Words

evening quean

are you?

yes, i’m

(nervously) then how do we, i mean where, ummm how much?

how much you’ve got?

(startled) i’m not going to give you all i’ve.

trust me, you’ll have to give me everything you’ve got.

300?

and more than that.

what?

that’ll do.

(silence)

let’s go, gotta some homework to do, said the evening quean…

Bandhu told me about a large population of girls in Munirka, Delhi selling bodyware. That, most of them are smart, educated, even college-going girls who do this for a quick buck.
I just imagined meeting someone like this for the first time. ‘Quean’ is the Old English word for a prostitute or a fallen women.
This is one of my initial attempts at dialogue generation as an exercise. Hope, it conveys what i intended to. Any feedback or suggestion or correction is welcome.

As the newly adopted procedure, the translation is for Starry and other non-Hindi speaking people. I don’t take any responsibilty for this misadventure. If Pheebes or Autumn feels I’ve killed the language of the poem, they are free to translate it properly. I’ll be grateful to them. Pino, senti nahin maar raha hoon, you can also do the needful 😉

Pain

Pain
is like honey
which doesn’t washes away
without water (from our eyes)

Pain
also has a sweetness
which stays on the tongue
for long

Pain
is like honey
and is found mixed a little bit
in every smile

image courtsey: www.corbis.com

the creator

in the night/ everybody wud’ve/ sighted/ the stars at their abode/ but who drew lines between those stars/ and created wonderful myths?

in the day/ everybody wud’ve/ called to/ the clouds on their able journey/ but who shaped images in those clouds/ and created different faces?

in the conscious/ everybody wud’ve/ touched/ the thoughts in deep breath/ but who engraved feelings in those thoughts/ and created the earliest creations?

translated for starry. pheebes, if you find anything wrong, pls. do correct me. hope i’m improving with these translation skills.

image courtsey: getty images

the festival of love between a brother and a sister. the celebration of this unique bond betwen siblings, who leave their at-your-throat ways for atleast a day… somehow i never got the hang of this day.

maybe it has got to do with me n my brother being the only kids with no sister in the household. but that doesnt mean anything when i’ve always had more rakhis tied up on my hand and a family full of relatives, cousins and temporary relations.

there was a lot i wanted to say about this rakhi. but it all boiled down to the pecularity of life, some of my sisters were very happy, as they should be. on the other hand reena in particular was heartbroken. life looks a lot different when you have to watch it from the sick bed.

somehow, i got the feeling that i’m only an observer, with no control over what’s happening around. and somewhere deeply, even no control on what’s happening within me. still, i’m the centre of my universe and all these things revolve around me. like planets in the zodiac, people come with their own affections and afflictions; moments of sobs and smiles; and days just go by. hello, what’s going on here actually?

rakhi has no such meaning for me now. so many people have come and went by, sisters also, that i can’t even keep tab on the going-ons. think, BUGS will understand this better for me. the whole building, the whole trust in relations, values and traditions is breaking down from one end and automatically building up from the other. and i’m helpless before both.

yeah, that’s the word rakhi made me feel like.

i’m so helpless before my heart, my heart.

well, not much of a tale. these were the two accidents that hankered me a lot in the past few days. i was not a physical part of them, not a witness, just a distant observer of the going on’s in my drama of life;
and as i’m continuing with my stories between 4 n 14th…

Rahul Kumar Raichowdhury’s Bike Accident

He has been introduced on this blog before. In short, a dear friend, the only roommate i ever managed and one of the most zindadil insaan (full-of-life human being) met in this journey of life.

Had an accident due to rash driving and being a show-off while trying to avoid hitting a child crossing the sreet. The difference between applying brakes sensibly if a child has ventured onto road and trying to skid the bike glamorously without braking, is something he now understands well. And for a change, there were some confessional sentiments on his part too.

Almost broke his left hand, right knee and right cheek bone. Which girlfriend’s prayers saved him, we still wonder.

So, Mr. Show-off was on bed for two days, and incapable for almost a week. Has not recovered fully yet, but the parties and Fropper get-together’s have started again. I wish him full recovery quickly.

Reena Sharma’s Bus Accident

Something so freaky abnormal could happen to one of the most normal of girls, nobody could have imagined. Reena is a sister of mine who could fit well the role of any girl-next-door, decent, bhartiya (Indian) daughter to the max.

On an as normal a day as could be, she came back home from the office with a stiff back. Result of another bumpy bus ride over Delhi’s potholed roads. Simple as that. So, the family members suggest her a lot of things, pain killers follow, with warm massages and later specific exercises for the back suggested by dear uncle. Nothing helps. A month later she is admitted to the hospital with severe back injury and blood clotting near the lower back bone.

