Three Stringed Violin

I came across an inspiring read and thought of sharing it. This one is going to be an addition to the list of permanent links in the sidebar of this blog. It is an article by Jack Riemer of Houston Chronicle:

Excerpt from the article:

We figured that he would have to get up, put on the clasps again, pick up the crutches and limp his way off stage – to either find another violin or else find another string for this one. But he didn’t. Instead, he waited a moment, closed his eyes and then signaled the conductor to begin again.

I must thank Ashwin for this.

Bhanwar

Okay, I’m gonna do a funny thing today. I just heard the legendary 50s song called “uda jaa bhanwar” from the movie Rani Roopmati. A gem of a song with lyrics supposedly loaded with too much philosophical metaphors. I heard it and the first instinct I had was to write down the lyrics taking care of the number of times each line is repeated. 🙂 And here is the result:

उड़ जा उड़ जा
उड़ जा भँवर माया कमल का आज बंधन तोड़ के
उड़ जा भँवर माया कमल का आज बंधन तोड़ के
उड़ जा भँवर

रंग इसका लाल है
आऽ आऽ आऽ
रंग इसका लाल है और रूप भी क्या कमाल है
जिन पखुरियों में तू झूमें
जिन पखुरियों में तू झूमें
वो तेरा जंजाल तेरा जाल है
कहीं और जा जा जा जा
कहीं और जा के दिल लगा कलियों की गलियाँ छोड़ के
उड़ जा भँवर

देख वो सूरज की किरनें आ रही हैं झूमती
चल गगन की ओर तेरा मुख हवायें चूमतीं
बावरे उठ ज्ञान से मखमल का घेरा दूर कर
तन है काला इस लिये मन का अंदेरा दूर कर दूर कर
तुझको बुलाये
तुझको बुलाता है सवेरा देख मुखड़ा मोड़ के

उड़ जा भँवर माया कमल का आज बंधन तोड़ के
उड़ जा भँवर माया कमल का आज बंधन तोड़ के
उड़ जा भँवर

उड़ जा उड़ जा उड़ जा भँवर
उड़ जा भँवर,
उड़ जा भँवर,
उड़ जा भँवर,
उड़ जा भँवर,
उड़ जा भँवर,
उड़ जा भँवर,
उड़ जा भँवर,
उड़ जा भँवर,
उड़ जा भँवर,
उड़ जा भँवर माया
उड़ जा भँवर
उड़ जा भँवर माया कमल छोड़ के उड़ जा
उड़ जा भँवर माया कमल छोड़ के उड़ जा
छोड़ के उड़ जा
छोड़ के उड़ जा
छोड़ के उड़ जा
उड़ जा
उड़ जा
उड़ जा

Free and surreal

Free. The mind is free today. Free not as in free gift voucher. but free as in free India or free software. Okay… like free India… free software sucks. Well whatever, the mind is free today and blissful. It feels nice when you do things the right way. When all the wrongs that happen, don’t really count, because you know you have done the right thing.

So it all started with me staring at the LCD of my laptop for some one and half hours and not doing anything. Then suddenly, something happened. As if the Buddha decided to sit beneath the Bodhi tree, or as if Gabriel found the address of the new prophet, or as if the left eye of the princess turned red because a mosquito bit it. Basically, something STRANGE happened while I was staring at the LCD purposelessly for an annoyingly-long amount of time. I took a deep breath and had some water. No no, that was not the strange thing. Then decided to go for a walk, it was strange, but still not strange enough to be THE STRANGE thing. Then somehow I noticed a ‘chai ki tapri’ near my home which somehow has always missed my attention like so many other things in Mumbai, and though i happen to cross it daily. So today I decided to give that tapri the due respect. I went and asked for chai, even this was a strange enough act for a Mumbaikar, but still not strange enough to be THE ABSOULTE STRANGE thing. I had the chai and as I put the typcial cutting chai glass with the dark sediment of chai-patti remaining at the bottom of it, on the half broken counter on the tapri, i realised that I haven’t brought the wallet. Even this was strange for me, I remember carrying my wallet everywhere… yes everywhere… to toilets as well. So it was a substantially strange event, may be good enough to conclude that I was out of my mind when I left home for the walk, but yet not strange enough to be the ABSOLUTE SO_MUCH_TALKED_ABOUT STRANGE thing. So I just asked for udhar, to my surprise the guy said ‘ok’. Strange… right?? but just good enough to say that Mumbai is a strange city.. not good enough for the COVETED ABSOLUTE STRANGE thing spot.

