Sunday ka Funda

Look around. The same story everywhere. In different forms. Different victims. Different perpetrators. Is it us? Nothing more to say...a powerful visual and the lyrics from Cranberries' 'Zombies' reflects what is:

"Another head hangs lowly,
Child is slowly taken.
And the violence caused such silence.
Who are we mistaken?

But you see, it's not me, it's not my family.
In your head, in your head they are fighting,
With their tanks and their bombs,
And their bombs and their guns.
In your head, in your head, they are crying...

In your head, in your head,
Zombie, zombie, zombie"

Sunday ka Funda

Gulzar to receive the Dadasaheb Phalke award seems like a redundancy. The accolade will not change a thing, but it does draw attention to the fact that this poet-lyricist-scriptwriter-director is one of the more subtle minds to embellish the Indian film industry.

I have often uploaded his songs, and gone into sometimes long explanations. Of Tere bina zindagi se shikwa tau nahin.... Of Mera kuchch samaan padaa hai aapke paas

This time, let us just listen. This is not one of my favourite ones, but it captures a certain mood. A tribute to tears?

Fill the eyes
Empty sleep...

Pani pani re khaare paani re
Pani pani re khaare paani re
Nainon mein bhar jaaye
Neendein khaali kar jaaye

"My life is rolling on..."

They weren't really the mop-tops, the rubber lips, another brick in the wall; they didn't just call to say hello or get into orgasmic ecstasy over love to love you baby. And yet, 40 years later music lovers are celebrating the start of their journey.

I had written my reminiscences, mainly about Donna Summer, here. ABBA was mentioned, yet it is most of their songs I recall. I mucked up the lyrics, but they filled up pauses in my sentences. Or even explained what I was too shy to state...”Mother said I began to sing long before I could talk...”...or a note of hope... “Chiquitita, you and I cry/But the sun is still in the sky and shining above you”... or just to express angst...“Where is the spring and the summer/That once was yours and mine?”... And of course “gimme, gimme, gimme” for things one did not even want.

The best fun was the “ahan” after ‘Voulez-vous’. Such permutations were discovered!

Then there was ‘Chiquitita’... “Now I see you've broken a feather/I hope we can patch it up together...”

And, to end, these words that do not end:

“Even if we had to lose, there’s no regret. If I had to do the same again, I would my friend...”

Sunday ka Funda

The only thing that will be remembered about my enemies after they’re dead are the nasty things I’ve said about them.

- Camille Paglia

I envy paranoids; they actually feel people are paying attention to them.

- Susan Sontag

Whenever we see two or more feminists we assume they will warmly cuddle up, echo each other's thoughts. This is not how it works, or even should. Not just feminism, no ideology should be trapped in one narrow path.

This clip I came across would appear like a cat fight that everyone so loves, but men can be snarky too. As I watched it — initially with a smile, I might add — it struck me that the more important aspect here was competitiveness. Usually, it is healthy. But, as the screen went dark, it left me with some disappointment. How can two people who are well-known and have their own following refuse to acknowledge each other, or in one case pretend the other does not even exist?

Sunday ka Funda

Do things ever leave? Maya, illusion or reality, hovers around in stray thoughts, words. Its - her - presence is so all-pervasive that even if she has taken up space, her existence seems less hurting than the constant memory where even her aches like falling leaves are not soundless. Or is it only perception, or the fear of her, of her quiet exit?

"saavan ke kuchh bheege bheege din rakhe hain

aur mere ek khat mein liptee raat padee hai

woh raat bhulaa do, mera woh saamaan lautaaa do"

A few wet days of rain are there

and in my one letter a night is encased

Take that night away, but do return my belongings.

The subtle pathos of Gulzar's poetry is also dryly taunting. Emotions are 'samaan', things. They take shape, become real. Maya does not merely haunt; she lives.

Sunday ka Funda

Initially it was only curiosity to watch a group of Americans reminiscent of Woodstock singing Sufi qawwali. As I kept listening, it struck me that it was not merely about breaking the music and culture barrier. It was about being free from the very thought of walls.

