Dastak

Photo by Neel Kamal Pandey

us jang lagey taale ke peeche

malbey jaisi deewaro ke peeche

main shor hu ya sannata hu

main roshni hu ya andhera hu

tu de dastak, main batata hu

main teri hi kahani hu

kuch yaado ke jaale simte hain

halki dhoop ke mele hain

main ateet hu ya aagaami hu

main mohobbat hu ya nafrat hu

tu de dastak, main batata hu

main teri hi ruswaai hu

tujhe khurechi hui deewarein milengi

tujhe do nahi, kai parchaiyaa milengi

main kuch toote dilo ka raag hu

main ankaha koi fasana hu

tu de dastak, main batata hu

main teri roohani shaam hu

par ek darwaza hai kahi chupa hua

jaha tere jaisa koi hai band pada

main teri aas hu

main tera gumaan hu

tu de dastak, main batata hu

main tujh jaiso ko uksati lagaam hu

Engraved, not buried #OctPoWriMo 2013 day 10

PART- 1

Suddenly reminded of you a lot

And suddenly, I catch myself thinking

It's buried too deep now. 

Suddenly I can't stop feeling it

But I'm not feeling it as much

It's buried too deep now. 

And suddenly I catch my face contorting

My eyes leaking

My veins visible

Suddenly I'm not such a grown up anymore

Suddenly I'm back in college

The above is originally written by Anup Bishnoi on his blog Grass on Fire named "Engraved, not buried". I picked it up for inspiration. Here is my reply, or better called - an extension to his words.

PART- 2

The walls are calling me more

The windows long shut, are open again

It's uncovering like lost treasure.

Bleak voices of fun

or the tiny rays of sun

It's all uncovering like lost treasure. 

I can feel those days again

But they are passing me by

I know; not here to stay

I still hold them in tight fists of mine

Leaving here a piece of me

which will wander even when I am gone

Until I say someday; yet again 

Suddenly I'm back in college

This prompt of "A reply poetry" submitted by a very close friend Nimue created a void and filled it itself with brighter colors in form of words. Trying to reply to a poem which is an inspiration, is more or less frightening with the first thought of "justifying" it with proper words, which, yes seems next to impossible. 

But once done, it leaves with a realization of how much Anup Bishnoi inspires me (which is deeper than I thought before writing this). 

I am yet frightened if I have done justice to his words and his feeling of attachment to his college days. Again it gave me some more bliss, cos I do not have fond memories from college but thanks to him I lived a little from his side. And yes, this is a tiny (insignificant actually) piece of dedication to him.

So thank you Anup Bishnoi for the impact you have left on me. More of less, for the amazing person you are. Keep doing it, please.
And it doesn't stop without thanking Nimue, for its because of her I went through a lot of feelings while writing this. I discovered a new part of me.

P.S- Apologies, I know it does not match your level of writing, at all. 

A Gentle Love. A Gentle Self. #OctPoWriMo 2013 day 4

Down the hallwaythere's a woman crying

cursing and praying
at the same time
I wonder what occurred to her
as I take each step towards her
one by one
Only with one motive
I will be gentle
with her pain 
with her sayings
I will understand all her sufferings.

Yes there is a boy
living next door
with a crooked smile
and a broken soul
He whispers often some words
but whimpers more and more
I shall knock his door
Ask him his pain
that dwells in him
I will be gentle
with his shouts
with his cryings
I will understand even if he yells. 

The girl who lost someone close
last year
still has red eyes
and her soul has gone black
She stays mum while walking down the road
dropped her dreams of floating aloof
I shall walk with her someday
talk of whom she lost
and why she blames herself
I will be gentle
with her curses
with her wounds
I will understand even if she doesn't say a word.

For I have found myself
in others' happiness
trying to be gentle with their dreams
has become my gift
And so discovered a piece of me
which lives for others
yes, indeed
Being gentle with them
has made me be gentle with me.

Too much PACH!?

Yesterday was a bad day. Bad as in.. really bad day. Bad like tiring, head-eating, weird, disheartening,  'I give up'- kind of day.
I revise my day at night. The pictures of day spent passes my head by. I like doing it. Its important to remember, to embrace, to cherish, to improvise... to endure.
Yesterday's picture .... sucked. Literally. Its just hard to sleep with a sad face. Its one things that advances the very next brimming morning. I switched my head. No, not off. I switched it to a happy place. To a place called PACH.
I cant summarize Pach as Poetry and Cheap Humor group. It'll be an insult to keep it framed in four terms when half of your present world's happiness is subsiding in it. Actually, more than half. Sometimes, its the only happiness if life right now existing in real world. Pach took so much from my being. A little hesitant in the beginning, but I saw Pach just asking me to let go. I finally did. It gave me back a thousand times fold than what I gave.
Of course, I grabbed it all.
Its the rainbow- right after a heavy storm.
Its a tree- spreads & grows.
Its the north star- always sticks in blue-black blanket on head; to guide.
Its the family- supports & respects.
Its the friend- just doesn't judge.
Its a child- knows no bounds.
Its a flower- blooms all seasons.
Its a coffee mug- it understands.
Its Sun- looks breathtaking both coming & going.

