For MT...

I generally don't get personal on my blog, but sometimes...a man is gotta do what a man is gotta do...
No F****g Peace!

Long weekend...

Chandra Mukhi...

Someone in my group was leaving to get married in Seattle, WA and stopped by at our office for a few minuets. We were happy to have him and soon there were jokes and advices flying all over the place...

When he was about to leave I decided that he shouldn't go empty handed, so I offered him a piece of advice someone gave me several years ago.I was traveling in a train with a girl I hardly knew and had met only a couple of months ago. This middle aged couple with two kids were our fellow passengers.

After we settled down the husband asked if we recently married. I lied and said yes. His name was some Mr. Agarwal and he was a film producer. He was flirting with his beautiful wife. I tell ya , there is no better sight than to see a husband flirting with wife (It helps if the wife in question is his!) , specially if they were married for a few years.

He said "Look, here is the deal and this is how it is going to be. You like it or not. There are three stages in a women's life after marriage...."

Stage 1: First 6- 9 months after the wedding a wife feels like a chandra Mukhi ( moon light). Sweet and sensual. You can't have enough of her...

Stage 2: Between 9 months to 3 years she feels like a Suraj Mukhi ( Sun Light) and prone to burn if you take it more than you ought to...

Stage 3: And finally my dear between 3 years to the rest of your life she feels like a Jwaala Mukhi ( Volcano)

My instinct told me that he is right on the money, so I asked " Guru is there any way we can just keep the first stage going?" . He said nope, all you can do is to keep a safe distance in all stages so that when she turns into the third type you will not get burned...

My fiend DP had a good laugh and said " I know only two rules to deal with wives: Rule # 1: A wife is never wrong , Rule # 2: Never forget rule # 1

I can say with certainty that my friend DP's wife is going to some happy woman for the rest of her life......

PS: The opinion expressed in this blog belong to Mr. Agarwal ( wherever he is) and author assumes no responsibility of any kind...Peace!

The last lecture.....

Professor Randy Pausch of Carnegie Mellon University diagnosed with pancreatic caner and given 4 months of life by the doctors, delivers his LAST lecture. It is 8 part video and I am attaching first and the last video. He talks about his childhood dreams and advices others about living childhood dreams...good stuff!

He celebrates his wife's birthday in front of the audiences probably for the last time. It is very touching and inspiring stuff. Don't miss what he says at the end of it.

I hope a miracle happens and professor Pausch survives cancer...

Dhoop Kinare...

Here is the singer of Faiz's Ghazal. I think I need to stop before this get out of control...
Peace..

Jaise Virane main...

Dariye mat - Aap ko girne nahi doonga!

Apna Khyaal Rakhna...

This TV serial came out when I was at Saboo Siddik College of Engineering (Mumbai), studying Soil Mechanics, Structural Analysis, hydraulics by day and dreaming, writing poetry n plays by night. Those were the days when innocence was in abundance and faith in humanity was un-shakeable....

It holds so many deeper meanings in my heart that I almost always choose to ignore them. Some knots are best left un-tied...

I discovered the entire 13 episodes serial on you tube and since then its been a disaster....I watch this last episode every day. If there is one title tack that I would like to use in my films then it got to be this ghazal accompanied by guitar...

The breaks-ups and more...

I have been getting some un-wanted phone calls lately. I tried to reason with callers and requested them repeatedly to stop chasing me. Nothing worked. When I ran out of patience and humor, I decided to change my cell number. I hated to let go of that old number as it was picked up by my first girl friend at a Home Depot by the Mall of Georgia...

The new number brought some peace of mind- but not for long. I started getting some seriously troubling messages. Apparently a high school teenager called Kathrine had that number before me. It was revealing and educating experience for me as a writer, to see how kids are behaving these days. One SMS used the word "whore" for her and the other mentioned about fun at the upcoming "prom night ". There were threats and F words and more....I felt sympathy for this girl. Ustaad Nida Fazli is on record:

" Us ke Dushman hain Bahut Aadmi Accha Hoga
Woh bhi Meri Trah Is Shahr main Tanha Hoga!"

