले जितना, और इतने सारे पदक ले गया! अरे छोटा मुंह बड़ी बात - जितना सम्भाला जाए, ले जाओ, बाकी छोड़ दो, मौका पड़ा तो हम बटोर लायेंगे. नहीं तो, किसी को कुछ भेंट दे देंगे, काम हो जायेगा. हमारे यहाँ तो इस "भेंट" से कई काम निकल जाते हैं.
 
पहली किस्त - एक पत्र भगवान के नाम - 1

एक पत्र, भगवान के नाम - 1

बीस साल पहले करीब 1991 - 1992  में, जब मैं उदयपुर में इंजीनियरिंग कॉलेज की बदनाम गलियों को सुशोभित कर रहा था, कॉलेज मैगजीन के लिए मैंने एक व्यंग लिखा था, भगवान् के नाम एक पत्र की शक्ल में.
पिछले रविवार को रद्दी खंगालते हुए यह हाथ लगा. पढ़ा तो देश-काल की बहुत सी यादें ताज़ा हो आयी, बहुत से घटनाक्रम आँखों के आगे घूम गए. और फिर, आप से साझा करने को दिल किया. आशा करता हूँ कि आप ख़ुशी ख़ुशी झेल लेंगे.
पत्र थोडा लम्बा है, इस लिए आज पहला भाग. शेष आगे. और फोटो में - हमारा कॉलेज.  

आदरणीय भगवान,
भक्त का सादर चरण स्पर्श स्वीकार होवे.
बहुत दिनों से आप का कोई समाचार नहीं है. आपसे मिलना भी चाहता था, कि कुछ देर बैठें, सुख दुःख की बातें करें, परन्तु आज कल यहाँ पर सिस्टम कुछ उल्टा चल रहा है - आप को खबर भी नहीं होगी कि आप को चेतक ब्रांड की कॉपी बना दिया गया है. आप के सर्वाधिकार राजनीतिज्ञों और बड़े धर्म-पुरुषों को ट्रान्सफर कर दिए गए हैं और आप से मिलने के लिए उन से आज्ञा लेनी पड़ती है.
अब वहां पर क्या जावें - पान की दुकान खोलने से पहले डिग्री ले कर कई चक्कर लगाये थे पर ऊपर तक पहुँचने ही नहीं दिया गया. नीचे वाले भाइयों ने काफी आश्वासन दिए पर सिर्फ आश्वासन पर ही अटक गए. कई दिनों तक उन वादों के ढेर पर बैठ कर इज्जत की चूइंग गम चबाई पर कुछ होता नहीं दिखा.
फिर यहाँ मेन मार्केट में पुलिस और मुनिसिपल्टी की मदद से एक पान भंडार खोल लिया है. आप की कृपा से धंधा अच्छा चल रहा है. शहर के बड़े ऑफिस के सामने है - बड़े-२ बाबू, छोटे-छोटे चपरासी और गिरे-गिरे नेता - सब आपके भक्त की दुकान पर ही पधारते हैं. एक सुकून तो मिला - यह साले देश को चूना लगते हैं, हम इन को भी चूना लगाने के काबिल तो हुए. खैर - अपनी बडाई खुद क्या करें - आप तो सब जानते ही हैं.
राजनीति से याद आया - अभी कुछ दिन पहले चुनाव हुए थे - चुनाव जानते हैं न आप? अच्छा हाँ, शायद आपके ज़माने में ऐसा कुछ नहीं था. चुनाव एक बड़ी मजेदार चीज़ है - देश के सारे लोग इस प्रक्रिया के ज़रिये यह फैसला करते हैं कि अगले पांच सालों तक हमें कौन बेवकूफ बनाएगा. फिर अगले पांच सालों तक बैठ कर सर धुनते हैं कि यार, अगर फलाना जीत जाता तो मुझे गैस का कनेक्शन मिल जाता, फलाना हार गया इसलिए बैंगन महंगे हो गए आदि आदि.
खैर - चुनाव हुए, कोई जीता कोई हारा - इस से तो आपको मतलब नहीं रखना चाहिए क्यूंकि आप का हाल तो यही रहेगा. हाँ - जो जीत गया, उसकी चांदी हो गयी, पीढियां तर गयी. आपने एक रीत चलाई थी न - गाय की पूँछ पकड़ कर वैतरणी पार करने की. आज कल नेताओं की धोती पकड़ कर वैतरणी पार की जाती है - पैसे की लाठी से हांक कर.
वैसे, पैसे के भी पंख लग गए हैं आज कल. आप का टाइम नहीं रहा कि बहुत खुश हुए तो चार सहस्त्र अशर्फियाँ दान कर दी. पैसा कभी ऊँचा उठ जाता है, कभी नीचे गिर जाता है. अरे हाँ - अपने एक जानकार हैं - मेहता जी (हर्षद) - आज कल तो बंबई में पुलिसियों से गुफ्तगू कर रहे हैं-उन्होंने तो कमाल कर दिया था. पता नहीं कौन सी कैंची का इस्तेमाल किया कि सारे पंख क़तर डाले और पैसा गिर पड़ा - उसे उठा कर जेब में रख लिया. लेकिन भगवान, इर्ष्या तो बड़े बड़ों को मार गयी! जिन्हें पता लगा कि यार कुछ हुआ और अपने तो कुछ हाथ ही नहीं आया, उन्होंने शोर मचा दिया .. और एक काबिल भाई वित्त-मंत्री बनते बनते रह गया.---  

Chak De!

Finally, I think, things might now be looking up for our forgotten national game - hockey. Above is an amusing sight which I captured for you - children playing hockey & each one armed with a cricket bat!! Talk about one game at the cost of another!
On a serious note, it is surely the result of the good performance of our national team in the recently concluded Hockey World Cup and the much needed marketing efforts, which have resulted in to a revived interest in the game. 
Even though our team is obviously leagues behind the Germans and the Australians, I have the feeling Hockey in India is this time on the verge of attaining the critical mass, which would get things going. 
     

लापता गंज

घटिया टी.वी. सीरिअल्स और रिअलिटी टी.वी. की लगातार बढ़ती भीड़ के बीच इधर बहुत समय बाद एक बहुत प्यारा सा धारावाहिक देखने को मिल रहा है - लापतागंज.

सब टी.वी. पर रोजाना रात्रि १० बजे दिखाये जाने वाला यह सीरियल हमारे समय के एक तीखे व्यंगकार कवि, पत्रकार, नाटककार और संवाद लेखक - शरद जोशी की छोटी छोटी व्यंगात्मक कहानियों पर आधारित है.

धारावाहिक के केंद्र में एक छोटा कस्बा है - लापतागंज जो कि बिहार और उत्तर-प्रदेश के बीच कहीं स्थित लगता है और यहाँ रहने वाले पात्र, जो कमो-बेश पूरे हिंदुस्तान में कहीं भी हो सकते हैं. 

आज जबकि करीब करीब सारा मीडिया और फिल्में शहरी बातें करते नजर आते हैं, यह धारावाहिक असली हिंदुस्तान यानी कि छोटे गाँव और कस्बों के सरोकारों के, वहां के पात्रों की बात उन्ही की भदेस किस्म की जबान में करता है, जो कि एक ताज़ा हवा की तरह है. 

और यकीन मानिए, मैं यह रोमानी हो कर नहीं कह रहा हूँ. आज इस बात की बहुत ज्यादा जरूरत है कि हम शहरों में रहने वाले लोग हिंदुस्तान के दिल - यहाँ के गाँव और कस्बों को समझने की कोशिश करें न कि उन्हें ही भोंडे किस्म के शहर बनाने पे तुल जायें. 

शरद जोशी की लेखनी, जिसने हमें बहुत सी फिल्मों के संवाद दिए हैं (दिल है के मानता नहीं, उत्सव आदि), बहुत नाटक (मशहूर नाटक एक था गधा उर्फ़ अल्लादाद खान इन्ही का है)  और उपन्यास (हम भ्रष्टन के, भ्रष्ट हमारे आदि ) दिए हैं, इस धारावाहिक की जान है - इसके संवादों और स्क्रिप्ट के रूप में. और इस के सभी कलाकार अपने सरल अभिनय से एक निर्दोष हास्य पैदा करते हैं, जो न केवल गुदगुदाता है बल्कि अपने व्यंग की तीखी मार से हमें कचोटता भी है. लेकिन सबसे बड़ी बात - हमें हर हाल में खुश रहने का और अपने आप पर हंस सकने का माद्दा भी देता है.

इसी धारावाहिक के एक लोकप्रिय पात्र "कछुआ चाचा" की तर्ज़ में कहूं तो - कभी कभी यह देखा भी जाता है, कभी कभी यह देखा नहीं भी जाता है, पर पसंद बहुत आता है. 

