Picture Perfect - August 2014

I was contacted by a pleasant toned girl, named Sarbani, a while back, who had a couple of really broad based question to ask me - about myself, and the passions which have driven me thus far. Well, I answered those questions, and this frame happened. Its nice and yellow, and what makes me absolutely ecstatic is that this picture features in a campaign which as some very famous names of twenty-something persons doing stellar work in their respective fields. And these fields, of course, were those determined by their warm hearts and not cold conventions. 

Here is the description to this photo - 

Driven by her passion for writing, Saumya is the content strategist at Drizzlin. She loves the world of written words. But according to her, this field is not seen as professionally sustainable.

While she struggled to make it big in IAS exams, writing stayed with her like an undying passion and today, with close to 2 million hits on her blog, and being published in 3 separate genres of books - she can confidently claim joy and peace.

I wish more power to all those trying to heed the call of their heart. Dream Big, Begin Right away!

Thanks for the recognition, The Education Tree! 

If I Were To Have A Siamese Twin

With your smile

I travel a mile

Into the realm of magic

And golden dreams.

You shush and subdue

The nasty screams

Which burst my calm.

You hold my arm

And infuse strength

Across the length

Of my tiny world

Which now feels desolate

When you don't appear

And sit down near

My shivering being

And love me like

A current of affection

A caring stream.

A crystal heart

With radiant beams

You light my life

Give it direction.

In the depth of your eyes

I locate my reflection.

I feel less mad

Or a little more glad

For the madness I am.

You're the key

To an unwritten puzzle,

An angry exam

Which I confront

Using your pencil I hunt

Answers to irony

Arriving at junctures

That plain seem funny

But you make sense

Even in nonsense dense

And I get closer

To the idea of a bond

Fragile, pure, and fond.

I can write a story,

With no beginnings on ends

For that is how the strands

Of our beings entwine

Into a chaos of order.

You remain a wonder

Which I choose to adore

And not decode. 

The world knows you

In another skin

To my world of poetry

You're a Siamese twin!

I had written this poem on the occasion of the International Women's Day, and had wanted to dedicate it two the four awesome women in my life, and tell them that in ways different, and important, they mean so much to me. 

Cheistha - If you are wondering why am I up so late and writing this thing, stop wondering, and just see this as something really important to me, as something which had to be done at this very moment. I am random this way. And whenever this randomness increases, you're the one who scare me, because you are the one who has to keep me in check. Enough people admire you; allow me to be a tiny mention on that list, always. 

To just smile with you - works like elixir. 

Jyoti Di - There is not enough length of acquaintance that I could boast of, but there is something about you which is enormously assuring, despite the distances which have put us at two opposite sides of the globe. You are a glorious woman Jyoti di, an entire story in yourself, and I am glad for the way in which you unravel in front of me. I think you are among the very few people alive who can convey warmth through the simplest of words. I still wish you could make it to Delhi on my birthday. 

This is the picture of a promise. Which you kept. 

Aastha di - You are the greatest gift life has given me in a rather long time. To even try to sum you up in words is a gross injustice to this bond I have developed with you. You are a personification of much that I hold sacred in life - and I love you, with all my heart, and with all your eccentricities. I am here to stay, you try and stick around too, please?

I felt incredibly loved, pampered this day. 

Neha - I love you, okay? You're that darling pampering whom is a necessity for me in life to survive. The role that you play in my life, mind you, no one has, and no one can. The rich reserve of potential you carry, I hope it goes all the way to arrive at its most deserved juncture. You, my dear, are blessed - and it is only you who can make the most of your blessings. Stay close.

Nice and pink. Suits you, us.

I suddenly have too many women in my life. Something must be grossly wrong with me.
Sigh. 

Anamnesis

That morning was weird and nice
For then stars sparkled in clear, blue sky
When water ripples resembled smiles
And rushing winds in ecstasy cried

I felt a prickly chill somewhere
Looked and smiled at arms left bare
Palms outstretched still catching rain
Collecting pearls to lose them fain

And then his words echoed and shined
Like lashing on the shores of my mind
The mind left numb to chill of dew
The mind dancing to a gay heart’s cue J

I picked and sifted past night’s memories
Meandering through that bag of stories
I let his laugh ring high and pierce
The morning calm on which I perched

A voice not deep, but rich, and foul
A moment grave, then shrill and loud
But that did cast exquisite spells
By uttering words which made hearts melt

That morning, stars watched me over
Invisible, yet, in sleepy eyes they shimmered
They lay in my lap, I still looked up
I looked up and guessed, I fell in love.

