Muse Cruise

Two tags! Yet again I have been tagged. But unlike earlier when I was so pressed for time that I couldn’t deliver, this time I am so jobless and o so ready to adopt all the tags that come my way. And some!

First, the more recent tag of 8 by Srijith:

8 things, I am passionate (?) about

1. My kids- I slip so easily into my Mom-from-Hell attitude that I seem to have been born with it!
2. My hair - I can safely mention it since it has a spirit quite independent  of mine
3. My independence (is that an oxymoron? )
4. My friends (sounds weird huhn? ones not s’posed to *passionate* about friends)
5. and
6. nothing
7. much else
8. really :-/

8 things I want to do before I die

1. Fly -
2. in
3. as
4. many
5. ways
6. as
7. is
8. possible

8 things I say often

1. Always (!) And Never (!!) - I realise that I am to old to be saying these words but I do.
2. Its OK!  (or It’ll be OK!) trying to constantly fix things around me
3. I love…    (said too often) And I hate…    (said too publicly)
4. Nothing (whenever people ask me whats happening)
5. … errr … and … umm … (suitable for ALL occasions)
6. I don’t like children who cry (in a tone just the right mix of hard-heartedness and sympathy) 
7. 1,  2  and … (Of course, I never have to say 3, the kids start showing signs of life and responding by 2)
8. No means NO!   This is usually said very softly in a forbidding tone

8 Books I last read

1. Am reading now - Laali (written and gifted by a former boss- no link)
2. The Sea of poppies by Amitav Ghosh
3. In the Company of Cheerful Ladies by Alexander McCall Smith
4. No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith
5. Mercy by Jodi Picoult
6. Songs of the Hump Backed Whale by Jodi Picoult
7. My sister’s keeper by Jodi Picoult
8. Salem Falls by Jodi Picoult

Theres much more of Jodi Picoult, apart from this list of 8 most recent. I read her in some kind of self-flagellating penance while wringing out tissue-fulls of tears. My kids don’t understand why I read these books which make me cry (nor do I). Call me obsessive, but I confess that there are some of her books which I haven’t yet read and am planning to shortly.

8 Songs I could listen to over and over again

As with authors and books, I tend to listen to the same songs over and over again. My ipod usually has the Repeat Song/ Album On. The redeeming feature, however, is that the Shuffle is on too, so theres usually quite a random mix, but playing on and on and on again. The recent stuff playing around me is:

1. Avengi Ja Nahi (Rabbi)
2. Aditi (by Rahman ofcourse - though sung in the delightfully fresh voice of Rashid Ali handpicked by Rahman)
3. Jinhe Naaz hai (Rabbi) -Courtesy my son
4. Chhalla (Rabbi)
5. Tu aavin … tainu changa lagega (Rabbi)
6. Ni Ballo (Rabbi)
7. Teri deewani (Kailash Kher) as my dotter is singing that song for a Hindi assignment- (Don’t ask me :P)
8. Samba sivayanave - thats what the kids are learning now
9. Abhi na jao chhod ke

 8 people I think should do this tag:

1. Anjali  (c’mon resume regular blogging, lady)
2. Dharmabum
3. EducatednUnemployed
4. Endevourme
5. Ganga
6. Jolvin
7. Ms Iyer 
8. Supernova

 Actually I’d like to read the lists of all these listed that I have tagged and those of anyone else, who may wish to, too!

 ***

Now for Atul’s daunting tag, the writer’s meme as its called. Give it the Tender Loving Care it deserves, he had said.  Alas, I have delayed responding to that tag for so long and even now when I have all the time in the world, I remain pretty clueless about what to write for a writers’ meme.

Give me just a little more time Atul.

