Dilli- part 1

Kaun jaayega Zauq , par Dilli ki galiyaan chhodkar!!!

When Sheikh Ibrahim Zauq was asked of his plans to go back home to Agra, he responded by saying this. Well, I, like Zauq, am an immigrant who’s almost made Delhi his home- don’t think I’m leaving this place for some time. I may not have Zauq’s poetic skills though- thought I’ll scribble down some words though-

Ye roads, ye galiyaan
Aur unme woh sexy kudiyaan,
Chala main in roads pe,
Sang apne doston ke,
Kabhi hansa, kabhi kabhi roya,
Yaheen apne ambitions ko sanjoya,
Jab poore huey toh “oh-yea”,
Jab nahi toh “sab tha moh-maya”.
College gaya, chai piya,
Propose kiya, Reject kiya,
Accept hua, reject hua, ditch hua,
Achcha hua, kabhi shaayad bura hua,
Kabhi hansta raha, kabhi sab saha,
Job kiya, resign kiya,
Aur fir job kiya, aur fir resign kiya,
Kabhi paidal chala, kabhi blue line pe,
Kabhi chetak pe, kabhi Santro pe,
Kabhi main baja, jaise concert mein tabla,
Kabhi ghussa hua, jaise anda ho ubla,
kabhi achcha laga, kabhi bura laga,
Fir bhi ye shehar sabse pyaara laga.
Dilli badla, par fir bhi na badla,
Aakhir kaun jaaye yaar,
Dilli ki galiyaan chhodkar!!

I might complete this one someday- this was just a summary.

Something that makes Delhi so special is the food here. This section today is dedicated to the food stalls in Qutb institutional area.

I first went to these dhabas in the winter of 2002. Went to Laxman da dhaba opposite IIFT (I thought it was Indian Institute of Fashion Technology). Was bowled over by the Gobhi Parathas and the Tibetan red chilly pickled sauce. I still am. Spent plenty of evenings and nights there…with friends… Every time somebody comes to Delhi for the 1st time, I take him/ her to this gali. There is something about it- the ridge beside the food area, the energy of the students , the romance in the air…kuch toh hai…

While I’ve been out with many a friends to this place, the cake is reserved for one friend of mine (he will also appear in the blog entry when I write about Andhra bhawan)- Simran Shekhar Singh, athva Triple S.

Triple S and I first went there in the summer of 2006. We were regulars there- almost every evening after citi- sometimes traveled on his bullet, sometimes on my chetak 4 stroke… I shall remember that as the place which cemented our friendship.

While I dedicate this series of blogs to the city and its parts, I shall dedicate this to also some great people who made it special for me.

This is dedicated to Triple S, the genuine gentle giant, great friend and partner in travel in many a Delhi adventures..

Aall izz well!!!

Long since I wrote any stuff on films here.

Saw a few in the last few days- Rocket Singh was a waste of time, De Dana Dan was worth watching for about 20 minutes of laughter, Paa made me realise that Amitabh Bachchan the superstar often makes us forget the super actor Amitabh Bachchan- definitely a thumbs up for this movie.

The top prize is shared by 3 movies actually- Let me talk about (in brief) about the 2 mallu movies in the list. Mammootty reminds us yet again why he is simply the BEST in the country right now. In the title role of Pazhassi Raja Kerala Varma, he excels. The film is a class apart- a period drama set in the 1790’s. The direction, editing, screenplay, music and the performances- all superb; and guess what!!! Surprise surprise, Sarath Kumar can actually act.

Don’t be surprised if this is India’s official entry to the Oscars next year. That scene in the song Aadi Ushas-sandhya where all the fighters raise up their mashaals and the king walks into the formation (shot in the dark- natural light of only the mashaals) is perhaps the best scene on the Indian screens since the mirror scene in Mughal E Azam (remember pyaar kiya toh darna kya).

Mammootty also excels as the private detective in Paleri Manikyam- Oru Pathirakkolapathakathinte Katha. This perhaps is one of the best suspense films I’ve ever seen.

