the first monsoon's quick post

It's the first day of June,2010,1522 hours.
It was hot in the morning,so much so that I had second thoughts while getting dressed to go for the morning walk.I was greeted by a superbly fantastic sight when I opened my today morning...3 lovely books of German on my desk :) whooopay.Really,it's time I start concentrating on my German which is deteriorating in the two months of summer holidays quite like the drops of water on a hot tin roof.
It's an idyllic summer day.It started raining about a half hour back.It looks lovely now.This is my favourite time of the year...the sweltering heat.The relief of the rains.The lovely breeze.The crackling clouds weak with thunder.And that perfectly heaven smell of wet earth.The hunger to eat something warm - samosas,soups,coffee and the ever favourite : Maggi.Digging up old classics to listen to and sing alongwith.And the bestest part of it all : the skies.They are so heartachingly beautiful...lovely hues,all clear after the rains...I wish I could capture every monsoon evening on a camera roll.

Till later :)
cheers

इस रिश्ते को...

इस रिश्ते को क्या नाम दूं?
बहुत कहा,बहुत सुना
फिर भी है ये लम्बी ख़ामोशी
ये अजीब दूरी,ये करीबी

दोस्ती नहीं,शायद प्यार ही सही
कैसा मौसम,ऐसा एहसास
कुछ करने की ज़रूरत
यूँही बैठे रहने की चाह

बहुत मस्ती,थोड़ी घबराहट
बंधी सी इस आज़ादी से
कभी सोचती,कभी मुस्कुराती
यूँ मचलती,यूँ नाचती

इस लम्हे को समझना चाहती हूँ
कोई ख्वाब,कोई सच
छूना नहीं चाहती तुम्हे
ये तितली हमेशा के लिए उड़ गयी तो?

अँधेरे मैं सूरज हो
या शायद कुछ कम,कुछ ज्यादा
तुम्हारी ज़िन्दगी मेरे लिए खुली किताब
और मेरी आँखों के पीछे हैं बंद दरवाज़े
समझोगे कब?
इस रिश्ते को क्या नाम दूं?

for you.

Went through your things today.Memories were settled on it as thick and firm as dust.Some things made me smile and remember the days we loved.Most made me cry on how we can never create those days again.There are so many times that come back to me.Casual words I never meant,so much I shouldn't have said.Million things I should have otherwise shared.Its said : time heals all wounds,I should let go of the pain.But how do I live without it?There's a desperate need to hear your voice again.An urgency I can't describe to hear your silly laugh.A desperate want to hear you sing and play those tunes you loved.There's a picture of you in my mind.Sitting by the table looking outside.I want it to be real.I hate this world.I found a book amongst your things.It mentioned You and I.You captured parts of our childhood in it.It makes you all the more special.I wear your shirt,the one you wore too much.Your scent has faded away.I want you to bring it back again.There's a silly sweet poem you wrote on me when you were ten or so.You called me your darling sister and printed it on special paper.It's got the remains of my tears on it now.I flip through your forbidden diary.There's another side of you I didn't know in it.I wish I had understood you then as you were.You could have been so much more near.There's an ache in my heart when your friends share your stories with me.I don't want to know those stories,just as I wouldn't have ever heard them were you here.I want your advice on so many issues.But where do I turn?These memories,I don't want them.I want you.I'm afraid of moving anything in your room.I want things to be just as you left them.I want you to fight with me,hit me,make me cry...anything,just to feel your presence again.This empty existence of mine,it's not called living.Do something,make me feel again.Just be okay,just be here.
My dearest stupid boy,I love you and I' so so sorry I didn't tell you that enough.I just hope you know it.Missing my pig like hell.
Take care off all those girls I bet your dating in heaven.And they had better take good care of you.

Food for thought

Saw a rather ironical signboard today outside a five star hotel for its restaurant.It was for the ongoing food festival - "THE STREET FOOD OF THAILAND" - it boasted.Ha.Street food to be eaten in a five star?Street food.In a five star.And you pay 800 bucks for it(and I'm excluding the RATHER fine print of 'taxes extra').Street food.I find that rather weird and paradoxical.If I want to eat STREET FOOD,why in the name of heavens above would I do it sitting in a fine-dining restaurant where there are elegant silk and taffeta curtains,chilling air conditioners and where I must tip the waiter with at least 10% of my billing amount?

Don't get me wrong.I'm not a minimalist,against five star hotels.I love them just as much as the next person.I'm not suggesting that we deprive waiters their tips.I'm not saying that five stars should charge amounts next to peanuts...the mere suggestion of that idea is so very ridiculous.

What I'm really saying is that,it beats the point.It's called street food for a reason.

Ya ya,I know you can say that they are bringing exclusivity and authentic stuff and blah blah blah.Beats the point.

I'm not just targeting the hotel.I'm just saying generally.Where it's not your specialty,why bother?Where you can't be the original,or better,why bother?