Thursday morning assembly and the school choir would sing the famous Iqbal prayer:

lab pe aati hai dua ban ke tamanna meri
zindagi shamma ki surat ho Khudaya meri

Door duniya ka mere dam se andhera hojaye
Har jagah mere chamakne se ujala hojaye

ho mere dam se yun hi mere watan ki zeenat
jis tarah phul se hoti hai chaman ki zeenat

zindagi ho meri parwane ki surat ya rab
ilm ki shamma se ho mujhko mohabbat ya rab

ho mera kaam garibon ki himayat karna
dard-mandon se zaifon se mohabbat karna

mere Allah burai se bachana mujhko
nek jo rah ho us rah pe chalana mujhko

This song was probably the most discussed choir song post-assembly and at times during the rest of the day too, because it had many odd sounding words which were variously pronounced and interpreted by the kids. The song has stuck. “Door duniya mein mere dam se andhera ho jaye, har jagah mere chamakne se ujala ho jaye”- such powerful imagery that it could capture even the fickle minds of us kids! The rest of the lines were there somewhere but they were no match for the first two couplets.

How deeply embedded in the consciousness the song was, I realise when Vasu -a good intentioned friend, humorist, traveller, classical musician of great standing, management consultant, learned professor,  author of management books and not in the least, lover of dogs, presses labs at me over gmail windows and smses, I know I have a tough time saying no. (Wow, I am amazed that I can even stand up to him!)

Ok, let me confess - I love dogs, especially large affectionate creatures such as Labs. The “influential Murthy” knows this as do my husband and kids. Every now and then, the kids, goaded by their pa, would start the ‘We really need a lab pup’ pitch till I have to assert myself with the supreme veto. And yet every now and then, Vasu posts me a link to one of his beautiful adopted strays and asks me to adopt one too (by some chance they usually are labs!)

My heart is so tempted when I hear all this talk, but I may sound awfully selfish but no, no lab for me please!Even if were my dream, even if its the noble thing to do, NO. I can’t go through the heart-break of loving and bringing up yet another bundle of joy. And this I tell not merely to Vasu or my family, but to myself.

While theres is plenty of we-time nowadays, in the moments that I have the house to myself (from the time dh leaves to the time monsters return from school), there are  wee moments of me-time too. These precious pools that am able to dive into are far from the clear cool waters which are fabled to refresh and are typically muddy turbid bubbling baths on the boil. At school I intoned the striving for the clear stream of reason every morning, but have not yet internalised that prayer.  I would rather have a twisted perverse stream rich with plenty of debris and deposit.

Some of the stuff currently in flow:

Leave and careers?! Does it say that those who don’t avail of extended leave achieve all their career objectives? And does it have no impact on the caring for children- omigawd, there is a veritable forest of issues there- needs a separate blog!!!

Rabbi! The Gill te guitar is back with another winner- Avengi Ja nahi. I can’t seem to get enough of  the title track though the son has got us all humming the extremely catchy (with disturbing lyrics he doesn’t understand yet) Bilqis (Jinhe naaz hai)- no link to that

This one is much more Gill on his own- without the props of Bulle Shah or Warris Shah or any of the other Punjabi giants. He has pulled it off very well (except perhaps for the Angrezi song at the end, which jarred my sensibilities- a jat sikh singing English english, really how can one listen to that?)

Amitav Ghosh Thanks to a very generous friend (an occasional lurker at this blog) I received my copy of The Sea of Poppies much before the glitterati set about obsessing over it. My friend knows how fond I am of all writings Ghosh so I guess it was easy enough to pick out a gift for me when we met after a longish gap. One of my fav. spots in the net has much debate on the book and its author as also the language he uses in the book! A delight, need I say any more? That I am lovin’ it?!

Ok, just this one more bit- Vijay Seshadri. His poems ’speak to me’ though perhaps none more than  Survivor. Hope to read more of him.

And lastly, of McCall Smith too! Am reading No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency and In the Company of Cheerful Ladies and loving them.

The absolutely last bittie- Kabhi kabhi Shankari zindagi mein yun hi koi apna lagta hai 

As is evident, I am quite fond of the poetry (and lyrics) of Sahir Ludhianvi.