The Icing on the cake was thanks to the best film experience I’ve had in a long time. 3 Idiots is undoubtedly the most entertaining film of the year- perhaps, the decade. The intentions of the film are absolutely noble and serious. The treatment is noble and entertaining. The film gets you involved right from scene 1. Well, I doubt if there is any way in which my words here can quite translate my joy of having watched the film. It’s not a doubt- I know I can’t.

I like the way the director has pulled a few legs without resorting to mockery; for e.g., the Hindi spoken by the south Indian character or the poverty scene in one family. The lyrics and the dialogues are superb. The screenplay is the finest I’ve seen since RDB. One of Aamir Khan’s best films; and this is Rajkumar Hirani’s best film yet.

As I walked out of the show, I kept singing the lines from one of the songs- and that is exactly how I felt-

“Give me some Sunshine, give me some rain; Give me another chance, I wanna grow up once again...”

PariWedding

“Main kunwara hoon, Brahmachari nahi”- This quote is attributed to Atal Behari Vajpayee.

I smiled to myself as I sat amidst the hustle and bustle of colourfully turbaned men and (more) colourfully clothed women in a moderately busy bus terminal in Chittaurgarh. This was the time I had to myself to look back at the last three days- fast paced, colourful and mast.

My classmate and friend from MHROD- Parived, the Bhatnagar, was going to become PariWed.

Once more this winter, that flag was at half-mast; that flag that symbolizes freedom and liberty ultimate- the flag of bachelorhood.

Parived was about to walk the path of victimhood by tying the knot.

My train to Udaipur, the site of martyrdom of Parived’s bachelorhood, arrived on time. The martyr’s cousin was there at the station to receive me.

I arrived at the guest house, met the groom’s father- I was surprised pleasantly that he remembered our earlier meeting at Rajasthan house three and a half years ago. The groom came out- dressed in a colourful kurta pyjama- signs of make-up from the previous evening still fresh on his face. We hugged warmly and I was just about to articulate the following thoughts into words- kya tu wohi parived hai jo shaam ko uthke good morning bolta tha- subah ko 8 baje tu uth bhi gaya aur fresh bhi ho gaya…waah…. Before I could articulate these thoughts into words, he said, “Tu jaa, fresh ho le… main abhi abhi utha hun, brush bhi nahi kiya hai.”

Haan, ye wohi Parived hai.

We later had breakfast together and we were eagerly awaiting the arrival of our friend Nish- a.k.a, Nishith Upadhyaya. Nish promptly called to say that he had arrived at Udaipur too (from Mumbai). Parived and I decided to pick him from where he was. Even as Parived drove us both through the Udaipur roads, Nish sent me an SMS- “If Parived is driving, may I suggest you stay back”. Too late- I was already in the car and the drive showed me why Nish was so alarmed.

Driving through Udaipur, Parived mentioned that if anybody could lose his way in Udaipur, it would have to be Nish. I argued saying that Nish had given us clear instructions saying that he stood right opposite State Bank of Bikaner and Jaipur (SBBJ).

In 5 minutes, Parived was proved to be correct. Nish indeed was untraceable. Nobody in Udaipur seemed to know about the existence of SBBJ.

Nish was lost- repeated calls to him and he would say “I’m standing in front of SBBJ”. Pari and I even checked if he had gotten down at Udaipur or elsewhere.

Haan, ye wohi Nishith hai.

We did trace him- there indeed was an SBBJ- the name tucked away amidst huge other signboards that Nish clearly forgot to mention. (to give you an idea, if SBBJ was written in font size 10, the next building signboard- Bank of Maharashtra was written in font size 40. To give you further idea, Pari and I were standing in front of the building and the signboard was so small we missed it. Salutes to Nish’s attention for detail.).

A couple of games of cricket, a few laughs over some ultra milds (naa- I didn’t touch them) and it was time to pull each other’s legs. We gave the event many names- PariWed…Pari (ved) weds Pari (Hindi for angel)…We reminisced about past affairs, talked about birds, bees and women and Nish and I mocked at Parived’s surrender into martyrdom- scheduled for later in the evening.