Sachin - The God

Being a slothful creature that I am, the sporting world doesn't excite me greatly, not even vicariously. The sports pages of my newspaper are generally skipped over and I can not dream (pun intended) of sacrificing my sleep for a game. Neither is any sport personality in my hero worship league.
But then, Sachin is no ordinary sport personality and the cricket he plays is no ordinary sport. Sachin Tendulkar is the God of cricket.
Which he has amply proved today for the nth time in his career after smashing a double ton - the first by any player in One Day Internationals so far -against South Africa in the Gwalior one-day. Which is why he remains the only sportsman I truly admire.
His cricket is of course the one thing by which we all know him but my admiration is for the level-headed, no-nonsense person he remains, in spite of his obviously exalted position in the annals of the game and in spite of the glory of immense share of our collective Indian mindscape he occupies.
This is truly a virtue in this time of excesses of all kinds, where mediocre players & personalities lose no opportunity to throw their attitude around.
Congratulations to Sachin for this achievement and congratulations to all of us that we have had this opportunity to watch him playing in our times.  

Gandhi - our adhesive

इस बार बात देश को जोड़ने और तोड़ने की.

इसी छब्बीस जनवरी को, जब टी.वी. पर "गाँधी" फिल्म दिखाई जा रही थी, मैंने इस अद्भुत और विलक्षण व्यक्तित्व (चाहे नाट्य रूपांतर ही सही) का करिश्मा एक बार फिर देखा और महसूसा.

हमारे देश में, खासकर मेरी पीढ़ी में, गाँधी को गाली देने का और उन्हें देश की दुर्दशा के बीज बोने का जिम्मेदार ठहराने का फैशन सा है. शायद ये इस लिए है कि हम बेईमान, भ्रष्ट और सत्ता-लोलुप राजनीतिज्ञों के समय में पले बढे हैं. ऐसे में, किसी ऐसे राजनीतिज्ञ की कल्पना कर पाना, जो वाकई निस्वार्थ भाव से देश के लिए जीने और मरने की ताकत और हिम्मत रखता था, अकल्पनीय है. 

अल्बर्ट आइन्स्टीन ने गाँधी के निधन पर कहा था - “Generations to come will scarce believe that such a one as this walked the earth in flesh and blood.” 

कोई आश्चर्य नहीं कि उस कठिन समय में इस आदमी ने पूरे देश से "बापू" और "महात्मा" का दर्ज़ा पाया और इसे निभाया. पूरा देश इस संत की आराधना में एक हो गया था, जुड़ गया था.

इसके उलट, छब्बीस जनवरी के बाद, फरवरी शुरू होते होते ही हमारे कुछ आधुनिक नेताओं ने राजनीतिक रोटियाँ सेकने की खातिर भारतीय जन-मानस को तोड़ने के अपने agenda को हवा दी है. 

ईकिंसवी शताब्दी में भी एक विशुद्ध कबीलाई सोच को जीवित रख कर और गरीब बेकार लोगों को क्षेत्र और भाषा के नाम पर उकसा कर  गुंडा-गर्दी मचा पाने में वो आज तक जैसे सफल हुए हैं, वो भयावह है. 

पर ख़ुशी की बात यह है कि इस बार, पहली बार यह लग रहा है कि middle-of-the-road, sensible thinking के बहुत से दावेदार उठ खड़े हुयें हैं. यहाँ तक कि घोर हिंदुत्व-वादी पार्टियां भी इनमे शामिल हैं. आशा है इस बार घृणा के बादल छंट पाएंगे और कुछ मंगलमय  होगा. 

जैसा गाँधी ने कहा था - When I despair, I remember that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time they seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall. Think of it - always.

Ishqiya

I am just back after watching Ishqiya and am awash with its honesty and originality in all respects. It is not quite often that you find such original films from your usual Bollywood stables.
Ishqiya is a tale of how two ruffians, who are running away from a gang-lord, need to take shelter at a widow’s house and how this stay plays out. “Ishq” (love) is the overpowering emotion that runs throughout the film. All the three characters experience it in their own way, which is why the name.
The widow is played by Vidya Balan, in which we see a powerful female protagonist after a long time. She plays Krishna who knows her mind and speaks it too – cuss words and all. This, according to me, is Vidya’s coming of age movie, where she portrays a real woman, far removed from her earlier plastic glamdoll roles (Though I admit I have not yet watched Paa). I am sure she could be a formidable contender for the Best Actress award in 2010.
The other two protagonists are Naseer and Arshad Warsi. Now, what can one say about Naseer which has not been said before. An actor par excellence, he gets under the skin of his character so beautifully. Arshad Warsi is simply a delight to watch. His body language of a desi ruffian is flawless, complemented by some brilliant dialogues in regional accent. And their hilarious comedy is a treat.
It is a completely desi film set in the eastern UP with gun running and kidnapping industry forming the backdrop. And as I said earlier, the honesty of the film lies not only in the realistic backdrop but also the emotional interplay between the characters. There is none of that soft-lens romance but only raw emotion which flows throughout. 
It is only the ending, which, I felt could have been more rounded off. But that is only a small hitch, which should not at all prevent you from watching this brilliant film from Abhishek Chaubey. Do go and enjoy it.

Happy Republic Day!

गणतंत्र दिवस के अवसर पर आप को, हम सब को बधाई और हमारे तिरंगे को सलाम.
आशा है कि तमाम मुश्किलों के बावजूद यह गणतंत्र कायम रहेगा और उत्तरोतर उन्नति करेगा!
कल पुरानी दिल्ली की गलियाँ छानते हुए दो बंद पडी दुकानों के shutters के रंग देख कर दिमाग में तिरंगा छा गया, तो एक फोटो ले डाली. मन चंगा तो कठौती में गंगा, कहत हैं न?

पुष्प की "अभिलाषा"

In the selfish times that we inhabit, people who would stand up for the larger good of the community are a rarity. Most of us lack the time, inclination and courage to think about and work for anything which lies beyond our immediate concerns. 
It therefore gives me pleasure to introduce you to Abhilasha, a dear old family friend. She has successfully spearheaded a community movement and prevented MCD (Municipal Commission of Delhi) from turning one of her colony parks into a parking lot. 
Above is a recent article in the Hindustan Times of 8th Jan'10 which applauds this effort. I apologize for the slightly tacky look of the article but because I could not blog it directly from the HT, I had to scan and put it up for you to see. I am however sure the beauty of her intent and work would more than compensate for this. 

Saal Mubarak- 3 Idiots

At the onset, let me wish all of you a great 2010 ahead! I wish we all grow happier, richer and wiser in this year, far removed from the gloom of 2008 and 2009.

In this first post of the year, therefore, I would be talking about a happy film which I caught over the last weekend - 3 Idiots.

3 Idiots is a delightful and intelligent movie – a fun story with a message, exactly the kind you would expect from the coming together of Rajkumar Hirani & Aamir Khan.

The basic story idea of a journey of 3 friends through their engineering college years is from the famous book “Five Point Someone” by Chetan Bhagat. Beyond the story idea, however, Hirani has fleshed out the characters and situations in his inimitable style and yet again has succeeded in making a movie with a message without being didactic. And he has been immensely helped in this endeavour by all his actors.

Aamir Khan it seems is now capable of bringing gravitas to any script with his sincerity. This film is no different. Far removed from the beef-cake look of his last film Ghazni, he now wears a diminutive look of a fresh college student with perfect elan. Sharman and Madhvan as the remaining 2 idiots are also extremely good - specially Sharman, who has developed in to a fine comic actor. About Boman Irani, what can one say! His thorough transformation in to the character is a treat to watch. And Kareena is surprisingly very good.
But even more than the actors, the message around which the film has been built is the real star - that pedagogy should be trounced in favour of real merit and that excellence begets success and not the other way round.
I would admit that there are fleeting moments where, as my dear friend Manish put it, one gets the feeling of Taare Zameen Par meets Munna Bhai but in the end the whole turns out to be greater than the sum of parts.
So go watch it. ALL IZZ WELL!!

Rocket Singh

Rocket Singh is such an obviously sincere film with 3-or-above-star rating from every critic in town that I am scared stiff of speaking anything against it.

The fact however remains that apart from a new theme of office politics (no, its definitely not an ode to entrepreneurship), some extremely good acting by Ranbir, and brilliant dialogue by Jaideep Sahni, it has nothing else to offer.

It seems Shimit Amin is suffering from the same moral dilemma as his hero does - he is not able to decide how to project honesty & truthfulness - as a virtue or as a vice. Overall, I do not find it a well-rounded film - not in the league of Shimit's Chak De et al.

And what is with the नकली mustaches I do not understand! Couldn't the characters of Naveen Kaushik (Nitin Rathore) and Manish Chaudhary (Puri) have grown real ones?

'Many'cure?

हमारे देश में अंग्रेजी के बलात्कार का एक नमूना आप की नज़र. (नज़दीक से देखने के लिए फोटो पर डबल क्लिक करें).

बाकी सब तो फिर भी चला लेंगे पर child cutting? वीभत्स!