The qawwali is an acquired taste, and takes huge amounts of patience. The good thing is that like classical music and dance, if you 'tune in' then you don't need technical knowledge. I must emphasise, and I am being a tad bit defensive, that 'Allah' here could be seen as a superior power, even a superior self.



This poem by Kahlil Gibran is an extension of what I was attempting to say at the beginning:

Have I spoken this day of aught else?
Is not religion all deeds and all reflection,
And that which is neither deed nor reflection, but a wonder and a surprise ever springing in the soul, even while the hands hew the stone or tend the loom?
Who can separate his faith from his actions, or his belief from his occupations?
Who can spread his hours before him, saying, "This for God and this for myself; This for my soul, and this other for my body?"
All your hours are wings that beat through space from self to self.
He who wears his morality but as his best garment were better naked.
The wind and the sun will tear no holes in his skin.
And he who defines his conduct by ethics imprisons his song-bird in a cage.
The freest song comes not through bars and wires.
And he to whom worshipping is a window, to open but also to shut, has not yet visited the house of his soul whose windows are from dawn to dawn.

Sunday ka Funda

"We could live for a thousand years
But if I hurt you
I'd make wine from your tears..."

Find these words interesting. Sounds a bit cruel on the face of it, but I am thinking of old wine, the longevity of tears that will be held precious even after a thousand years.

And just for the moment too...this:

Sunday ka Funda

"Everyone who enjoys thinks that the principal thing to the tree is the fruit, but in point of fact the principal thing to it is the seed. — Herein lies the difference between them that create and them that enjoy."

— Friedrich Nietzsche

While the seed is crucial, it would be foolish to believe anyone, I mean anyone, would want to enjoy seeds. Besides, those who sow seeds are not doing so only to create. They too wish to enjoy the fruits.

This could apply not just to real seeds, trees, fruits, but to any aspect of life. For me, especially, it is about creativity. An idea that remains an idea can suffocate. I need an outlet.

It is possible to also enjoy another's creation without necessarily knowing or wondering about the seed that gave it birth.

This afternoon for two hours I was enraptured with music that was in some ways alien, and in some familiar. Kenya is the land my Nani came from. I think about her every single day. Listening to this song just took me closer to her history. Another seed.

This is not the season for it, but 'Kothbiro' means "the rain is coming"...

Sunday ka Funda

I think about the sea often. But, it struck me that when eyes are described in Hindi or Urdu poetry, there is a reference to them as possessing the depth of the river: "Jheel si gehri aankhein". How deep are rivers?

Do they too cause little storms? Or, is their tranquility enough to shake us up, wake us up...to dream a daydream?

Listen!

Sunday ka Funda

This is not an obituary. Manna Dey has appeared on these pages in several forms, and twice to emphasise how it took him to reach the age of 90 for the government and the film industry to confer any recognition.

In a recent editorial in The Times of India, the headline called him the Amadeus of India. Not only is there no connection, but even in a tribute we need to compare one who gave so much to Indian music.

I know almost all his major songs, and am partial to his semi-classical songs. I have earlier mentioned that I felt "Pyaar hua iqraar hua" was the triumph of music directors Shanker-Jaikishen and not so much Manna da. I still think so. I have returned to his peppy numbers or the songs from 'Chori Chori' that he sang for Raj Kapoor because Mukesh was apparently not available. He was the second choice, although he was a trained, and in many ways, more accomplished singer.

This is, therefore, about the nature of what we call 'playback singing'. Raj Kapoor often said that Mukesh was his soul, and he did a stupendous job of it. Manna Dey had joked that he was always given songs that were picturised on beggars and boatmen.

Part of it is that despite his classical base, his low notes were brilliant. Unlike Talat Mehmood, there was no quiver in his voice, but there was a quiet, excellently expressed in his tribute to the Mohammad Rafi number in 'Pyaasa': Yeh kooche, yeh neelam ghar... It is unfair to include this here, but it reveals two facets of a song, as well as immense bonding in what could have been rivalry.*

For today, because I have been listening to this in a loop, I choose 'Phir koi phool khila, chaahat na kaho usko...". The scene from 'Anubhav' is a humdrum existence of a married couple where a bud flowering is not seen as some grand love, as the lyrics suggest.