I fell in love sans self or pride
I fell in love with eyes open wide
I fell in love not thinking of gains
I fell in love while shivering in rains

I fell in love with the mirth he gave
I fell in love with the anger I hate
I fell, and fell, sans fear of hurt
I fell in love with him, his words

Postscript

I fell in love, like it’s here to stay
I fell in love, but it’ll go someday 

Postscript 2 – I have come to realize in life, that love should never begin at admiration. However, observe that this caution is coming from a girl who uses dawn as her blanket for dreamy slumber. The idea behind stating this fact is to let you all know that when it comes to emotional adventures, I have always thrown caution to the wind. I wrote this poem under the starriest skies of imagination, only wondering, if true, will I be as giddy and happy? Some things in life are best left confined to the canvass of imagination, for those thoughts are pretty, precious and fragile. Reality is the spoiler always, isn’t it? And so, the Bard, in Midsummer Night’s Dream, has this to say about ‘Love’ –

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,

And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”

Pach, Pach, PACH!

There was an author. There was a tv anchor. There was a graphic designer. There was an amateur cook. There was an aspiring civil servant (two, actually). There was a teacher, who likes to call himself a software person.

And then there was poetry.
Humorous, and serious poetry.
Polished and amateur poetry.
Hindi, English and even Urdu poetry.
Biographical and narrative poetry.
Original and quoted poetry.
Observant and reflective poetry.
Mesmerizing and impactful poetry.

Our first poster-invite

In CCD Lounge, Connaught Place, collected on Sunday a bunch of diverse people who were also poets in their private world, and they were brought together by a recently (hastily?) formed group called 'PACH'. PACH expands into 'Poetry and Cheap Humour', and while 'dirt cheap' poems were what a cosy group of poets were anticipating on their way to the event, what greeted them was a myriad of sentiments encapsulated in beautiful words. Beautiful, sure, but at times absolutely crass words too.

In fact, at crass it began. And then journeyed through various topographies. Amid a cacophony of laughter, issues of social relevance were raised, and experiences shared. Adjoining tables were initially perturbed, but ended up lending us their most dedicated ears - first laughing at us, later with us. The superboss was happy, I think, because his idea was to draw closet poets out from behind closed doors and award them few claps of encouragement. Worked like a charm for me! A nasty comment here, and serious dialogue there - no one in that group of nine (all set to expand to twelve at the next gathering) could have imagined the nascent concept could be so perfect an experience.

The group also made space for people who merely wanted to come and listen. All three members of this species are now furiously scribbling away words with rhymes, and no rhymes, and have made a glad promise to not just be at the receiving end of poetry next time. Effectively, I was not the only person encouraged - and that should make the superboss happier. A burst of fresh, and even surprising ideas is taking the shape of most priceless words with the aid of young pens in the world out of there. Part of such words were lavished on us at the first PACH gathering, and for the first time, I could understand what a gulf of difference exists between reading and listening to poetry.

With some old and some new faces, we are all set for our second meeting, details of which can be procured by leaving a comment here. Or sending across a mail to anupbishnoi@gmail.com or, to yours truly saumya.kulshreshtha@gmail.com

Cheap humour, yes, but poetry it is, primarily.

All of us, in service of poetry 

Mere Piya Gaye Rangoon...

A lot of us remember Deepal Shaw gyrating her hips in an insult of a school uniform skirt, thrusting her bosom into the camera and making all sorts of raunchy gestures to the beat of ‘Kabhi aar kabhi paar’. A lot of us will also remember the entire lyrics of the peppy ‘Saiyaan dil mein aana re’, made extremely popular in its remix avatar, and at all parties, we would’ve have chorused its ‘Chham chhama chham chham’ beat. Some of us might even remember Kajol trying her best to sing ‘Kahin pe nigaahein kahin pe nishana’ in the iconic Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge, when Shahrukh Khan eases his hand on top of Mandira Bedi’s shy fingers, assuming her to be his lady love. This song then, I feel, became an idiom to tease every person whose targets skipped away from in front of his eyes. Oh, and it is a staple at all wedding antakshari contests too!

Why these songs? Well, that’s because they are united by a voice full of life, which, ironically is being remembered at the time when it has transcended the mortal world. It is even more ironic that while we remember each word of these very hummable songs, only a minority of us will be able to recall the name behind the voice which gave character to these songs. I am talking of the inimitable Shamshad Begum, whose singing was not made up of the velvety, soft, soothing or sugary voice we so admire in our modern day singers. Her voice was husky, unconventional, bold, full of zest and conveyed a sort of mischief, which could be found in each of her renditions. Yesterday, at the age of 94, and much after she left an indelible mark on the Indian music industry, she passed away at her Mumbai residence.