Bigg Boss

When it started, Bigg Boss – the reality TV show – was somewhere at the top of my “most hated TV programs” list – voyeurism at its worst. In its 3^rd season, however, I am surprised, even a little bit ashamed I admit, that I am hooked on to Bigg Boss! I now find it among the most interesting programs on the telly!

I understand an explanation is due.

The initial ice-breaker was the new host Amitabh Bachchan who for me upped the credibility of the show. It seems to me that the general flippancy abounding in the earlier shows has been replaced by a certain gravitas, even though studiously manufactured.

But more than that, it is the format which I have now started seeing in a new light. I earlier considered it no more than putting a few celebrities together and enjoy their shenanigans.

As I watched however, I have been increasingly fascinated of this unique psychological laboratory where human subjects, completely shorn of their celebrity status, act and react to real and imagined pressure cooker situations. Of course, like all reality TV, much of it must be manufactured reality but even then, it is done quite subtly.

Of course, one last and important reason is the participants themselves, all of whom are quite interesting this time. Of course, beneath their different personalities, quirks and idiosyncrasies, they reiterate how similar all human beings are, how we value ourselves more than anything or anyone else and how we love to see others fall.

Any guesses on who would be the winner this time?

Kaise Hota Hai

A young friend of mine recently passed away in a most unfortunate manner. 29 is no age to go, not by a cardiac arrest, not in any manner.

While at his funeral, I could not bear the sight of his father - helpless, desolate and apparently bereft of any emotions. Cheated by life, he seemed to me. I can not even imagine the hell he must be going through. I just wish & pray he and the whole family is able to pull themselves together and come out of this.

Curiously, at this time, I am also reminded about a poem I wrote 4 years ago about how when a child is born, s/he fills up, lights up our entire lives. I reproduce it below, with a strange hope that as times go by, happier memories would soften the cruel blow of destiny:

कैसे होता है?

कैसे होता है,

कि

मासूम हंसी का एक तार

सी देता है ज़िन्दगी के सारे पैबंद

और

एक मुस्कराहट भर के लिए

दम भरती है ज़िन्दगी

करती है - इंतज़ार

कैसे होता है

कि

बंजर दिल की ज़मीं को

तर कर देते हैं

सिर्फ दो नन्हे आंसू,

और उदास एक नज़र से

मानती है खुदाई भी हार

कैसे होता है

कि नन्हे दो हाथों में

उतर आता है

सारा आसमां

और

छोटे छोटे कदम

बन जाते हैं

आहट ज़िन्दगी की

कैसे होता है

कि

एक किलकारी भर से

होती है बसावट

पूरी ज़िन्दगी की!

(19.01.2004)

Good Bye JP.

Manohar Shyam Joshi

हिंदी और अंग्रेजी के बहुत से उपन्यास, कहानियां और पत्रिकाएँ मैंने पढी हैं - साहित्यिक, माडर्न टाइप, पुराने क्लास्सिक्स, लुगदी साहित्य, और न जाने "कैफे कैफे". एक आम पाठक की हैसियत से मैंने यह पाया है कि साहित्य के मोटे तौर पर दो ही पहलू हैं - एक कथानक, दूसरा भाषा. इन दोनों की गुणवत्ता और सामंजस्य ही उस कृति, चाहे वो कहानी हो या कविता, की गुणवत्ता, प्रखरता और प्रभाव निर्धारित करता है.

इस लिहाज से मेरे विचार में बहुत थोड़े से ही लेखक ऐसे हैं कि जिनकी शैली, यानी लिखा हुआ शब्द और कथानक यानी शब्दों के बीच की कहानी, दोनों इतने दमदार, ओरिजनल और अनूठे होते हैं कि मानो पन्नों से निकल कर सीधे अन्दर के इंसान से डायरेक्ट रिश्ता बना ले जाते हैं. इस श्रेणी में सबसे ऊपर मैं रखता हूँ मनोहर श्याम जोशी को.

हम में से अधिकतर लोग मनोहर श्याम जोशी को दूरदर्शन के पहले मशहूर टी.वी सीरियल "हम लोग" के लेखक के रूप में जानते होंगे, जैसा कि मेरे अल्प-ज्ञान की बदौलत मैं जानता था. जैसा कि उस वय में हमारे साथ होता था, एक टी.वी सीरियल की सफलता में हमें सिर्फ परदे पर चेहरे दीख पाते थे, परदे के पीछे नहीं. इस लिए यह नाम आया गया हो गया, जो कि बड़ी भूल हुई.

फिर अभी करीब पांच साल पहले एक सह-ब्लॉगर "सिलबिल" ने मुझे "कसप" के बारे में बताया, जिसके जरिये मेरा बाकायदा परिचय जोशी जी की लेखनी से हुआ. "कसप" पहाड़ी पृष्ठभूमि में लिखी गयी एक हिंदी प्रेमकथा (उपन्यास) है, जिस का नायक एक अनाथ और निर्धन युवक डी.डी. (देबिया या देबिदुत्त तिवारी) है और नायिका है बेबी नाम्नी एक खिलंदढ़ कन्या. मैं आपसे सच कहता हूँ, ऐसी भावप्रण और ईमानदार प्रेमकथा मैंने आज तक न पढी है और ना ही परदे पर देखी है. पहाडी आंचलिक परिवेश और भाषा इस प्रेम-कहानी को एक अलग ही आयाम दे देते हैं. यह मुझे बाद में पता लगा कि इस उपन्यास को लोग हिंदी साहित्य के एक मील के पत्थर की तरह मानते हैं.

इस शानदार उपन्यास के बाद मैं इनका एक अन्य उपन्यास "कुरु कुरु स्वाहा" पढ़ पाया, जो कि एक और अजब ही, करीब करीब वर्णातीत सी चीज़ निकली. उपन्यास के जैकेट पर भी ऐसा ही कुछ वर्णन है, नोश फरमाइए - "नाम बेढब, शैली बेडौल, कथानक बेपेंदे का. कुल मिला कर बेजोड़ बकवास. अब यह पाठक पर है कि "बकवास" को "एब्सर्ड" का पर्याय माने या न माने". और, इसी के एक पात्र के शब्दों में - " अईसा कामेडी है कि दर्शिक लोग जानेगा, केतना हास्यास्पद है त्रास अऊर केतना त्रासद है हास्य." आंचलिक भाषाओँ पर अपनी बेहद मजबूत पकड़ का परिचय जोशी जी यहाँ पर भी दे देते हैं - पंजाबी और बम्बईया लहजों से सराबोर हिंदी से पाठक का परिचय करवा के.

"स्वाहा" के बाद बारी थी "ट-टा प्रोफ़ेसर" की, जिसे मैंने बड़ी शिद्दत से ढूँढा. आखिरकार, लैंडमार्क स्टोर पर हिंदी किताबों के निष्कासित और भूले भूले से सेक्शन में मेरी किस्मत जागी. एक ही सिटिंग में मैं इसे पढ़ गया और बिलकुल भी निराश नहीं होना पड़ा. यह उपन्यास भी "स्वीकृत मानदंडों की दृष्टि से पूरी तरह तर्क-संगत और प्रासंगिक नहीं होने के बावजूद हिंदी उपन्यासों में एक विशिष्ट दर्जा रखता है....एक पात्र की ही नहीं, एक कहानी की भी कहानी है....." (जैकेट से).

एक जीवंत और प्रमाणिक भाषा के अलावा जोशी जी के लेखन में दो चार बातें और मैंने पायी. एक तो यह कि हर कहानी के केंद्र में नायक का अकेलापन है जो पूरी कहानी को एक अबूझ और attractive उदासी दे देता है. दूसरा यह कि पूरी कहानी के दौरान एक तीसरी आँख कैमरे की तरह फिल्म बनाती चलती है, जो शायद उनके फिल्म अनुभव की वजह से है. इस से कहानी में एक अलग ही dynamics और perspective पैदा हो जाते हैं और कहानी को एक अलग ही गति दे देते हैं. तीसरी बात यह है कि कोई भी कहानी किसी मेसेज के ढकोसले में फँस कर पाठक के बौद्धिक स्तर का अपमान नहीं करती. कहानी सिर्फ कहानी होती है. चौथी बात शायद आपने अब तक नोट कर ही ली होगी - उनके अनूठे और रहस्यमयी से शीर्षक.

कुल मिला कर यह कि पहली फुर्सत में जोशी जी को पढ़ डालिए और रसास्वादन कीजिये. तब तक मैं इनकी अन्य कृतियाँ जुटाता हूं.

Dev. D

The best tribute any filmmaker can pay to his favorite work of art is when s/he retells it in his own way.

Dev D, though of course based on the original story by Shart Babu, is an out and out Anurag Kashyap film – completely hat ke, and very bold – not recommended for your usual Bollywood aficionados. I watched it a couple of days back, and it is only now that I have been able to shake off its stupor.