Love is blind, they say. Love makes one stubborn too. Pari simply refused to accept he was going to be a shaheed later in the evening.

The beautiful evening began. I realized I’d forgotten my tie in Delhi- was forced to wear a suit minus the tie (we actually tried to buy one in the nearest possible place we could have found one- Big Bazar- for the first time since its inception, somebody asked for a tie at Big Bazar. What he showed us for ties resembled the colours of Govinda’s shirt in the “Tum toh dhokhebaaz ho” song – Colourful Rajasthan I thought).

Nish was dressed like he would break into a Ghazal any moment. As we strode royally to the place where the Baaraat was to assemble, Nish, in his niche style, walked upto an arbit pair of uncle-aunty and said “you must be Parived’s parents!!!”

They politely nodded in the negative.

Parived came out- dressed like Shah Jahaan would have been- totally unable to control his happiness that oozed out of his face like milk would from a pan left to boil without turning off the gas. His ghodi was aptly named ******* (name withheld for obvious reasons). I promptly asked if the surname of the ghodi was ******. Pari blushed and brushed away my question.

Throughout the procession of the baaraat, the shaheed was beaming- even when the baarat lost its way- the people leading the baaraat didn’t know where the venue was ;-)

We met another baaraat on the way- watched people dance- ate heartily at the wedding- that Achaari Rajasthani Beans (forget the name- aam ka achaar + beans in a subzi) was out of the world.

Parived ki shaadi pe police na band bajaaya- aur fir army ne.

There was a police orchestra and an army orchestra- and they promptly played “saare Jahaan se Achcha” as Pari tied the knot with Pari. No kidding- they actually played this song- I was missing the song “ye desh hai veer jawaanon ka”.

Now that Pari was tied in the knots, Nish and I congratulated him- still beaming. We walked back to Dream Palace- where we were staying- dream palace.

In my dream that night I saw this friend of mine who long years back was The Special One. Now much married (obviously, to somebody else), she hit me on head and said, “tu mat galati kariyo ye”. I jumped up- only to see Nish snoring in the other half of the queen-bed we were both occupying.

I did not have the opportunity to ask her “Kaun si galati”.

In between attending the wedding, Nish and I also managed to get a dekko of the city of Udaipur and areas around- Kumbalgarh, Haldighati and Ranakpur.

As a fitting climax to the trip, we went to Chittaurgarh. After taking a round of the fort, we came back to the bus-stand and hugged each other to say goodbye. Nish was going back to Udaipur to catch a train and I had to take a bus back to Delhi.

After saying goodbye, I smiled to myself as I sat amidst the hustle and bustle of colourfully turbaned men and (more) colourfully clothed women in the moderately busy bus terminal. The last three days were fast paced, colourful and mast.

I wrote an SMS to Nish (that never reached him btw)- “Years down the line, we shall smile as we talk about the story of Parived’s wedding to my grandchildren, your grandchildren and Parived’s grandchildren. Geet humaari dosti ke, doharaayengi jawaaniyan!! Main na rahunga, tum na rahoge, phir bhi rahegi ye dastaan.”

This blog is dedicated to my wonderful friend Parived and his beautiful wife Surabhi. I wish them both all the very best. May the happiness stay on forever. Amen!!!

The blog is my token of affection for my wonder-friend Nish.

This blog is also a dedication to my friends Sinha and Thaplee- who, had they come, would have completed that picture- of my first few “friends” at MHROD.


Afterglow: Nish took the bus from Chittaurgarh to Udaipur. His bags were packed and he was all set to leave for the railway station when Pari’s dad asked- “ye aaj kaise jaayega- ye jis train ki baat kar raha hai wo Friday ko nahi chalta”.

Pari’s dad was right- Nish got the dates wrong- his train was not for that night, but for the next.

Long live Nishisms- Jai ho!!!

