1: Dost dost naa raha........
one of the greatest compositions, i wonder why this song has always been the butt of friendly raillery for ages now. I heard the song recently and i had goose bumps all over me right from the start when Raj Kapoor starts playing the piano. Though nasal, but Hemant Kumar has a distinct style of his own and i place him along with Rafi, who have carved a niche for themselves in the melancholic department of life. I have not seen this movie( Sangam )but the way the song has been picturised, i dont think anyone can ameliorate on it. Kudos to the director ( Raj Kapoor i think ). The video is entirely focussed on the facial expressions which clearly surfaces the guilt of the heart in an inexplicable manner. Just listen to the antara and i guarantee you will fall in love with this song. It clearly elucidates the agony, pain, and hurt one goes through, during contretemps caused by friends and loved ones. I was so enraptured by the lyrics that i kept playing it over and over again till my mother got suspicious and she started to imagine me in the shoes of Raj Kapoor. This is probably the first of its kind where the composer has romanticised betrayal. The lyrics leave a lump in the throat if one fully connects with the song, but the romantic undertones help us enjoy the song for the sheer perfection in all departments-------singing, lyrics, composition, or the picturisation.
2:(a) Aapki aankhon mein kuch..........
Though its difficult for me to pick up my favorite in the romantic genre from a cornucopia of songs that Bollywood has churned out over the ages, but i can count on this song and it always tops my ' now playing ' list. Its one of R.D's sweetest composition, and every time i hear this song it transcends me into new states of ecstasy and radiant happiness, filling my heart with new found loveliness. It makes you fall in love with love itself, and if you are in love then its just the icing on the cake. The lyrics abound with hyperbolic expressions and sweet nothings that guys use to woo their beloved. If you are a good singer, then there's no better song to express your love, and if you are not then gift a CD of this song along with some others and just watch the magic. Gosh! Kishore Kumar! you are blessed enough to sing such a song. I am yet to watch the video, hence when ever i hear it, the image of kishore singing it starts playing in front of my eyes and my respect for him deepens.Though its a duet but somehow Kishore's voice over-shadows Lata's. Well its from the movie called Ghar.
(b) Roz roz aankhon tale..............
I think RD is the Midas of the music industry. Every song of his is worthy enough to be a part of the golden collection of Hindi songs, and roz roz is one of those songs which would be continually playing in the confines of my brain even if its not playing on the real player. I first read about this song on Guruji's blog ( about whom i would be writing shortly ), and i am thankful to him for making me a part of the comfort, and soothing melody that the song endows on its listeners. Now, i am a hopeless romantic and sometimes when i listen to this song, i strike off the lights especially at nights and i try to romanticize the ambience. You might think that i am exaggerating but my complex mind never gives me a satisfactory answer as to why i do this. Sometimes my mind goes completely blank listening to this song,and what thoughts cross my mind becomes difficult for me to comprehend. God! i cant write any further, except that it is sung by Asha and Yesudas. Its from the movie Jeeva.
(c) Jab deep jale aana..................
I enjoy this song as much as the above two. The song is based on raag kalyan ( i think ), and its the aalaap of the song that i cherish the most. Songs like this have become extinct today, and its one of the few songs that fills me with regret. I wish i had some more knowledge of music, so that i could have atleast made a futile attempt of singing the song. I wonder why Yesudas has sung such few songs. I am sure, had this voice been further utilised and explored, then Yesudas today would have been ranked with the likes of Kishore and Rafi. How could a classic barritone, slip into oblivion so easily? I find his songs much more soulful than anybody else's and are filled with a tremendous amount of humility and devotion.
Well there are many other masterpieces on my playlist about whom i would be writing shortly. I am typing while listening to these songs and I am trying to catch my thoughts at the same time. So its getting quite cumbersome and i dont want to destroy the charm of these songs by typing fudge. So its better i sign off.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
THE PLUVIAL GUEST
Towards evening the drizzle became a steady shower and by night the air and earth were drenched as the storm reached its height. The sea was lashed into a fury giving birth to hungry waves, eager to devour the whole of Madhapur with every rise and fall. And the concomitants, thunder and lightning gave the impression that the demons were probably in cahoots with Nature to destroy Madhapur. The streets were horrifyingly deserted and the night was arcanely black. Even the insane canine kalu could be found no where. At this inopportune time when Nature had compelled the few hundred souls of Madhapur to stay inside, a figure----man or woman?, was found sauntering on the streets. The figure at first seemed like an incarnation of the evil but closer inspection revealed the figure to be a woman----drenched to the skin, and shivering with cold.