Quite a life he lived- loved by many (the most notable among them being Sudha Malhotra and Amrita Preetam) and yet all alone by himself. There are plenty of resources on the net about him but it isn’t enough, is it?

The best way to learn of him and adore him is through his songs, the lyrics of many of which can be found here .  A most comprehensive collection of his poetry can be found here while he can even be heard reciting his much quoted Khubsoorat Mod. Now I am so excited about putting together as many video (youtube) links to Sahir  and his songs as I been able to find. I started by being picky and choosing my favourites till I realised that if I indeed love his songs it shouldn’t matter to me whose face it is on whom the songs are being picturised, or if they be precious glittering gems or the softer mush!

So this is a rather comprehensive list that I share. (Hope the links don’t die)

 aage bhi jaane na tu

aaj sajan mohe ang laga lo janam safal ho jaaye

aan milo shyam  sanwaare

aap aye to khayaal-e-dile-nashaad aya

abhi na jao chhod ke ke dil abhi bhara nahi

ae meri zohrajabeen 

ae ri jaane na doongi

allah tero naam ishwar tero naam

babul ki duayen leti ja

bachhe man ke sachhe

bahon mein teri masti ke ghere

bekas ki tabahi ke samaan hazaron hain

bujha diye hain khud apne haathon 

chalo ik baar phir se ajnabi ban jaaye hum dono

chiin-o-arab hamara, hindoostan hamara (not there now)

chehre pe khushi chaa jaati hai

chham chham ghungroo bole

chhu lene do naazuk hoothon ko

chup hai dharti chup hain chand sitaare

dekha hai zindagi ko

dil jale to jale gham paley to paley

dil jo keh saka vahi raaz-e-dil kehne ki raat aayi

dil kahe ruk ja ruk ja ruk ja

dil mein kisi ke pyaar ka jalta hua diya

dildar ke kadmo.n mein … ab aage teri marzi

door rah kar na karo baat kareeb aajao

dukh aur sukh ke raaste bane hain sab ke vaaste

dukhi man mere sun mera kehna

duniya kare sawaal to hum kya jawaab dein

ek raasta hai zindagi

gairon pe karam apno pe sitam

har ek jism ghayal har ik rooh pyaasi

haay neele gagan ke taley dharti ka pyaar paley

hum intezaar karenge tera qayamat tak

hum aapki aankhon mein is dil ko basaa de toh

husn haazir hai mohabbat ki sazaa paane ko

jaane kya toone kahi

jaane wo kaise log thhe jinke pyaar ko pyaar mila

jaate ho toh jao par jaoge kahaan

jeevan ke safar mein raahi

jinhe naaz hai hind par vo kahaan hain

jo baat tujh me hai teri tasveer mein nahi

jo vadaa kiya vo nibhana padega

jurm-e-ulfat pe hamein log sazaa dete hain

kabhi kabhi mere dil khayal aata hai
kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayal aata hai (Sahir reciting)
kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayal aata hai (Amitabh reciting)

kabhi khud pe kabhi halaat pe rona aaya

keh doon tumhe ya chup rahoon

kis ka rasta dekhe ae dil ae saudai

kisi pathar ki moorat se mohabbat ka irada hai

kuchh bhi kar lo ik din tum ko meri hona hoga

kya miliye aise logon se jinke fitrat chhupi rahe

laga chunri mein daag chhupaon kaise

mang ke saath tumhara maine mang liya

maayus to hoon vaade se tere kuchh aas nahi

main jab bhi akeli hoti hoon

main har ik pal ka shayar hoon

main pal do pal ka shayar hoon

main zindagi ka saath nibhata chalagaya

maine tujhe chaha tujhe paaya hai

man re tu kahe na dheer dhare

matlab nikal gaya toh pehchante nahin

mera tujhse hai pehle ka nataa koi

mere dil mein aaj kya hai tu kahe to main batadoo.n

mere ghar ayi ek nanhi kali

meri mahboob kahiin aur mila kar mujhse
(this has the amazing lines:
ek shahenshah ne daulat ka sahara lekar
hum gareebon ke mohabbat ka udaaya hai mazaak)