In good faith, I do!!!

Presenting two arbit lines of thought of mine here- these may be inter connected or discrete- I would not know.

Often I wonder, what is it that makes me value somebody or something so much today and makes that very person/ thing irrelevant over a period of time. I ask myself if this is ungratefulness or mere mood instability.

Somebody very close says that the value one attaches to things and people that one values changes over a period of time. I agree.

Yet another very close somebody says that all that is human must retrograde if it does not advance.

Let us explore this further. That Tobu cycle that I used as a kid remains invaluable to me; those clothes I may have used then seem useless. My scooter… a black beauty- a Chetak 4 stroke… was the most precious thing to me, until I bought my car. And then, the black beauty ceased to be as important. I shed many a tears while leaving Thiruvananthapuram; now, I’m not sure if I can ever stay there for over 10 days at a stretch. Some of my very good friends, while I was a kid and then a teenager, are no more than acquaintances now.

These thoughts have been in mind for some days now.

I also realize that I hate any kind of change while the change is yet to happen and expected to materialize.

I also wonder why is it that we so very much are resistant to change. Or anything that is uncertain. A very close somebody tells me, “for once at least, can you trust God?”. What this person leaves unsaid is why is it that we need to be in control all the time. “Why do you want everything to go according to your plan all the time?”…LoL

This thing of not knowing what’s in store for me gets me worried- as a child, before getting the report card; as a teenager, having to decide the career of choice; as a young adult, making a decision on sticking to the same career and shifting to another; as an adult on what I need to do my job or what if my relationship with this girl doesn’t work out;

Agar mere 90% nahi aaye toh main kya karoon; Agar main pass nahi hua toh main kya karoon; Agar is entrance ko maine clear nahi kia toh main kya karoon; Agar is company mein mera placement nahi hua toh main kya karoon; Agar is baar mera promotion nahi hota toh main kya karoon…and the list is endless.

Unhappiness remains, causes differ- says the same very close somebody.

Each time the “agar” came true- there was a jhatka- but life never stopped. There was always a direction and a way that I would earlier not have seen or chosen not to see.

And when I look at that, I am tempted to say yes to that question- for once at least, can you trust God?

Those of you who “know” me “know” why I am writing these two seemingly discrete views in a single blog.

Well well well… I’m leaving it to God this time.

In good faith I do!!!

ek diwana sheher mein

All right, its been long. To those you who have been asking me when my next blog shall be released, here it is.

The writer's block seems to be a thing of the past- for now.

The last 2-3 months have been pretty eventful. Some happy, and some distressing. This one is going to look more like a diary in brief.

I have finally shifted to Dwarka- my parents are likely to join me in the next 10-15 days. Also was on tour to Ladakh.

The last few weeks have shown me some deaths- 2 of my friends lost their fathers while yet another lost his mother. It is in these moments that one feels helpless- so helpless that words fail to come out of the mouth. One stands there- by the side of the one who has lost- and feels helpless- What do I say and What can I say to assauge the loss? However, in these moments, one also tends to forget any negative emotions that one has nursed against the other. Both the ones become one in such times.

Even as I write this, I also remember those words my Dad quoted to me in Malayalam a few years back- "The death of a relationship can be more painful than the death of a relation himself/ herself". During a rather low juncture in life some years back, I thought this made a lot of sense...

I sense and fear the end of yet another beautiful relationship around the corner. I wonder when would I be able to get over the petty constraints of ego, attachment and expectation?

There are those other life giving factors that have made life interesting- a trip to the Triveni Sangam where the Ganga and the Yamuna meet- explicitly and the Saraswati joins them as the Antarvahini (making me philosophize how many times do we tend to ignore/ overlook the Antarvahinis in our lives) and a trip to Ladakh with close friends. (More on these in other travelogues).

Anna got engaged. Parived got engaged and so did Shilpa. Feel very happy for these people.

Some very close friends left Delhi in the last few weeks- to places as varied as Hyderabad and Bangalore and Canada. As usual, it was not easy to say Goodbye.

