Monday, July 27, 2009

Am I a shadow
of a figure I once was
pale and deathly
disfigured by my deeds

Or am I a fresh vapour
a ray of the rising sun
piercing the mundane
with my brilliant light

Maybe I am a constant
immune to change
evolved beyond evolution
spinning with the wheel
in its unending circular motion

Maybe a chameleon
a master of disguise
changing with the times
acquiring new shades

I might even be an outsider
watching the ongoing game
interested by my curiosity
insulated by my being

Am I a wanderer
left to find my own way
or is this my abode
where I can play my part in the grand play

Is my being needed
Or do I just need to be
I just wonder
who am I
and why am I???

Friday, May 1, 2009

The Moor's Last Sigh

Must we die before our souls, so long suppressed, can find utterance -- before our secret natures can be known? To whom it may concern, I say No, and again I say, No way. When I was young I used to dream . . . of peeling off my skin plaintain-fashion, of going forth naked into the world, like an anatomy illustration from Encyclopaedia Britannica, all ganglions, ligaments, nervous pathways and veins, set free from the otherwise inescapable jails of colour, race and clan. (In another version of the dream I would be able to peel away more than skin, I would float free of flesh, skin and bones, having become simply an intelligence or a feeling set loose in the world, at play in its fields, like a science-fiction glow which needed no physical form.)

- A paragraph from Rushdie's The Moor's Last Sigh

Thursday, April 16, 2009


A thick, all-pervading mist
Of people and places
Of voices and faces
Of twisted realities
and unending complexities

Trapped within is a free soul
Blinded by the mist
It shivers in the cold
Pure as the ocean water
If left all alone

But lost in the mist
It knows not what to do
There's a whole world to grab at
And myriad places to go to

Holding on to its convictions
it tries to weather the storm
But silent as a shadow
The mist crosses over......

A void
An emptiness so complete
It breeds on innocence
Frozen drops of hope
Falling, falling, falling............

And then a single ray of light
Piercing the heart of darkness
An invisible hand
Painting silver contours on the dark cloud
Rescues it from obscurity

Warmed by the light
Reassured of a presence
The faith returns
And hope rises from the ashes
Again !!

Thursday, April 9, 2009


Some want power, others would die for drive others....What do I want from life??....A question I often ask myself and always come up with the same answer- A Dog's be more precise...A Lazy Pet Dog's Life. Now laziness is an attribute many people despise. But, like all good things in life, not everyone can appreciate the deapth and beauty of it. Only connosieurs and practitioners can understand the gravitas associated with this rare virtue. At the risk of sounding immodest, I would like to confess that I belong to that rare breed. My laziness is not exactly the stuff of legends but being branded "The Laziest Person I've ever met" on my Birthday card by someone with whom I've spent more than half my life does qualify as at least a token of appreciation for the all the hard work I have put in.
Returning to my doggy dreams, what attracts me to a dog's life is not just the laid-back lifestyle, the oohs and aahs that their cuteness elicits from us humans or the powers of intuition with which they are blessed...All these are important but what seals the deal for me is the sheer intellectual possibilities which such a life offers. Imagine having no care in the world about where your next meal will come from or how will you pay your home and car EMI's....Now that is FREEDOM...Freedom of mind and the time to muse on the many questions and problems of this life....A domesticated dog to me is The Greatest Thinker...The modern day equivalent of Plato, Aristotle and Socrates...Look closely into those puppy eyes and you will see KNOWLEDGE....pure, unadulterated, incurroptible knowledge...and the power of Ideas....I wish I had the freedom to live that life...It was my secret wish but not any more....!!!


Writings of light assault the darkness, more prodigious than meteors.
The tall unknowable city takes over the countryside.
Sure of my life and my death, I observe the ambitious and would like to understand them.
Their day is greedy as a lariat in the air.
Their night is a rest from the rage within steel, quick to attack.
They speak of humanity.
My humanity is in feeling we are all voices of the same poverty.
They speak of homeland.
My homeland is the rhythm of a guitar, a few portraits, an old sword,
the willow grove’s visible prayer as evening falls.
Time is living me.
More silent than my shadow, I pass through the loftily covetous multitude.
They are indispensable, singular, worthy of tomorrow.
My name is someone and anyone.
I walk slowly, like one who comes from so far away he doesn’t expect to

- Jorge Luis Borges

The first page of The Inheritance of Loss. A poem with which I can relate so much, it seems I have written it. But of course, this one is way beyond my least for now.....Maybe sometime in the future I can express my thoughts as clearly as Jorge Luis Borges....

