One
As the hijra pimp led the 7 year old girl into the house enticing her with stories of halwa-puri and led her to fat seth propped up against pillows on his mahogany bed, I sunk lower into the black seat and hugged my bag. I cringed thinking of the innocent 7 year old and what was about to happen to her. I felt a vacuum in the pit of my stomach and between my legs. I crossed my denim clad legs tighter...
(...while watching Deepa Mehta's Water in the bus from Mumbai to Pune on Sunday evening)
...and thanked my lucky stars, that I was born in more enlightened times in a well off, educated family.
Two
After the movie, the assistant in the bus put on a CD of old hindi songs. And suddenly you could sense a change in atmosphere in the bus. The whole bus seemed to suddenly become one.
You could hear voices in bus softly singing along with rajesh khanna, dev anand, sharmila tagore, mumtaz, etc.
There snapping fingers keeping pace with the beats of these classics. Feet were tapping. Heads were bobbing.
And for a few minutes everybody was transformed back to a time when music had a power to hypnotize people.
Credits to:
Roop tera mastana..
Gore rang pe na itna ghumaan kar...
Meet na mila re man ka...
Gaata rahe mera dil...
Jaane Jaa, dhoondhta phir raha...
Mere Sapno ki rani kab aayegi tu...
Let the Music Play.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Jumble Mumble
Every week I take up this new thing to do. Last week it was picking up Urdu.
This site helped me: http://www.urdupoetry.com/
From last week, here's what I came up with:
(This was basically to use the word ikhtiyaar (control) in a sentence) :-)
This week it's reading more of Ogden Nash poetry. So today I found a whole PDF of Ogden Nash Poetry. There were many really nice ones. Here is one I picked out:
"My Dream
This is my dream
It is my own dream
I dreamt it.
I dreamt that my hair was kempt.
Then I dreamt that my true love unkempt it.
Ogden Nash"
And on that high note, jumble mumble takes a break.
This site helped me: http://www.urdupoetry.com/
From last week, here's what I came up with:
"Tumne hamein bheja koi pyaar ke paigaam nahi hai,
Magar afsaus, khwabo pe ikhtiyaar nahi hai"
(This was basically to use the word ikhtiyaar (control) in a sentence) :-)
This week it's reading more of Ogden Nash poetry. So today I found a whole PDF of Ogden Nash Poetry. There were many really nice ones. Here is one I picked out:
"My Dream
This is my dream
It is my own dream
I dreamt it.
I dreamt that my hair was kempt.
Then I dreamt that my true love unkempt it.
Ogden Nash"
And on that high note, jumble mumble takes a break.
मराठी Poetry
These are some poems I had written quite some time ago...some 6-8 months ago. Just got around to posting these 3 here.
Marathi Poem 1 - Tujha Haat Pakdun
tuza ha4 pkDUn
AayuXy jg~yace SvPn paihle
p` tuza ha4 pkDta pkDta
dus–Yaa.ca sa4 soDUn gele
tuze SvPn tu3le,
tr tU maZyakDe Aalas rDt rDt
tuZya Do;\yatUn A&U pusta pusta
Svt: hs`e ivsrUn gele
roj s.@yaka;I ha4at ha4 2rUn
tuZya Do;\yat b6t raihle
tuZya do;\yat b6ta b6ta
insrgace r.g ivsrUn gele
tula maza 6raca rsta kay,
maz. nav hI Aa#vt nsel
tuZya 7o3\ya 7o3\ya jo*3I Aa#vt Aa#vt
mI Svt:la ivsrUn gele.
Marathi Poem 2 - Bhatukli
watuklI qe;ta qe;ta
Svtac: 6r zal., k;l. nahI
Aa.ByacI zaD. c!ta c!ta
kes ipkUn gele, k;l. nahI
wavLya.cI 6r bnvta bnvta
mula.cI 6r bsv~yacI ve; AalI
maZya 6uD^yavrce rKt Aa{ pusta pusta
mulICya lGnat pdravr Do;e pusaycI ve; AalI
wugol tasat jgaca Aakar ixkt ixkt
mula.na prdexI pa#v~yac. vy zal.
jgace kayde kanUn smjta smjta
Tyala soDUn jaNyac. vy zal..