It is not only that the story has been made contemporary by placing it firmly in rural Punjab and Paharganj, and dovetailing it with certain current happenings in Delhi. The undercurrent of emotions that run through the film is also so palpably real and so modern, not far-fetched and unfathomable for we the real people. And the characters, including the protagonist Dev, are very realistically etched out, away from the “classic” and “pristine” characters of all the earlier versions.

Of course, the film would not be what it is without some marvelous acting by Abhay Deol, Mahi Gill and Kalki. Thank God for actors like Abhay, and directors like Anurag Kashyap, who have tried hard, and been successful, in growing apart from the formula land of bad Bollywood. Without them, we would be so much the poorer.

Talking too much about the film would spoil the fun for the unlucky ones (or simply out-of-date types like me) who have not watched it yet. Just let me say that ten years down the line, it would surely be counted as one of the milestones of Hindi cinema. So, go ahead and watch it. Pronto.

Jaat Hi Poochho Sadhu Ki

भारतीय रंग-कर्म के लेखन क्षेत्र में विजय तेंदुलकर एक कद्दावर नाम है, यह मैंने पहली बार बीस साल पहले तब जाना था जब स्कूल में उनके लिखे एक प्रख्यात नाटक "खामोश, अदालत जारी है" पर आधारित (सिर्फ़ "आधारित, क्यूंकि स्कूल के बालकों के लिए इस की थीम काफी बोल्ड थी) एक नाटक का मंचन देखा था।
कल एन.एस.डी रंगमंडल की प्रस्तुति "जात ही पूछो साधू की" देख कर लौटा हूँ और एक बार फिर शिद्दत के साथ विजय तेंदुलकर, और साथ ही में रंगशाला के कलाकारों का और हिन्दी अनुवादक डॉ। वसंत देव का, कला-कौशल महसूस रहा हूँ।
"जात.." एक बहुत ही आम, कस्बाई युवक महीपत की कहानी है जो हमारे देश के लाखों युवकों की कहानी की तरह तीसरे दर्जे में एम्.ए पास से शुरू हो कर, जात-पात, भाई-भतीजावाद, गंवाई राजनीती और असफल प्यार से होती हुई अंततः बे-रोजगारी पर ख़त्म होती है.
कहानी बिलकुल सीधी-सादी, या यूँ कहें कि एक-आयामी ही है पर विजय तेंदुलकर के हाथों में एक farce का treatment पा कर, और वसंत देव के शानदार हिंदी अनुवाद और आंचलिक संवादों से सज कर यह एक घनघोर हास्य नाटक में बदल गयी है. और इस पर रंगमंडल (NSD repertoire) के कलाकारों के उच्च स्तरीय अभिनय ने इस नाटक की प्रशंस्नीयता को अक्षुण रखा है. नायक महीपत की भूमिका में अम्बरीश सक्सेना बहुत दमदार हैं, और इसके अलावा बबना, नलिनी और चेयरमैन (सुरेश शर्मा) भी कमाल के हैं. सुरेश शर्मा रंगमंडल के प्रमुख हैं, और इन्हें "घासीराम कोतवाल" में नाना के रोल में देखना भी एक अनुभव ही था.
ऐसे नाटकों को देख कर यह अहसास होता है कि वाकई अभिनय कला की सही कसौटी मंच ही है, फूहड़ फिल्में, भद्दे टी.वी सीरिअल और रियलिटी टी.वी प्रोग्राम नहीं.
नाटकों के बारे में और बातें फिर कभी.

Police Sensitization

A few days back, I was reading an editorial in the Hindustan Times which talked about an unfortunate incident in which some policemen & women beat up a mentally ill girl because she turned violent.

The editorial argued that the police force needs to be reformed and sensitized about such matters.

My response, in an unpublished letter, is as follows:

This is apropos your editorial "Are we really a police state?" in HT dated August 27, 2009.

You have rightly raised a very apt question about the lack and immediate need thereof of sensitization of our police force. It was indeed painful to learn about a mentally ill girl being thrashed mercilessly in public, which is yet another instance of police behaviour at its worst.

In my view, however, this is not the problem per se; it is only a symptom of a deeper malaise. Police force, like any other institution, is not a faceless entity. It is essentially a group of people who, rather than being unleashed by the heavens above, are common people drawn from the society itself.

And it is our societal collective mindset – essentially feudalistic, acutely class-conscious, intolerant of the maginalised of any manner and opportunistic of the first order, rules be damned – which is being reflected in each one of us, policemen included, only with different degrees of manifestation in line with the opportunity provided.

It has to be recognized therefore that without a corrective action on the root cause, therefore, it would only be a symptomatic treatment at best.

Sincerely Yours

Kaminey

Yesterday, after we had unfurled the Tricolour at our residence apartments, I went to watch Kaminey, the new Vishal Bhardwaj film.

Kaminey is a story about how the lives of two identical brothers, one a small time gambler and the other an idealist, crisscross each other in a series of incidents and after many manoeuvers, culminate in a happily–ever–after end. The title Kaminey (hindi), which loosely translates into a wicked or a vile fellow, derives from the wickedness of the gambler brother and how he uses this trait to survive in the world.

It is now beyond dispute that Vishal is surely an above-average film-maker, with gems like Omkara, Maqbool and The Blue Umbrella to his credit. It has to be said, however, that Kaminey falls just a whisper short of the high standards and expectations one has of him.

It has a rather clichéd story line, reminding one of the old 70s films, complete with bura bhai - achha bhai clashes, villain ka adda and late entry of the police et al.

Admittedly, the treatment and the screen-play is authentic Vishal but the earthliness and the gritty reality which seeps through each of his films has this time been replaced in part by a sort of flight of fancy – what else can you say when you see Priyanka Chopra holding and firing a machine gun!

And the characterization and role-etching, which is always a high point of his films, also leaves something to be desired. Not only were there many small characters which were just introduced and left on fringes completely unexplored, the good brother character of Shahid also suffers from this.

Lest you be scared of the movie, however, let me reiterate that the standards by which I am judging Kaminey are a bit harsh - those which have been set up by Vishal’s earlier films. As a stand-alone film, Kaminey is a gripping movie, exemplifying Vishal’s superior understanding of this craft and has its strong points.

First, the film unearths a different Shahid Kapur – it stands to surely catapult him from the “boys’ club” to “men-only” section. It could be termed an out-and-out Shahid film. Add to that a surprise villain in Amole Gupte.

Second is the delightful music score – a combination of some brilliant lyrics by Gulzar (who else can write Dhan Te Nan with such élan?), music by Vishal himself, both riding on the voices of Sukhwinder and Mohit Chauhan.

Third is the fast pace and slick editing of the film, which keeps the adrenaline flowing.

All in all, the movie merits a must-watch-once tag.

White Mughals & Hyderabad

It was in May that I was reading White Mughals by Willian Dalrymple, when a lovely coincidence resulted in my visit to Hyderabad during that time.

White Mughals, though technically classified as a history book, is essentially a true & moving love story between an English resident James William Kirkpatrick and a Hyderabadi noble woman Kahirunnissa, set in Hyderabad of 18^th century. Kirkpatrick took to Islam to marry this woman.

Keeping this love story in the foreground, Dalrymple has explored and evidenced the inter-cultural and inter-racial mingling of an improbably large number of British people with the Indians at that time.

Having considered the English as mostly colonial masters and India-haters, I was really surprised to learn that there were actually a large number of Englishmen who not only did not hate India, but loved this country so much that they embraced the Indian culture in totality– dress, cuisine, lifestyles – everything. The rare photos reproduced of the Englishmen including the protagonist show them all decked up in Indian finery, complete with hookahs et al. A large number of them had Indian wives. Many of them spoke fluent Persian and Hindustani, got their palms hennaed and even nursed the ubiquitous Indian symbol - moustache.

For a historian, Dalrymple has an excellent narrative style. Considering that he does not have the luxury of a fictional plot, the story he has pieced together from the available sources including private letters is truly a compelling one, and I could feel the passion of the main characters.

Another surprise protagonist which emerges from the story is the city of Hyderabad. Dalrymple has been able to create a lively approximation of Hyderabad of yore. The painstaking research, though digressive sometimes, sparkles through each and every page.

(Image Courtesy: FlytoHyderabad.com)

When I first visited Hyderabad around 7 years back, I was pleasantly surprised to find a clean, energetic city with wide roads (it was during the reign of Chandrababu Naidu) in place of a stinking city which some people had warned it to be. There is however a more important thing about the city which I felt - it seems to present a delightful confluence of North and South Indian cultures, as symbolised by the language (ready understanding and acceptability of Hindi in this southern state) and food (delicious cuisine which is able to satiate even a North Indian palate).

This time, however, I long to see beyond the present, and explore the forgotten monuments like the British Residency, Begum's Garden, Raymond's Tomb etc, and visualise the past in places like Banjara Hills. But whenever I do this, I am sure I will be armed with this gem of a tome.