Pach has taught me epiphany, to utter sense; it just doesn't interpret- only acknowledges.

Last night, I slept with a smile on my face. Thanks Pach! 

It listens; calmly, patiently.
It gives wings to fly.
It stays; time immemorial, it just does.
Its sticks, it embraces, it gives Love.









My special thanks to Saumya di and Anup bhaiya, for giving me the best gift of life- till date.

Photo Credits- Hardik Photography

Goodbye My lover, Goodbye My friend

-of mistakes, of pain, of agony

Yesterday we shook our hands for the last time

All this while I had waited for a gesture from your side

And when it finally did;

It brought me serenity, peace & smile

Maybe the time has come
when I see everything in black & white
The old photos bring you to me
the innocent smiles on our tired faces

The lilies have grown and faded
Spring had come and gone
But not has just spring indeed;
Many seasons have passed us by

The clock is tired of reminding me
that I should grow against the odds
Still I have been so resilient
That I'd never let it depart

Is it just me or you too?
Lest we make a change
And grow out of cowardliness
Without the convolutions

And so I let my fear go
Not only because the time asked me to
Well, cos I had to grow stronger
And let those gaps disappear

Not wondering how and when
Not thinking whether you'd accept it or not
The pale skin is about to fade; of mine
Ready to thrive!

When the wounds open, they often tend to heal

Photo Credits: Hardik Photography 

Kahin duur jab din dhal jaye

Kahin duur jab din dhal jaye

saanjh ki dulhan badan churaye

chupke se aaye

My one of the favorites of Rajesh Khanna. We all remember that song. Sung somewhere, heard somewhere, kept in heart somewhere.

I saw my dad's wet eyes as Rajesh Khanna passed away. He was his favorite actor. His' was the first movie my dad watched at cinema when he cleared 10th exams- in 2 and a half rupees- Haathi mere saathi. O! we all have seen it.

The career took a toll. He had fame, love, money and what not. Just a few movies and he was on cloud 9. Elevated with persona. 15 hit blockbuster movies came one after another in only 3 consecutive years. He worked 14 hours a day, daily. 

Ye shaam mastani

Madhosh kiye jaye

Mujhe dor koi kheenche

teri or liye jaye

A romance brewed up the screen with him and Asha. More films came in and he made a beautiful romantic image. Female fans wrote letters with their own blood to him and kiss his car when he passed by. His car had lipstick stains all over. They would marry his pictures and throw dupattas on ground so that his feet wont touch the ground.  3 female fans even cut their write out for him during a movie release. His fate was written now- by his own hands- A superstar was born. 

Karwate badalte rahe

Saari raat hum

Aap ki kasam.. 

And then with Mumtaz- a B grade actress. He gave 8 back to back hit films with her which made her an A-grade actress.

Mere sapno ki raani kab aayegi tu

aayi rut mastani kab aayegi tu.. 

He gave over 160 films. But the major turn was when he was asked to do a Angry young man role. He declined. And so it was given to Amitabh Bachchan who had already given several flops- he accepted. Time changed. We saw Rajesh Khanna vanishing off the screens but not our hearts. Everything changed.

None-the-less he kept his similar nature all throughout his life full of romance, tragedies, memorables and forgetables. On 17th June 2012 he was discharged from hospital. We thought he's fine and so he is home. Eventually, doctors could no longer treat him and sent him home to have his last breath. He never made a public announcement of his liver cancer. We never knew! True as he said in his movie Anand- 'nahi nahi babumoshaye, hum apna gum nahi baattein, yaha thode selfish hain hum'. Zindagi kaisi hai paheli haye Kabhi toh hansaye Kabhi ye rulaye...

His body was taken in a truck decorated with white roses with a huge picture of his' from Anand at the front. A glass coffin was his last carriage. 

His last words- "Time to pack up".

The greatest, simple, down to earth, very ordinary yet extra ordinary, superb actor passed away two days back. A great loss to humanity. I know he was the first ever Superstar but more than that, he was the a great human. His last ad we have of him: Havells. 

"Mere fan mujhse koi nahi cheen sakta".

RIP Rajesh Khanna. You will be remembered as long as cinema lasts. 