And then there are these lines:

man ka samundar pyaasa hua, kyon kisi se maange dua
laharon ka laga jo mela, toofan na kaho usko

Essentially, why pray to anyone as the mind's sea thirsts and just because waves pile up it does not forebode a storm...

This is less detachment and more the beauty of now.



Manna Dey. A life, a sea.

Kebabs don't grow on trees

Children are cruel. And those whose school tiffins would be filled with all kinds of meat would snigger close to the time of Bakri Eid. We never got quite around to saying Eid-al-Azha, or however it is spelled and pronounced in other places. The bakri immediately brought images of goats, and then the allusion to qasais, butchers who were mainly from the Muslim community. (Christians do have their own, though.)

It is easy to blame certain political parties today, but the attitude predates their prominence. It is no different from producing waste, and then looking down upon those who collect it and clean up your space. With meat, there is the added factor of 'sinful' consumption, never mind that animal sacrifice is fairly common in other faiths, too.

I won't repeat that I believe the spirit of sacrifice is more important than the qurbani, of sacrificing a goat on this day, to commemorate an event. But, then, for devotees all symbols need reiteration.

It could be through such sacrifice or other rituals. One hopes that irrespective of the level of faith, or its existence at all, we all learn to give a little of ourselves to something.

Eid Mubarak!

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Reminds me of one year when I was in Dubai. Arabs celebrate rather quietly, except perhaps at the malls. I went to Festival City, and they had a performance. I expected some Middle-East type of music. Instead, it was a melange of artistes from different parts of the world, and the violinist was an Arab, as were a few others.

For those few hours, it was the religion of sur and taal.

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Here is another such moment.

Sunday ka Funda

She said she does not know about Devika Rani. Fair enough. Mallika Sherawat was corrected that she is not the first actress to kiss on screen. Devika Rani did it way back in the 30s.

The beauty of cinema is, of course, about much more than that. Some of us who manage to dig end up with gems, for that is what the purpose is. Movies have always been about escape, a little exaggeration and such immense beauty.

I am reminded of that line from 'Sunset Boulevard':

"I am big! It's the pictures that got small."

This scene from 'Karma' (1933, starring Devika Rani and Himanshu Rai; all 'dialogues' were in English) is just delightful at so many levels. Particularly how the woman is completely unselfconscious, vivacious. The device of using a 'squirrel'...can't get friskier than that!

Sunday ka Funda

"''Home' is any four walls that enclose the right person."

- Helen Rowland

I like the tagline: "Har ghar kuchch kehta hai" (every house speaks). For a paint ad, this seems like an obvious choice. But how often do homes talk or convey anything?

This ad in some ways is all about stereotypes — the armyman's discipline and the woman leaving her maternal home. While the emotions are subtly conveyed, through his concern for decorating the bedroom like the one in her house, a mere replication does not take a relationship forward.

Nitpicking aside, the words and feelings stay with you.

"Tell me whom you love and I will tell you who you are."

- Arsene Houssaye

Sunday ka Funda

"Say goodbye to the oldies, but goodies, because the good old days weren't always good and tomorrow ain't as bad as it seems,"

— Billy Joel

Good for optimism.

I am not leaving anything nor is anything that matters to me leaving. Not yet. But listening to this, I am choked...

Farewell: Apocalyptica

Sunday ka Funda

"Through the crowd, patchwork souls
Move closer
Closer

And when you fall
Down in between them all
Here you are whole
Not broken"

— Skye

Sunday ka Funda

"Nothing ever goes away until it teaches us what we need to know."

— Pema Chodron

There are some words with religious connotations that go way beyond a particular faith. They become exclamations, pauses; they hold a meaning specific only to an individual. "Good heavens", "Hey Bhagwan", "Ya Allah", "Jesus" can hardly be confined to theology, especially if you hear them ever so often in casual conversation.