She seemed to be searching for something. Finally her blurred eyes were able to get sight of a faint light that managed to escape the crack, in the door of a faraway house, making it all the more conspicuous in the black ambience. Her spirits rose instantly, and she ambled towards this unknown territory, gathering all her reserved strength eventhough the darkness was closing in on her brain. She raised her fist to bang the door, but the sound of the bang got lost in the loud and reverberating noise of the thunder and lightning, to wake the sleeping souls on the other side of the door. The waiting was neither pleasant nor unpleasant for her; it was a time spent in a state of anxiety. But the darkness had possesed her brain; it simply could not function. She was thrown into a state of black nothingness, This was Shanti and she had entered the gates of Raghuvir Kuteer.
Raghuvir Shastri had always been an early riser. He was the retired headmaster of Madhapur High School, who taught the much dreaded subject; Mathematics. He had a great affinity for numbers and social service. It was mainly because of his active involvement and dedicated hard work that Madhapur was now a conurbation and was recieving grants from the government for further development. The people owed a lot to Raghuvir Shastri and every young boy of Madhapur wanted to become like him. Inspite of the repeated requests, Shastri never poked his head into politics as he believed that politics corrupts one's soul. But Shastri's, Raghuvir Kuteer was never a happy home.
Earlier chapters in Shastri's history revealed that his wife had succumbed to tuberculosis leaving behind a daughter of 8. He raised her with much love and affection, and was ardently supported by his widowed sister, who was no less than a mother figure. The daughter was married into a wealthy family at the tender age of 16. Just when Shastri was beginning to enjoy life and thanking God for his graciousness, the bitter tidings of his daughter's death; a year after the marriage, broke him completely. With his son-in-law abandoning the baby, Shastri had no option but to bring his grand daughter with him to Madhapur. He named her after his own daughter, Vrinda.
When Shastri woke up the rain had stopped but the wind was still high. The day was breaking. He looked up at the wall clock and saw that it was already five. Usually, Shastri's daily routine included getting up early and venturing towards the sea to pay homage to the rising sun. But, today the overcast sky upsetted his routine and he was sure there would be no sun to pay homage to. These days Shastri was earning his livelihood by giving private tutions to students. He could have easily continued teaching at the High School, but after his daughter's death Shastri was reluctant to shoulder any responsibility. He resigned at the age of 52.It was sunday morning. Shastri was busy getting ready for the class which was to commence at half past eight. He was searching for his cane, which he was sure, little Vrinda had hid some where to save the boys from getting thrashed.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, he heard a cry of horror, and his sister shouting, '' Bhaiya, bhaiyaa........come over here, there's a, there's a.......'' Shastri thought,'' O God, she's started again. I just hope some sunlight enters her mind.'' Apparently, Shastri's sister, better known as Lakshmiamma possessed the talent of raising a storm in a tea cup. Shastri was sure she had found a dead kitten or a mouse in the backyard. But she seemed to be calling from the entrance. Reluctantly Shastri proceeded towards the main door.
At first he could not believe what he saw. He saw a human figure lying motionless in front of he main door. For a brief moment Shastri stood there blandly looking at the figure. Lakshmiamma had already started crying and cursing at the same time--- one of her many idiosyncracies. '' Why did she have to die here in our house? Now, the police will come and arrest all of us. What will happen to little Vrinda? God has no mercy on us.'' Telling her to shut up, Shastri bent down and touched her forehead. It was cold and lifeless. His mental turmoil soon reached a state of calmness when he found the pulse. With the help of his sister, Shastri carried the figure into the shanty in the backyard.
It was three days later that Shanti regained conciousness. Lakshmiamma found her to be too abstemious and annoying, but Shanti's health ameliorated within no time. Whenever the subject of ' who she was. Where did she come from and what was she doing in Madhapur?', was broached, Shanti kept mysteriously quiet. But strangely enough Lakshmiamma dealt with the convalescent much more patiently than expected. One night ( almost a week later since she was found at the door ) Shanti came running into the house and genuflecting infront of Shastri, pleaded, '' Sahib you have saved me. I owe my life to you. I am a poor beggar woman. I have nowhere to go. Please let me stay here. Accept me as your servant. Please dont ask me to leave. You know that the world can be cruel to a lonely woman. Kind father have mercy on me.''
Shastri looked at her for the first time. She was about 30. She was tall and elegant, not obese but fleshed out. There was a self-assuarance in her, inspite of all her pretence of helplessness. Some how Shastri could not convince himself of her being a beggar woman. She appeared to be much refined and cultured. Finally Shastri allowed her to work for Raghuvir Kuteer as a maid with out pay and she was allowed to stay in the shanty and share the food with the Shastri family.