It did not take long to figure out who she was running away from. The guy with most messages was called Luke - "the sky-rocket"! When I had enough of it I sent an SMS to Luke - "the sky-rocket" informing him of my gender and sexual orientation. As expected he thought Kathrine was sending him the responses. When some one said there is nothing called free Lunch in America, they really meant it. This "education" was costing me money so I finally called him. I told him that he has two options:

a: Get Katharine's new number or
b: Forget her!

He enjoyed those lines but refused to believe that I do not know her. He thought that I am Kathrine's friend and protecting her. There were other guys too that kept sending messages at odd hours. Some jebroni from Bollywood once said "it is tough to be a woman in the film industry!" I think it is tough to be a woman no matter what industry one is in..I felt for this poor girl. She was facing the same irrational behavior that we all indulge in - ie not accepting the inevitable!

Why people do not move on when relationships fall apart? Why do they wait for one person to act nasty before they lose hope of any reconciliation? Why does it all have to end this way?

I applaud Shahid and Kareena Kapoor for having an exemplary break up. None of them sound bitter when they speak about each other. They both have moved on. It was easy for Kareena as she found a Nawab for the company ( women always find someone first...!!) but poor Shahid was apparently too busy with his career to see the upcoming train wreck. Why can't we all behave like that? Why do we have to come up with allegations and lies to demonize a person before or after the break up?

Mullah has divided womenfolks ( and vice versa for being PC!) in five categories ( Front Page News, Good News, Bad News, Terrible News and Horrible News). He often criticizes me for not differentiating between a Good News and the Bad News types. In this case Luke-"the sky-rocket" was behaving like a bad news....

I dunno about all these Good and bad News. All I know is that if you can write a poem on a woman before you met her, after you met her and after the break up then she is a sure Good News.

Relationships, specially between couples survive on an oxygen called " Trust" and if that " trust" is sucked out then nothing is left. In this start-up joint venture everything is negotiable but trust! We all must recognize that defining moment when trust was broken and move on. There is always someone somewhere waiting...

I did...

Jaane Kiya Soch Kar...

Jaise Virane main...

Raat Yun dil main teri khoi hui yaad aayi
Jaise Viraane main chupke se bahar aa jaye
Jaise Sehraon main haule se chale baad-e-nasiim
Jaise Beemar ko be-Vajh qaraar aa jaaye ...
(Faiz Ahmad Faiz)

Bear Stearns is no more...

I had almost finished my blog discussing the 47% drop in the stock price of Bear Stearns when Mullah Luis called.
" Have you watched the news man?
"You are going to live 100 years man. I was writing about you on my blog"
" Bear Stearns is done man. They are history. JP Morgan did them for $2 a piece"

The topic of this blog was suppose to the bail out of Bear Stearns by two "private" banks, JP Morgan and Federal Reserves. I, had assumed that Federal Reserve is an arm of the US Government ( Like RBI) until Mullah Luis sent me the links above. Federal Reserve is as private as any other business in the US.

Well, the market was expecting that JP Morgan would buy Bear Stearns for $16 per share next week but this was a shocker. It is hard to imagine how a stock which was trading for about $160 a year ago was sold for $2 today. A lot of people are going to wake up with some serious losses tomorrow morning. The markets in Japan, Hong Kong and India are not even opened yet. It is going to be a long night for some folks...

We were reluctant to use the word " Recession" but it sounds like we are now headed for a "Depression"!!

PS: Mullah says he has been so depressed lately that he is beginning to find comfort in word depression. He believes that he can handle a bad depression better than a mere recession....

Fasten your seat belts folks....it is going to be a some hard landing!

Ek Parinda...

For the record...

Well, some folks got the impression that main ne " Tun Party" join kar li hai. Nope, I do not drink. I screw up with full control of mind and senses, imagine what would happen if I allow myself to be uder the infleucne of 21% alcohol!!

However, I do allow myself to come under the influence of words, ideals and smiles.....honest ones that is....