Life is like that. It is like a river that meanders through different curves- some that you expect and some that you don't- this suspense making life more exciting.

Even as I write all this, there is a part from my past that beckons me- my heart says, listen to the call. If I follow my heart, my life shall see yet another turn that I shall not have expected- even 2 days ago.

Somebody very special in my life often quotes a shloka which talks of the almighty as "Sarvamangala Sadgatiprada" (roughly translated, giver of things that will be good for you and will happen only at the right/ good pace). For once, let me also try and follow something else this person tells me-

"I shall seek not; I shall avoid not..."

Oh Kolkata!!

There is this path marked with artificial footprints that marks the route Netaji Subhash Bose took- to escape from his house (from Brit Custody) way back in the 40’s. I stood there- in his study- spent a few quiet minutes for I was the only visitor at the Netaji memorial at Elgyn road in Kolkata. These minutes marked the defining moments in this trip of mine to Kolkata.

Etmad, Ittefaaq and Qurbani so remarkably define the spirit that Netaji lived for and died for. I left the place with a choke in my throat.

May I request you to go through this before you read the subsequent paragraphs. Maybe the lines in the referred blog will tell you about my love for Bengal- and anything/ anybody related to Bengal.

I landed on a lazy hot afternoon in Kolkata. Kolkata was still sulking from the insult meted out to Ganguly by Kolkata Knight Riders. The cab driver had plenty of nice words for Saa-Rooq-Kaahn.

This was my opportunity to try out the dancing-coffee at Udupi hotel near Esplanade. This one is at CR avenue. The experience was more wonderful than was described by very dear friend- RawBean dada, a most wonderful Bongo-bondhu from Kolkata.

Once the snack of special sada dosa (ney-roast) was over, I proceeded to visit the bhurld-phamose K.Shi. Das at the Esplanade junction, a stone’s throw from Udupi. The rosogullas were good- but a trifle lower than my expectations. I would strongly recommend the dahi wada there- never had better dahi wada anywhere and the Roso-Moloncho and the Malpua- ekdOm mOst hOi.

I had planned my evening out- a repeat trip to Dokkhineswar and Belur Math. The experience was as lovely as I’ve mentioned in my other blog. Standing at Vivekananda’s samadhi-sthal can give you goosebumps.

To those of you traveling for the phorst taim too Kolkata, I would recommend that you take a tram ride- from nobhere in porticulor to nobhere in porticulor. I did Esplanade to Dalhousie Square and I was the only one on the tram besides the driver and the conductor. Delightful!!

The next day began early with a visit to Kalighat. The pandits can get on to your nerves here too. The temple may be jam packed on holidays- or so I was told. The streets or Saranis around the tame-pal are bustling with flower sellers and sellers of Puja materials. One does run into the occasional vegetable seller. A walk trip around the area is highly recommended.

I move on to Victoria memorial. I am going there after 19 long years.

As I saw a child walking around there with a straw hat, I had a sense of déjà vu. My parents had gotten me one such hat there and I’d gleefully forgotten the hat in the train on the way back to Kerala. Very vivid memories also of the white pebbles in the complex.

The memorial has a wonderful collection of Angrezon ke zamaane ki artifacts. My personal favourites were the paintings of the Jantar Mantar and Jama Masjid in Delhi in the early 1700’s. The paintings are both very descriptive and it is hard to imagine the surrounding areas minus the modern day Connaught Place and the sights of Purani Dilli.i closed my eyes visualizing Jantar Mantar without CP around- I failed. Another interesting one was a snap of Pt. Nehru and the family of Chiang Kai Shek enjoying a Bengali Thali sitting on the floor. A very recommended drink is the masala cola (and the masala shikanji) sold outside the complex.

The MP Birla planetarium is a 5 minute walk away; the taramondal show there is a major let down though. It is interesting to watch the kids play football in the sprawling Moidan in the area. The jhaal muri sold outside the planetarium along with masala soda is highly recommended.