Within no time Shanti became indispensable to the members of Raghuvir Kuteer. Raghuvir Kuteer regained its lost happiness and there was a re-return of the so called ' family life ', with the advent of Shanti. Little Vrinda found in her a mother and a companion. For hours they would be lost in their little world full of fun and banter. Shanti, with her novel ideas and games would throw Vrinda into inexplicable states of excitement. Their time would be spent in catching butterflies and roaming around Madhapur.Life was no more a hopeless affair for Shastri. Shanti was able to create a magic circle of timelessness around him. Shastri never really liked the company of women, but with Shanti minutes would easily slip into hours. Many a times Shanti would strike him speechless with her never ending filibuster. She was able to touch the inner most chords of human warmth in him. In such a manner five months of fun and frolic elapsed. But Nature seemed to work against their happiness.
But, this pure and uncomplex relationship began to cast its demonic shadows on the integrity and honesty of Shastri's character. Their relationship was discussed in public and Shastri was accused of being a man of lusty and unshamed appetites. Shanti was treated like a pariah and people started calling her a concubine. But the inhabitants of Raghuvir Kuteer were lost in their little world full of radiant happiness, and it was Lakshmiamma who started showing signs of resentment towards Shanti. Slowly Shastri started losing students in his coaching classes and when there was a drastic dip in his finances, Shastri realised the gravity of the situation. At first he tried to stifle the thoughts, but Shanti could clearly see them written on his face.
Inspite of her debonaire attitude, Shanti became mentally dazed and sick. She started withdrawing from everyone. Nobody knew what thoughts crossed her mind. Shanti's spirits drooped despite her own efforts to revive them. Whenever she blew out the candle, and burrowed her head into the pillow, flashes of her past life would start playing in front of her eyes. Sometimes memories comeback with a lot of acid and become even more painful when the present is also as acidic as the past. Shanti desperately wanted to cry but the tears would not come. Shanti could no longer bear the agony of her own thoughts. It was a black overcast night and a fine rain began to fall. Shanti walked into the street with its over arching trees. The sea was furious but it recieved Shanti with much warmth and affection. The last thing that Shanti remembered was that queer look on Shastri's face. His eyes were looking through her and beyond her when Shanti bade him goodbye. His face wore an expression that Shanti's uncomplex mind could not comprehend. She closed her eyes and in her mind was engraved every detail of Shastri's face.
Now Shanti resides only in the hollows and dells of memory of the inhabitants of Raghuvir Kuteer.
She seemed to be searching for something. Finally her blurred eyes were able to get sight of a faint light that managed to escape the crack, in the door of a faraway house, making it all the more conspicuous in the black ambience. Her spirits rose instantly, and she ambled towards this unknown territory, gathering all her reserved strength eventhough the darkness was closing in on her brain. She raised her fist to bang the door, but the sound of the bang got lost in the loud and reverberating noise of the thunder and lightning, to wake the sleeping souls on the other side of the door. The waiting was neither pleasant nor unpleasant for her; it was a time spent in a state of anxiety. But the darkness had possesed her brain; it simply could not function. She was thrown into a state of black nothingness, This was Shanti and she had entered the gates of Raghuvir Kuteer.
Raghuvir Shastri had always been an early riser. He was the retired headmaster of Madhapur High School, who taught the much dreaded subject; Mathematics. He had a great affinity for numbers and social service. It was mainly because of his active involvement and dedicated hard work that Madhapur was now a conurbation and was recieving grants from the government for further development. The people owed a lot to Raghuvir Shastri and every young boy of Madhapur wanted to become like him. Inspite of the repeated requests, Shastri never poked his head into politics as he believed that politics corrupts one's soul. But Shastri's, Raghuvir Kuteer was never a happy home.
Earlier chapters in Shastri's history revealed that his wife had succumbed to tuberculosis leaving behind a daughter of 8. He raised her with much love and affection, and was ardently supported by his widowed sister, who was no less than a mother figure. The daughter was married into a wealthy family at the tender age of 16. Just when Shastri was beginning to enjoy life and thanking God for his graciousness, the bitter tidings of his daughter's death; a year after the marriage, broke him completely. With his son-in-law abandoning the baby, Shastri had no option but to bring his grand daughter with him to Madhapur. He named her after his own daughter, Vrinda.
