Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
Ye Dard...
Ye Dard Hamesha se jo darmyaan raha hai
Yehi Dard to Wahshat ka Samaan Rahaa hai
Isi Dard ki Kasam Khaa ke tum aaj bata do
Kiya ab yu hi khush ho tum itna to bata do?
Main is Dard ko lekar kahin chal doonga
Waade jo kiye tum ne woh sab to bhula do!
Tasveer hai meri, khat hain un ko bhi jala do
Keh do ke tumhen ab meri koi fikr nahi hai
Tanha Raton main ab mera koi Zikr nahi hai
Ye hi Dard to Hamesha se Darmyaan raha hai
Ye hi Dard to Wahshat ka Samaan rahaa hai..
(C) Shahid Sayed
Yehi Dard to Wahshat ka Samaan Rahaa hai
Isi Dard ki Kasam Khaa ke tum aaj bata do
Kiya ab yu hi khush ho tum itna to bata do?
Main is Dard ko lekar kahin chal doonga
Waade jo kiye tum ne woh sab to bhula do!
Tasveer hai meri, khat hain un ko bhi jala do
Keh do ke tumhen ab meri koi fikr nahi hai
Tanha Raton main ab mera koi Zikr nahi hai
Ye hi Dard to Hamesha se Darmyaan raha hai
Ye hi Dard to Wahshat ka Samaan rahaa hai..
(C) Shahid Sayed
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Ghaffara...
His name was Ghaffar Quraishi and he was a Kasai (Butcher). He was, because he is dead now. But why I am writing about a dead butcher on Valentine's Day? That is precisely the reason my friend - the Valentine’s Day.
I was 10 when my Dad took me to Farrukhabad in Western UP. That is when I came in contact with Ghaffara, as he used to be called by everyone. He was handsome in his 20s, resembled Dev Anand in looks and had a pretty captivating smile. Even though he was a butcher and was not much educated, he talked sense and was well respected in the Mahollah.
I had heard that he alone could bring down a bull before performing Zibah. He was so strong and brave, yet I never saw him misbehave or shout at anyone. He was always kind and fun to be around with. He had a different style of smoking cigarettes. Whenever he used to blow smoke in circles I used to admire him. For my impressionable mind he was a perfect Hero.
While his friends used to hit bars in the evening for desi daru he would come to our shop to buy gud a sugar cane product. It helped him un-wind and relax he would preach. Later I fund out that those purchases had nothing to do with un-winding but more to do with Bi-Jaan.
Bibi -Jaan was my close relative. She was pretty, slim and had beautiful eyes. Her dad was a Nawab and moneyed man with connections in the right and wrong places. They had the tallest and the biggest house in the entire neighborhood. That was a problem and Ghaffara knew that. I had noticed that whenever Ghaffara came to the shop singing latest Hindi song Bi-Jaan would head for the roof. It did not take me long to figure out what was going on. They too realized that I am a smart kid - so they promoted me from a bystander to the messenger boy. I enjoyed it as it offered me candies and pocket money.
I never bothered to find out what they were writing to each other and why? I trusted Bi-Jaan so much that there was no question that she would do anything that would bring bad name to the family. And she never did.... in fact they both never did. However I do wanted to see them together for life...
Several years later, I had graduated from college and was visiting UP. I was at this god-forsaken bus stop trying to find my way out that someone called out my name " Shahid" and I could not believe - it was Ghaffara. He had married by then and had wife and kids. I saw his wife and realized he had stopped caring for himself as how could he marry some one who was so unlike him?
His presence had brought Bi-Jaan back for me. He took me aside and asked the question that I knew be would ask.
"Who kaisi hain?"
" Un ka to Inetqaal ho gyaa hai"
"Kiya!" - this is the first time Ghaffara shouted at me.
"Kaise , kab?"
" Pata nahi kiya hua tha unhen - bahut Ilaaj karyaa...magar"
His face turned yellow as if all the blood just sucked out of his body. He kept looking at the ground. I think he was trying to see in his mind Bi Jaan in that qafan. God knows how long he kept looking at the ground. I saw his eyes turned misty. He looked away....
"Unhon ne shaadi ki thi?"
"Nahi"
My bus was leaving. That was the last bus of the night. I wanted to get out from there. He asked me to see him next time when I am in Farrukahabd. I promised I would.
Last December when I went to Farrukhabad, I enquired about him and was shocked to find out that Ghaffara died a few years ago. I had gone there thinking that this time I would have a heart to heart talk with him. And that I understand his pain better now and can relate to him.
