A small peice I wrote after reading the article for Anurag Kashyap by Abbas Tyrewala.I wish he could read it!!Add to it if you want to
seven years,
Bleeding tears,
It makes me wonder
god hears!!
heart broken,
bottle open,
they kept on laughing
you downtrodden!!
gathered hurts,
naked cuts,
and still you try
Bloody guts!!
thrice messed,
hungry zest,
but please, once again
your best
Thursday, October 12, 2006
For Anurag Kashyap and Abbas Tyrewala
If,the news on the front page of the fastest selling newspaper in mumbai can be about the scam involving Farah Khan in the dance competition show on TV, then definitely in such a country Fana is a hit and Paanch is not "Healthy Entertainment".The evil is not in those people who tell Anurag Kashyap that Paanch is too long to be a thriller or in those who tell him that he is not a racing horse yet. The evil is bigger and is beyond the capacity of words.There is something fundamentally wrong with the design, something wrong with our perception of existence.
Here in India most of the people are doing what they dont want to, probabaly because the great Indian middle class has taught its offsprings to think in straight line and never to break conventions. Rebellion is not our way of living for we are so afraid of loosing our securities that we choose to loose our freedom.As a result, the best guitarist of our country is probably writing software in Infosys, and the best writers are dying like innocents in Nazi gas chambers, its just that the chambers are named call centers. We have been the cheap labourers of the world since 16th century, now we have started taking pride in it too.No wonder, the number of Indian entrepreneurs is small, just like the number of Indian films in the international scene.
Coming from a a middle class family of north india, I know how parents coax their children into eigther Engineering or medicine. There is nothing else they know or find anything worth risking their safe paths. I eventually cleared IIT to join the brigade of the 4000 elite Indians just to find that probably that was not the best place for me. In my Alma Matar, I found people who spent three fourth of their graduation in playing guitar, writing stories and doing theatre. But the future of all these people was inevitably a software company.
May be, one odd of these insane souls would leave his job and make" hyderabad blues" but the rest would suffer,every time they see the poster of a Fanaa or read about a Black Friday being dumped.They will suffer because they know that Murder was made while they were writing codes, "Ek baar Aaja" was composed when they were attending calls in the gas chamber. My rage is not against the absence of ability, my rage is against the absence of desire. The desire to sustain the love for beauty.
The evil which forced me to clear IIT,the evil which forced the great guitarist to be a coder is the same which wrote the filthy front page stories,the one which dumped BlackFriday, the one which declared that Paanch is not healthy entertainment.While writing this I have "Langda tyagi Rocks" in my mind, sitting in his office,thinking about the script he has written and wondering why Gulal didnt get the financers.The song "High Hopes" by pink floyd is playing somewhere deep inside me for I know that he is a victim of his hopes and he will suffer like an atheist. An atheist, whose faith gets crumbled every time Allwyn Kalicharan is dumped and black friday is banned.
Here in India most of the people are doing what they dont want to, probabaly because the great Indian middle class has taught its offsprings to think in straight line and never to break conventions. Rebellion is not our way of living for we are so afraid of loosing our securities that we choose to loose our freedom.As a result, the best guitarist of our country is probably writing software in Infosys, and the best writers are dying like innocents in Nazi gas chambers, its just that the chambers are named call centers. We have been the cheap labourers of the world since 16th century, now we have started taking pride in it too.No wonder, the number of Indian entrepreneurs is small, just like the number of Indian films in the international scene.
Coming from a a middle class family of north india, I know how parents coax their children into eigther Engineering or medicine. There is nothing else they know or find anything worth risking their safe paths. I eventually cleared IIT to join the brigade of the 4000 elite Indians just to find that probably that was not the best place for me. In my Alma Matar, I found people who spent three fourth of their graduation in playing guitar, writing stories and doing theatre. But the future of all these people was inevitably a software company.
May be, one odd of these insane souls would leave his job and make" hyderabad blues" but the rest would suffer,every time they see the poster of a Fanaa or read about a Black Friday being dumped.They will suffer because they know that Murder was made while they were writing codes, "Ek baar Aaja" was composed when they were attending calls in the gas chamber. My rage is not against the absence of ability, my rage is against the absence of desire. The desire to sustain the love for beauty.
The evil which forced me to clear IIT,the evil which forced the great guitarist to be a coder is the same which wrote the filthy front page stories,the one which dumped BlackFriday, the one which declared that Paanch is not healthy entertainment.While writing this I have "Langda tyagi Rocks" in my mind, sitting in his office,thinking about the script he has written and wondering why Gulal didnt get the financers.The song "High Hopes" by pink floyd is playing somewhere deep inside me for I know that he is a victim of his hopes and he will suffer like an atheist. An atheist, whose faith gets crumbled every time Allwyn Kalicharan is dumped and black friday is banned.