When Shastri woke up the rain had stopped but the wind was still high. The day was breaking. He looked up at the wall clock and saw that it was already five. Usually, Shastri's daily routine included getting up early and venturing towards the sea to pay homage to the rising sun. But, today the overcast sky upsetted his routine and he was sure there would be no sun to pay homage to. These days Shastri was earning his livelihood by giving private tutions to students. He could have easily continued teaching at the High School, but after his daughter's death Shastri was reluctant to shoulder any responsibility. He resigned at the age of 52.It was sunday morning. Shastri was busy getting ready for the class which was to commence at half past eight. He was searching for his cane, which he was sure, little Vrinda had hid some where to save the boys from getting thrashed.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, he heard a cry of horror, and his sister shouting, '' Bhaiya, bhaiyaa........come over here, there's a, there's a.......'' Shastri thought,'' O God, she's started again. I just hope some sunlight enters her mind.'' Apparently, Shastri's sister, better known as Lakshmiamma possessed the talent of raising a storm in a tea cup. Shastri was sure she had found a dead kitten or a mouse in the backyard. But she seemed to be calling from the entrance. Reluctantly Shastri proceeded towards the main door.
At first he could not believe what he saw. He saw a human figure lying motionless in front of he main door. For a brief moment Shastri stood there blandly looking at the figure. Lakshmiamma had already started crying and cursing at the same time--- one of her many idiosyncracies. '' Why did she have to die here in our house? Now, the police will come and arrest all of us. What will happen to little Vrinda? God has no mercy on us.'' Telling her to shut up, Shastri bent down and touched her forehead. It was cold and lifeless. His mental turmoil soon reached a state of calmness when he found the pulse. With the help of his sister, Shastri carried the figure into the shanty in the backyard.
It was three days later that Shanti regained conciousness. Lakshmiamma found her to be too abstemious and annoying, but Shanti's health ameliorated within no time. Whenever the subject of ' who she was. Where did she come from and what was she doing in Madhapur?', was broached, Shanti kept mysteriously quiet. But strangely enough Lakshmiamma dealt with the convalescent much more patiently than expected. One night ( almost a week later since she was found at the door ) Shanti came running into the house and genuflecting infront of Shastri, pleaded, '' Sahib you have saved me. I owe my life to you. I am a poor beggar woman. I have nowhere to go. Please let me stay here. Accept me as your servant. Please dont ask me to leave. You know that the world can be cruel to a lonely woman. Kind father have mercy on me.''
Shastri looked at her for the first time. She was about 30. She was tall and elegant, not obese but fleshed out. There was a self-assuarance in her, inspite of all her pretence of helplessness. Some how Shastri could not convince himself of her being a beggar woman. She appeared to be much refined and cultured. Finally Shastri allowed her to work for Raghuvir Kuteer as a maid with out pay and she was allowed to stay in the shanty and share the food with the Shastri family.
Within no time Shanti became indispensable to the members of Raghuvir Kuteer. Raghuvir Kuteer regained its lost happiness and there was a re-return of the so called ' family life ', with the advent of Shanti. Little Vrinda found in her a mother and a companion. For hours they would be lost in their little world full of fun and banter. Shanti, with her novel ideas and games would throw Vrinda into inexplicable states of excitement. Their time would be spent in catching butterflies and roaming around Madhapur.Life was no more a hopeless affair for Shastri. Shanti was able to create a magic circle of timelessness around him. Shastri never really liked the company of women, but with Shanti minutes would easily slip into hours. Many a times Shanti would strike him speechless with her never ending filibuster. She was able to touch the inner most chords of human warmth in him. In such a manner five months of fun and frolic elapsed. But Nature seemed to work against their happiness.
But, this pure and uncomplex relationship began to cast its demonic shadows on the integrity and honesty of Shastri's character. Their relationship was discussed in public and Shastri was accused of being a man of lusty and unshamed appetites. Shanti was treated like a pariah and people started calling her a concubine. But the inhabitants of Raghuvir Kuteer were lost in their little world full of radiant happiness, and it was Lakshmiamma who started showing signs of resentment towards Shanti. Slowly Shastri started losing students in his coaching classes and when there was a drastic dip in his finances, Shastri realised the gravity of the situation. At first he tried to stifle the thoughts, but Shanti could clearly see them written on his face.