The Story of 'Her' Life

I very clearly remember how I met her. In the train. Sitting opposite to my birth. Her mates offering her the vodka, she taking just a sip, asked me "Vodka?", happened to be her first word to me.
"I dont drink", I said
She gave away the drink. Smugged.
Thats where we met. Opposite upper births of train.
And thats how our rest of the night went, talking about which courses we do, ambitions we have, hobbies we keep, people we admire, songs we listen and so on.
We enjoyed the upcoming days together. It was destined we meet, thats what I can say.
Acquaintances we were.
Sadly, not all NSITians stay in touch. Surprisingly, all 'their' people usually sit on the same couch as mine.

Monali Sisodia
Studying in Swami Keshavanand Institute of Technology, Management and Gramothan.
And profoundly, studying in 3rd year when I met her.
An institute in Jaipur where she was to become a Scientist.

Or so, wasn't written.
"I dont wanna be a scientist yaar! Its getting over the head", suddenly a message shows up when I just reached home at evening from the depressing life of 1st year at college.
"Its okay! Maybe you are too sick of exams appearing", I replied
She called.
And in hassled way we talked.
She left it. Just before her exams appeared.
And completely changed her profile.

Monali Sisodia
Frameboxx Animation

An insitute in Mumbai where she is to become an animator.

God will always give you many ways to pick. You must pick what is best for you. For, He shall never pick on your behalf. Even when you think you've happened to have picked the wrong one, He shall rewind the time for you and bring you again the two paths. Maybe the same older ones. Or maybe the completely derived new ones. Nevertheless, He, surely will.

Doleful, we never got to spend enough time with each other. Blithe, she frequently calls and messages me the updates of her life.

Right now, she is about to complete her animation and do a splendind job in the same. With the annual function upcoming at her college, and height maybe 5"10 she is the showstopper of Fashion Show.
With a lovely pretty face she has, I dont know what they will make her fom the "Gothic" theme.

She, completely changed her Life. Took a decision that, she knew will compell her to transform the outlook of herself. Made her parents understand her priorities and grew completely as a beautiful butterfly out of a cocoon.
Moreover, she recenlty did a photoshoot of a model, as far as I remember.
"Toh kya hua khud model nahi ban sakti, photo toh le hi sakti hu", thats the message she'd sent me.

Dont know, when the time shall come and we meet. Do all the things we scheduled. But, the time shall come, I encourage myself .
Lionized into success. I wish she fills her cup with more of that with divine luck, faith, hardwork and beatitude.
Love will always flow from my side, I assure you.

The intertwining of God and Him

A true inspiration for all.
R.I.P Hussain. 

It was my friend's post which brought me to the fact that he is no more. Trust me, social networking sites can be beneficial sometimes. In shock, outraged, antagonized, I start thinking deep down of him. 
He was the man! He was M F Hussain. An out of the world painter, artist indescribable, awarded both Padma Shri and Padma Bhushan as well as Padma Vibhushan. Film director, producer, as well as a poet. Then follows my second thought, how he was thrown out of his own land. Reason: he portrayed some sacred Hindu Goddesses in non-acceptable avatars. Was exile its remedy? He was disrespected as he was a Muslim. What the so-called- religious groups saw was a Muslim outraging Hinduism. Even though, that's their mentality. For a man with so much love in his heart, a man born even before the revolts of independence started in the blood of Indian's, a man with compassion and no impure thoughts in his mind and soul to outcast another religion, it is impossible to hurt the sentiments of anyone. In fact, a painter is considered as having given a god gift, he is the person with most soothing soul, the only field which has always been respected the most since 500 BC. 
Anyway, am not here to justify what was wrong, what was right, for I will hurt his soul more. Am just here to forecast his life, how he lived and what he lived for. A few facts which general people do not know. 


I remembrance very well, I was in seventh standard, where we had a unit of M F Hussain, his life : From where he was, till where he is. He was still in India till then, else the unit would have been dislodged. These are the extracts:




