THE SOLITARY REAPER

The Strangers on the Page

2011-05-29T14:33:00.000-07:00

They are strangers. All of them. But after reading their dear ones describe them in loving words, you suddenly feel as if you know them all. Every single one of them, featured in the newspaper’s obituary page, where the memories of the departed are shared with grief, love and gratitude.

Today, there’s a father who is lovingly remembered for his commitment and dedication. His legacy of hard work and honesty is heralded as greatly motivating. I read this, and this dad comes alive in front of me - in flesh and blood – a warm and suave gentleman who is always there for everyone, and suddenly I miss not meeting him in person. There’s a beautiful lady too, who I read, was an intelligent and loving mother, and a dedicated and hardworking wife. I read about her pleasant smile and see it lighting up around me. Then there are grandfathers and grandmothers - the dadas, dadis, nanas and nanis - who have left for their heavenly abode and are now being remembered and missed by their children and grandchildren. I read it all - the names and the adulatory messages, and look deeply at the photos and try to guage if these strangers died content and happy, whether they had a fulfilling life. The warm and happy faces of these elderly give nothing away and so I assume that they died happy.

Then there are those who share another corner, staring straight, proud in their military fines. They are the fighters, the martyrs who laid down their lives fighting for their country’s cause. Here they are now, remembered year after year, by their families, fellow fighters and brethrens. From all ranks and files, they are lauded for their bravery and thanked for their invaluable guidance and noble thoughts. I read it all – their names, their ranks and the unit they belonged to, and imagine strapping groomed men full of fervour and zest for life, charging ahead and taking the enemy head on.

But almost always there are some announcements that leave you sad and disillusioned. The prayer meetings, rasam kriyas and chauthas. Of people who must have been in the prime of their life. They are gone, and now have their best pictures announcing their untimely departure. Their beaming, happy, cheerful faces next to the obituary notes look so out of place that you naively wonder if there’s been some mistake and that probably the press men bumbled and put up wrong photos. All of 23 and dead? No, this surely is a mistake! That’s not an age to die! 18 and gone? There must be an error here...the heart goes. But deep inside you know it’s not a mistake. You read about the freak accident, the sudden illness, the massive heart attack...the words ‘untimely death’ prefixed everywhere. Ah. The grief stricken list breaks my heart. Father, mother, brother, sister, grandparents...you read on, realising it all too well that life for them would never be the same again.

Some Rhymed Lines : Part 1

2008-12-06T09:50:00.000-08:00

The face was fresh,
not striking
he noticed,
but new nevertheless.

They met at a place,
that sold many different dreams
and catered everyone,
with hot coffee and sour cream.

So it was coffee they had
their thoughts occupied,
the eyes nonchalant
the doubtful minds spied.

Relativity

2008-11-29T09:17:00.000-08:00

There was a young lady named Bright
Whose speed was far faster than light;
She set out one day,
In a relative way
And returned on the previous night.

By A. H. Reginald Buller

To the Dead in the Graveyard Underneath My Window

2008-09-24T09:03:00.000-07:00

How can you lie so still? All day I watch
And never a blade of all the green sod moves
To show where restlessly you toss and turn,
And fling a desperate arm or draw up knees
Stiffened and aching from their long disuse;
I watch all night and not one ghost comes forth
To take its freedom of the midnight hour.

Oh, have you no rebellion in your bones?
The very worms must scorn you where you lie,
A pallid mouldering acquiescent folk,
Meek habitants of unresented graves.
Why are you there in your straight row on row
Where I must ever see you from my bed
That in your mere dumb presence iterate
The text so weary in my ears:"Lie still
And rest; be patient and lie still and rest."

By : Adelaide Crapsey

Going For The Kill

2008-08-30T07:50:00.000-07:00

The ruthlessness becomes me now,
the same,
which when once bestowed,
killed me
and then gradually became me.

Now,
when this me kills,
there's no joy,
contrary to what I thought.
Just some irritating sadness,
and mounting tension,
some wry smiles too,
catching me unaware
amidst heartless banter,
yet coldly coaxing me
to keep going for the kill.

Somewhere, Up There...

2008-08-29T11:05:00.000-07:00

Somewhere,

high up in the mountains,

where the wind blows free

and frolicks teasingly

with the huge pine tree

where the sky is always clear

but for when the clouds roll

and they hang down so near

that the gray takes over the blue

and yet one wonders,

who painted this hue?