Inspite of her debonaire attitude, Shanti became mentally dazed and sick. She started withdrawing from everyone. Nobody knew what thoughts crossed her mind. Shanti's spirits drooped despite her own efforts to revive them. Whenever she blew out the candle, and burrowed her head into the pillow, flashes of her past life would start playing in front of her eyes. Sometimes memories comeback with a lot of acid and become even more painful when the present is also as acidic as the past. Shanti desperately wanted to cry but the tears would not come. Shanti could no longer bear the agony of her own thoughts. It was a black overcast night and a fine rain began to fall. Shanti walked into the street with its over arching trees. The sea was furious but it recieved Shanti with much warmth and affection. The last thing that Shanti remembered was that queer look on Shastri's face. His eyes were looking through her and beyond her when Shanti bade him goodbye. His face wore an expression that Shanti's uncomplex mind could not comprehend. She closed her eyes and in her mind was engraved every detail of Shastri's face.
Now Shanti resides only in the hollows and dells of memory of the inhabitants of Raghuvir Kuteer.
AM I A HYPOCRITE????????????
Its been a few days, since I have been questioning myself,'' am I a hypocrite?'' I asked my sister, and pat came the reply, '' yes dear, you are!! '' Well this answer certainly made my blood curdle, and thats the reason why I am cudgeling my brain, so that I can atleast satisfy myself, that maybe after all , hypocrisy is an imperative concomitant of a so called ' peaceful survival.' But who exactly is a hypocrite? The Oxford dictionary answered my query. Apparently a hypocrite is a person who makes false claims to virtue. My joy knew no bounds and I jumped in glee coz my sister had completely misinterpreted the word. I was heavily relieved to know that I am not exactly a hypocrite. Well I am not sure which word in the English dictionary can sum me up, but whatever it is, I am sure as hell, it is not hypocrite. So, dear sister, better brush up your word power or take a renege. Hey, but I am not signing off yet, I would like to filibuster for some time. So all you crazy busy bees reading my blog ( if any ), that cute little X on the top right hand corner of the screen can rescue you from tolerating this fudge of mine. For all others who have nothing else but TIME just like me, can keep scrolling.
Now analysing one's own character and personality is truly queer and quite a Herculean task, but i guess its better than analysing somebody else's. The way i conduct myself with others ( other than family members ) has no adumbration of my real self. I am like a curate's egg-----partly good and partly bad. I am a permanent denizen of the state of equilibrium, with sporadic visits to a faraway land where I become hyper and intolerable. The one thing that I like about myself, is the virtue to be sangfroid and I am seldom impulsive. Though I am not social by nature, but neither I am a loner or a party-poop. Its just that I am a bit moody, and though i dont have a problem with people, my own company is my predilection. There are a lot of things that i do not agree to, which completely demarcates me from the confrere. So what do i do? I just mend my ways and never open my gob until required. And this itself is the biggest irony coz i know i am a cent percent introvert but people find in me the greatest extrovert. Maybe thats why people like me and enjoy having a confabulation with me because i speak what they want to hear. I am sincere in the comments i make, making sure that i keep the sincerest to myself, so that i dont end up hurting them now and regretting later. I feel i have mastered the art of concealing my true feelings and letting them border on casualness. Maybe i do feign, but who doesn't? Now, if by that, my sister concluded that i am a hypocrite, then maybe i am, but i would not like to bank upon that notion. I would like to believe that i am a good human being caught in a rather unfamiliar world.
NOW PLAYING: Roobaroo roshni.............( Rangde basanti )
Now analysing one's own character and personality is truly queer and quite a Herculean task, but i guess its better than analysing somebody else's. The way i conduct myself with others ( other than family members ) has no adumbration of my real self. I am like a curate's egg-----partly good and partly bad. I am a permanent denizen of the state of equilibrium, with sporadic visits to a faraway land where I become hyper and intolerable. The one thing that I like about myself, is the virtue to be sangfroid and I am seldom impulsive. Though I am not social by nature, but neither I am a loner or a party-poop. Its just that I am a bit moody, and though i dont have a problem with people, my own company is my predilection. There are a lot of things that i do not agree to, which completely demarcates me from the confrere. So what do i do? I just mend my ways and never open my gob until required. And this itself is the biggest irony coz i know i am a cent percent introvert but people find in me the greatest extrovert. Maybe thats why people like me and enjoy having a confabulation with me because i speak what they want to hear. I am sincere in the comments i make, making sure that i keep the sincerest to myself, so that i dont end up hurting them now and regretting later. I feel i have mastered the art of concealing my true feelings and letting them border on casualness. Maybe i do feign, but who doesn't? Now, if by that, my sister concluded that i am a hypocrite, then maybe i am, but i would not like to bank upon that notion. I would like to believe that i am a good human being caught in a rather unfamiliar world.
NOW PLAYING: Roobaroo roshni.............( Rangde basanti )
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