Go to any Udupi/South Indian restaurant in India - typically owned by a Shetty - and you will get the widest assortment of dishes.It truly is multi-cuisine in the real sense.You will get everything from South Indian,"North Indian",Mughlai,Tandoor,(alas,but India MUST face diversity and difference even in the menu cards!),Italian,Mexican,Pizzas(yes,they are NOT included as Italian),Continental(which is usually salads and an assortment of funnily spelled words like spaghetti bolonees - read as Bolognaise and also includes "toast and jam/'marmelade'",cereals,cornflakes,eggs to order,etc ),Burgers and Sandwiches,Chinese,Thai,Sizzlers...its an exhausting list.I remember this one occasion where we ordered Chilly Chicken from a South Indian restaurant.This spicy dish consisting of fried chicken coated in cornflour in a spicy soya sauce with chilly,green capsicum,onions and garlic was presented with dry fried chicken,with a sweet-ish taste,and garnished a LOT with coriander,cashewnuts,raisins and other assorted dry fruits.

I find it ridiculous to go to a 5 star to eat what I can cook at home.We eat out to experience new food,new tastes and somkething different,but authentic.Eating a wada pav at a big restaurant is a stupid idea - because it'll cost hell,it won't be as tasty,and it's out of place.eating FrenchOnion Soup at a small dhaba-like place is a stupid idea - because it won't taste like it,will be completely different and it's out of place.

In the end - cause I really AM running out of things to say - I oppose myself and say,it's alright once in a while to eat something that's not supposed to be cooked there.It creates a good enough experience to laugh,criticise and remember.

My life,in this world

My maid told me of an incident that happened in her village a couple of years ago.It was shocking and so terrible.

A minor girl,around 16 or 17,was gang-raped.She became pregnant,and her family practically abandoned her,because of the shame that she had supposedly brought onto them.She lived poorly,wandering alone,and ran away from her house.Due to depression,she became mentally ill.She was raped again,while she was still pregnant.She committed suicide.

It was so horrible listening to this.I can't even imagine the pain that she must have gone through.Will power and self confidence are very nice lofty words to say...how could she have practiced it?What belief had she left in this world?

Just some thoughts on it.Its very cold and gory.May she rest in peace.To all those women who have to bring a part of their being into life in this horrible cruel world,because of circumstances they can do nothing about.

how do I bring my life into this world?

where even your own blood can kill?

its such a cruel hell

I have no words

how do I explain to this life

why daddy may not come home one night?

that the thunder and stormy skies

are not the only things to be frightened of

how do I match my eyes with the innocence of my life?

with the sins I have committed

and while regret will haunt me to eternity?

how do I guide my life

through this space of hatred and murder

knowing so well that one shot

could kill so many lives

I lay in my own pool of blood

and wonder how long my life will survive after me

how long my life will live through this shame of mine

so I let my breath spool out of me

my life will die within me

and yet it will live better than in this life,

in this world

Rajdeep Sardesai's letter to Uddhav Thackeray

Rajdeep Sardesai,a well known journalist,sent a letter to Uddhav Thackeray,heir of the Shiv Sena, on the whole "Marathi manoos" issue.

Wiki : Rajdeep Sardesai
Wiki : Uddhav Thackeray

It makes for a very interesting read,seeing the reaction of a renowned member of the Press addressing a political leader with much force.

Dear Udhavjee,

At the very outset, my compliments for the manner in which you've literally 'stolen' the headlines from your cousin Raj in the last fortnight. After the Assembly election defeat last October, there were many who had written you off as a weak, namby-pamby politician, who would be better off doing photography. But now, it seems that the 'fire' which burns inside Bal Thackeray is alive in the son too. After years of struggling to establish yourself, you have finally discovered the mantra for success as a Shiv Sena leader: find an 'enemy', threaten and intimidate them, commit the odd violent act, and, eureka!, you are anointed the true heir to the original 'T' company supremo.

Your cousin has chosen to bash faceless taxi drivers and students from North India, soft targets who are totally unprotected. You've been much braver. You've actually chosen to target national icons: Sachin Tendulkar, Mukesh Ambani, Shah Rukh Khan, powerful figures who most Indians venerate. Shah Rukh is no surprise since the Sena has always been uncomfortable with the Indian Muslim identity. Forty years ago, your father had questioned Dilip Kumar's patriotism for accepting an award from the Pakistani government. You've called Shah Rukh a traitor for wishing to choose Pakistani cricketers in the IPL. That your father invited Javed Miandad, the former Pakistani captain and a close relation of Dawood Ibrahim, to your house is a matter of record that we shall not go into today.

I am a little surprised that you chose to question Ambani and Tendulkar though. The Sena has always enjoyed an excellent relationship with corporate India. Why then criticise India's biggest businessman for suggesting that Mumbai belongs to all? After all, no one can deny that Mumbai's entrepreneurial energy has been driven by communities from across India. The diatribe against Sachin is even more strange. He is, alongwith Lata Mangeshkar, Maharashtra's most admired and recognised face. Surely, you will agree that Sachin symbolizes Maharashtrian pride in a manner that renaming shops and streets in Marathi never can.