Marathi Poem 3 - Mi Daarat Ubhi Aahe
mI darat ]BHI Aahe
pa}l pu!e 3akayc kI nahI ya ivcarat
mage maz. balp`ac. 6r
pu!e A`o;qI rsTyaca c!av ]tar
darala lagUn Aa.g` Aahe
ya A.g`at maze im5 mEi5`I Aahet
Aa{ baba.Cya Premane
Aole ic.b iwjlele idvs ra5 Aahet
Aaj ya ].br#\yavr ]w rahUn
mI mage b6te, pu!e b6te
mage maze bewan Aayu*y
pu!e psrlela ha kora kagd
yaCyavr ilQaa` AjUn ]m3lele nahI
pu!cI va3 AjUn Aa.2arat Aahe
TyaCyavr ]jeD AjUn pDlela nahI
mI pu!e pa]l 3akLyavr
drvaJyavrca ha4 su3Un ja{l
nvIn ha4 2rayla va3 2rIn
maZya pa#Ivrca ha4 magerahUn ja{l
mI Aaj maZya AavtI wvtI b6te
maz. kam, maza ve;, maZya AavDI invDI
]dya tec ³Xy mla idst nahI
]dya ³Xy ks. Asel, te kahI k;t nahI
AajU bajU ko~a Asel, he koD. kahI su3t nahI
Aajce idvs ra5, ]dya kxe bdltIl
ya kLpnet Aahe
ha4a vrCya reqa, Aai~a pu!ca रस्ता kse ju;tIl,
ya ivcarat Aahe
Monday, October 08, 2007
Poetry
There's poetry everywhere around you
In the leaves strewn on the path
Red and Orange
There's poetry in the dried leaves
That crackle when you step on them
In the colour of beer
Held against a light
There's poetry in
The Sunset in a glass
In the little ironies
That we see everyday
There's poetry in
The mysterious nature of life
In a succulent juicy
Well crafted dish
There's poetry in
A home cooked meal
In the way hair falls
Across the skin
There's poetry in
The light that's seen in their eyes
In the rain, wild and stormy
In the puddles that splash
There's poetry in
The pitter patter of rain on a tin roof
In the first step of your baby
In the first word she says
Theres poetry in
The way she holds on to your thumb
In a smile, a handshake
A phonecall
There's poetry in
The little things that make us smile
There's poetry everywhere around you
You just have to see it.
In the leaves strewn on the path
Red and Orange
There's poetry in the dried leaves
That crackle when you step on them
In the colour of beer
Held against a light
There's poetry in
The Sunset in a glass
In the little ironies
That we see everyday
There's poetry in
The mysterious nature of life
In a succulent juicy
Well crafted dish
There's poetry in
A home cooked meal
In the way hair falls
Across the skin
There's poetry in
The light that's seen in their eyes
In the rain, wild and stormy
In the puddles that splash
There's poetry in
The pitter patter of rain on a tin roof
In the first step of your baby
In the first word she says
Theres poetry in
The way she holds on to your thumb
In a smile, a handshake
A phonecall
There's poetry in
The little things that make us smile
There's poetry everywhere around you
You just have to see it.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
One more time
Give me one more drag
Just one more puff
Only one more time;
I'm addicted to you
Just one more day
Let me spend with you
Give me one more chance
Just to be with you
Let the screw-ups go
Leave my problems by
Only one more time;
I'm addicted to you
My nerves are shot
I need some druggin'
You're my daily dose
I need to breathe you in
Lemme hold you now
Lemme have my fill
Only one more time
I'm addicted to you
C'mon, just one more drag
Only one more puff
One more time
Only one more time
Just one more time
I'm addicted to you.
Just one more puff
Only one more time;
I'm addicted to you
Just one more day
Let me spend with you
Give me one more chance
Just to be with you
Let the screw-ups go
Leave my problems by
Only one more time;
I'm addicted to you
My nerves are shot
I need some druggin'
You're my daily dose
I need to breathe you in
Lemme hold you now
Lemme have my fill
Only one more time
I'm addicted to you
C'mon, just one more drag
Only one more puff
One more time
Only one more time
Just one more time
I'm addicted to you.
The Business of Newspaper Cutlery
This post of Scott Adams about newspapers becoming extinct in the near future got me thinking. Nope, not about the pace of technological development or the future of the publishing industry but about the very nasal presence of the moongphali waala (peanut seller).
Now the moongphali waala is a very typical character in many Indian cities. This chappie sells hot roasted peanuts and groundnuts. You will find this chappie at bus stops, railway platforms, the more enterprising ones on the train. They'll be dispensing warm peanuts and groundnuts at Re. 1 or 2 a cone. This snack caters to the millions waiting on bus stops and railway stations, for trains and buses, tired faces that look temptingly at the auto rikshaws and cabs that pass by slowly, trafficking their wares to the bus-travellers. The moongphali (also called sengdana) is a quiche snack that fills an empty stomach at a cheap price.
The great thing about eating moongphali from the moongphali waala is not just the warm groundnuts and peanuts, sometimes even offered with a spicy topping of raw onion, thinly cut green chilies, some red chilly powder and a sprinkling of chaat masala. Its what you get after you finish your snack. Not just the contended feeling of a full stomach but the added mystery of "whats the cone made of today?"
The cone here is the perfectly shaped paper cone that holds the peanuts. The making of a perfect paper cone is itself an art. The seller's deft fingers shape and twist and turn the paper into a perfect cone in less than 3-4 seconds. It is typically made of a piece of old newspaper, and in the case of a seller whose business is doing well, its made from the glossies. The mystery comes from the fact that you never know what piece of newspaper has been used to craft that particular cone.