Monday, April 03, 2006
Fanidhar O Fanidhar
These are a few lines which I wrote for the charecter "fanidhar" in the play Sir.. sir.. Sarla which we performed on 6th march 05 in IT BHU.
I was the one who played fanidhar.
The play was written by Makrand Deshpande. I saw the play in delhi after spending 3 days and two nights on just 12 bananas
Pain crosses a limit where it becomes irrelevent to know who caused the hurt.Names dont matter then and accusations do not always heal.Such is the pain of being judged "inadequate" and "insufficient" by those you love.It's a betrayal for which no one knows the guilty. Although,with the baggage of pain, guilt becomes an accessory.The only question to be answered is, "why cant love alone be sufficient?"
I was the one who played fanidhar.
The play was written by Makrand Deshpande. I saw the play in delhi after spending 3 days and two nights on just 12 bananas
Pain crosses a limit where it becomes irrelevent to know who caused the hurt.Names dont matter then and accusations do not always heal.Such is the pain of being judged "inadequate" and "insufficient" by those you love.It's a betrayal for which no one knows the guilty. Although,with the baggage of pain, guilt becomes an accessory.The only question to be answered is, "why cant love alone be sufficient?"
PUNCTUATIONS..we could never start it
Long back I and a few of my friends wished to write a play but we cudnt. We found we werent mature enough to handle the subject. The name PUNCTUATIONS was given to the play by a genius whose creations have always inspired me.This one paragraph is the beginning of all the writing that was supposed to be done.
To take risks is to explore the unseen and the unpredictable. Beyond all calculations, the uncertainity contains in itself the possibilities of a life which is lived by few and tried by many. The effort on a "road not taken" leads to injuries which are fatal or to victories which are awe inspiring. such a path is meant only for those who prefer choices over the grants of destiny. The most natural course of life is towards security. Freedom is not natural as it comes at the cost of security. securities of all kind, emotional and economic come only when they tie us to relations and responsibilities. so freedom from emotional bondages demands strength to detach. Freedom from cash paying bosses demands survival skills. We all sell compromises, but the point is what kind of compromise do we choose to sell. We nurture relations to get freedom from loneliness. we break relations to get freedom from pain which is inflicted upon us by others. We serve bosses for economic freedom. We leave our bosses for freedom to make choices in our job. But any how we compromise with freedom of one kind to get the freedom of another kind. The kind of choice depends on the strength and weekness we have.
To take risks is to explore the unseen and the unpredictable. Beyond all calculations, the uncertainity contains in itself the possibilities of a life which is lived by few and tried by many. The effort on a "road not taken" leads to injuries which are fatal or to victories which are awe inspiring. such a path is meant only for those who prefer choices over the grants of destiny. The most natural course of life is towards security. Freedom is not natural as it comes at the cost of security. securities of all kind, emotional and economic come only when they tie us to relations and responsibilities. so freedom from emotional bondages demands strength to detach. Freedom from cash paying bosses demands survival skills. We all sell compromises, but the point is what kind of compromise do we choose to sell. We nurture relations to get freedom from loneliness. we break relations to get freedom from pain which is inflicted upon us by others. We serve bosses for economic freedom. We leave our bosses for freedom to make choices in our job. But any how we compromise with freedom of one kind to get the freedom of another kind. The kind of choice depends on the strength and weekness we have.
EVAM INDRAJIT
On 27th march 06 we performed a play EVAM INDRAJIT in IT BHU which was written by a legendary playwright BADAL SIRCAR in the late 1960's. I am keying down some of my favourite parts from the play.
Everybody does it thats why!
A wonderful poem which made the audience laugh and then introspect. And yes that was brilliantly orated.
Why should you sneeze and why should you cough?
why should you smile and why should you laugh?
Why should sulk and why should you sigh?
Everybody does it, thats why thats why.
Why should you love and why should you hate?
why should you suffer and blame it on fate?
why should you weep and why should you cry?
Everybody does it thats why thats why.
Why should you always sleep in the night?
why should you always try to be right?
Why should you live and why should you die?
Everybody does it thats why thats why.
There is no escape
This poem was recited by the "writer" in the play as an answere to Indrajit's question that why should he continue to walk the endless road. It was translated by Vaibhav Suman from the English version of Girish Karnad.
There is no escape
Yet there is no escape
Pyase din, jagti ratein.
Bikhre saal, chubhte mahine.
Main hoon aaj bhi jeevit,
Jagta, yaad karta.
Par abhi aur bacha hai is jeevan ka,
Main jo tha, aaj bhi hoon,
Rahoonga aage bhi.
Door door tak main hi main hoon,
Yeh sab main hoon,
Bas yahi main hoon?
Yet there is no escape
Main udhta hoon un pankhon par jo thak chuke hain
Mera bachpan uthta hai, udhta hai, girta, tairta hai.