I went to that same Mahollah, took pictures of the same big house, which was not that big anymore. This was the same place where a love story began and ended.
That love story failed, as Ghaffara was a small time jebroni with no wealth to flaunt. H was no match to the emirates of Bi-Jaan's dad. I do not know what they had promised each other and what transpired between them, but I do know that they wanted to be together forever. Like any other lover in any part of the world...
Both are dead now. All we have now are two graves 800 kilometers apart in India. What lives in them is not Ghaffara the butcher, or Bi-Jaan the daughter of a rich father but love, the unfulfilled love. Can they unite now? Is it possible for the souls to re-connect from the same point where they parted ways? Does the world 6 feet down yonder has rules and traditions similar to those 6 feet up?
If yes, then the world in hereafter is going to be another boring and suffocating place...as is on this Valentine’s Day for someone in America!
I was 10 when my Dad took me to Farrukhabad in Western UP. That is when I came in contact with Ghaffara, as he used to be called by everyone. He was handsome in his 20s, resembled Dev Anand in looks and had a pretty captivating smile. Even though he was a butcher and was not much educated, he talked sense and was well respected in the Mahollah.
I had heard that he alone could bring down a bull before performing Zibah. He was so strong and brave, yet I never saw him misbehave or shout at anyone. He was always kind and fun to be around with. He had a different style of smoking cigarettes. Whenever he used to blow smoke in circles I used to admire him. For my impressionable mind he was a perfect Hero.
While his friends used to hit bars in the evening for desi daru he would come to our shop to buy gud a sugar cane product. It helped him un-wind and relax he would preach. Later I fund out that those purchases had nothing to do with un-winding but more to do with Bi-Jaan.
Bibi -Jaan was my close relative. She was pretty, slim and had beautiful eyes. Her dad was a Nawab and moneyed man with connections in the right and wrong places. They had the tallest and the biggest house in the entire neighborhood. That was a problem and Ghaffara knew that. I had noticed that whenever Ghaffara came to the shop singing latest Hindi song Bi-Jaan would head for the roof. It did not take me long to figure out what was going on. They too realized that I am a smart kid - so they promoted me from a bystander to the messenger boy. I enjoyed it as it offered me candies and pocket money.
I never bothered to find out what they were writing to each other and why? I trusted Bi-Jaan so much that there was no question that she would do anything that would bring bad name to the family. And she never did.... in fact they both never did. However I do wanted to see them together for life...
Several years later, I had graduated from college and was visiting UP. I was at this god-forsaken bus stop trying to find my way out that someone called out my name " Shahid" and I could not believe - it was Ghaffara. He had married by then and had wife and kids. I saw his wife and realized he had stopped caring for himself as how could he marry some one who was so unlike him?
His presence had brought Bi-Jaan back for me. He took me aside and asked the question that I knew be would ask.
"Who kaisi hain?"
" Un ka to Inetqaal ho gyaa hai"
"Kiya!" - this is the first time Ghaffara shouted at me.
"Kaise , kab?"
" Pata nahi kiya hua tha unhen - bahut Ilaaj karyaa...magar"
His face turned yellow as if all the blood just sucked out of his body. He kept looking at the ground. I think he was trying to see in his mind Bi Jaan in that qafan. God knows how long he kept looking at the ground. I saw his eyes turned misty. He looked away....
"Unhon ne shaadi ki thi?"
"Nahi"
My bus was leaving. That was the last bus of the night. I wanted to get out from there. He asked me to see him next time when I am in Farrukahabd. I promised I would.
Last December when I went to Farrukhabad, I enquired about him and was shocked to find out that Ghaffara died a few years ago. I had gone there thinking that this time I would have a heart to heart talk with him. And that I understand his pain better now and can relate to him.
I went to that same Mahollah, took pictures of the same big house, which was not that big anymore. This was the same place where a love story began and ended.
That love story failed, as Ghaffara was a small time jebroni with no wealth to flaunt. H was no match to the emirates of Bi-Jaan's dad. I do not know what they had promised each other and what transpired between them, but I do know that they wanted to be together forever. Like any other lover in any part of the world...
Both are dead now. All we have now are two graves 800 kilometers apart in India. What lives in them is not Ghaffara the butcher, or Bi-Jaan the daughter of a rich father but love, the unfulfilled love. Can they unite now? Is it possible for the souls to re-connect from the same point where they parted ways? Does the world 6 feet down yonder has rules and traditions similar to those 6 feet up?