Of course, in-between some of your local thugs also attacked the IBN Lokmat office. I must confess that initially the attack did leave me outraged. Why would a political outfit that claims to protect Maharashtrian culture attack a leading Marathi news channel? But on reflection I realized that we hadn't been singled out: over the last four decades, the Shiv Sena has targeted some of Maharashtra's finest literary figures and journalistic institutions. That you continue to live in a colony of artists while attacking artistic freedom remains one of the many tragic ironies in the evolution of the Sena.

Just before the Assembly elections, you had told me in an interview that you were determined to shake off the Shiv Sena's legacy of violence. You spoke of the need for welfarist politics, of how you were saddened that rural Maharashtra was being left behind. I was impressed by the farmer rallies you had organized, by the fact that you had documented farmer suicides in the state. I thought that Uddhav Thackeray was serious about effecting a change in Maharashtra's political landscape.

I was obviously mistaken. Farmer suicides still continue, the after-effects of drought are still being faced in several districts, but the focus is now squarely on finding high profile hate figures. You claim to have a vision for Mumbai. Yet, on the day the Sena-controlled city's municipal corporation's annual budget revealed an alarming financial crisis, your party mouthpiece,Saamna, was running banner headlines seeking an apology from Shah Rukh Khan. You asked your Shiv Sainiks to agitate against Rahul Gandhi's visit to Mumbai, but why have you not asked them to wage a war against the water cuts that have made life so difficult for millions in the city?

At one level, I can understand the reasons for your frustration. The Congress-NCP government in the state has been thoroughly incompetent: the last decade has seen Maharashtra decline on most social and economic parameters. Yet, the Shiv Sena has been unable to capture power in the state. Your war with cousin Raj has proved to be self-destructive. The Assembly election results showed that a united Sena may have offered a real challenge to the ruling alliance. In fact, the Sena and the MNS together garnered around 43 per cent of the popular vote in Mumbai-Thane, almost seven per cent more than what was obtained by the Congress-NCP combine. Yet, because your vote was split, you won just nine of the 60 seats in the region, a result which proved decisive in the overall state tally.

Your defeat seems to have convinced you that the only way forward is to outdo your cousin in parochial politics. It's a strategy which has undoubtedly made you a headline-grabber once again. Unfortunately, television rating points don't get you votes or goodwill. There is space in Maharashtra's politics for a regional force, but it needs to be based on a constructive, inclusive identity.

Tragically, the Shiv Sena has never offered a serious social or economic agenda for the future. Setting up the odd wada pav stall in Mumbai is hardly a recipe for addressing the job crisis . Why hasn't the Sena, for example, started training projects to make Maharashtrian youth face upto the challenges of a competitive job market? Why doesn't the Sena give regional culture a boost by supporting Marathi theatre, literature or cinema? The wonderful Marathi film, "Harishchandrachee Factory", nominated for the Oscars, has been co-produced by Ronnie Screwvala, a Parsi, who like millions of other 'outsiders' has made Mumbai his home. Maybe, I ask for too much. Tigers, used to bullying others for years, will never change their stripes.

Post-script: Your charming son, Aditya, who is studying English Literature in St Xaviers College, had sent me a collection of his poems. I was most impressed with his writing skills. Let's hope the next generation of the T company will finally realize that there is more to life than rabble-rousing!

Jai Hind, Jai Maharashtra!

because life is nothing without you

she sits by the fire
and turns the pages of her long lost diary
photos that were lost in the attic of her memory
shine in her misty eyes

she goes back to the time
when summers were warm and music had melody
the time when she knew she had everything
and the fear of losing nothing

she doesnt know i see her
keep an eye on the only one i call mine
she took a day at a time
and now she struggles through the hours

she has gone to an entirely different plane
and i cant touch her there
she sees me but she cant hear my voice
the words i miserably try to bring forth

my own grief knows no bounds
how do i even imagine what she goes through?
everytime she hugs me
i hear her heart break a thousand pieces
when her soul misses its first creation

how do i make her understand
that the pain is not beyond me?
that it engulfs us all?
that we miss you no less?
that your mere absence haunts my living?

how do i make her believe
that just because my tears overwhelm me only in the darkest corners of night
i dont bleed?
that every so often i dial a familiar number in the hope of it finally being answered?
that the car horn in the midst of night wakes me in the hope your knocking at the door?

how do i tell her my fears
why i dont dare to leave her alone?
why phone calls in the early morning hours scare me?
why i never go to your old room anymore?

how do i explain my fake smile?
how do i tell her i dont talk about you
because it aches within me?
how do i tell her i know that whatever,whatever we do
nothing can ever replace your love

we just pretend life will be okay one day
that happiness will come in your reincarnate
that we believe in the strength that let us down
that lost hopes will be found again
and we steal memories from each other
to keep snatches of you
in our hearts forever
for her and me and everyone else...
come back.


dearest bum.we love you a lot.