There,

high up in the mountains,

where clear streams run

and tinkle and sprinkle

their ware with so much fun,

where the many butterflies fly

dancing with great abundance,

naughty and yet shy!

Here,

high up in the mountains,

where the world is so pure

a small hut is all I want,

yes, I am so sure.

In the midst of this green,

living would be a bliss

no empty smiles to give,

no hatred, malice or airborne kiss.

Solitude for company,

through moods happy and sad

peace will reign.

where all seasons would be beautiful -

bright summer and misty rain.

Some Lines...Profound

2008-08-16T08:20:00.000-07:00

If I could pray, the gist of my

demanding would be simply this:

Quietude. The ordered mind.

Erasure of inner lie.

And only love in every kiss.

From Hymns of Darkness by Nissim Ezekiel

I met a man, loved him. Call

Him not by any name, he is every man

Who wants a woman, just as I am every

Woman who seeks love. In him...the hungry

haste of rivers, in me...

the ocean's tireless waiting.

By Kamala Das

My Symphony

2008-08-08T08:22:00.000-07:00

The rain fell,

and with it the selfless giggles.

Mad giggles.

In rhythm

with the sharp shower

stinging my bare back.

Bare feet gave company,

drumming the poodles.

In perfect timing.

What bliss. This symphony.

Like They Said...And Right They Said

2008-08-01T05:10:00.000-07:00

"Take most people, they're crazy about cars. They worry if they get a little scratch on them, and they're always talking about how many miles they get to a gallon, and if they get a brand-new car already they start thinking about trading it in for one that's even newer. I don't even like old cars. I mean they don't even interest me. I'd rather have a goddam horse. A horse is at least human, for God's sake."

~J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye, Chapter 17, spoken by the character Holden Caulfield

Boy, when you're dead, they really fix you up. I hope to hell when I do die somebody has sense enough to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetery. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody.

~J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.

~J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

What really knocks me out is a book, when you're all done reading it, you wished the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it.

~J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

I felt like jumping out the window. I probably would've, too, if I'd been sure somebody'd cover me up as soon as I landed. I didn't want a bunch of stupid rubbernecks looking at me when I was all gory.

~J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

Marriage

2008-07-17T21:37:00.000-07:00

Some lines :

Lovers, when they marry, face
Eternity with touching grace,
Complacent at being fated,
Never to be separated.

The bride is always pretty, the groom
A lucky man. The darkened room
Roars out the joys of flesh and blood
The use of nakedness is good.

Why should I ruin the mystery,
By harping on the suffering rest,
Myself a frequent wedding guest.

- Nissim Ezekiel

July 13th, 2008

2008-07-13T08:07:00.000-07:00

- Distressful Homonyns

Since for me now you have no warmth to spare
I sense I must adopt a sane and spare

Philosophy to ease a restless state
Fuelled by this uncaring. It will state

A very meagre truth: love like the rest
Of our emotions, sometimes needs a rest.

Happiness, too, no doubt; and so, why even
Hope that 'the course of true love' could run even?

By Vikram Seth

She Dwelt among the Untrodden Ways

2008-06-26T06:10:00.000-07:00

She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
—Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!

- William Wordsworth

Let Me Not To The Marriage Of True Minds

2008-05-30T13:53:00.001-07:00

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

- William Shakespeare

To Knot or Not?

2008-05-27T01:37:00.000-07:00

This post is a borrowed one, or should I say bartered? Exchanged in lieu of an earliar one lended to a very dear friend. But since charity is not my middle name, I decided to lurk around and pounce on any chance of redeeming the favour I had done. And to state the obvious, I actually got my chance!

But considering my penchant for postscripts and asides ( thanks to the many Shakespearean works that I was made to learn by rote, and which I gradually fell in love with ) there have been some minor and major changes in the plot. (For one, the title has been changed.) Sorry Smruti. Well here goes the newer version.

BRIDE WANTED

Wanted convent educated, tall, fair, slim, homely girl. Well, every time somebody starts the topic of marriage, I can’t help but recall the above headline that dots the matrimonial columns of weekend newspapers. And I dread the day when I will be reduced to such a headline…the possibilities are enormous and I say a small prayer every Sunday, when I read the classifieds and don’t see my name or description featured in it.