If yes, then the world in hereafter is going to be another boring and suffocating place...as is on this Valentine’s Day for someone in America!
(Picture Courtesy: Bhopal.net, View images)
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Us din bhi to Barf Padi thi...
Us din bhi to Barf Padi thi
Jis din koi mere kadmo ke nishano ko
mashle-raah samajh peeche chal raha tha
kisi ki sargoshiyon main ye dua thi
kash ke ye baraf hamesha yu hi rahe
aur main tumhare banaye hue nishano pe
chalte chalte Manzil apni jaa pahunchu
Aaj bhi dekho to ye Barf Padi hai...
Goya Aasmano ne Zameen ke canvas par
Abstarct paintings si koi ki hai
ya acchi se koi Ghazal likhi hai
Par Aaj Din kiyoon udaas raha Din bhar?
Hansti hui ye Raat kiyoon Ro padi hai?
Jis din koi mere kadmo ke nishano ko
mashle-raah samajh peeche chal raha tha
kisi ki sargoshiyon main ye dua thi
kash ke ye baraf hamesha yu hi rahe
aur main tumhare banaye hue nishano pe
chalte chalte Manzil apni jaa pahunchu
Aaj bhi dekho to ye Barf Padi hai...
Goya Aasmano ne Zameen ke canvas par
Abstarct paintings si koi ki hai
ya acchi se koi Ghazal likhi hai
Par Aaj Din kiyoon udaas raha Din bhar?
Hansti hui ye Raat kiyoon Ro padi hai?
(c) Shahid Sayed, January 20, 2008
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Ankit Kumar...
"Girat Gunj Chalna bhai"....I asked the first rickshawala that I found waiting outside the Farrukhabad Railway Station. He started moving as soon as I settled in. It was past 10 pm. Roads were deserted and night has taken control of this dusty town about 150 KM from Kanpur in UP.
I was visiting our ancestral home after decades and was feeling so nostalgic to notice that my driver is a kiddo about 14-15 years of age. The moment I realized that I am driven home by an underage kid I wanted to get off his rickshaw, but that would denied him some earning , I thought. I prayed that I become so light in weight that he does not feel that he is carrying a load in his rickshaw. That was a wishful thinking as well....so I engaged in what I do best....
"Kahan ke ho beta?"
"Bewar ke"
"Kiya Umr hai"
"14"
"Padhayee nahi karte?"
"4th tak ki thi...."
"Naam kiya hai tumhara?"
"Ankit Kumar....."
"Ghar main aur kaun hai?"
"Koi nahi akele hain.....ghar chod diya...."
"Maa....maa ko chod diya?"
"Maa mar gayeen.....".
"Hmm ....aur baap?"
"Baap 24 ghante sharab peeta hai...isi liye bhag aaye ghar se...."
I felt depressed after hearing his story. I knew what EXACTLY he was going through. I had known another 14 year old kddo right there in Farrukhabad more than a couple of decades ago who came close to driving rickshaw for a living. It seemed like all this 8.5% growth in GDP has not gone beyond the city limits of Mumbai, Chennai and Banglore.
The other kid was a school student and was studying in class VII when his father passed away. His world changed by 180 degrees in a couple of month. He dropped out of school to support mom and do his part in keeping the fire burning in the kitchen. He did menial jobs from walking behind steam engine on a single track rail line to pick up un-burnt coal pieces to selling kites. He toyed with the idea of driving a rickshaw untill his mother put an end to all this....
His mother, a 43 year old beautiful widow with foresight decided that her son is too "Zaheen" (bright) to be left out of studies, so she sent him to Bombay where he got himself admited in class VIII. And thus begain another round of struggles and trials. He became a " chai wala" to" Istri-wala" to a part time supervisor at a construction site besides contionsously remaining a TOPPER in his school.
His mother was right. That jebroni was a Zaheen student. Mothers know all.....our Ankit Kumar had no mom to know his potential - that's all to it.
By this time we had reached my destination. He was looking tired and exhausted. I got down and asked.
"55 ki Umr main chala loge rickshaw?"
He was quite.
"Phir kiya karoge baccha?. Koi hunar pakad lo jo aage kaam aaye. Ek Tailor 55 main bhi kapda see sakta hai aur mechanic 55 main bhi mechanic ka kaam kar sakta hai - hai na?".