Shamshad Begum forms an important part of my childhood memories. Summer vacations were spent at my maternal grandmother’s house, where, all of her six children (my mother included) were great fans of old Indian music. By old, I do not mean the R. D. Burman numbers, which are as far back as the younger generation’s imagination goes when we utter the word ‘retro’. My family was keen to dig out retro from its very roots, from before the time giants like Mohd. Rafi or Lata Mangeshkar marked their presence. I used to sulk and make faces at the ancient melodies which came out the tape recorder, and it was not until much later that I could briefly remember names of Noorjehan, Uma Devi, Zohra Bai Ambalewali, and then, Shamshad Begum.

It was my eldest mamaji, who left for his heavenly abode last year in a heartbreakingly unexpected manner, who was instrumental in making me develop a taste for old, golden music. This taste has flowered to such an extent that today, I have lyrics of an endless number of classic melodies at the tip of my tongue, and a noticeable share of those melodies belong to Shamshad Begum’s corpus. She was one of the earliest female singers to have become a part of Indian music industry, and was its reigning queen for quite long, well into the fifties, when O. P. Nayyar made her sing immortal melodies in Aar Paar and CID. Along with Geeta Dutt, she is among my favourite singers of all time. What was strikingly unique about her was that in a period where classical values were staunchly adhered to even in film music, her voice brought a rustic and folk touch, which was fresh and lively. Try listening to her songs. They will make you happy, and induce a springy feeling inside you. I do not know which was the first of her songs I heard, but one of the first which caught on my tongue was ‘Mere Piya Gaye Rangoon’. I might not have understood the meaning of the lyrics, but the song seemed funny and entertaining enough to make me enjoy singing it. Simple, with no complicated musical notes, I think songs like these are a triumph on the part of the composer, singer and the lyricists, because they so easily appeal to the audience and in some time, become a part of their culture.

Yes, Shamshad Begum’s songs are a part of our culture now. I have kept saying that she had a lively touch to her voice, but this does not mean she shied away from singing poignant melodies, one of the most memorable being ‘Chhod Babul Ka Ghar’, composed by Naushad. She was born in Amritsar in 1919, and her contributions to Punjabi music are also immense. She has sung romantic songs, wedding songs, bidaai songs, folk songs, solos, duets – there is nothing that can be said enough to effectively eulogise her music career. It can, however, be safely stated that her songs are a touchstone to judge good music. She spent her last days living with her daughter in Mumbai, and as a very delayed recognition of her talent and contributions, was awarded the Padma Bhushan in 2009 by the Government of India. Khayyam, in an interview quoted on her official website, had stated about “Her voice was one of its kind and her enunciation was wonderfully clear. She commanded a lot of respect both at the personal and professional level.”

I know many of you would not have ever heard her songs, or at least, not in her voice. It is a little different, or unconventional, from the kind of music all of us are used to hearing. But if you can find some time, here are five recommendations from me to gain an introduction to her world. These are my favourites – songs I can hear over and over again, throughout my life.

Boojh mera kya naam re from CID

Meri neendon mein tum from Naya Andaaz, a duet with Kishore Kumar

Kajra Muhabbat Wala from Kismet, a very entertaining duet with Asha Bhonsle

Yeh duniya roop ki chor from Shabnam, a cute, funny and bubbly song

Saiyaan dil mein aana re from Bahaar – I could not have left out this song at all!

A statistic states, that 70 per cent of remixed songs had originally been sung by Shamshad Begum. That says something about the kind of appeal her melodies have till date.

Another star has set on Indian music industry. May her soul rest in peace. 

(Originally written for and published on Scroll 360)

The Smile Which Went A Hundred Miles - Guest Post by Anamta Rizvi

Sophie sensed the tangible pandemonium around her. Mystified by the utter baffling crowd, she pretended to be calm. But this pretension made her fiercely anxious. She just had to move from Central Secretariat to the Govind Puri station but the stuffed crowd was surely being a catalyst in her angst and was fuelling her claustrophobia. She told herself,” Just step in the metro and that is it”. Pacifying herself was now the only option. Coming from a small town, metro seemed a humongous deal. She noticed her insignificant presence around. Nobody bothered where she came from. Nobody cared for her claustrophobia. Nobody had time to even look up at her.  Leave alone to help her. Unwelcoming is Delhi.  Being pushed and pulled and shoved, she entered to experience her first ever metro journey. Sophie stood terribly shaken in that callous ambience. Familiarity was not even a tinge close in those indifferent faces. Amidst the cacophony, she noticed the girl across her. Their eyes met and a meaningful smile was passed by that girl. That little curve that goes up towards the eyes unveiling bliss and lightening one’s features, that smile was a profound solace to Sophie. Among the strangest of the strange faces, that smile in the moment of her weakness gave her an uncanny secure feeling. She smiled back with the same cheer in her eyes. Just at the moment when that girl was stepping down at Lajpat nagar, Sophie happened to glance at the locket that she was wearing which said Aliena. Sophie smiled and the metro moved forward.  