It’s become a daily chore now. Well almost. To avoid the topic of marriage. Invariably someone or the other brings up the topic and somewhere down the line, everybody deems me the unfortunate victim - someone who has been passed on and will never know the pleasure of married life. And guess what...in the same sentence they will crib about their own spouse and the many pitfalls of married life, but hey that’s another topic, they say.

Right from near and distant relatives to well meaning and not so well meaning friends, almost all have the same concern - to see me married. So that they can all say in chorus "Another one bites the dust". It’s as if all the married people in the world are raging a silent war against the single population and they will not rest unless we join the fraternity, unless we pledge alliance to the secret society of unrealized expectations and everlasting nagging.

But now my friends have taken a different approach. One wants me to jot down the qualities that I need in my man so that she can go about looking for one, and a critical search on the many matrimonial websites is on. But she insists on the list, blissfully engrossed in her trousseau shopping. Now...well, my dear friend, if you so insist...here's the list. But let me clarify...My Love Don't Cost a Thing...Well...Really! Here's the tentative list :

1. Should love me, for all that I am and am not.

2. Money (Will make do with a decent amount)
3. Should be witty

4. Body (A reasonable physique will do. No six packs please!)

5. Have a political opinion (if it matches mine, that’s great…but even if it doesn’t-no problem, but should have one… most people I meet don’t have any political opinion of their own. Actually!)

6. Read books…fiction, non fiction, anything...(so that I can borrow and gift him some…it’s the bestest gift idea! But then again, no second hands please...And mind you, here I speak from experience!)

7. Should be passionate about travelingl…Andamans, North East, Backwaters, Ladakh, Rajasthan, Macchu Pichhu...infact....anywhere..!

8. Should have the time and money to go on such trips with me. (Well, if he's busy, I'll adjust. Just his money would do.)

9. Should be in love with both the sea and the mountains

10. Should not be protective or possessive about me

11. Should not talk to me for more than 2 hours in a day. ( And less, if I am NOT in the mood. Random phone calls are a strict no no. And Please, no enquiries about my diet regime, breakfast, lunch, dinner, et al.)

12. Should not be messy
13. Should not throw things on the road
14. Should not encourage beggars
15. Pet peeves would be allowed, but only once in a while.

16. Should be independent
17. Should not be mama’s boy
18. Should have at least one major relationship (That would take the pressure off me)

19. Should be active (one lazybones is enough, read me)
20. Should be practically impractical
21. Should be romantic without being mushy

22. Should love all my my friends

23. Should be willing to be part of my hare brained enterprises
24. Should manage to surprise me
25. Should be willing to yell at me once in a while (once in a while, I repeat)

26. Should be able to spend time with me without talking
27. Should be able to understand my moods
28. Should be able to understand how much he means to me without me ever saying it.

That's all for now. I know you would say, how considerate. But that's what I am, have always been.

And She Lived Happily Ever After

2008-04-27T20:18:00.000-07:00

The story in this post was actually forwarded by a very dear friend. I am posting it here with an added post script, the content of which is entirely my view on the 'other' advantages of singlehood. The story goes:

Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl 'Will you marry me?' The girl said: 'NO!' And the girl lived happily ever after.

She went shopping, dancing, camping, drank martinis, always had a clean house, never had to cook, did whatever the hell she wanted, never argued, didn't get fat, traveled more, had many lovers, didn't save money, and had all the hot water to herself. She went to the theatre, never watched sports, never wore friggin' lacy lingerie, had high self esteem, never cried or yelled, felt and looked fabulous in sweat pants and was pleasant all the time.

Dil Dosti Etc

2008-04-25T20:30:00.000-07:00

One always thought - love is two people meeting, falling in love and then living happily ever after. This is one movie that shatters the myth. This is real life. There's nothing called love. Just plain sex. Sex, I repeat, and not love making.

The tagline of the film says - When you are young, you believe, the possibilities are endless...
What possibilities...one wonders after the film...possibilities that you can have as many girls as you want, in a day?

This urban flick, directed by Manish Tiwary, juxtaposes the lives of two university hostellers - Apurv (Imaad Shah), a rich listless guy and, Sanjay Mishra (Shreyas Talpade), an old-fashioned Bihari, aspring to make it big in university politics. It's through their story that the director tries to contrast the liberal outlook with the conservative outlook in our society. Through its ensemble cast, the film explores male bonding, voyeurism, sexual perversion, love and of course, betrayal.