In Mumbai where I have devoured hundreds of moongphali cones, the newspapers varied not just in content but also in language. You could get Hindi, Marathi, English, Gujarati, Urdu, or even Tamil or Bengali. You could get a political news update, a stomach churning crime story, a story on the education system or a glossy on the newest scandal in Bollywood. It could be from last weeks or last month.
Thus for the princely sum of Rs. 2, you not only got a full stomach but your own little news widget on a platter.
It was the perfect way to spend the waiting time. Eat your fill and then squinting in the light of the street light, devour the contents of the used newspaper. You never knew what information you would learn. What forgotten piece of history would leap out at you from the annals of newsprint. And not only did you learn something new or got reminded of something long forgotten but you got to look at it with the fortunate backing of hindsight. So you probably knew what happened just after that piece of news had happened. Or how it affected other events in history. If it was a bit of sensational news, you would probably think back to where you were when you had first heard it.
Through the stages of evolution, the newspaper cutlery practice has diversified to cones of larger diameter that resemble large soup bowls. These are used by the bhel waalas - another important character in the lives of road side eaters.
Here you normally can't read the newspaper after eating because it normally gets soggy because of the chutneys. However the piece of newspaper is very useful once you are done eating to use as a tissue paper to wipe the remanants of chutney, spices, lemon juice off your fingers.
Though these examples leap to the mind, newspapers are used on the roadside to serve vada-pavs , dabelis, bhajiyas, samosas and umpteen other road side delicacies.
Now, as experts toss around debates on the extinction of newspapers, I cannot but feel fear about what will happen to the roadside vendors cutlery options.
Footnote: Yes, I know, bowls made of leaves or expensive and boring paper plates are often used as a substitute, but these are normally found at the more upscale road-side vendors. And tell me, what leaf bowl or paper plate can ever substitute a bowl/ plate, reading material and tissue paper all rolled into one?
Now the moongphali waala is a very typical character in many Indian cities. This chappie sells hot roasted peanuts and groundnuts. You will find this chappie at bus stops, railway platforms, the more enterprising ones on the train. They'll be dispensing warm peanuts and groundnuts at Re. 1 or 2 a cone. This snack caters to the millions waiting on bus stops and railway stations, for trains and buses, tired faces that look temptingly at the auto rikshaws and cabs that pass by slowly, trafficking their wares to the bus-travellers. The moongphali (also called sengdana) is a quiche snack that fills an empty stomach at a cheap price.
The great thing about eating moongphali from the moongphali waala is not just the warm groundnuts and peanuts, sometimes even offered with a spicy topping of raw onion, thinly cut green chilies, some red chilly powder and a sprinkling of chaat masala. Its what you get after you finish your snack. Not just the contended feeling of a full stomach but the added mystery of "whats the cone made of today?"
The cone here is the perfectly shaped paper cone that holds the peanuts. The making of a perfect paper cone is itself an art. The seller's deft fingers shape and twist and turn the paper into a perfect cone in less than 3-4 seconds. It is typically made of a piece of old newspaper, and in the case of a seller whose business is doing well, its made from the glossies. The mystery comes from the fact that you never know what piece of newspaper has been used to craft that particular cone.
In Mumbai where I have devoured hundreds of moongphali cones, the newspapers varied not just in content but also in language. You could get Hindi, Marathi, English, Gujarati, Urdu, or even Tamil or Bengali. You could get a political news update, a stomach churning crime story, a story on the education system or a glossy on the newest scandal in Bollywood. It could be from last weeks or last month.
Thus for the princely sum of Rs. 2, you not only got a full stomach but your own little news widget on a platter.
It was the perfect way to spend the waiting time. Eat your fill and then squinting in the light of the street light, devour the contents of the used newspaper. You never knew what information you would learn. What forgotten piece of history would leap out at you from the annals of newsprint. And not only did you learn something new or got reminded of something long forgotten but you got to look at it with the fortunate backing of hindsight. So you probably knew what happened just after that piece of news had happened. Or how it affected other events in history. If it was a bit of sensational news, you would probably think back to where you were when you had first heard it.
Through the stages of evolution, the newspaper cutlery practice has diversified to cones of larger diameter that resemble large soup bowls. These are used by the bhel waalas - another important character in the lives of road side eaters.
Here you normally can't read the newspaper after eating because it normally gets soggy because of the chutneys. However the piece of newspaper is very useful once you are done eating to use as a tissue paper to wipe the remanants of chutney, spices, lemon juice off your fingers.
Though these examples leap to the mind, newspapers are used on the roadside to serve vada-pavs , dabelis, bhajiyas, samosas and umpteen other road side delicacies.
Now, as experts toss around debates on the extinction of newspapers, I cannot but feel fear about what will happen to the roadside vendors cutlery options.
Footnote: Yes, I know, bowls made of leaves or expensive and boring paper plates are often used as a substitute, but these are normally found at the more upscale road-side vendors. And tell me, what leaf bowl or paper plate can ever substitute a bowl/ plate, reading material and tissue paper all rolled into one?
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