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Quote Unquote

To do is to be.

To be is to do.

Do be do be do !!

Monday, April 6, 2009

An Attempt at Shayari

Chaandni raat thi
Aur maekade ke jaam haathon mein
Hansi hothon pe thi
Par thi kahin kuch ranj baton mein

Kisi ki yaad thi
Ya thi meri tanhai ki aawaaz
“Mile do yar mehfil mein
Toh khoya ruh ka aaghaaz?”

Main aaya hosh mein
Mujhko gam-e-dil ka hua ehsaas
Liye botal bujhane ko chala
Jo thi adhuri pyas

Sheher ke raaste pehle kabhi
Itne hasin na the
Bohat guzra gali khunchon se
Lekin bolte na the

Magar us raat jaise tha
Farishtey ka koi farmaan
Juti thi kaynaatein
Pure karne mein mere armaan

Gali ke mod ke patthar pe
Maine sar jhukaya toh
Hua ehsaas teri roshni ka
Aur ibadat ka

Dikhaya aks mujhko
Aur bujha dir uh ki har pyaas
Tha gardish mein jo ik guncha
Use bhi kar diya aazaad

Thursday, April 2, 2009

My Fascination With امریکا ، کینیڈا یوکے کا بڑا اخبار

I have always been fascinated with the Urdu language. It began with looking at the Urdu newspapers at my grandma's house. The beautifully moulded writing, the sharp turn of line, the bend of the alphabets....all held me enthralled. The ebb and flow of it was so much more interesting than the straight, rigid- looking Hindi and English which we were made to write at school. It seemed more like Art and less like a language. Then came the revelation that it's all written from right to left and I was awed by the originality of the language. Growing up, my imagination was captured by some of the Urdu words I heard in Hindi film music and dialouges. Be it the deep throated kh or z sounds or the mysticism of words like ibadat and kaynaat, it has so much more meaning and weight(vazan) than any other language. There is a certain effortlessness about spoken Urdu which makes the best Hindi words look laboured in comparison. Its ability to convey the exact meaning of a thought in a single word is unparalleled. It is the language of poets and artists because of its inherent politeness (tehzeeb) and elegance.....which can be best expressed only by one word which sums up the language itself- नजाकत !


To be or not to be
That is the question
To be or not to be?
Is it right?
To be a prisoner of one’s own thoughts
To accept everything that fate decides
Without any tears, without any complaints
Is this what life is?
Just a forced silence
Which doesn’t let you breathe
Which doesn’t let anyone know a thing
Be careful, for time might lose it’s hold
Or life’s perfect ending may not occur
Where thou shall govern thy destiny!!

Wednesday, April 1, 2009


Standing alone on the edge of the cliff
Looking at the crowded valley below
He wonders aloud to himself
Why amongst the fast he moves so slow

As the sun rises on the horizon
His mind’s eye wanders far far away
Deep into a world of dreams he falls
Where fish can fly and mountains sway

He belongs to nobody
And there’s none he owns
So he just drifts along
All alone he roams

Drifting in and out of reality
In and out of relationships
In and out of lives
In search of his pleasure

Few strums of a guitar
The yellowing pages of an old book
Drops of dew on a winter morning
Mist on the mountain at dusk

They talk of ambition
He craves for satisfaction
As they make a dash for the finish line
He ambles along smiling

For some, the journey is the destination!!

Saturday, March 28, 2009

A B.E.A.utiful Quote

Duniya jise kehte hain jaadu ka khilona jae to mitti hai...kho jae to sona hai

- Nida Fazli

DEV D- Its Addictive

So what is Dev D all about? Is it just sleaze, sex, sensationalism or a cocktail of all these?
Well, cocktail is a nice word to begin a review of this movie with. To answer the question above, I would describe it as a mirror to our society, a mirror which seductively glares back at us and forces us to look within and acknowledge the twisted sense of morality which guides our thoughts and actions.

On the surface, it is the oft- repeated tale of a spoilt, rich kid who uses his loss in love as an excuse to destroy his own life and those of his loved ones. But scratch the surface and you will find yourself on a dizzy journey that begins and ends inside your head. Anurag Kashyap takes you on a cinematic trip, the headiness of which alcohol and cocaine would find hard to match.