But from a personal point of view, the film centres way too much around sex, sex and more sex...and the climax broke my heart. What a shame. Makes one realize that there’s no dearth of likes of Apurvas around us. What say?

The Road Not Taken

2008-04-25T02:09:00.000-07:00

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference

-- Robert Frost

If You would Say

2008-04-05T01:23:00.000-07:00

If you would say -
"You are not good enough"
I would then understand,
and perhaps
nonchalantly move on.

And if you would proclaim
"I am in search of a new game
a fair maiden,
with swaying long hair"
then I'll understand more so
and perhaps say -
I really don't care.

But then if you said
"Me plain bored out of life,
looking for, say
a new emotional strife"
this will amuse me more
and who knows
I may even wish
an abundance of such strifes
to keep you sore.

But then, I would not do that
of course,
have no points to score,
but then
how would you know
you soar to newer strifes,
leaving people sore.

On Some Monologues

2008-04-04T21:34:00.000-07:00

Incessant monologues wreck my mind,
But the words come out
In mumbles - incoherent and trite.
To some memories the heart binds
Blanketing, shutting out reason,
It's then that I realise
Wayward is the fancy's flight.

Secret Sorrows

2008-02-28T02:09:00.000-08:00

Someone committed suicide today. About a couple of hours back...somewhere around Connaught Place. This man was well educated, financially well off and had recently returned from United States. Wonder what drove him to take such a gruesome step. But then life goes on.... he’ll gradually fade away from everyone's memory.... only for his aging parents perhaps.... tragic for them.... They’ll be devastated, living every moment wondering what went wrong, analyzing their dead son's life bit by bit.... assessing themselves bit by bit…

Then again there's this mad woman who wanders around my hostel. At times, I find her sitting on the footpath, blabbering away.... I wonder what she must be thinking about...who or what drove her to such madness?
Errant son? Death in the family? Wayward husband? Some other family problem? I wonder what has made her so miserable.... There have been days, this winter, when I saw her without a sweater or shawl...without a care in the world. Sitting on the same footpath...blabbering away...Tried coaxing her to shift to the safer side of the footpath...but she wouldn't budge...kept murmuring in a strange language...

Two sad people...sad for different reasons.

“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.”

- H. W. Longfellow

O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell

2008-02-25T02:50:00.000-08:00

O SOLITUDE! if I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,—
Nature’s observatory—whence the dell,
Its flowery slopes, its river’s crystal swell,
May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep
’Mongst boughs pavillion’d, where the deer’s swift leap
Startles the wild bee from the fox-glove bell.
But though I’ll gladly trace these scenes with thee,
Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind,
Whose words are images of thoughts refin’d,
Is my soul’s pleasure; and it sure must be
Almost the highest bliss of human-kind,
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.

- By John Keats

Indulgence, For Free

2008-02-08T20:37:00.000-08:00

Indulgence of all sorts

at your call,
Not much of a strain here,
your choice, in all.

Choose this and choose that
your fancy running free
The world hardly matters,

in your indulgent spree.

Manipulate, cajole or outright reject

whatever the need be

Indulgence of all sorts,
for you, for free.

The Lake Isle of Innsfree

2008-02-05T01:10:00.000-08:00

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a-glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear the water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

By William Butler Yeats

I Die

2008-01-27T06:59:00.000-08:00

Like Byron said -
'I regret my youth'
or the follies should I say
bizzare, stupid and uncouth.
So - to atone the follies I cry,
to ease the pain, I die.

Let's leave this here then.
There's no other regret though
The world is nice
barring a few
The wounds left open, for vultures to pry
And to ease this pain, I die.

Mired Mirages

2008-01-27T06:23:00.000-08:00

It's not that we never met,
the past cannot be undone
The mired mirages hurt me more,
then why from the past you run.

Is this the way with you,
the many tales that you spun
Love and lust with betrayal sprayed,
and so from your past you run.

On John Keats

2008-01-19T08:21:00.000-08:00

For Keats my pen flows,
This is for them who say
Little imagery the poet shows
His verses near the nature sway.