I was at a store the other day and the salesperson, upon being ticked off, immediately, and it appeared unthinkingly, let out a "Hai Allah". I did not know her faith, but I am aware of a couple of Hindu friends who use the term, just as Bhagwan, Jesus are used to pepper conversation. They have become like punctuation marks.

The resonance of "Om" is real. It might seem like autosuggestion, but when you meditate the hum in the pit of the stomach that finally reaches the temples can be heady.

My relationship with "Bismillah" is different. I don't use it often, and when I do it indicates a beginning. From the religious perspective it is uttered before every surah. The letters 786 denote the numeric value. I recall how, nervous before an exam way back in school, a relative told me to scrawl the letters on the answer sheet before starting. I tsk-tskd. On reaching the hall and faced with the ominous blank paper, I used my finger to draw out the letters. I do not remember what subject it was and the outcome, but this small act has stayed in memory. Because it became mine. A personal take. And a secret.

These days songs use such words, and they neither glorify nor demean them. They merely link the chain of events, from one to another. That's what life is about. The new. Afresh. Bismillah:

Sunday ka Funda

A few thousand people have signed up for a one-way ticket to Mars in 2022. It could mean they have nothing to lose. Or, they are adventurous enough to forfeit life, for it is venturing into the unknown where even death is a mystery. Or, perhaps it is all about looking for something better.

This is what puzzles me. If we want something better, why don't we attempt it here? Why do we turn our faces away from where we belong?

“Did you ever stop to notice
This crying Earth, these weeping shores?...

I used to dream
I used to glance beyond the stars
Now I don't know where we are
Although I know we've drifted far"

Sunday ka Funda

These days, everybody seems to be friends with everybody else. And they all find how alike they are even as they merely click on 'likes'.

The friends I have shared the best moments, and understanding, with are very different from me. There could be shared values, even preferences for food, films, books, music, art. What is different, then? It is the way we look at these. It is the ability to complete each other's sentences not because of agreement, but the warmth of serendipity.

Years ago, I had written a few words here and I shall repeat some..

A friend who comes and goes is as much a stranger...a friend who takes another for granted is behaving in a strange fashion...a friend who has to keep several considerations in mind to keep up the friendship is a stranger...a friend who you are close to physically but cannot share things with is a stranger...a friend who inhabits your mind but not your heart is a stranger...a friend you feel for but can do nothing about is a stranger...

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Sometimes we don't realise what nostalgia means to others, especially when nostalgia is all they have. I continue to question expat experts, but today I will share this little film. I won't call it a commercial, for it is the story that matters. Also, I am sure there are many reading this who think of their mother as their best friend. I do.

Call me soppy, but I had to blink away the tears. Maybe, it happens when you chop okra...



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Image: Rediff, courtesy a link sent by a rather unfriendly friend!

Sunday ka Funda

"Attachment is the great fabricator of illusions; reality can be attained only by someone who is detached."

— Simone Weil

I disagree. If attachment is only about illusions, then it pays the price for disillusionment too. We get attached to what is real, even if our emotions might be fabricating illusions beyond the reality. And therein lies the beauty.

And, indeed, one may get attached to what is superficial. That is attachment to the illusion. It does not even seek a reality.

One of the first lines of this song use word trickery to question the mind:

"O nirmohi, moh na jaane, jis ka moh kare..."
(Oh detached one, you fathom not the attraction of that which you are drawn to...)



Film - Chitralekha
Music - Roshan
Lyrics - Sahir Ludhianvi
Singer - Mohamed Rafi
Actor - Pradeep Kumar

Sunday ka Funda

"I don't like the term fight. I would rather say the high-quality treatment worked for me and I'm equally thankful for the prayers and blessings."

These simple words by Bollywood actress Manisha Koirala, who is recuperating after successful treatment for ovarian cancer, really struck me.

Why do we always expect people to be fighters when they are down not due to their own failings, but because circumstances have just turned against them?

There may be days when we have all wanted to give up. We don't even know if there is something to fight against. That we do not keel under the pressure or come out smiling is because we remember the times when we asked, "How can I go on?"