He nodded...
"Jis kaam ka tumhen shaukh ho woh karo - magar rickshaw mat chalao - is main petrol ki jagah khoon jalta hai. Jaldi budhe ho jaoge. Haan beta?" I touched his chin with my palm further pleading my point...
He got down from rickshaw and said..
" Saab aap bahut acche aadmi hain - aaj tak kisi ne hum se is trah baat nahi ki!"
" Meri ex-girl friends bhi ye hi kehti hain ke main accha aadmi hoon......magar problem main nahi tumhara ye rickshaw hai...!!"
He smiled...
" Chod denge 15 dino main - koi kaam seekhenge"
Very good beta....Promise....
"Haan"
I gave him the largest note in my wallet which he refused. I insisted. My hosts realizing that I was being hackled came out of the house asking me if he was charging more. I forced him to take the money and left. Right before getting in the house, I looked back to see if he was gone. Ankit Kumar was standing right there in that cold night - looking at me. Even thugh it was dark outside, I could see a small fire starting in his heart. A fire to succeed - a fire to chase dreams, a fire to utilize talents...
My other 14 years old "almost rickshawala" did.....so can Ankit Kumar!
ps: I had a bsuy schedule the next day and was leaving for Bomaby. Looking back now I think I had a great opportunity to change direction of a life. What if I had postponed my journey by a day and had taken him to some tailor, car mechanic or whatever trade he was interssted in learning. What If I had paid him $100 a month for 6 months to a yaer till he larned the trade? With auto industry booming and Tata's Nano due later this year, rural India would need a lot of garages and mechancis....
Its been more than two weeks since I met Ankit Kumar. I hope he found a way to quit rickhshaw and to do something that can utilize his talents well.....
I was visiting our ancestral home after decades and was feeling so nostalgic to notice that my driver is a kiddo about 14-15 years of age. The moment I realized that I am driven home by an underage kid I wanted to get off his rickshaw, but that would denied him some earning , I thought. I prayed that I become so light in weight that he does not feel that he is carrying a load in his rickshaw. That was a wishful thinking as well....so I engaged in what I do best....
"Kahan ke ho beta?"
"Bewar ke"
"Kiya Umr hai"
"14"
"Padhayee nahi karte?"
"4th tak ki thi...."
"Naam kiya hai tumhara?"
"Ankit Kumar....."
"Ghar main aur kaun hai?"
"Koi nahi akele hain.....ghar chod diya...."
"Maa....maa ko chod diya?"
"Maa mar gayeen.....".
"Hmm ....aur baap?"
"Baap 24 ghante sharab peeta hai...isi liye bhag aaye ghar se...."
I felt depressed after hearing his story. I knew what EXACTLY he was going through. I had known another 14 year old kddo right there in Farrukhabad more than a couple of decades ago who came close to driving rickshaw for a living. It seemed like all this 8.5% growth in GDP has not gone beyond the city limits of Mumbai, Chennai and Banglore.
The other kid was a school student and was studying in class VII when his father passed away. His world changed by 180 degrees in a couple of month. He dropped out of school to support mom and do his part in keeping the fire burning in the kitchen. He did menial jobs from walking behind steam engine on a single track rail line to pick up un-burnt coal pieces to selling kites. He toyed with the idea of driving a rickshaw untill his mother put an end to all this....
His mother, a 43 year old beautiful widow with foresight decided that her son is too "Zaheen" (bright) to be left out of studies, so she sent him to Bombay where he got himself admited in class VIII. And thus begain another round of struggles and trials. He became a " chai wala" to" Istri-wala" to a part time supervisor at a construction site besides contionsously remaining a TOPPER in his school.
His mother was right. That jebroni was a Zaheen student. Mothers know all.....our Ankit Kumar had no mom to know his potential - that's all to it.
By this time we had reached my destination. He was looking tired and exhausted. I got down and asked.
"55 ki Umr main chala loge rickshaw?"
He was quite.
"Phir kiya karoge baccha?. Koi hunar pakad lo jo aage kaam aaye. Ek Tailor 55 main bhi kapda see sakta hai aur mechanic 55 main bhi mechanic ka kaam kar sakta hai - hai na?".
He nodded...
"Jis kaam ka tumhen shaukh ho woh karo - magar rickshaw mat chalao - is main petrol ki jagah khoon jalta hai. Jaldi budhe ho jaoge. Haan beta?" I touched his chin with my palm further pleading my point...