छुट्टियाँ ख़त्म या छुट्टियां शुरू

Now that the summer vacations of my son, who is in Class III, have ended, it seems mine and my wife's have truly started.

Till the last week, as we raced towards the deadline of school re-opening, we were fully consumed after our office hours in making charts, sticking pictures, tying up project-reports and what have you, all in the interest of timely completion of his "holiday homework". I talked to some "fellow travelers" in distress and the common refrain was - इतना तो हम हमारे टाइम में पढ़ लेते तो आज IAS कर चुके होते !!

The phrase "Holiday Homework" truly must rate amongst the top 10 oxymorons in the Indian English. After all, what remains of holidays for a poor child with so much homework to complete is anybody's guess. I fondly remember our times when holidays were pure fun, untouched by anything remotely curricular and academic. And this did not make us any poorer in education, my contemporaries would agree.

I am sure I state the obvious in saying that it is we parents who are to blame for this sorry state. Today, when most of us are maniacally driving our children towards super-human goals, we expect the schools to play their part. Driven, therefore, by our anxities and in their zeal to provide us a better "product" that education has now become, the schools work out unassailable tasks for the children as homeworks, which even parents find quite tough. No wonder then that there have sprung up specialised shops catering to school projects and homework!

I wish the educationalists and acamedicians would recognize this as a problem and devise some such simple assignments, if needed at all, which could make the lives of our children more relaxed and fun, and ours more relieved.

Happy and Gay?

Apropos the Delhi High Court judgement over gay rights, it is amusing to note that both the opponents and proponents of the judgement have, even if inadvertently, reduced this issue to just a Freudian debate.

This judgement is an endorsement of personal liberty and rights and inclusiveness, which any sane and civil person already understands. That the state also now does so is all the more welcome. It is one less opportunity for the insensitive law enforcerers to harrass civil people on imaginary pretexts. So far so good.

However, the accompanying celebrations and felicitations and the whole picture painted in the media has twisted this issue out of context. It almost seems like a glorification of the LGBT lifestyle choice, if there is one, over our less interesting, boringly normal heterosexual lifestyles.

This we definitely do not need. It has to be clearly understood that the issue is about inclusiveness towards the "differently normal", if I may dare to coin a term, and not about their validation as normal.

The same sentiments are carried in my letter to the editor in today's edition of Indian Express, Delhi.

I would love to hear what you think about this sensitive topic.

गोरा

मैंने अक्सर किताबें पढ़ते हुए सोचा है कि ऐसा क्या है जो एक लेखक को औरों से ज्यादा पठनीय बनता है, एक महान लेखक को आम लेखकों से अलग करता है, और सबसे बड़ी बात - उसकी रचनाओं को कालजयी बना देता है।
बहुत साल पहले जब प्रेमचंद को मैंने पहली बार पढ़ा था तो इस प्रश्न से मेरा पहला साबका था। इस बार, मैंने गुरुदेव रबिन्द्रनाथ ठाकुर का उपन्यास "गोरा" ख़त्म किया है , और मुझे लगता है कि मैंने उत्तर पा लिया है। "गोरा" मूलतः बांगला भाषा में है, जो मैं नहीं पढ़ पाता हूँ। इसलिए कुछ दो-एक महीने पहले जब मुझे सत्चितानंद वात्स्यायन "अज्ञेय" द्वारा हिन्दी में इस उपन्यास का अनुवाद मिला तो मैंने तुंरत इसे उठा लिया - गुरुदेव को पढ़ पाने का इस से बेहतर और प्रामाणिक अनुवाद और क्या हो सकता था।
"गोरा" एक ऐसा वृहत उपन्यास है जो स्वतंत्रता के कुछ दशक पहले के कलकत्ता में स्थित किया गया है और जो मित्रता, देशप्रेम, पारिवारिक सवाल-जवाबों और स्त्री-पुरूष प्रेम के ताने बाने में गूँथ कर तत्कालीन बांगला, या कहें कि भारतीय समाज की, न केवल वास्तु-स्थिति प्रस्तुत करता है बल्कि उसके अन्तर-विरोधों और रूढियों पर भी चोटें करता है। गौरमोहन नामक युवक इस उपन्यास के मुख्य पात्रों में से एक है, और इस उपन्यास के नाम का कारण भी। कहानी जानने के लिए आपको उपन्यास में डुबकी लगानी होगी।
यहाँ मैं आपसे मेरे प्रश्न का उत्तर बांटने में ज्यादा उत्सुक हूँ, चाहे साहित्य के गंभीर पाठकों और विद्यार्थियों के लिए शायद यह सब इतना नया न हो।
निपट सरल भाषा में जटिल से जटिल बात कह देना सभी महान लेखकों का संभवतः पहला विशेष लक्षण है। मैंने अंग्रेज़ी में सलमान रश्दी को पढ़ा है, और कदम कदम पर शब्दकोष की आवश्यकता महसूस की है। इस के बाद, शायद मेरे शब्द-ज्ञान में तो वृद्धि हुई होगी, लेकिन कहानी का रस कहीं बीच ही में छूट गया। इसके उलट, गुरुदेव और प्रेमचंद और इनके समकक्ष अन्य रचनाकार अपने पाठकों पर धाक ज़माने से ज्यादा अपनी बात को कहने और समझाने में विश्वास रखते हैं - वे सरल शब्दों का प्रयोग करते हैं और इस लिए आम जन से अपने आपको सायास ही जोड़ लेते हैं।
दूसरी महत्त्वपूर्ण बात - इन सभी रचनाकारों में मानव मन की गांठें खोल पाने का, और गहन भावनाओं को पाठक तक अपने शुध्ह्तम रूप में पहुँचा पाने का अद्भुत कला कौशल है। सभी पात्रों की सोच और उनके विचारों को इतनी ईमानदारी से हमारे समक्ष रख पाना कोई मामूली बात नहीं है।
तीसरी और आखरी बात जो मैं समझ पाया वह कारण से अधिक परिणाम है - महान कलाकारों की रचनायें बूढी नहीं होती। देश, काल और समय के परे यह आज भी हमें छू पाने का माद्दा रखती हैं।
आज इतना ही। साहित्य के बारे में आपके विचारों की प्रतीक्षा रहेगी.

Trichy

Every time I travel out of Delhi NCR to far-flung cities and small towns, it is a pleasure to be relieved of my claustrophobic, Delhi-centric vision and be treated to the varied cultural experience that real India has to offer.

We (my friends DD, K and I) are just back from a week long business tour to Trichy in Tamilnadu, which I had earlier considered to be an inconsequential “Madrasi” town, mainly an industrial area. It is an industrial town, yes, but has other interesting facets too.

Trichy (or Tiruchirapalli) is the fourth largest city of Tamilnadu. Apart from being an important centre for industry (major energy sector related industry), it is a big religious tourism hub (many temples) and an education centre too (Dr. CV Raman and Dr. Kalam and some of the renowned “alumni” of the city).

The industry visits took my maximum time, which was why we were actually there. It has a dense concentration of BHEL ancillaries which are manufacturing varied equipments for the energy sector.

To complete the religious itinerary, we visited the two major temples - Shree Ranganathan Temple, which, as wikipedia informs, is the largest functioning Hindu (Vaisnava) temple in the world and Rockfort Temple, a Shiva temple on an 83mtrs high rock, which is a geographical anomaly in an otherwise flat landscape (see pic).

Both the temples are generally well-managed from a devotee’s point of view, as temples down South are known to be, but for a small anomaly - none of the important historical and mythological information is displayed in any language other than Tamil.

Owing to this, it was frustrating for me to not being able to decipher these markers and delve deeper in to so much history and culture and mythology right in front of me. Somebody needs to seriously look in to it.

We also visited an ancient Grand Anicut (dam) which is still functional (see pic) but did not seem to be very well promoted. With a little more effort, I am sure it could be developed in to a good resort.

There is a small army cantonment area which I suspect might be from the colonial times but it has remained completely unexplored by me.

Apart from this, we had a limited interaction with the city as a civic centre, but it was delightful to be treated to actual Tamilnadu, beyond the cosmopolitanism of Chennai. From what we could see, Trichy is a well maintained city with good civic services. Most notable for us Dilliwallahs was the extraordinarily large, well managed and sparklingly clean fleet of city buses.

The food is unapologetically south Indian, as is ought to be. To be fair, there are a lot of eateries “specializing” in different cuisines – Bombay Chappathy, North Indian dhall tharka, Chow mein and what not but everytime we deviated from the staple fare, it was an adventure best forgotten. Except the unfailingly excellent “kaapi” every time and the ubiquitous “paan”.

Trichy would remain with me as my first window to the mofussil Tamilnadu.

Jai Ho!

The battle cry of Jai Ho! (Victory Be Thine!) has served its purpose well for the Congress. The Grand Old Party has been voted back to power in a manner so decisive as to surprise even its own stalwarts.  