Kashyap uses subtle innuendos to make striking social comments- be it Paro’s unfulfilled libido forcing her to violently shake a hand- pump or the hilayen sign on a DTC bus (with the prefix ‘M’ rubbed out) or Chanda, the prostitute’s urge to get a college degree.

The film begins in the earthy milieu of rural Punjab where Dev returns after completing his education in the UK. His physical encounters with Paro and their subsequent misunderstandings resulting in Paro’s marriage bring out the strength of Paro’s character, highlighting Dev’s inherent weaknesses at the same time. Mahi Gill delights as the feisty, foul- mouthed Paro who questions every cliché faced by the Indian woman.

From the rusty fields of Punjab, the heart- broken Dev travels to the dingy, psychedelic haze of Delhi’s Pahargunj; mirroring his descent from earthly purity into a hallucinatory hell. There he gives into the temptations of substance relief, visiting seedy bars and guzzling Thumbs Up (vodka ke saath) to give temporary warmth to his parched heart. You can almost feel his head spinning, thanks to the brilliant cinematography and background score.

In Pahargunj, he meets Chunni, the pimp who leads him to Chanda’s bed. Chanda’s character is where Kashyap smartly turns the classic Devdas on its head. The story of the young prostitute disowned by her parents and ridiculed by society because of an MMS scandal in her school days, is a comment on how fickle our definition of a slut (or anything for that matter) really is. Chanda’s joi de vivre is unbridled by parental discord as she relentlessly pursues her aspirations. If she finds them in a brothel, then so be it.
Kalki Koechlin makes a stunning debut as the now –innocent, now- corrupt girl- woman Chanda.

Dev and Chanda’s journey together is one of acceptance of their twisted past and present and their redemption, which they make each other realize in their own unique ways.

As the flawed protagonist, Abhay Deol proves his worth as a thinking man’s hero. He achieves the difficult feat of making the audience despise him, hate his crude ways and yet ache for him deep inside.

The musical score by Amit Trivedi is a character in itself, moving the story forward and bringing across the angst and changing mental state of the characters.

But what shines through Dev D IS Anurag Kashyap’s stamp of brilliance. The director makes his presence felt in every frame of the film as we watch his vision, creativity and arrogance find wings on celluloid.

As the end credits roll out upside down, you realize that this hangover would not leave you soon.

PS: In the song emosional atyachaar, there is a line which goes ek, do, teen, chaar, cheee….. Wondering what’s missing?...It’s Kashyap’s debut film PAANCH which is still stuck with the Censor Board. !!

Friday, March 27, 2009

The House With The Broken Window

Deep inside the post- apocalyptic city of my mind
Amidst the ruins of my harrowed existence
At the end of a dilapidated street
There stands a crumbling house- the house with the broken window

There is a sign on the only door which says- YOU ARE NOT WELCOME
The door itself is firmly locked
With the key hidden away in the secret vaults of my heart
And the protective shields around the house playing their part

So that no one but I can go in
And that too, not of my own free will
But when the beast living in the house commits another sin
Or, is it a little child; frightened of the outside,
looking for an escape within??

Inside, cobwebs of broken dreams and incomplete love float around
And silence is the only sound
The acrid smell of despair mixes with the sweet aroma of desire
And paranoia rubs against hope to start a wild fire

In this strange house, I am everything and I am nothing
I am the slave and I am the king
I am the preacher and I am the sinner
I am the loser and I am the winner

Many-a-curious passer by has knocked on the door
Or tried to break the lock, to force his way in
But any attempt to cross the threshold
Is met with a single piercing scream- YOU ARE NOT WELCOME

People say it’s haunted, that house
But I choose to disagree
It is my place of worship, my sacred space
The only place where I can ever be FREE!!!

Friday, March 20, 2009


This has been a loooonnngggggg time coming. I have thought about it, got down to writing it once, hastily removed it due to commitment phobia, and then endlessly agonized over it. But now, with not much on the agenda and my urge to write slowly overpowering my reluctance, here I begin my Random Thoughts. So roll out the red carpet and bring out the champagne!!

Let me begin with a brief introduction of the purpose and relevance of this blog. Well, to put it simply, it is not really relevant in the larger scheme of things. But it will serve a purpose. It will satisfy my urge to grasp the flowing stream of thoughts running through my put it in a corner and watch it....touch it...and feel it...and if it quenches some of your thirst as well....all the better!