If only Endymion they read
There are doubts they did that ever
Cause hath not they then realised
That a thing of beauty is a joy forever.

His myriad verses flow and say
of Greek gods and goddesses great
And the earthly trifles that came his way
With profound wisdom in imagination's spate.

Melancholy, solitude and beauty taut,
On diverse fancies his poetry dwelled
Odes he wrote on many a thought
For many a cause, his emotions swelled.

He had his doubts though,
Fears that he may cease to be
Before he could pen his thought flow
Wish his glory he could foresee!

A Footloose Tear

2008-01-18T10:31:00.000-08:00

A footloose tear
for the unshared thoughts
left untold
for many a fear.

Wayward tear,
tumbling on its own
straight from the heart
honest and pure.

A footloose tear
for the days gone by
lost bit by bit
seeing love disappear.

Restless tear
can feel it moving
on its own, mindless
of memories held dear.

A footloose tear
for the lost innocence
connivingly taken
with farcical care.

Love is Something Else

2008-01-13T10:25:00.000-08:00

Love is something else,
Well now I'd say
One gets the picture
as the cobwebs clear away.

Love is something else,
undefined, they all say
and not just the gush displayed
every ten days.

Love is something else,
when both laugh away
not proving every second
see, I had my way!

Love is something else,
As the great pens portray
unconditional devotion
and commitment all the way.

Yes love is something else
Now I'll say
And not some lousy tea
sipped with masked dismay.

Vagrant

2008-01-11T07:41:00.000-08:00

The vagrant at my door
sits, lying low
taking in bread and taunts,
in a skin very sallow.

The vagrant in me
takes this and some more
when waiting for love,
at my lover's door.

For love, a few hugs

2008-01-11T04:08:00.000-08:00

For love, a few hugs
and a little kiss,
I let him
Like me.

Heart rose to the occasion, indeed,
And so I liked him,
For love, a few hugs
And a little kiss.

Love's Labour Lost?

2007-09-29T08:03:00.000-07:00

You have loved many,
and lost a few.
I know
The sudden silences, the blank stares
I always knew.

No, don't justify. About love,
and affection, which is due.
I know
It's just the thing with our hearts, love,
I always knew.

Smoky Mornings

2007-09-13T07:50:00.000-07:00

Every morning brings with it,
A smoke – a smoke of exhaustion
And through the smoke
I watch the flock of birds fly by
My eyes drinking in the cruelties,
And my starved heart weeping - alone.

In the haze of smoke,
I watch the people passing by
Wanting a pause in life.
Pause from the rules and regulations,
the trials and tribulations,
A pause from shadows of people
Who continue to haunt me.

Every night I talk to the stars,
And in a small voice
Pray for early dawn.
I wait for the golden sunbeam
Coming to spread hope –
Chasing the clouds away.

But when the dawn comes
My thoughts are silenced
By the same smoke and flock of birds
The sun sparkles
But the clouds prevail
And my eyes wait – wait for the golden sunbeam.

Marriage

2007-08-16T13:51:00.000-07:00

I try hard,
and toss the pancakes
I have made
Hoping, with each passing day
that I will make
a good housewife.

The sweat on my forehead
runs down my nose
I rub it off
with sticky palms,
spilled oil stinging
my naive hands.

My very being is smitten
by the much vaunted
flowered lives of the women
who say with unbridled pride
that all said and done,
Marriage is a bliss.

How I Want To Die

2007-06-15T07:09:00.000-07:00

Alone on an island
With no one around,
Just the graceful waves,
With beauty and with sound.

No one to lessen the pains
Just remembering the loss and gains
Of the life which I led,
When I am buried deep, dead.

No birds perching,

Only the waves percussive on the shore,

Maybe trying to help me out

To a new world, offshore.

FILM : BOBBY

2007-06-02T08:19:00.001-07:00

A Tribute to the Showman Raj Kapoor on his Death Anniversary - 2nd June

In the hindi film industry, here have been very few movies that have been so utterly fresh, romantic and innocent, all at the same time. And in the list of those movies, Bobby stands first among them equals - exuding a rare freshness that is alive till date. Stories go that immediately after its release, Bobby became a fashion dictat - with dresses, scarves and short skirts carrying 'Bobby' tag to sell more.