Bengal has a rich history of art and sciences. The Birla technology museum serves to enhance the scientific awareness in children. A visit to the mock coal mines and the 3D theatre is recommended- even for adults.

There is this place called Kew Pees at Elgyn road- my friend Suhrid (pronounced as Shu-hh-wreed) calls it famous. (Lonely Planet agrees with him) He called it an awesome place. The expectations were high- the food is good, but a trifle overrated and very over-priced. The place serves authentic Bong Phhood. All said and done, worth a visit.

As I leave Kolkata to come back to Delhi, I come back with plenty of beautiful memories- again. Kolkata beckons me again… I shall come back soon again.

This one is dedicated to all the wonder bongs in my life.

dheere dheere chal...

Aye Musafir dheere chal, manzil toh aa hee jaayegi”

This one keeps screaming at you every half an hour on the Rishikesh-Badrinath road.

Aye musafir dheere chal… dheere chal… have I been walking a trifle too fast? A very special friend recently asked me where my nonsense of humour, that perhaps never existed, has disappeared. I had resolved that that which never perhaps existed, would be rediscovered. Shubhasya Sheegram!! The earlier, the merrier.

Every time it rained in Delhi, during those unexpected months; or it poured in those usual months, I’d send an sms to some select special friends- “its raining; go out, get wet, enjoy…”
I still have this one stored in the “drafts” of my old cell phone.

Its been long since I sent that out to people.

Yesterday morning, I woke up to the sight of snowfall outside my room in Garhwal; a light drizzle followed. And like the K serials, it just went on…on… and on!!

Have you seen those pretty ladies
As your eyes meet theirs, they shy away.
For a moment the eyes meet,
And then they look astray.

These mountains today displayed a glow- head to toe, covered with snow; veiled, sometimes, behind the clouds moving slow- forming their own nice shapes. The dancing stream behind me lent music to make the beautiful morning beaoootiful.

Yesterday had to be good. Just as day before yesterday was. Was traveling on the route after exactly 5 years and 8 months. The sight and sound of Ganga, in her various avatars, all along the route through Rishikesh to Devaprayag to Rudraprayag to Karnaprayag to Nandprayag and eventually to Vishnuprayag. Ganga looks most beautiful on this route. The water is pristine blue-green. The sound is pure magic.

As I drove on this road day-before-yesterday, Vairamuthu’s words played on in my mind- “nadiye nadiye!! Kaadal nadiye, neeyum penn thane…”. In the entire song he compares the river with a woman. Amazing song- set to tune by Rehman himself; do listen if you can lay your hands on it. It is from a film called “Rhythm”.


Yesterday was good too. After the amazing morning view and a decent workshop and an amazing lunch, I was chatting with this very good friend who has a special knack for poetry in Hindi/ Urdu. She writes-

Na koi dost hai na kareeb hai,
Tera shehar kitna ajeeb hai,
Kiska chehra padhoon main,
Yahaan kaun itna kareeb hai.

I was in a mood for poetry too- I modified this and massacred it.

Kiska chehra padhoon main,
Dikh nahi raha hai mujhko kuch yahaan,
Mera chashma hai kahaan?
Dhoondh liya maine saara jahaan,
Par chashma nahi hai mera yahaan,
Aur chashma nahi hai mera wahaan,
Kahaan hai mera chashma, kahaan?

And more such nonsense-

Kitne ajeeb hain ye raaste,
Kabhi seedhe hain ye jaate,
Kabhi daayein,
Kabhi baayein!!!

And more and more!!

My friend pleaded that I stop. She said she had not seen me in such a nonsensical mood for long. She was frustrated to see this mood back. (The sadist smile is back on my face folks)


Maybe the snow had had the effect.