Samay beeta jata, kaam ki chakki meinnachta main.
Patang banata khokhle shabdon ki,
Band asman ko shabdon ki patang se bharta main.
Yet there is no escape.
Tum mujhe jante ho, mera sab kuch pehchante ho,
Poora sangeet jo bajta hai table ki chot per,
Jagmagati roshni jo nashe mein pagal hai.
Tum jante ho is rangeen kafan ko,
Jo dhake hai is sadh chuki laash ko.
Tum jante ho main yahin khatam hota hoon,
Main yahin marta hoon,
Apne hi andar.
Par phir bhi main chalne ki guhar lgata hoon.
Kyun? Kyunki there is no escape.
Yet there is no escape
Pyase din, jagti ratein.
Bikhre saal, chubhte mahine.
Main hoon aaj bhi jeevit,
Jagta, yaad karta.
Par abhi aur bacha hai is jeevan ka,
Main jo tha, aaj bhi hoon,
Rahoonga aage bhi.
Door door tak main hi main hoon,
Yeh sab main hoon,
Bas yahi main hoon?
Yet there is no escape
Main udhta hoon un pankhon par jo thak chuke hain
Mera bachpan uthta hai, udhta hai, girta, tairta hai.
Samay beeta jata, kaam ki chakki meinnachta main.
Patang banata khokhle shabdon ki,
Band asman ko shabdon ki patang se bharta main.
Yet there is no escape.
Tum mujhe jante ho, mera sab kuch pehchante ho,
Poora sangeet jo bajta hai table ki chot per,
Jagmagati roshni jo nashe mein pagal hai.
Tum jante ho is rangeen kafan ko,
Jo dhake hai is sadh chuki laash ko.
Tum jante ho main yahin khatam hota hoon,
Main yahin marta hoon,
Apne hi andar.
Par phir bhi main chalne ki guhar lgata hoon.
Kyun? Kyunki there is no escape.
Ik Sawaal
This song was written by Varun Bhaiyya but was finally recited as a poem after he 2nd act. Thanx to Radha who frankly said that the song wasnt good enough and Abhijeet accepted the inadequacy of his composition
Mukhda
Ek moti jism ka, aur ek saagar bhasm ka…
Kha gaya kitne hi lamhe, ek ghanta rasm ka…
Koi kyun kehta nahin ki kya bawaal hai…
Ik sawaal hai….sab kuchh ik sawaal hai…
Antara 1
Tark ki galiyon mein phaila hai andhera…
Jhooth ke ghode pe baitha, sach lutera…
Jo teri sandhya, ho sake hai, din wo-h mera…
Hain musaafir dher se, aur ek dera…
Aandhiyon mein jalti-bujhti si mashaal hai..
Ik sawaal hai….sab kuchh ik sawaal hai…
Antara 2
Kal yeh panchhi, aur oopar jaayenge…
Kal yeh patte, ped se gir jaayenge,
Mitti ke tan, mitti mein mil jaayenge..
Raaz gahre, raaz hi rah jaayenge…
Dekh makdi phans gayi, yeh apne jaal hai…
Ik sawaal hai….sab kuchh ik sawaal hai…
Mukhda
Ek moti jism ka, aur ek saagar bhasm ka…
Kha gaya kitne hi lamhe, ek ghanta rasm ka…
Koi kyun kehta nahin ki kya bawaal hai…
Ik sawaal hai….sab kuchh ik sawaal hai…
Ek moti jism ka, aur ek saagar bhasm ka…
Kha gaya kitne hi lamhe, ek ghanta rasm ka…
Koi kyun kehta nahin ki kya bawaal hai…
Ik sawaal hai….sab kuchh ik sawaal hai…
Antara 1
Tark ki galiyon mein phaila hai andhera…
Jhooth ke ghode pe baitha, sach lutera…
Jo teri sandhya, ho sake hai, din wo-h mera…
Hain musaafir dher se, aur ek dera…
Aandhiyon mein jalti-bujhti si mashaal hai..
Ik sawaal hai….sab kuchh ik sawaal hai…
Antara 2
Kal yeh panchhi, aur oopar jaayenge…
Kal yeh patte, ped se gir jaayenge,
Mitti ke tan, mitti mein mil jaayenge..
Raaz gahre, raaz hi rah jaayenge…
Dekh makdi phans gayi, yeh apne jaal hai…
Ik sawaal hai….sab kuchh ik sawaal hai…
Mukhda
Ek moti jism ka, aur ek saagar bhasm ka…
Kha gaya kitne hi lamhe, ek ghanta rasm ka…
Koi kyun kehta nahin ki kya bawaal hai…
Ik sawaal hai….sab kuchh ik sawaal hai…
EVAM INDRAJIT TITLE SONG
This song was also written by Varun Grover bhaiyya and composed muically by Abhijeet singh parmar. We had prashanth venkatesh on guitar and Radha, Abhijeet and Ankit as singers. This song is one of the best I have ever heared.