It was in my early teens that I first got to see this movie...( what timing..! ) Before that much about Bobby had passed by my ears, and so my general opinion about the movie was a bit mixed...is it bold...are there a lot many kisses or is there a lot of skin show...I used to wonder. But frankly, when I actually got to see the movie, what a revealation it was..! Beautiful actors, beautiful clothes, simple story, beautiful music, scenic landscape...everything seemed so perfect, that I wondered if I had missed something. Was there some scene, that had been censored ?

A thorough and demanding discussion sessions with friends followed. And to my amusement, the dicussion gave back very naive reasons for the film's potrayal as a bold one. The story was that days following the release of the film, Bobby's, i.e Dimple Kapadia's wardrobe had created a bit of a furore, and hence the hullaballo about the film being a bit bold. O my God ! That's was it...What a let down !

Now coming back to the romance part. Wow ! How fresh, beautiful and innocent. And how dignified. Industrialist's son Raju formally proposing friendship to Bobby, a fishermonger's daughter and a girl of very humble background. "Mujhse dosti karogi..? And Bobby, with a thousand expressions on her face, smiling back...Can anything get more beautiful than this...I don't think so !

Bobby's storyline was simple - as simple as a typical bollywood formula film can get - Young teenagers Raj, 18 and just back from boarding school, and Bobby, sweet 16 and the daughter of a middleclass fisherman, fall in love. Raj's father Nath (Pran) vehemently opposes the relationship and even unsuccesfully tries to buy off Bobby's father Jack Briganza (Premnath). But as the world knows, love has no boundaries...Hell breaks loose as the lovers run away from the warring fathers....a little bit of action, some rona-dhona and emotional blackmail..and the fathers reconcile their differences, giving the film a perfect they-lived-happily-ever after ending.

And now, not to forget the music part of the film....the music and the lyrics...gems aplenty. Right from Main shayar to nahin to Narendra Chanchal's Beshak mandir masjid todo, each piece is in sync with the story. Even the item number Uska choota ghar baar sansaar, which had Aroona Irani playing a temptress, justifies itself, what with her light hearted attempts at seducing a visibly naive Rishi Kapoor ! Music duo Lakshmikant Pyarelal's range for this ambitious movie was just impeccable...While you have the sweet couple playfully teasing each other in Mujhe kuch kehna hai, Hum tum ek kamre main and jhooth bole kauwa kaate, Premnath playfully gyrates to the tunes of Na mangu sona chaandi...Even the sad numbers Ankhiyon ko rehne do and Beshak mandir Masjid todo fit the mood perfectly.

Perfection in every department..the storyline simple and sweet, great direction, good music... no doubt that in this bounce back vehicle, showman Raj Kapoor had everything going for him.

Blasphemy

2007-05-27T03:19:00.000-07:00

This is what religion (cult, sect, art of living, whatever) is today...la dera sacha sauda ishtyle...!

Ensconced comfortably in their
cushiony seats,
Dressed in bright saffron and whites,
They deliver soothing lectures,
Sermonizing on the listeners’ plights.

Enthroned high up on a stage,
They move leisurely from page to page,
Coolers hiss and fans roar,
Outside the pandal, the heat soars.

Below in front the devotees sit,
Squirming under the sun’s glare,
Holding on to every word,
Forcing their eyes to blankly stare.

Dressed in finest cotton and silk,
Gurujis pity the commoners’ ilk,
Delivering prophecies on karma and devotion,
They promise to guide us towards salvation.

Hope seeps in every pore,
Enlightenment makes our spirit soar,
The fifty rupee note tucked in the pocket,
Gladly moves for the stage floor.

On Living Without You

2007-05-26T08:33:00.000-07:00

I don't care
You are no more
But the throbbing
in my heart grows.

Welled up eyes
Daring me to smile
The bile caught in
my choked throat, killing me

My leaden chest,
is braving up,
to forget your name.
I try and leave myself bare
Now that you are no more,
Why should I care ?

But I still want to live
The years of dull ache
would take their toll
Old wound running sore
But why should I care ?
You are no more.