Its not just the poetry. Had a snap clicked of mine- arms outstretched against the mountains- as if flying. Spent an evening with the Vedapathashaala kids at the Shankara-Mutt in Joshimath. Walked the slippery slopes in the village barefoot singing aloud. Enjoyed the rains drenching me. Enjoyed my feet grow numb with cold. My body crying for want of a sweater/ jacket (that I gleefully forgot in my Gurgaon room)- was now prancing along those meandering slopes- like Shammi Kapoor in Junglee.

Suhaana safar aur ye mausam haseen; hume dar hai hum kho na jaaye kahin.

Only that, kho jaane ka dar nahi laga.

Garhwal-especially Rishikesh was a place I visited every quarter- well, almost; except for these last 12 months. I visited this place for I felt it rejuvenated me each time. I guess the snow and Garhwal have had their effect on me- rejuvenated that nonsense within me.

The beautiful mountains, the beautiful rivers, the beautiful trees, the beautiful people. Garhwal truly is beautiful…

AJ… is back, peoples!! The nonsense that some (actually quite a few) of you had gladly come to accept as dead- is back.
Here’s one to celebrate guys…

Mujhe fiqr ki ab kya fiqr hai padee,
Wo kahaani yaad hai na of the legendary dandee,
Kahin Khadi, kahin padi aur kahin gadhee.

NB- Gadhee is not she-donkey here. Gadhee is something that lies buried..

The last week musings

Picture this- a new moon day, rather night; the sky is filled with stars- wherever the eyes can see; it is pitch dark outside. I'm driving a bolero and mine is the only vehicle on the road for a good 80-90 minutes. There is absolutely no vegetation outside- but for a few shrubs here and there.

Welcome to Kachchh- again. (For the lucky uninititated ones- here's the link http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/08/earth-is-flat.html )

Never before have I witnessed silence so beautiful. Was humming Jagjit Singh's "soona" as I was driving. I remember, in one of his concerts, Jagjit Singh, while singing this, gave us his own take on soona-pan. He talked of physical soona-pan, mental and emotional as well.

This place is truly lonely.

I was also fortunate to visit Ahmedabad during this trip; I managed a visit to the Gandhi Ashram at Sabarmati- thanks to my friend Nidhi. The place is absolutely peaceful. Consider myself blessed to have visited this place- so close to Gandhiji's heart and of course, a result of his own heart. We saw a stream of school kids visit the place- excited and bubbly and following in tow was the teacher who had the unenvious task of bursting the bubble once in a while.

I guess, when one is a child and takes in whatever is taught in the schools, one tends to believe that Gandhiji is God himself- as he is portrayed in our books. As one grows up, Gandhiji may become Gandhi and by the time one is in the teens, one may totally dismiss the views and philosophies of Gandhi. And then, maybe, one does come across certain events in life wherein Gandhi becomes Gandhiji- again.

I guess, I'm living phase #3.

Back to the drive- even as I was humming soona... these words were playing on in my mind... Godwilling, this will be complete some day and the song shall be sung- someday....

Under these shining stars,
Amidst the marshlands that surround me,
I can hear a melody.

I drive on- on this lonely road,
No trees around, no people to see,
The melody I can hear and it overwhelms me.

After a few minutes I reached the railway station in Bhuj- back to the "civilized" world. Hopefully, the song shall be sung someday.

The Melody lingers on,
The rhythm has set in,
The song remains unsung...

Inspirational Aspirations...

Till y'day you were my aspiration. Today, you are my inspiration."

So says one of K Balachander's characters in a yesteryear movie when he realises that he cannot marry the girl of his choice.

A couple of days back, I had the privilege of listening to some elevating music in Delhi. My good friend-Ajesh had taken me along to Siri Fort where some jazz legends were playing in the evening. He said it would be a good opportunity for me to get introduced to Jazz.

We went there without the passes and were lucky enough to get some spare passes from some DUdes (dudes from DU).

The pass mentioned something about commemorating the 50th anniversary of Martin Luther King's visit to India. As we stepped into the hall, we saw some celebs there- one could make out that it was an "important" concert.

Recorded music was being played. Ajesh enlightened me that these were black gospel songs. Then they played the speech... i mean THE speech...