So have I successfully created the atmosphere where everybody is either eagerly wiating to hear the strange thing OR nearly convinced that I’m going to do an anti-climax here? I request the second category to not to mistrust me. I know I’m really good at cracking PJs. But this one is not one of them. PJs are supposed to be poor, not strange. So now, are you eager to ask me what the strange thing was?

Well I can tell you, but what’s the point if you go from this place without getting annoyed.

And I’ve discussed with my lawyer. You cannot sue me for it. :)) The constitution of India gives me the liberty of thought, expression, belief, faith and worship. And you can consider the above post as any of them. After all, India is a free place… just like my mind… Isn’t it?

BTW, isn’t this post strange?

And, will this post qualify as surreal? Its a new concept I want to evangilise, surreal blogging… any takers?

:))

No!! Alcohol has made no contributions towards this post. It entirely is the intellectual property of Nikhilesh Ghushe. 😀

Hamdard

This time a self-composed mukta-chhanda. No particular reason or thought line behind it, really free flowing words:

क्यों लौट कर आया है वो हमदर्द
वो पिघलता दर्द
वो आधे लिखे ख़त
वो पहचानी-सी आहट
वो कागज़ पर उतरने से इनकार करते लव्ज़
वो अपने हि मतलब के ज़ाहिर होने से ड़रते लव्ज़
वो अनछुई लकीरों को लाँघने की चाह
वो तिनके से छोटी पर फ़िर भी आसमानों को छुती आह
वो दूर परदेस से आती आवाज़ों को सुनने की ललक
वो हवाओं को महकाती रातरानी के फूलों की महक
वो कुछ कह जाने के ड़र से चुप चाप महफ़िल से दूर अंधेरे कोने ढूंढ़ता मैं
वो भेद ना खुल जाये इस ड़र से हलकी-सी झुकती आँखों को पूरी तरह मूंदता मैं
वो सिलसिलेवार हाथों से बिछड़ता दिल, और फ़िर सिलसिलेवार दिल को छुते हाथ
वो किसी के साथ न होते हुए भी महसूस होता किसी का साथ
वो रोशनी से मुलक़ात
आज बरसों के बाद
क्यों लौट कर आयी है और कर गयी है इस वक़्त को चटकीले रंगों मे गर्द
क्यों लौट कर आया है वो हमदर्द

Mein Ab

Still another self-composed gazal. I wrote this yesterday night. An unusual ‘radiif’ and an unusual mood, started to wander into philosophy but somehow got pulled back to love. That Happens, Also in real life.

So here it is:

क्यों भीगती न रुह मेरी है बारिशों में अब
मिट चुके से रंग सब है ख़्वाहिशों में अब

जो गुज़र गया वो मोड कुछ इस कदर मुडा
दिल लगे ना ज़िन्दगी की साज़िशों में अब

वो वक़्त था कि बुत ड़हे मेरे कलाम से
न शोर है न ज़ोर कुछ गुज़ारिशों में अब

इस कदर सुकून में मेरा वजूद है
हो पाख़ियों की फ़ौज जैसे गर्दिशों में अब

भा गया है इस कदर कोइ हसीँ मुझे
कि लुत्फ़ है अजीब सा ये बंदिशों में अब

हर एक बात उस हसीँ कि छेड़ती है यूँ
पुरज़ोर मन लगा है रोज़ रंजिशों में अब

Zarquon is not very Punctual

Even prophets don't have a sense of proportion

Three Stringed Violin

Bhanwar

Free and surreal

Hamdard

Mein Ab