Clearly, it is a vote for stability and continuance of good governance, and as Shekhar Gupta so succinctly writes in his today’s editorial in Indian Express - “politics of aspiration has won over the politics of grievance”.

Regardless of one’s political affinities, it is a matter of pleasure to note the most obvious positive – a firm rendering of caste and religion as irrelevant in the democratic process as demonstrated in the rout of BJP and Behen ji.

Another positive is that the Indian voter has ably learnt to make a distinction between the state and central elections, which is why the regional parties have been more or less swept off the electoral map this time.   

So, here is wishing the new government all the very best. I sincerely hope this time Congress party puts its head down and tackle issues that really matter – education, nutrition, child care, unemployment, poverty, followed by Kashmir, Naxals et al. They have been blessed with a strong mandate, and inaction would surely attract capital punishment at the next hustings.

Oh, and by the way, while they get on with their work, I wish to at least once meet the entity which they say is responsible for all of it – the Indian Voter. S/he is the bhagya vidhata of our politicians and indeed of our country, because it is s/he who decides who would rule us. All the surveys and editorials talk about he/r.

I wish this being would remain awake more often than every 5 years it does now, and guide the government with the same iron hand it has elected it.  

Indian Express, 14th May'09

Indian Express of 13th May'09 carried a photograph of a proposed four-faced statue of Mayawati. I thought I was above contempt for this woman but a fesh wave of nausea surprised me. 

Today's Indian Express Delhi Edition carries my following letter in response:

"Mayafication ■ MAYAWATI’S photograph on your front page (‘Maya, Maya...’, IE, May 13) aptly summed up all that Mayawati actually stands for — self glorification, ideology be damned.

While there’s no denying that much needs to be done still for Dalit empowerment the big question remains whether this purpose is being served through Mayawati’s wasteful expenditure. I am surprised at the collective silence of our intelligentsia.

— Rahul Gaur Gurgaon"

Indian Express April 18 2009

Following is my letter to the editor about the Naxal problem, published in IE of 18th April'09.

Help and Punish

The image of a policeman in a dingy cell, writing his report as a slain security man lies on a post mortem table, is a poignant reminder of the grim realities of our democratic republic, beyond the usual post-poll smiles we are usually treated to (First Phse, Naxals cast their bullet, IE, April 17). 

While the state's failure to tackle the Maoists stares us in the face, it must also be acknowledged that the Naxalite problem did'nt surface overnight.

The rise of these ruthless murderers owes also to the systematic neglect and exloitation of the tribals. These marginalised people are now being exploited by the Naxalites to push their agenda.

As we celebrate our democratic carnival, our leaders should devise manifold policies to uplift these poor people and work out strategies to defeat the Naxalites. 

Rahul Gaur, Gurgaon

Once again, the erudite editors have tweaked the content to probably suit their style. But yes, the gist remains intact.

I invite your comments on this Naxal problem.

Outlook, April 13, 2009

Outlook, March 30 issue carried an interesting cover-story, which talked about how the brains behind the success of almost all the major politicians are Brahmins.  To a prejudiced mind, it could be termed as almost eulogising Brahmins.

My take on this story is carried in the Letter section of the present issue of Outlook and goes as follows:

Your cover story Backroom Brahmins (Mar 30) has dared to put forth a brave and thought-provoking thesis, which no publication would touch upon, lest it be accused of "propagating Brahmin supremacy and caste politics in these modern times". Political correctness aside, I wish this thesis was extended/tested with other occupations also. I am no historian or social scientist, but I think such a study would bear out the fact that the much derided caste system was actually a functional division based on personality traits and types—horizontal rather than vertical.
Rahul Gaur, Gurgaon 

I am really of the opinion that the caste system in its origin must have been a great psychological tool to categorise personalities for optimum utilization of societal resources. 

It is only with centuries of abuse perpetrated by petty self-interests that it degenerated in to a vile tool and created water-tight jackets of castes in which any osmosis was rendered impossible.

This is a touchy but interesting issue. Your enlightened opinions are awaited.  

Sakharam Binder and The Golden Fish

Watching two plays consecutively, on each of the last two weekends, has been sort of a study in contrasts for me.

The first play I talk about was titled “The Golden Fish”, a play for children, and part of a kids’ theatre festival, which we randomly walked into, thinking it as no more than a time pass evening for our 7 year old son.
On the contrary, we were pleasantly surprised to watch an immensely enjoyable and brilliant play, which managed to reach out to even us adults, what to talk about the kids. It is based on a poem of the same name by the famous Russian poet Alexander Pushkin, and talks about an old fisherman, his greedy wife, and a generous & miraculous gold-fish. How the greedy wife is justly rewarded is the mainstay of the play.
“The Golden Fish”, we learnt, is produced by a society named Khilona, and was presented as a part of International World Day of Theater for Children, in collaboration with ASSITEJ – International Association of Theater for Children and Young People.
Khilona, we also learnt, is a 20 year old theater society specializing in dramas and workshops only for kids. It is run by Mr. VK Sharma, who is an NSD graduate and an acclaimed director himself, who has directed this present production too.
In this play, VK used an interactive narrative – sort of conversational building blocks, right from the introduction of the cast in the beginning – an approach which surely appealed to kids. Aided by pithy dialogues which do not talk down to the kids, good acting, simple but interesting props and of course a tight direction, the play progressed as a fun-filled informal interaction would naturally happen in group of kids.
It was a treat to watch and is highly recommended. I would be on look out for other plays from Khilona in future.

In contrast is the second play, which I watched just yesterday - the extremely famous “Sakharam Binder”, which was presented by Abhyan (or is it Abhiyan?) and directed by the equally famous theater doyen Rajinder Nath.
Having earlier watched a stupendous performance of “Ghasiram Kotwal”, which is also written by Tendulkar, at the NSD some time back, and having read a bit about Sakharam Binder, I was really very excited about it.
Sakharam Binder is one of the most noted & controversial plays written by Vijay Tendulkar. The protagonist, Sakharam, a book binder by profession, is alone in this world except for a close friend Dawood. He does not believe in marriage and considers it as hypocrisy. Instead, he picks up discarded women, giving them shelter and food in return of companionship and sex (forced, mainly). But, he is sure his candor is virtue enough, which rises above all these shortcomings. The play deals about the complex relationship with two women – Laxmi and Champa – the development of, and interesting culmination to, these relationships.
With the benefit of such a background, however, I must mention that I was sorely disappointed in the presentation.
Sanjeev Jauhari as the foul-mouthed protagonist no doubt gave a powerhouse performance, using wonderful inflections even to the swear-words, and body language.
However, to bring out the intricacies of the complex relationship, which was the mainstay of the script according to me, what was needed was an equally proficient performance from the other two woman characters. It was here that the play faltered, owing to below par performances from both the woman characters.
And, I could faintly sense an overbearing attitude of the director, who I think believed that only the fame of the play would carry it through. There was no interaction at all with the audience – neither through a synopsis at the beginning nor at the time of curtain call, where we expected an introduction to the actors and the director. At the end, when all of us got up and filed out, it felt, as my wife mentioned, a little like a movie hall. Which, you would agree, is something a true theaterwallah would not like to hear.

Indian Express, Delhi; March 20, 2009

Today's Indian Express, Delhi carries my letter about the now-famous hate-speech of Varun Gandhi:
Foul Mouth
VARUN GANDHI’S hate speech should be condemned in the harshest of terms for its blatant communalism and the speechmaker punished (‘Shocking language’, IE, March 18). During troubled times — when our secular fabric is already stretched to the extreme — such criminally irresponsible remarks, that too from a public podium and supposedly in the cause of democracy, are the last thing the country needs. The BJP has distanced itself from Varun but it needs to clarify what it thinks about the affair to the public.
The last line has been tweaked by them probably to suit their style, but I must admit that this has taken the sting out of my proposition.
Here is what I actually wrote to them:
BJP may have publicly distanced itself from Varun, but in their hearts, they would be feeling proud to see their agenda articulated in such clear terms, shorn of all verbal embellishments. Rather, I would go so far as to suggest that this might be a part of a pre-conceived plan by BJP to assure its loyalists.

होली है!

Here is wishing all of you a very Happy and, as it is politically correct to say now, safe Holi!
Below is a verse I wrote many years back, when me and my wife were still new to the city, with no friends, "celebrating" our first holi completely alone and away from home.
I remember both of us waited the whole day for somebody to come and play holi with us - unsuccessfully. At the end of the day, the acute feeling of being complete strangers found its expression thus:
मेरी बदरंग नीरसता के भीतर
आज फिर उग आया हैं
फागुन का सपनीला एक इन्द्रधनुष,
जिसके सात रंगों के पार
मैं देख रहा हूँ
बरसों पहले के, रंगों के बादल -
चटक लेकिन, आज भी!
सुन रहा हूँ
उल्लासित खिल्खिलाहटें हो-हुल्लड़!
महसूसता हूँ -
शीतल, आत्मीय फुहारें,
अंतस पर अपनें।
बीते बरसों की ये किरचें
आज फिर बैठ जाएँगी
चुपके से, पलकों की कोरों पर,
जिन्हें आज फिर,
रख दूँगा सहेज कर,
मन की दरक में,
और शामिल हो कर अनजानी भीड़ में,
पुकारूँगा ज़ोर से -
होली है !