It was indeed a big day for Aliena. Half an hour before time, she once again checked the order in which she had filed her published articles. This job was horribly needed. Not only that it would just pay the heavy rents and bills but it will help her to carve a niche for herself. It was just not a job for her, it was WRITING. She waited in the magnificent parlour of that publishing house. The calmness of that atmosphere, the essence of the teak wood furniture, the magnificent tranquillity certainly got on her nerves. She knew her experience was way too less than many others but she was well aware that her skill and dedication were her strengths. On being called, she gathered her stuff, settled her coat and carefully walked ahead. As she stepped on the elevator, she felt someone’s presence right behind her. Just casually turning, she was welcomed by a smile. That smile made her smile and it miraculously made that incessant thudding of her heart ease. It reminded her of her own magical power. Her own beautiful smile! She turned again to acknowledge him but just heard someone greeting him by the name Rishabh. Aliena smiled and moved forwards.

Today’s pending work yet again was added to his already plethora of work. Driving back home, Rishabh was figuring out how he will manage the whole schedule for this work packed coming week. Not only were his incomplete targets taking a toll on him but the coming Wednesday was his wedding anniversary. An off in the middle of the week would surely cost him a lot. But his continuously nagging wife was a bigger issue than most of his important tasks. The Axis bank board reminded him to pay the fees of his seven year old son. Too weary to go through the formalities today, he thought of delaying it for tomorrow. Tomorrow would be impossible; hence he did the bank duty. He recalled if he had to pay any other bill and that reminded him of a series of regular errands. It was nine in the night now. His endeavour to reach home early was yet again in vain. Waiting for the green light at the signal, he observed the unending buzzing of his city. Glancing outside, he happened to see a lean fellow on his bicycle and the pillion rider was a young anorexic girl in a sari with her brightly coloured bangles. Holding in her hands was probably their infant who seemed amazed by the surroundings. That man looked back at him and gave him a smile; a smile that made Rishabh smile back. That smile of the lean fellow was impregnated with sheer bliss, and in spite of his dark skin, he saw a tinge of blush and his thick moustaches smiled along too. Honking of the cars made him realise that the light had turned green. Rishabh smiled and moved forwards.

On the way Rishabh recalled an article that he had read on the power of smile. The author said, ”How under rated is this half moon curve on our face. Apparently, we all have it but are deplorably stingy to use it. What harm if you give it to someone once a day. What harm if that curve on your face can make a terrified soul relax. What harm if that uplifting of your cheek make and angry being cool down. What harm if that semi circle of your lips breaks the ice between two strangers. What harm if that beautiful thing on your face ends the animosity between two persons. What harms if that movement of your muscles helps you relax the tension of your own body. The million dollar smile has been taken too literally I believe. Hey my miser readers, you are not actually paying those dollars. So stop being Uncle Scrooge and smile away to glory. Smile to celebrate every moment. Smile to give happiness around. Smile to drive away sorrows. As a matter of fact, Smile is the world’s simplest phenomenon to impart happiness. Smile, to be aptly noted, is a one syllable word and has been deliberately meticulously chosen to make it light weighted, easily spelt and most importantly widely and effortlessly functioned. Why are most of our pictures with smiles our favourites? Because my dear readers we look beautiful when we smile. It makes the world around us smiles. This reminds of a couplet... Ghar se Masjid hai bahot door chalo yun karlein/ kisi rote hue bachche ko hasaya jaaye. So let us pledge to smile to the ‘knowns’ and to the ‘unknowns’.”

Recalling these words from an anonymous author, Rishabh smiled and reached to his Smiling Home. 

By Anamta Rizvi

Anamta Rizvi was the first friend I found at Jamia Millia Islamia - much before I even knew that I would be taking admission to this university situated at the end of the world for me. To have her around is to have sophistication and exuberance showered on you each moment. She is a fabulous writer as well, and I am blessed that I have her as a classmate, a co-worker, and as an amazing friend.