milti hai zindagi mein mohabbat kabhi kabhi

mitwa lagi re ye kaisi anbujh aag

mohabbat bade kaam ki cheez hai

mujhe mil gaya bahaana teri diid ka aisi khushi leke aya chand id ka

The AMAZING Qawali contest from Barsat ki raat:
nighae-naaz ke maaro.n ka haal kya hoga
pehchanta hoon khoob tumhari nazar ko main
na to karvaan ki talash hai na hamsafar ki talash hai
ye ishq ishq hai ishq ishq

na tu zameen ke liye hai na aasma.n ke liye

naghma-o-sher ki saugaat kisi pesh karu.n

nighaen milaane ko jee chahta hai

nikle thhe kahan jaane ke liye

paon chhu lene do phoolon ko inayat hogi

parbaton ke pedo.n pe shaam ka basera hai

pehli nazar mein hamne to apna dil dediya thha tumko

phaili hui hai sapno ki baahein

phool gendwa na maaro na maaro lagat karejwa mein chot

pholon ke dere hain saaye ghanere hain

ponchh kar ashq apni aankhon se muskurao to koi baat bane (alas! only audio)

prabhu tero naam jo dhyaaye phal paaye

pyaar kar liya to kya pyaar hai khataa nahi

pyaar par bas to nahi hai mera lekin tu bataa de ke tujhe pyar karu.n ke na karu.n

 reshmi salwar kurta jaali ka roop sahaa nahi jaaye nakhre waali ka

 sab mein shaamil ho magar sab se judaa rahti ho

sach bata tu mujh pe fida kyun hua aur kaise hua

sansar se bhaage phirte ho bhagwan ko tum kya paoge

sharma ke yun na dekh ada ke maqaam se

suno gajar kya gaaye

tadbeer se bigdi hui taqdeer bana le

tang aa chuke hain kashmakash-e zindagi se hum

tera mujhse hai pahle ke naata koi

tera phoolon jaisa rang  chahe chale choodiyaan 

tere chahre se nazar nahi hatati nazaare hum kya dekhein

tere dar pe aya hoon kuchh kar ke jaonga

tere pyar ka aasra chahta hoon

teri duniya mein jeene se to behtar hai ke mar jaayein

teri jawaani tapta mahina ae nazniina

thandii hawaae.n lehra ke aaye.n

tora man darpan kehlaaye

tujhko pukaare mera pyaar

tum agar mujhko na chaho to koi baat nahi

tum agar saath dene ka vaada karo to

tum apna ranj-o-gham apni pareshaani mujhe de do

tum bhi chalo hum bhi chalein chalti rahe zindagi

tum chali jaogi parchhaiiyaa reh jayengi

tum mujhe bhool bhi jao to ye haq hai tumko meri baat aur hai maine to mohabbat ki hai

tum na jaane kis jahaan mein kho gaye

tumhaari nazar kyun khafa ho gayi

tu hindu banega na musalman banega

ude jab jab zulfein teri kanwariyo ka dil machle

ye ankhen dekh kar hum saari duniya bhool jaate hain

ye desh hai veer jawaano ka albelo.n ka mastano.n ka

ye dil tum bin kahiin lagta nahi hum kya kare.n

ye hawa ye fiza hain udaas jaise mera dil aa bhi ja 

ye mahlon ye takhton ye tajon ki duniya

ye parbaton ke dayare ye shaam ke dhuan

ye raat bahut rangeen sahi is raat mein gham ka zaher bhi hai

ye raat ye chandni phir kahan sun ja dil ki dastaan

ye waadiyaan ye fizaen bula rahi hain tumhe

yun to hamne laakh haseen dekhe hain tumsa nahi dekha

woh subah kabhi to aayegi (only the original audio)

zindagi bhar nahi bholegi vo barsaat ki raat

zindagi zulm sahi zabr sahi gham hi sahi

zindagi hasne gaane ke liye hai pal, do pal

zindagi ittefaq hai kal bhi ittefaq thhi aaj bhi ittefaq hai

Idris was the happiest man- or so thought his neighbours, in the true universal manner of all envious neighbours. Each time Mujeeb saw him he muttered some detailed curse, but only cursorily and under his breath, because who could help but admire Idris. A fine figure- wiry with a full head of wavy black hair, long limbs, even white teeth, ready wit, and an easy manner with women.

