There was a knock on the door. I opened the door. There was no one there. I was oscillating between the thoughts of whether I’m overhearing or is there somebody playing a game with me. This was not happening to me for the first time. And I failed to remember since when this was happening to me. But there was something inside telling me that I’m waiting for someone; whom I didn’t know.

Next day, the knock was there again. I chose not to open the door this time. And it never knocked again, at least for a long time.

It is a new day today. It has been some four and half years since I heard the knocks first. And there is again a knock today. But, on a different door now. I’ve moved a lot since that time, and I live behind a new door now. But this time I want to open the door. Probably somewhere deep inside the feeling remains, that perhaps I should have persisted with my routine of opening the door. Probably the last time I decided not to open it, someone must have been there … waiting. And I walk towards the door, with my hand close to the knob, and stop.

I want to capture this moment. There may be a time, when I hear the knocks again. Or perhaps no one would ever bother to knock my door again. Or may be someone is really there to be greeted. Whatever, I just want to log this thought and freeze it in time. And that’s why this post.

Phir Wahi Talaash

Old Doordarshan serials are something that still keeps me mesmerized. Yesterday I bumped on to a gazal sung by chandan das, which used to be the title track of an amazing serial – “Phir wahi talaash”, aired on Sunday mornings 11:30 or 12. A realistic love story… from the teenage times of mine, when the mushiness has not evaporated. 🙂

So here goes the gazal …

न जी भर के देखा न कुछ बात की
बड़ी आरज़ू थी मुलाक़ात की

कई साल से कुछ ख़बर ही नही
कहाँ दिन गुज़ारा कहाँ रात की

उजालों कि परियां नहाने लगीं
नदी गुनगुनाये ख़यालात की

मैं चुप था तो चलती हवा रुक गयी
ज़बाँ सब समझते है जज़्बात की

सितारों को शायद खबर ही नही
मुसाफ़िर ने जाने कहाँ रात की

[Correction: this was not the title track. Title track was यूँ निकल पड़ा हूँ सफर पे मै… ]


I used to write…

There was a time I used to write things besides brochures, code, patents and contracts 🙂

Today I recollected a small poem I wrote sometime in IIT days. So here it is…

उल्फ़त की दो घडी मे
लव्ज़ों की जो लडी,
आई ख़याल मे जब
उन पर नज़र पडी,
स्याही के रास्ते से
काग़ज़ पे जो पडी,
बन कर ग़ज़ल ढ़ली
औ’ यारों ने फ़िर पढ़ी।
सौ कोशिशों के बाद भी
लव्ज़ों की वो लड़ी,
कुछ कर बयाँ न कर सकी
वो सुरत हँसी बड़ी।

(Pardon the misspelt words like वो, I could not do better to bring out the urdu in Devanagari)

Here I go again…

Oh dont worry I’m not going anywhere. I just needed to chose these lines from the song:

Mamma mia, here I go again
My my, how can I resist you?
Mamma mia, does it show again?
My my, just how much I’ve missed you
Yes, I’ve been brokenhearted
Blue since the day we parted
Why, why did I ever let you go?
Mamma mia, now I really know,
My my, I could never let you go.

I know I was just born when ABBA used to sing. And I know that I’m gonna talk about some movies, some socio-cultural traits of the time when I was just born. I also know that I cannot (and would not) have the expression to write about it. But still I’ll try…

If you know me personally you would no what I’m talking about… I always talk about them.. dont I?? And for the rest … I’m talking about the two genres of movies – the Amol Palekar and the Naseeruddin Shah ones. I dont know how else should I define them. That’s why I took those names. Characterized by the really realistic plots and absence of extravagance, they both somehow relate to you.

Things like the Nirmal Anand of Khubsoorat, and the blotting paper episode of Rajanigandha, Julius Nagendranath Wilfred Singh of the Chhoti si baat, the love inspiring local train jorney of Baaton baaton mein, the thode ki zaroorat of Khatta Meetha, “sala ghonchu” with the then amazing looking Swarup Sampat of Naram Garam, and the Durendra Bhatavdekar of Rang Birangi mark the Amol Palekar genre.

And on the other side you have the open ended dialogues of Ijaazat, the red eyes of Smita Patil in Mricha Masala, the ek ek bhoot sau rupaiya of Shodh, the zindagi se hairangi of Masoom, the sabudana-wada-loving Rajaram Purushottam Joshi’s marriage with the lovely Deepti Naval in Sai Paranjpye’s Katha, the very different page 3 from the one we know today from the Party, and the “Hum Dilli haar gaye hain… Khan” cry from Junoon.

Am I being a jerk to see them as different genres? Or even do all of them taken together stand out? Dont know. But those times somehow make me say the above lines – Why, why did I ever let you go? (As if I could have stopped it… anyways)

Koi surat nazar nahi aatee

Back again to Ghalib, one of his saddest creations:

कोई उम्मीद बर नहीं आती
कोई सूरत नज़र नहीं आती

मौत का एक दिन मु’अय्याँ है
नींद क्यों रात भर नहीं आती

आगे आती थी हाल-ए-दिल पे हँसी
अब किसी बात पर नहीं आती

जानता हूँ सवाब-ए-ता’अत-ओ-ज़हद
पर तबीयत इधर नहीं आती

है कुछ ऐसी ही बात जो चुप हूँ
वर्ना क्या बात कर नहीं आती

क्यों न चीखूँ कि याद करते हैं
मेरी आवाज़ गर नहीं आती

दाग़-ए-दिलगर नज़र नहीं आता
बू भी ऐ चारागर नहीं आती

हम वहाँ हैं जहाँ से हम को भी
कुछ हमारी खबर नहीं आती

मरते हैं आरज़ू में मरने की
मौत आती है पर नहीं आती

काबा किस मूँह से जाओगे ‘गालिब’
शर्म तुमको मगर नहींआती