Not History, Michael

(Image from www.last.fm)

This morning as I woke up, “Beat It” by Michael Jackson was playing on the radio. And, I was instantly reminded of two persons.
One was, of course Jackson himself, who for me still remains the King of Pop, albeit I admit that the list of “angrezi” singers I am aware of and have heard to is quite impoverished.
The other is my very dear old friend whom I would address as Parry Luther, his preferred moniker a quarter of century back when we were silly teenagers. It was courtesy him that I, a small–town-boy was introduced to a hitherto unexplored world of western music.
And what was western music, if not Michael Jackson! For years, I reveled in the rich sounds of Thriller, followed by Bad and then History.
Parry diligently continued to arrange a wide variety of the latest western pop for us initiated but even with all the choice, Jackson always remained a favourite, with his magnificently distinct vocals & music, his fantastic dancing (moonwalk et al), his grand stage shows and videos with superb production values.
As Wikipedia says, “Time magazine described Jackson's influence as "Star of records, radio, rock video. A one-man rescue team for the music business. A songwriter who sets the beat for a decade. A dancer with the fanciest feet on the street. A singer who cuts across all boundaries of taste and style and color too".
I am deeply saddened to see that today Jackson has been reduced to a caricature of himself, a pale, pale shadow of the phenomenon he was. True it is that success & fame are not worn lightly by everybody.
It is a strange coincidence that as I end this day, the last news item which comes to my notice is that Jackson has announced his swansong in London. I wish him all the very best.
Parry, what say?

Oye Its Farhan's Friday!

I am not an avid watcher of TV but even with my limited viewing, the inverse relationship of quality and quantity is not hard to miss.
Whether it is a reality show (frightening, really!!), some silly soap, news or even interviews, mostly the content on the telly is downright dumb.
It is in this context that the variety show “Oye Its Friday!” hosted by Farhan Akhtar quite simply stands out for its refreshing brilliance, seen on the TV after a long time.
Although it is technically a variety show, a major part is about Farhan interviewing the guests, leading to an inevitable comparison with earlier chat-shows of Simi Garewal and Karan Johar, other filmi insiders interviewing their fraternity.
I remember Simi as being positively mannequin-ish & maudlin, and Karan as very stylish and intelligent. Both, however, were overbearing – the former most of the time and the latter some of it.
In contrast, Farhan is sheer fun. His intelligence and delightful tongue-in-cheek humour permeates through the scripted lines, so visible in his clever turn of phrase and efficient wordplay (with Javed Akhtar and Honey Irani as his parents, can you expect anything different?). And, it is delightful to watch his unpretentiousness and masti quotient inevitably get to the guest. The episodes with Shahrukh and Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy were simply crackling with energy.
Adding to it is the ensemble of various interesting garnishing items like gags, songs, dances, instrument recitals, rope tricks, acrobats, what–have–you.
In short – good conceptualizing and even better presentation. Talking about the Indian telly, a rarity indeed!

A Worthy Valentine

Since the day the cowardly attacks on innocent young boys and girls happened in a pub in Mangalore, I had been dreading what would happen on the Valentine’s Day. Thankfully, yesterday was largely peaceful.
It is clear however that this state-sponsored cordiality is merely a superficial dressing. Slowly but surely, the fault-lines between the self-appointed “guardians” of a glorious “Indian” sanskruti and the supposedly liberal thinking modern youth have come to run quite deep now.
It is a good time to think whether these fault-lines are as clearly defined in black and white as we think them to be? And, most importantly, where does one fit in, whose side one is on. A decade back, you needn’t have bothered to even ask me. I was young enough to root for “freedom” above all. Now, my take is a little different.
I am no closet member of Shri Ram Sene (how can they malign this name!!). I however seriously feel that in the garb of modernity, this “freedom & liberty” bit has been overplayed a bit by a small section of our populace, including the English media. After all, why do we need to be free from our culture and traditions so badly? What great purpose in life is being held from us by our allegiance to these traditions?
Forgive me for spewing clichés like a true-blue (or red?) Marxist, but it does remain a fact that the economic imperialism being perpetrated for so many years by the west has indeed skewed our reference points now, so that there is apparently no other individual goal except immediate self–gratification. And it is this exalted goal which is being lent inaccessible by the whole body of our culture and traditions.
It helps of course that the self-appointed custodians of culture are another over-zealous & misguided ideologues leading a whole bunch of equally misguided youth, most of which give in to being utilized because they are suffering from an acute identity crisis and have got nothing more worthwhile to do.
I wish we were seeking liberty and freedom for achieving some greater value addition to the society in areas where it actually matters, which would have made this fight more justified.

Life's lessons or Death's?

An unfortunate death of a family elder took me recently to my hometown Bikaner in Rajasthan.
Notwithstanding the tragedy of the moment, what struck me wondrously, and in ways more than one, was the import of our social mores and customs, as they fit in all the facets of our life – from a celebration to a calamity; how the sincerity and honesty with which these customs are practiced in our small towns and cities makes them so relevant & useful, more so in times of grief.
I could see that none of the visiting ladies, who had come to commiserate with the widow, sported the bindi, in deference to her immense grief.
I could see that while the funeral procession passed through the bazaar, even some strangers joined in the funeral procession, chanting the holy name and taking turns to be the pall-bearers, brethren in a shared mourning, so to say.
I could see that all the people we passed, irrespective of their religious or caste affiliations, paused in whatever they were doing to pay obeisance to the dead. This included even the drivers of all the vehicles we passed. Those driving two-wheelers got off their vehicles.
I could see that while at the cremation grounds, none of the young were allowed to touch the feet of their elders in reverence, which is otherwise always expected of them. After all, each one of us was in attendance of the one irrefutable truth of life – the death, whom none could surpass in importance.
Far from being some inconsequential, dead rituals, as we forward–looking types are wont to consider them, I think all our customs are actually very finely-tuned responses to the psychological and social demands of the particular occasion.
It would therefore do well for us to neither discard our customs as hogwash nor mechanically adhere to them but to make an effort and understand their import, which could certainly enrich our lives a little bit.

Republic Day 09

As we approach another Republic Day, mouthing platitudes about our strong & vibrant democracy, it is depressing to be reminded of the depths our polity has actually plunged to. This latest realization is courtesy two news items in the Indian Express of 24th Jan09, which hit me right in the morning.

The first was about a sweetshop owner in Thane, who has been threatened by the goons of MNS to change the 60 year old shop’s name from “Karachi Sweets”, objecting to the use of a Pakistani city’s name. It would be really hilarious, had it not been so terrifyingly true.
More than the outlandish threat, the unfortunate part is the alacrity with which the owners have gone ahead and already renamed their shop as Jai Shree Krishna Sweets. Is it not shameful that the all-powerful state can not guarantee protection to an innocent person against a madman or two and their bunch of thugs? Surely, a glowing tribute to the Fundamental Rights enshrined in our constitution!
This is neither the first nor an isolated incident, we all know. This outfit (and others of its clan) have been working at it for quite some time now – playing with emotions of vulnerable people, and dividing & pitting them against each other by raking up non-existent issues, in process consolidating their own goonda power.
I really do not understand why the government of the day hesitates to take strict action against such a vulgar mockery of the rule of law.

The second relates to the queen of megalomaniacs Mayawati.
I am given to understand vide a report that a whopping 90% of the UP’s culture budget of this year has been spent on making sculptures, most of them of Madam Mayawati herself.
Notwithstanding all the talk of her being the symbol of Dalit empowerment, does no body of her followers see through this act and realize that this is just part-narcissism, part-get-filthy-rich obsession? How can she fleece her own people of their hard-earned money on these monstrosities which do nothing except feed her own ego? Another Imelda Marcos in the making, is she?

But I remain hopeful. Surely, वो सुबह कभी तो आएगी! Happy Republic Day!!

Overdose Obama

This morning, you could have been pardoned for thinking you were in America, going by the all-out coverage of Obama's inauguration in the Indian media. (btw, just how does a person gets "inaugurated", I do not understand. Birth - yes; death - maybe yes; but inauguration? Wasn't it something to do with events or buildings or some such life-like objects?) . A clear case of overdose, considering even our own president election did not get this type of coverage.
Me and good friend Kay were discussing why is this happening; why even newspapers with usually balanced perspectives (like Indian Express) featured this event so out of proportion, and we decided it was because of two reasons.
First, the world, and India more so, is desperately in need of charismatic heroes today. And, Obama is, no doubt, one of the most charismatic public figures on the present world stage. His leadership skills and effectiveness remain to be seen, but charisma, he has loads of, and using his remarkable oratorial skills, he has managed to project himself as a beacon of hope in these troubled times. (It of course helps that America's mighty marketing machine is at work here).
Second, like it or not, America does remain the sole super-power, the चौधरी of the global village, who controls most of the economy and decides the pecking order of the world.
But at the end of it, we should not mind it, as long as it is followed by real performance and results, which we look forward to.