Mukhda
Kankad daana, baasi khaana, tooti chappal…
Udta panchhi, bikhre rishtey, jhoothi chappal…
Dialogue
1: Jhoothi chappal..? What’s that…?
2: Well…I don’t know. Why do you want to know?
1: Well…I don’t know.
Song restarts
Kankad daana, baasi khaana, tooti chappal…
Udta panchhi, bikhre rishtey, jhoothi chappal…
Gehre moti, baatein chhoti, jalti roti…
Chalta pankha, rukta pankha, udti choti…
Ginte-ginte, thak jaayega, haarega, karkash hoga sangeet…
Indrajit…O Indrajit…
Antara 1
Kitna kuchh hota hai, Hota kuchh bhi nahin…
Milte sab hans ke yahaan, Hansta koi nahin…
Raste saari dishaayein, rasta koi nahin…
Basti mein bheed bahut, basta koi nahin…
Dialogue
1: Excuse me, can you repeat that?
2: Why..?
1: Well…I think I have heard it before.
2: Then don’t worry, you’ll hear it again.
Song
Kitne meal chalega,
Kitne kuwein bharega,
Kitni jaanein dega,
Kitne chaand jalega…
Ginte-ginte bhoolega, dobara ginega, chir-anant ki reet…
Indrajit…O Indrajit…
Antara 2
Tu prashn-chinh hai…
Botal ka jinn hai…
Dhakkan khula agar…
Tu chhinn-bhinn hai..
Tu maut ki khabar,
Tu satya ki kabar,
Tu aas ka juloos,
Niraas ki dagar…
Dialogue
1: Hey wait…you are going too fast.
2: I gotta train to catch.
1: Then you are going too slow.
2: Well…I want to miss my train…
Shabdon, ankon, hunkaaron mein, kissa koi bana nahin…
Chaand ke paar bhi jaa kar usne, apne pag ko gina nahin…
Gina tha shaayad, bhool gaya ya, baat gayi baaton mein beet…
Indrajit…O Indrajit….
Mukhda
Kankad daana, baasi khaana, tooti chappal…
Udta panchhi, bikhre rishtey, jhoothi chappal…
Gehre moti, baatein chhoti, jalti roti…
Chalta pankha, rukta pankha, udti choti…
Ginte-ginte, thak jaayega, haarega, karkash hoga sangeet…
Indrajit…O Indrajit…
Kankad daana, baasi khaana, tooti chappal…
Udta panchhi, bikhre rishtey, jhoothi chappal…
Dialogue
1: Jhoothi chappal..? What’s that…?
2: Well…I don’t know. Why do you want to know?
1: Well…I don’t know.
Song restarts
Kankad daana, baasi khaana, tooti chappal…
Udta panchhi, bikhre rishtey, jhoothi chappal…
Gehre moti, baatein chhoti, jalti roti…
Chalta pankha, rukta pankha, udti choti…
Ginte-ginte, thak jaayega, haarega, karkash hoga sangeet…
Indrajit…O Indrajit…
Antara 1
Kitna kuchh hota hai, Hota kuchh bhi nahin…
Milte sab hans ke yahaan, Hansta koi nahin…
Raste saari dishaayein, rasta koi nahin…
Basti mein bheed bahut, basta koi nahin…
Dialogue
1: Excuse me, can you repeat that?
2: Why..?
1: Well…I think I have heard it before.
2: Then don’t worry, you’ll hear it again.
Song
Kitne meal chalega,
Kitne kuwein bharega,
Kitni jaanein dega,
Kitne chaand jalega…
Ginte-ginte bhoolega, dobara ginega, chir-anant ki reet…
Indrajit…O Indrajit…
Antara 2
Tu prashn-chinh hai…
Botal ka jinn hai…
Dhakkan khula agar…
Tu chhinn-bhinn hai..
Tu maut ki khabar,
Tu satya ki kabar,
Tu aas ka juloos,
Niraas ki dagar…
Dialogue
1: Hey wait…you are going too fast.
2: I gotta train to catch.
1: Then you are going too slow.
2: Well…I want to miss my train…
Shabdon, ankon, hunkaaron mein, kissa koi bana nahin…
Chaand ke paar bhi jaa kar usne, apne pag ko gina nahin…
Gina tha shaayad, bhool gaya ya, baat gayi baaton mein beet…
Indrajit…O Indrajit….
Mukhda
Kankad daana, baasi khaana, tooti chappal…
Udta panchhi, bikhre rishtey, jhoothi chappal…
Gehre moti, baatein chhoti, jalti roti…
Chalta pankha, rukta pankha, udti choti…
Ginte-ginte, thak jaayega, haarega, karkash hoga sangeet…
Indrajit…O Indrajit…
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