He got down from rickshaw and said..
" Saab aap bahut acche aadmi hain - aaj tak kisi ne hum se is trah baat nahi ki!"
" Meri ex-girl friends bhi ye hi kehti hain ke main accha aadmi hoon......magar problem main nahi tumhara ye rickshaw hai...!!"
He smiled...
" Chod denge 15 dino main - koi kaam seekhenge"
Very good beta....Promise....
"Haan"
I gave him the largest note in my wallet which he refused. I insisted. My hosts realizing that I was being hackled came out of the house asking me if he was charging more. I forced him to take the money and left. Right before getting in the house, I looked back to see if he was gone. Ankit Kumar was standing right there in that cold night - looking at me. Even thugh it was dark outside, I could see a small fire starting in his heart. A fire to succeed - a fire to chase dreams, a fire to utilize talents...
My other 14 years old "almost rickshawala" did.....so can Ankit Kumar!
ps: I had a bsuy schedule the next day and was leaving for Bomaby. Looking back now I think I had a great opportunity to change direction of a life. What if I had postponed my journey by a day and had taken him to some tailor, car mechanic or whatever trade he was interssted in learning. What If I had paid him $100 a month for 6 months to a yaer till he larned the trade? With auto industry booming and Tata's Nano due later this year, rural India would need a lot of garages and mechancis....
Its been more than two weeks since I met Ankit Kumar. I hope he found a way to quit rickhshaw and to do something that can utilize his talents well.....
I feel sad that after God failed him by taking his mother away, his father failed him by becoming a druknard...I too failed him. How could I fail him?...how could one rickshaw-walah fail the other rickshaw -walah?
Monday, January 07, 2008
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Jaane Kiya Soch Kar...
Apni Tanhyae ka Auron se na Shikwaa Karna
Tum Akele hi nahi Who Sabhi Akele hain
Ye Akela Safar Nahi Guzra...
Jaane kiya Soch kar Nahi Guzra?
Ek Pal Raat Bhar Nahi Guzra.....
(Gulzar, Kinara)
Tum Akele hi nahi Who Sabhi Akele hain
Ye Akela Safar Nahi Guzra...
Jaane kiya Soch kar Nahi Guzra?
Ek Pal Raat Bhar Nahi Guzra.....
(Gulzar, Kinara)
Thursday, December 13, 2007
First Option....
Sunita Mishra of New Delhi based magazine First Option ( http://www.firstoptionmag.com/) decided to call me the next best option in her life..... journalistic life that is....(unfortunatly!) Here is the link to the interview.....www.firstoptionmag.com/temp/26.zip
ps: I know, I have been writting too much about my life lately. Trust me, in my life - I am the best thing that is happening at this time. However I promise not to write anything more about myself for the rest of 2007 even if I end up signing Rahul Bose as the main lead for Tarkash.
Peace...
ps: I know, I have been writting too much about my life lately. Trust me, in my life - I am the best thing that is happening at this time. However I promise not to write anything more about myself for the rest of 2007 even if I end up signing Rahul Bose as the main lead for Tarkash.
Peace...
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
an un-deserved honor ....
A. Parvez is my senior and an excellent poet whom I met at the Premier Doosra Kinara couple of months ago. He had heard about me from common friends but we never met in person until that day. He came and hugged me as if he had known me for some time...
Since then we have met a few times. Recently at a gathering he SHOCKED me by reciting a poem in my honor. I was humbled, speechless and stunned in that order. All I could manged to say to him was that I will respond to this when I am normal.....
I don't think I have done anything at all to fire up a poet's imagination. I want to do good, but we ALL have those intentions and I ain't no special. However, I will say this either I am doing something RIGHT or I am a damn good actor....
God Willing, We will find out!
Since then we have met a few times. Recently at a gathering he SHOCKED me by reciting a poem in my honor. I was humbled, speechless and stunned in that order. All I could manged to say to him was that I will respond to this when I am normal.....
Here are a few of his couplets..
Baat Samjhenge Sabhi Dil ki Zaban Kehtaa Hoon
Is Bhari Bheed main Auron Se Juda Hai Shahid
Hansti Aankhon main Chingari bhi Dekhi Main ne
Bas Zara Tez Hawa aur Shola Numa Hai Shahid
Tere Maathe ki Ye Tehreer Padhi hia Main Ne
Laakh Jhutlao Magar Mera Khuda Hai Shahid
and my favorites ones...