"A self-taught artist, Muqbool Fida Hussain was born in 1915 in Maharashtra. His mother died when he was one and a half years old and his father married again. At an early age he learnt the art of calligraphy and practiced the Kulfic khat with its geometric forms. He also learnt to write poetry while staying with an uncle in a madrasa in Baroda, an art that has stayed with him through his life. His early education was perfunctory but Hussain's love of drawing was evident even at this stage. Whenever he got a chance he would strap his painting gear to his bicycle and drive out to the surrounding countryside of Indore to paint the landscape. In 1937 he reached Mumbai determined to become an artist, with hardly any money and lived in a cheap room. Initially Hussain apprenticed himself to a painter of cinema hoardings which he would paint with great dexterity perched on scaffolding sometimes in the middle of traffic, earning very little to afford his living in Mumbai. But, that didn't stop him from living his dreams. 
Hussain was noticed for the first time in 1947 when he won an award at the annual exhibition of the Bombay Art Society. Subsequently he was invited by Souza to join the Progressive Artist's Group. A great deal of experimentation in the early years led to some remarkable works Re Between The Spider And The Lamp, Zameen and Man. By 1955 he was one of the leading artists in India and had been awarded the Padma Shri. He was a special invitee along with Pablo Picasso at the Sao Paulo Biennial in 1971. Along with several solo exhibitions he had major retrospectives in Mumbai in 1969, in Calcutta in 1973 and in Delhi in 1978. He has participated in many international shows which include Contemporary Indian Art, Royal Academy of Arts, London 1982; Six Indian Painters, Tate Gallery, London 1985; Modem Indian Painting, Hirschhom Museum, Washington 1986 and Contemporary Indian Art, Grey Art Gallery, New York 1986.
In 1967 he won the Golden Bear at the International Film Festival at Berlin for his documentary Through the Eyes of a Painter and has made several short films since then. Hussain was awarded the Padma Bhushan in 1973, the Padma Vibhushan in 1989 and was nominated to the Rajya Sabha in 1986. One of the most charismatic artists in India today, he is known for his emphatic understanding of the human situation and his speedy evocation of it in paint. The early evolution of his painterly language was overtaken by adventurous forays into installations and performance art. His experimentations with new forms of art are both unexpected and pioneering.
Hussain has studios in several cities in India but lives mainly in Mumbai."


Called the "Picasso of India" by Forbes Magazine, he was a man completely down to Earth. Even though his paintings would fetch him millions of dollars, his lifestyle was yet the same as before. 
At Dubai, where he had spent his many years of life, he was frequently spotted coming out of local cinema halls after watching latest Bollywood flicks. 

"I remember meeting the grand old man walking out of a cinema theatre. He gleamed like a teenager. I don't remember the movie but it was definitely a Hindi potboiler. That defined the man," said Raghav, a Dubai resident.

Hussain always interacted with common men on the streets, a habit he did not desert here.

"I think his best moment in Dubai came in November 2007 when he booked the entire tickets of a local cinema hall screening Madhuri Dixit's comeback film Aaja Nachle," said Ayesha, a Sharjah resident.

On this occasion, Husain booked 194 seats for the movie as a treat for his special guests from all walks of life. He distributed tickets as invitations on which the veteran painter's autograph and a sketch of Madhuri was
inscribed. The artist was known to be a great fan of the actress, whom he also cast in his film 'Gaja Gamini'. Hussain also held several private exhibitions during his stay here. He came to Dubai to work on the history of Arab civilisation.

True to the man himself, all his mannerisms were unique.

Even his apartment looked like an Arab majlis, a tent like structure where he used fabric instead of his own paintings. A round carpet in his studio was uniquely laid out half on the ground and half up the wall. He had on display paintings that he once sold for Rs 100-150.

Husain's last visit to his hometown was in 1995, when he received the 'Pandhari Bhushan' Puraskar instituted by a local organisation. Tears well up in the eyes of 86-year old Khudabuddin Sharifoddin, cousin of M F Husain, as he remembers his association with the iconic artist, who spent his formative years in this town in Pandharpur, western Maharashtra. 
"He asked me how did his mother, my mother's sister, look like as he had lost her at an early age. He asked me where was the 'kabr' (resting place) of his mother located," he said, talking to reporters at his house at Kalikadevi Chowk, in the vicinity of the famous Vitthal temple, which attracts lakhs of devotees.

Then, to the delight of the nearly 10,000 people who crowded to watch him exhibit his deft strokes, Husain drew a sketch of a beautiful woman, in 10 minutes flat, on a bull!

Not difficult to guess that the drawing was of his muse -- Bollywood's then reigning queen Madhuri Dixit. For days, the locals paraded the bull around the town.
A local painter S Pataskar, recalled Husain's last visit here. "It was as if Pandharpur had come to a standstill.
Around 10,000 people gathered to see the master at work. Husain mingled freely, shook hands with people and spoke in chaste Marathi."

After receiving the award, Husain went to Vithal-Rukmai temple and had a "darshan" of the deity. 
He died in London this year, at the age of 95, where he longed to smell the soil of his country.

One can love MF Hussain or one can hate MF Hussain but one cannot ignore him. Here are a few paintings of him, which eventually are my all time favorites. 

He painted all bare-foot, as he worshiped his work.

Love

Blue head 

Mother Teresa- his inspiration

His favorite animal- Horse 

Poornima

Indian Mythology