Ghazini

Till about a couple of months back, I thought Ghazini to be a period drama about the (in)famous Mahmud of Ghazni. After watching it yesterday, I now wish it was. At least it would have been some novelty to watch.
Ghazini has been a letdown, and I am frankly surprised at the claims of the record business it has already reaped in.
The concept and story surely have an immense potential to be turned in to a great psychological thriller.
However, owing to a totally un-imaginative treatment, the film remains throughout a prisoner to only brute, physical action, in spite of having an actor like Aamir Khan.
The psychological and mental warfare by the character of Aamir, which could have been the mainstay of the film, is touched upon only tentatively and that too only at the fringes. Murugadoss was probably cautious not to let the film become too obtuse for the masses.
Aamir is his usual perfect self in most of the movie but in some of the scenes, where he is required to scream and generally show his angst, he surprisingly goes overboard. Asin is tacky and school-girlish (except for her final scene) and Ghazini probably needed somebody more sinister to justify the title character.
Take Aamir and the two main songs out and there would be nothing left in it to distinguish it from your run-of-the-mill action films.
All in all, a letdown.
Different takes, any one?

जाड़ा

I was rummaging through my old papers a couple of days back, when I came across one I wrote in December 1991. It is about winters, seen from three different perspectives.। I thought it might be relevant to share it with you now, while the famous "Dilli ki sardi"is here:
एक
जाड़ा
सिमटा सिमटा, सकपकाया सा,
घूमता बाहर कोठी के दालान में,
एयर-कंडीशनरों से, और शनील की रजाइयों से बचता बचाता,
शाम को इम्पोर्टेड व्हिस्की से लड़ने को प्रत्यनरत
खिड़कियों में ही अटका,
अन्दर आ पाने को बे-चैन यहाँ पर जाड़ा!
दो
जाड़ा
खुशनुमा
सुनाई पड़ता मूंग-फली के टूटे छिलकों में,
चिपटा गुढ की पापडी में,
पसरा हुआ आँगन ही की धुप ही के साथ
दादी माँ के चश्में में मुंह चिडाता,
शाम को, रसोई के अलाव के बाहर,
चाय के कप पर
भाप का बादल बन कर
उड़ता सा आ जाता है, जाड़ा
तीन
जाड़ा,
भयावह
ठंडी सड़कों पर पड़ा गुर्राता,
और कातर, नंगी एडियों को नोचता, खसोटता,
झपट पड़ता, पागल कुत्ते सा,
टूटे दरवाजे से, खिड़की की झिर्री से,
पैबंद लगे कपडों से आकर
नंगे, भूखे शरीरों को नोच खाता हैं
जाड़ा
I invite your comments.

Slumdog fraternity

The alacrity with which our media and Bollywood have come out to embrace “Slumdog Millionaire” as one of their own, after it has won four Golden Globe awards, somewhat irritates me.

No, I have nothing against the film. In fact, I have not even watched it. And from what I hear and see about it, I would surely not be disappointed once I do (although the book by Vikas Swarup was hopeless, as one of my friends insists).

The film is said to boast of superb direction by Danny Boyle, a fabulous musical score by AR Rahman (congratulations for the award!) and some very decent acting by Irrfan, Anil Kapoor, Dev Patel and others. All great individual efforts worthy of applause.

But it has to be clearly understood that the Indian connection and context, over which our media is going gaga, is purely incidental.

A film is essentially a director’s medium, his vision which unfolds on to the screen. I am sure that the story telling abilities of a director of the caliber of Danny Boyle is not limited by the locale or the back-drop, and it is entirely to his credit that he has utilized the Indian backdrop so effectively.

Notwithstanding, therefore, the well-deserved praise for the craft of this film (I presume), it would do well for us not to rush in to falsely appropriate claims which are not due to us, like we did with Kalpana Chawla, Bobby Jindal etc. We surely have enough other genuinely Indian things to be proud of.

Outlook Jan19, 09

Let's start the year with a heavy dose of self-publicity.

The Jan 19 issue of Outlook - first of this year - carries 2 letters of mine, which I wish to share with you:

The first one is on the article Arundhati Roy wrote after the Mumbai terror attacks:

Arundhati is clearly very rattled by the Mumbai attacks. Her prose, usually so lucid and a treat to read whether or not you agree with her, is this time rambling and repetitive. Along with the form, the function too suffers from a complete lack of new insight. Instead, she has once again propped up her all-time favourite villains—Gujarat genocide, "atrocities" in Kashmir, Hindutva, powerful and sinister politicians et al, which have supposedly led to this (almost justified!) retribution from the Muslims of the world. This is a tad too over the top. Notwithstanding the "decades of quick-fixes and dirty deeds", these terrorists were no disgruntled Indian Muslims whereby these attacks could be explained in the above context. I wouldn’t even term them as Pakistanis. People like them are above nationalities, owing allegiance only to their own pure hatred and warped mindsets, global citizens of the Terror Republic.


The second one is a response to the Happiness Prescription in an earlier issue:

I noted sadly that the list of books prescribed for happiness (Rev Up Your H Quotient) included not a single book in Hindi. Maybe it needed Manjula Padmanabhan, the selector, to be a more pan-Indian author to include gems like Raag Darbari (Shrilal Shukla) and a collection of essays by the great Harishankar Parsai.
R.G., on e-mail

Did they use my initials to convey that we were two different readers writing in?

Saal Mubarak

Till late last night, when the year 2008 was inching towards its end, overwhelming despondency was what I felt, I would admit.
What else could one could expect, I consoled myself, when all around we had seen some of the most troubling moments served by fate & nature all the year round – financial meltdown, Bihar floods, temple stampedes, communal & regional riots, along with some murders and rapes thrown in for good measure.
Moments of joy like Abhinav Bindra’s gold medal, N-deal’s passage and Rock On were few and far in between. And, at the end, when it seemed nothing worse could happen, Mumbai was attacked brazenly, the shadow of which loomed high.
I, along with few friends (wife & son were away), tried to shake off this shroud of gloom, gyrating over rustic beats of “Oye Lucky” and “Singh is King” around a small bonfire but in the end, went to sleep as depressed as ever, after exchanging lukewarm wishes of Happy New Year.
This morning, however, as I stepped out, it was a warm & bright sunshine which greeted me, and the gloom of last night suddenly evaporated.
I pride myself on not being a romantic but the sight of beautiful bouqets and a contented, happy smile from the flower-vendor was all it took to instantly fill me up with hope and cheer again.
I now feel strangely comforted and confident of myself. I also wish that each one of us is able to put down one’s demons firmly down, to have a really Happy, Peaceful, Prosperous Year 2009!
Cheers

Oye Lucky

Oye Lucky is a delightful slice of Delhi life on celluloid. The vigenettes and caricatures are flaw-less, as were in Dibakar Banerjee’s last film – Khosla Ka Ghosla. It seems like a hilarious documentary, if there is such a genre, that is.
Regretfully, however, it remains just that - a documentary, refusing to take off as a story. And thus, in spite of excellent acting efforts by Paresh Rawal, Abhay Deol and all other actors, it remains a little lower than the perfect 10 mark. Still, a sure not-to-be-missed.

The Kite Runner

“The Kite Runner” by Khaled Hosseini was recommended to me by a dear friend almost a year back.

For all this time, however, this book did not figure in my priority reads. I was vaguely aware that it had Afghanistan as its backdrop, and for some strange reason, my mind connected this with the boring and hugely pretentious “The Afghan” (Frederic Forsyth). I now sincerely regret this long wait of one year.

The Kite Runner is an endearingly honest and from–the–heart story, the kind one rarely comes across in the artificiality of your usual pulp fiction these days.

This is primarily a story of a young Afghani boy Amir and his various relationships –with his servant–friend Hassan, with his father, with his motherland Afghanistan and more importantly, with himself.

Hosseini has treated this beautiful panorama of relationships with amazing sensitivity and truthfulness, specially the father-son relation. This depiction of father–son relation is the best I have come across in my limited reading experience.

And the love Hosseini feels for his motherland Afghanistan is so palpable in his descriptions, which are refreshingly different from the usual western views one gets these days.

To me, however, more creditworthy is that for a first–time writer, he has been able to achieve the rare feat of making the reader intensely feel all the love, happiness, pain & anguish of the characters without indulging in any excessive verbal calisthenics.

A must read – “a thousand times over”!!