Dua Hai Ke Tere Khwabon Pe Pehraa Na Rahe
Maslahat Wakt Ki Tu Odh Ke Sota Na Rahe...
Aye Khuda Dard De is Ko, to De Lazzat Bhi...
Sirf Jazbat ko Geeton Main Purutaa Na Rahe!
Baat Samjhenge Sabhi Dil ki Zaban Kehtaa Hoon
Is Bhari Bheed main Auron Se Juda Hai Shahid
Hansti Aankhon main Chingari bhi Dekhi Main ne
Bas Zara Tez Hawa aur Shola Numa Hai Shahid
Tere Maathe ki Ye Tehreer Padhi hia Main Ne
Laakh Jhutlao Magar Mera Khuda Hai Shahid
and my favorites ones...
Dua Hai Ke Tere Khwabon Pe Pehraa Na Rahe
Maslahat Wakt Ki Tu Odh Ke Sota Na Rahe...
Aye Khuda Dard De is Ko, to De Lazzat Bhi...
Sirf Jazbat ko Geeton Main Purutaa Na Rahe!
I don't think I have done anything at all to fire up a poet's imagination. I want to do good, but we ALL have those intentions and I ain't no special. However, I will say this either I am doing something RIGHT or I am a damn good actor....
God Willing, We will find out!
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Allah Calling....my first film!
Allah Calling is my first film which was completed in December 2005. There was a technical issue that prevented me from releasing it. It is a single scene no-cut 3 minute short with a surprise ending.
I am very proud of it - may be more than Doosra Kinara in some ways. It explores the fundamental rights ie life, liberty and pursuit of happiness as guarenteed by the Constitution of the United States of America against terrorism and its aftermath ( all in three minutes!).
It has an old guy as the central character. Rafiqi arranged for the Japanese tourists but we could not find an old man. Last minute everyone looked at me( read an old man!!).....and I ended up playing that role.
My ruthless philosopher "Jadu" Shipman thought that we need to get it out as it is a great film with a powerful message. I might re-shoot it in February along with "a Jihad of my own". The only difference would be to replace me with a real old man who can act. ( There goes my one more chance of acting in a film!).
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
28 November
Main Paa na sakaa kabhi is Khalish se Chutkara
Woh Mujhe Jeet bhi Sakta tha, Jaane Kiyoon Haraa?
Kisi ki Aankh se Tapka tha, Ab ek Amanat hai
Meri Hatheli pe Rakah hua ye Angaraa...
(Javed Akhtar - Tarkash)
Woh Mujhe Jeet bhi Sakta tha, Jaane Kiyoon Haraa?
Kisi ki Aankh se Tapka tha, Ab ek Amanat hai
Meri Hatheli pe Rakah hua ye Angaraa...
(Javed Akhtar - Tarkash)
Monday, November 26, 2007
The nature of things to come...
It will not be too long before these services are availed by folks living in Bangalore, Delhi, Mumbai and so on....
Friday, November 23, 2007
Taare Zameen Par...
Main Kabhi Batlata nahiPar Andhere se Darta hoon main Maa
Yun to main Dikhlata nahi
Teri Parwaha Karta hoon main Maa
Tujhe sab hai Pata - hai na Maa...
Jab bhi kabhi Papa mujhe
jo zor se jhua jhulate hain Maa
Meri Nazar Dhoondhe Tujhe
Souchon Yehi tu aake Thaamegi Maa
Un se main ye kehta nahi
Par main saham jata hoon Maa
Chere Pe Aane Detaa Nahi
Dil hi Dil Ghabrata hoon Maa
Main Kabhi Batlata nahi
Par Andhere se Darta hoon main Maa
Yun to main Dikhlata nahi
Teri Parwaha Karta hoon main Maa
Tujhe sab hai Pata - hai na Maa...
Tujhe Sab hai Pata - hai na Maa..
jo zor se jhua jhulate hain Maa
Meri Nazar Dhoondhe Tujhe
Souchon Yehi tu aake Thaamegi Maa
Un se main ye kehta nahi
Par main saham jata hoon Maa
Chere Pe Aane Detaa Nahi
Dil hi Dil Ghabrata hoon Maa
Main Kabhi Batlata nahi
Par Andhere se Darta hoon main Maa
Yun to main Dikhlata nahi
Teri Parwaha Karta hoon main Maa
Tujhe sab hai Pata - hai na Maa...