Chor....

It’s been two months since I came back from India. It was just a regular trip down memory lane with some cheers, tears and fears in that order!

Leaving mom behind has always been like taking a hit on my heart. Last few days before my departure I always try to photograph her in my mind. I try to remember every line on her face, her eyes, her smiles and her laugh. Every time I leave home I pray to God to please keep her in good health till I return again...every time I try to hide my tears all the way to the airport...every time!

"Jise Chod Kar koi kabhi na Jata Hoga"
Duniya main koi Shahr to Asia hoga!" - S. Akhtar

What I found most troubling after this last trip was my loss of humor. I am willing to lose anything in this life except my humor. This is my weapon of choice. Its always been. I kept going through my routine hoping one day I will overcome whatever that I was going through. And the moment came Saturday morning when I found my car stolen!

The next thing I did was to call cops and Mullah. Only one of them bothered to show up in about 15 minutes. No, It was not the cop. Mullah, looked around tried to smell me for " Daru Hangover” and asked

" Kal Raat kiya kiya? kis bad tameez ke sath the?"
Tumhare sath tha bhaiyya? Kaisi baaten karte ho?
Woh to theek hai magar mere baad khaan gaye the?
Yaar Bistar pe hi aayaa tha.....woh bhi apne...

Mullah suggested we look around the entire neighborhood to make sure I was not drunk and had not parked it in some one else's parking spot. My pleas went unheard and he convinced me that since I hang around with Walty these days, may be I did take one of those " Car or a Yager Bomb” shots. Walty is a buddie from work and is an expert -alcoholic.

We looked in "other people's parking spots" but could not find my car. I was relieved not to find it there else Mullah would have come up some never ending series of questions. Finally Mullah asked

" Ab kiya karen?"
Karna kiya hai , jis ko zarorat thi woh le gyaa. Tum hi socho kal raat pehli baraf giri thi mausam ki, aur itni sardi main kisi ne chori ka irada kiya matlab samne wale ko zaroorat thi" I had decided, It was time to get philosophical.
" Yaar ye accha nahi hua.....sorry" Mullah was sympathetic.
" Allah Kareem....isi bahane Doosri le lenge"
" Doosri nahi - Teesri.."
"Hmmm – wohi Teesri"

And then, right then Mullah said something which was so true.
" Yaar mere khyaal se ye accha shagun tha - Har baar tumhari life main koi ladki aane se pehle nayi car aayi hai". Mullah backed up his analysis by offering me the past statistics.

We both laughed...

Mullah was right. Every time buying a new car always followed by beginning of new beginnings in my life. Suddenly the loss seemed like a profit discounted at the current interest rate.

Even though I had put that loss in perspective and laughed over it, inside I was feeling violated. How the hell someone just found my car worth stealing? Who the hell was he? Why? How dare he?

Later that night it occurred to me that my loss was so inconsequential compare to the theft that have occurred and is occurring the in world today.

This thief's robbery only affected me but what about those thefts that happen in broad day light on the world stage every day? People steal peace from the entire world and go unpunished; they steal oil, other natural resources and survive to enjoy the loot. They steal democratically elected governments, steal monetary system, steal collective psyche of nations. They steal continents, countries, religion and cultures without feel ing ashamed....

What about those thieves that steal trust and Imaan in the blink of an eye? What about those shameless thieves that don’t realize that robbing of some one's innocence is as a heinous crime as stealing of the most precious gem form the jewelry called life? Who will punish these guys?

The guy who stole my car will get caught and most likely will lose his license to drive and may end up doing time but other glorified thieves will stay around for another opportunity to rob some one of something - somewhere!

ps: Dear Dionne, Mullah did not mention you in that statistics and he does not know that you live in Dallas and that you are learning Urdu/Hindi these days! I will translate this blog whenever you are ready! Peace...

Maa...

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

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!

(Picture Courtesy: Bhopal.net, View images)

Jab Koi...

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?

(c) Shahid Sayed, January 20, 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 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?