His was the only shop in this part of the village - selling all sorts of necessary and not so necessary goods. The folk flocked to it for meeting their needs as also as a secular meeting point for the community - especially when the fortnightly supplies came in. From the regulation supplies of  groceries to all manner of exotic items - like the shampoo sachets and the coveted Kamasutra and imported condom packs with those busty women on them, he stocked them all. And when he got home from the shop at night, Idris had a plump wife. She always bursting out of her clothes- either pregnant or lactating- regularly bearing him fine kids. He was well respected even if grudgingly so, especially amongst Sakeena’s relatives, as he regularly supported them well - more so the female ones.

On Friday morning Idris got up upset, yet unruffled, about the pinkness of his eye. But by the time he went for the afternoon prayers, word had spread about the yellow-green ooze coming out of his left eye and how it had swollen to the size of Abdul’s nose.

It must be a powerful spirit who could bring about such a dramatic transformation overnight. There was detailed speculation and mutterings about whom he had been spending the night with. Such is the result of consorting with unclean women. All his sins catching up with him finally! Hope he learns his lesson now - watching all those naked women showing legs on TV.

As they reached his shop, they offered all manner of solicitous advice. Idris bhai, when did Sakeena have her bath last month? What about her cousins? Masooma would know what to do in these matters.

Maybe it is some Hindu pishachee, quipped Ateeq.

Big Pasha shushed him- Spirits are all the same- it is only the bodies which are made Hindu or Mussalaman. There was no doubt at all about the gender of the evil one.

Somebody, maybe it was Akbar, had the good sense to hide the TV from all those who wanted to smash it to smithereens. The packs of condoms of course were quickly confiscated and efficiently appropriated amongst the men who mattered in the village.

The new MTV style Tantri was ceremonially ushered in. He came wrapped in his orange shawl with a pink border. There was about him the overpoweringly sweet smell of hashish. The three roosters he clutched at were clucking wildly and looking suitably aggressive.

A goat’s sacrifice- but it has to be by a woman when she is menstruating and naked, he pronounced, each word being strained as if through a painful hemorrhoid. Haram, muttered some of the old Hajjis - Get rid of this broom-man, ask for forgiveness from a pious man, as they used his own broom against him to set him on his way.

Meanwhile, red-haired Pasha, Sakeena’s brother, had telephoned the Hindu doctor. He, who had even done doctoring in Kalpetta. What medicine would a Hindu doctor give? Can he rid Idris of the evil spirit haunting his house? Would his medicine provide any help to Sakeena-bi? Nonono.

But what if it is Pink eye-flu? What if Idris goes blind? said Ibrahim, who unlike his elder brother, was known to take a dim view of most things. This was one of the many traits for which he was widely disliked and universally ignored.

Suddenly every one flew aside. Masooma chechi has come, they whispered quite unnecessarily. So what is this talk of spirits and ghosts haunting your house Idris, she demanded loudly. She peered at the monstrous ugliness of the ballooned left eye daring it to offer resistance to her. Even the blistering pustule seemed to lose its bluster and wilt under her gaze.

Heat some water, bibi and don’t stand around there looking like some pishachu got your brains. Quickly, she cauterized the tool of her mid-wifery trade and poked a large hole into the growth. She extracted a coconut shell full of pus from the wound before expertly cleaning and bandaging the eye.

Here is your ghost bi, she said angrily thrusting the coconut shell at the much relieved Sakeena.

And you Idris mian, how many times have I told you to wash your hands after you do your business?