Tujhe Sab hai Pata - hai na Maa..
PS: Advent of Democracy created another widow and another set of Orphans in Iraq yesterday. The father of these kids was a policeman and some criminals killed him along 8 others. This is a common scene in Iraq. However, what is uncommon is the sight of a woman praying right by her husband's corpse when her husband is about to be buried. Islam prohibits women to be near the dead body of anyone at this time. Appearntly, it was a small family and wife had to take up the responsiblity of giving a proper burial to her husband.
Please notice the absence of kafan ( burial shroud) on the dead body and presence of calmness in her demeanor indicating that she is a " Marad -Bacchi ( brave woman)" . If tommorow has to FEAR anything then it should fear this widow and those kids when they grow up.......
May God bless them with peace and guidance and these kids turn out to be Investment Bankers and Venture Capitalist.....
I will not be surprised if they don't....
Please notice the absence of kafan ( burial shroud) on the dead body and presence of calmness in her demeanor indicating that she is a " Marad -Bacchi ( brave woman)" . If tommorow has to FEAR anything then it should fear this widow and those kids when they grow up.......
May God bless them with peace and guidance and these kids turn out to be Investment Bankers and Venture Capitalist.....
I will not be surprised if they don't....
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Honge Kahin to Kargar!
Ye Dil hi tha jo Seh gaya
Woh Baat Aisi Keh Gaya
Kehne ko Phir kiya Reh Gya?
Ashkon ka Dariya Beh Gaya
Jab Keh Ke woh Dilbar Gaya
Tere Liye Main Mar Gaya
Rote Hain Us Ko Raat Bhar
Main Aur Meri Awaargi...
Ab Gham Uthayen kis liye?
Aansoo Bahayen kis liye?
Ye Dil Jalayen Kis Liye?
Yun Jaan Gwayen Kis Liye?
Pesha na ho Jis ka Sitam
Dhoondege koi Aisa Sanam
Honge Kahin to Kargar
Main aur Meri awaargi...
(Javed Akhtar - Tarkash)
Woh Baat Aisi Keh Gaya
Kehne ko Phir kiya Reh Gya?
Ashkon ka Dariya Beh Gaya
Jab Keh Ke woh Dilbar Gaya
Tere Liye Main Mar Gaya
Rote Hain Us Ko Raat Bhar
Main Aur Meri Awaargi...
Ab Gham Uthayen kis liye?
Aansoo Bahayen kis liye?
Ye Dil Jalayen Kis Liye?
Yun Jaan Gwayen Kis Liye?
Pesha na ho Jis ka Sitam
Dhoondege koi Aisa Sanam
Honge Kahin to Kargar
Main aur Meri awaargi...
(Javed Akhtar - Tarkash)
(Photo courtsey:longlostphotography.com)
Sunday, November 18, 2007
a man's life...
...unfortunately a bunch of us go thru life's motion believing that life is all about " Khao, Khujao and Batti Bujhao" ( eat - drink- and sleep)...
Pardon my french, but this is how apna Manohar describes it in his Bombaiyya language...
Monday, November 12, 2007
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Doosra Kinara, Festival bound...
Folks,
Doosra Kinara has been accepted by the Atlanta Indo-American Film Festival to be held from November 15 - 18 at Cinfeset of GSU, Emory University and Georgia Tech Theatre.
For more details:
http://www.iafs.us/AIAFF/Web/Forms/frmMovieScreenings07.aspx#5
Doosra Kinara will be shown at 7:00 pm on Friday November 16, 2007, followed by a Q & A session with the Director.
Be there...
ps: I personally would like to see someone give hard times to the director at the Q&A session. That jebroni has been getting it all easy for a long time now...
Doosra Kinara has been accepted by the Atlanta Indo-American Film Festival to be held from November 15 - 18 at Cinfeset of GSU, Emory University and Georgia Tech Theatre.
For more details:
http://www.iafs.us/AIAFF/Web/Forms/frmMovieScreenings07.aspx#5
Doosra Kinara will be shown at 7:00 pm on Friday November 16, 2007, followed by a Q & A session with the Director.
Be there...
ps: I personally would like to see someone give hard times to the director at the Q&A session. That jebroni has been getting it all easy for a long time now...
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Please ignore this....
I needed a URL of a good looking jebroni for something official. I asked Manohar for his photograph who refused and so did Mullah. I found this dude who ain't that bad looking either. Please ignore this post and bear with me...
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