Now she’s on bed, advised to remain completely immobilized, for another month or so. I went to see her on Rakhi day. Tried to make her laugh but even that was not allowed. So we cried. Her’s visible, mine silent. Nothing binds you much than a moment of grief shared together.
Anyways, she has promised a special ‘home-made dosa’ party for all of us. I just wish her a quick & complete recovery.

I’d mixed experiences that day. The celebration of this peculiar relation between a brother & sister. On the festival of Rakhi, I experienced smiles & tears, joy & sorrow, friendships & blood relations… and somehow felt a bit distant from all this. Perhaps because of we were two brothers only kind of thought?

But that will come in the next post. About Rakhi. Or might not…

15th August, Independence Day

My country is my home, my birth place, my mother. People ask, why celebrate I-Day, when there’s so much that’s not right here. “Look at other countries they say, look at China, look at the States, where is the reason to cheer. India, is not going anywhere, I tell you.”

The trouble is, even if the other’s house is good, better than mine, i don’t go and start living there. All I should, infact I’ve to do is something to make my home at par my ideals.

I didn’t do much this 15th. Watched a few patriotic movies, read a lot and bothered Dee with all that gyan, plus relaxed a bit too. Morning onwards, sms’ flowed in, showcasing the best of pop-patriotism on offer. I didn’t reply. If I’ve to remember our country on three national holidays only, then sorry, am not a part of it. I’ll celebrate truly when I’ve done something for India.

Apart from living for oneself, friends & families, we do very little for the society at large. We’ll do something someday soon. How touching.

Still, there is much to be celebrated. A celebration that stems somewhere from deep within the heart.

This celebration is not of our faults as a nation, not of the poverty, hunger & misery present in so many parts of this country… the celebration is of still being one despite all odds. The celebration is of the hope that still burns bright. This celebration is simply of being an Indian.

Here is a famous poem by Shri Ram Prasad Bismil, one of the most reverred freedom fighters who gave their life for the ideal called India. As you all know my translation skills, I’ll request a kind soul to do the needful.

“Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.
Dekhna hai zor kitna baazuay qaatil mein hai
Karta nahin kyun doosra kuch baat cheet,
Dekhta hun main jise voh chup teri mehfil mein hai
Aye shaheed-e-mulk-o-millat main tere oopar nisaar,
Ab teri himmat ka charcha ghair ki mehfil mein hai
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.

Waqt aanay pey bata denge tujhe aye aasman,
Hum abhi se kya batayen kya hamare dil mein hai
Khainch kar layee hai sab ko qatl hone ki ummeed,
Aashiqon ka aaj jumghat koocha-e-qaatil mein hai
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.

Hai liye hathiyaar dushman taak mein baitha udhar,
Aur hum taiyyaar hain seena liye apna idhar.
Khoon se khelenge holi gar vatan muskhil mein hai,
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.

Haath jin mein ho junoon katt te nahi talvaar se,
Sar jo uth jaate hain voh jhukte nahi lalkaar se.
Haath jin mein ho junoon katt te nahi talvaar se,
Sar jo uth jaate hain voh jhukte nahi lalkaar se.
Aur bhadkega jo shola-sa humaare dil mein hai,
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.

Hum to ghar se nikle hi the baandhkar sar pe qafan,
Chaahatein liin bhar liye lo bhar chale hain ye qadam.
Zindagi to apni mehmaan maut ki mehfil mein hai,
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.

Dil mein tuufaanon ki toli aur nason mein inquilaab,
Hosh dushman ke udaa denge humein roko na aaj.
Duur reh paaye jo humse dam kahaan manzil mein hai,
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai.
Dekhna hai zor kitna baazuay qaatil mein hai.”

Those were the people. Of all things, this is a celebration for them. And for me.

Yesterday, it was Janamashtmi– Lord Krishna’s birthday. Celebrated all over India, it might be the most popular birthday in the world after Christmas.

Religious minded Hindus, observe a fast this day, breaking it at the joyuous moment of Gopal’s (as Krishna is fondly called) time of birth. Exactly at the stroke of midnight.

Shri Krishna is the God of Bliss, anandam and together with His consort, Shri Radha the epitome of ‘ras’ that is essence of beauty & love. Mantra for a perfect life my dear.

The poem above describes the squeaky, cute sound made by a child’s slippers as he enters my home. And how happy I’m because of that.

Man, i’ll have to have some translation skills.

Krishna, my forever friend.

a lot has happenned since this 4th.
two accidents, rakhi, janamashtmi, independence day, a lot actually…

i’ll again start posting today onwards.
have still not recovered from my illness completely. yesterday, was not a hectic day compared to my usual holiday’s, still it left me completely burned out.

‘the dreamweaver’

A Wet Winter’s Evening by John Atkinson Grimshaw;
Image: © Fine Art Photographic Library/CORBIS; Creator Name: John Atkinson Grimshaw ;Date Created: 1880

are back again.

a bit weaker and worn out though.

thanks for the wishes.

u all take care and dont fall ill, please.