The Red Fort

2007-05-21T03:41:00.000-07:00

Hmmm…So the Mughal thought that the Old Fort was cursed and hence built a new fort and shifted there. And this brand new fort later came to be known as the Red Fort or the Lal Qila.
Okay… with the tour of the Old Fort over, even we shifted our gears and headed for the Red Fort, and, navigating the mad rush of Chandni Chowk, finally found ourselves marveling the colossal structure that stood before us. Some books say that Shah Jahan built the Red Fort in a move designed to bring prestige to his reign and to provide him with ample opportunity to apply his ambitious building schemes and interests. Now whatever reason the Mughals had for building this Fort, they definitely did a good job of showcasing their architectural ambitions.

The largest of old Delhi monuments, the Palace complex of the Red Fort is counted amongst the best example of Mughal architecture. Mughal emperor Shah Jahan started the construction of the massive fort in 1638, and the work was completed in 1648. The fort, also known as the Qila Mubarak, was grand, rich and magnificent - as befitted the castle, which was to be the capital of one of the world’s wealthiest empires. It is said that the construction of this fort took about one crore rupees, an astronomical sum in those days, and about half of this sum was spent to build the exotic palace pavilions inside the fort!

This majestic fort has the obvious trappings befitting a vital center of Mughal government. And without doubt, even today the fort remains an impressive testimony to Mughal grandeur, despite being attacked by the Persian ruler, Nadir Shah in 1739, and by the soldiers of the British army during the First War of Independence in 1857. In fact, after the First War of Independence, also known as the Sepoy Mutiny of 1857, the British Army occupied and demolished many of the Fort’s beautiful pavilions and gardens, and used the area to build massive barracks for soldiers. It was only in 1903 that a program for restoring the ruined parts of the Fort was taken earnestly.

It is said that at one point, more than 3000 people lived inside the fort complex. But during the First War of Independence, the fort was captured by Britain and was made the headquarters of the British Indian Army. After India gained independence in 1947, the Indian Army took control over the fort. In December 2003, the Indian Army handed over the fort to the tourism authorities. Now the Archaeological Survey of India maintains the fort complex.

Historically speaking, this monument has had its fair share of ups and downs. It was from here that the British deposed the last Mughal ruler, Bahadur Shah Zafar, marking the end of three century long Mughal rule in India. It is also from here that the prime ministers of India deliver their annual Independence Day speeches. Even today, the Red Fort remains a splendid reminder of the glory of the Mughal era, and the peace and tranquility within its walls leaves one transported to another realm of existence. It is indeed, a permanent abode of peace, a haven which helps one to break away from the frenzied pace of life outside its peripheral walls.

Red Fort : Architectural Glory in Sandstone

2007-05-18T11:53:00.001-07:00

The Old Fort

2007-05-16T11:25:00.000-07:00

It was supposed to be a literary trip, full of known and lesser known facts and musings about a famous monument, or so we thought, but with every nook and corner of the magnificent Old Fort (Purana Quila) playing host to lovelorn or rather lustlorn couples, the trip turned out to be quite an eclectic mix of history, adventure, and mixed architecture, with a rather generous dash of present day romance thrown in.

The Delhi Diary had been long overdue in our unplanned travel itinerary, so when the plan finally hit the road, we thought that why not start off with the Old Fort, one of the most magnificent and oldest monuments in Delhi.

So armed with a sense of achievement at finally setting out on our wanderlust mission, we arrived at the Old Fort, on a positively cloudy day. I say "positively cloudy" because there are days when an overcast sky paints a very gloomy picture and gives us a sense of foreboding...But here was a day, which was cloudy in a very romantic way, with light drizzle welcoming you to explore the world...and the serenity of the fort quite overwhelming us and adding to the mystic charm of the landscape.

On approaching the Old Fort from the western side, the huge Bara Darwaza welcomes you with its stoic presence, giving nothing away of the huge architectural treasure inside, and revealing nothing of the imposing personality of the fort it guards. The Old Fort has three gates – Humayun Darwaza, Talaqi Darwaza and the Bada Darwaza – but now only the Bara Darwaza is used as the functional entrance to this massive monument. All these gates are double storeyed and in their heydays sported intricately designed domes. The fourth side of the fort was well guarded by a moat linked to the river Yamuna. The moat still exists, and runs along the huge expanse of the fort.