... I have a dream... that one day, man shall not be judged by the colour of his skin, but by the content of his character... i have a dream today... i still have a dream....

This was one hair raising experience... What power...and what amazing articulation of dreams...

Fittingly, the concert began with a rendition of "We shall overcome" by Dee Dee Bridgewater and Chaka Khan. Martin Luther King III, who was present in the hall commented that to a large extent, we have overcome.

Then came the masters- Ustad Zakir Hussain himself... George Duke and Herbie Hancock. Ajesh says (I now know this also from the internet) that Herbie Hancock is a living legend...

I could sense why this is so true- during the 120-150 odd minutes.... Those moments, I cannot describe... those feelings i cannot describe... and when they finally played Raghupati Raghava Raja Ram, my eyes were moist...

A visit to the Russian market for a Tibetan dinner acted as icing on the cake (or sauce on the chowmein).

The theme for the evening was obviously dreams...and realizing dreams.

Incidentally, I've been reading this book- "the last lecture" and somewhere the theme in the book is rather similar.

All of us know our time here in this Janma is limited. But, if we knew that "X" is the number of years, months and days we have left to live, would we continue to lead our lives the way we do today? If we were asked what proportion of our aspirations have been fulfilled to our heart's content, would we have an answer? And what are we doing about these aspirations?? What am I doing about mine...

That dream to do this and this dream to do that...bahut nikle mere armaan... lekin fir bhi kum nikle.

Paush says, irrespective of whether we attain a dream or fail in the attempt, the attempt itself changes us for the good. I completely agree.

Well well well... I'll sign off on these thoughts. Have a concert to catch up with today at Nehru Park- Ust. Zakir Hussain and Pt. Shivkumar Sharma...

I still have a dream...

An when I'm grey and rocking in my chair...

For those of you reading this- would request that you read

http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2007/08/e-pank-bar-and-dil-chahta-hai.html
http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2007/08/breaking-news-e-ngaged.html

These would help you get a better context.


“Kal phir aayenge… kya mast thi aaj ki shaam”

One of them said this, as the 5 of them, hand in each others’ hands, slowly and steadily walked down the slope at the entry/ exit point of Puraana qila- supporting each other so that none of them slipped down.

The people in question were all at least 70 years old. Bodies frail, voices trembling- with age and the cold, faces smiling after an enlivening evening enjoying Hariprasad Chaurasia and Shiv Kumar Sharma create magic in the ramparts of Delhi’s old fort.

Seeing their camaraderie I was reminded of that old poem, “…. And when I’m grey and rocking in my chair…”. The context of the poem was love between a man and his lady; I thought it fit the bill for this situation as well.

The last few weeks have been a celebration of friendship for me. First, a visit to Kasauli with some very close friends- having the time of our lives doing nothing. They say familiarity breeds contempt; sometimes familiarity also gives you a sense that you are not really as familiar with somebody as you would have imagined. There are aspects of the person that you were completely unaware of; and you set off on yet another voyage of discovering the other person. I may have subconsciously known this- but this thought crystallized post my visit to Kasauli with my friends. I guess that is what makes friendship so special. I guess this is what makes the friendship between those 70 year olds so young.

The next was a visit to E’s house to celebrate E’s 1st wedding anniversary. Spent about 3-4 hours recounting the same old jokes, pulling the same legs- the same way as it has been these 9 years. Nothing has changed. Those anecdotes from our past seem to gain some new spice each time they get spoken about. Buzz, the grand old one remains as old as ever, E remains as infantile as ever, Doctor remains as Harsh as ever, Pank still can’t bend his knees, Bihar remains…well… Bihar.

Nothing has changed. Touché’.

This blog is dedicated to Sheetal and Vibha, the most recently inducted members of the bit@kmc family. This blog is also dedicated to my friend Doctor cha…

Some questions on friendship have crossed my mind at different times. I wonder, for example, can a man and a woman be intimate friends- just intimate friends? Maybe I’ll write a blog on this sometime…