Once inside, the first thing that captures your eyes is the huge expanse of greenery - well grafted lawns, beautifully maintained flower beds and rows of lovely palms…. leaving us mesmerized, the serenity of the place unknowingly starts permeating us. The welcoming and enchanting environs encourage us to take out our cameras, and a flurry clicks follow. There are the beautiful peripheral walls to be captured, the lovely flowerbeds, and the ancient looking peepal tree and what not. But even in all this excitement of framing the world around you, serenity still lingers around…. tugging at us, reminding us of its presence.It is widely believed that the Pandavas (the famed warriors from the Mahabharata) had built their capital, Indraprastha at the place where the Old Fort stands today.

Situated towards the south of Delhi, this imposing fort was built in the 16th century, by King Sher Shah Suri, the founder of Sur Dynasty. In about 1539-40, Sher Shah Suri defeated his archrival, Mughal emperor Humayun, in two consecutive battles and captured two Mughal strongholds - Delhi and Agra. After setting up his reign, Shah Suri started constructing this enormous citadel to defend his most prized possession, Delhi, from the Mughals. Though the fort did not see any major battle event, its very existence kept the Mughals away from invading Delhi until 1545 when Sher Shah Suri died. And after his death, with the help of Persians, Humayun was able to re-capture Delhi and Agra. He then took upon himself the task of completing the construction of the Old Fort.

All the while we marveled at the amazing architecture of the place, the lovebirds completely ignored us and seemed determined to make the most of the time at hand. And then we chanced upon a beautiful inscription on a plaque, and probably this justified why there was love in the air, in a fort as colossal as this ---

The inscription read – “As long as there are people on this earth, may this edifice be frequented, and people are happy in it.”

Inspiring.... Isn’t it? So soaking in the architectural grandeur of the Qila-i-Kunha Masjid, we move on to the right southern side of the fort, wherein stands the Sher Mandal. History says that Sher Shah Suri built the Sher Mandal as a pleasure tower. It is an octagonal building made up of red sandstone. This two-storeyed structure has steep steps leading up to the roof. It is said that more storeys were supposed to be added to the Sher Mandal, but the idea was dropped due Sher Shah Suri’s death. Later, when Humayun recaptured Delhi, he converted the Sher Mndal into his library and observatory Some Mughal documents indicate that it was while descending the stairs of this tower one day in 1556 that Humayun fell and received injuries from which he later died. Rumours exist that after his death, the Mughals considering the fort to be cursed, vacated the structure and built their capital in a new fort, which later came to be known as the Lal Qila, or the Red Fort.

A leisurely walk around the peripheral walls of the fort finally brings to the building houses the archeological museum. The exhibits here comprise exhibits unearthed during excavations and dating back to the days of the Mughals, Sultans, Rajputs, Guptas, Kushan and Mauryas. The excavations here also revealed pieces of painted grey ware dating back to about 1000 BC, and is said to be related to Mahabharata, which confirm the beliefs that the Old Fort was built on the site of Indraprastha. The relics found here range from the Mauryan to early Mughal period such as Northern Black Polished Ware, punch-marked coins, human and animal terracotta figurines and inscribed terracotta seals.

Soaked in the stories of grand architectural and archaeological heritage of our country, we head back into the chaos of the city…. walking across the sprawling grounds of the mighty fort, with the many dramas staged here, silently playing out in our minds…. The distant echo of many a marching king and generals reverberating in our ears…With the drizzly weather still pleasantly egging us into joining the mad fray of city, we bid adieu to the serenity of the fort…And as the noble thought on the masjid proclaimed, 'As long as there are people on this earth, may this edifice be frequented, and people be happy in it’, even we wish happiness for the world and its people, but more so for the couples inside! May they keep frequenting this edifice, and keep discovering moments of pure bliss, that is till their parents find out!

A LIFE OF MY OWN

2007-05-16T11:18:00.000-07:00

Agony tears my body and soul,
My spirit in shreds I live.
With chains holding me back,
Incessant echoes of demanding commands,
Do this, don't do this, you fool, oh idiot -
Cry, laugh, apologize, now smile
Be a good girl, woman and wife
But I want to live, I want my life.

I want to abandon the race,
But what is the running for ?
Surviving, pitching forward,
a race I am bound to loose.
Longing to be myself again,
Pleading, praying to win the race
I want my life, I want my face.

Want to wear purple, blue and pink
Orange pants and beautiful mink,
Pastel mauve, silver and reds -
Tear away the uniform to shreds!
Live life and enjoy the sun,
Sing, dance, play and run,
Days away from tension and strife,
I want to live, but I want my life.