Old Memories Ignited

The passing away of Jagjit Singh, and a conversation about him with my friend Sanjib Ganguly last evening, rekindled some fond old memories. “Jagjit ko sun kar gham ghalat kiya karte they”. “Bahut saath diya tha Jagjit ne apna.” :-)

 

Those were the days when Jagjit Singh played in our room for most of our awake time. There wasn’t much gham then, just that we would make ourselves ghamgeen to immerse into his rendered ghazals. Animated lyrics from his ghazals often barged into our conversations, usually with humorous effect. There was no situation to which Jagjit could not be applied then.

 

My collecton of Jagjit, which wasn’t too bad, sadly got misplaced one of the times I was to travel abroad. That was also the time when the world had started to move away from Cassettes-CDs to mp3s, and as life got faster paced, melancholic ghazals started to take a back seat for me as well. Post ‘Sarfarosh’, I hardly listened to any ghazals anymore, I still cannot reason why.

 

Ask me ever to sing a song (not that you would want to ask), and I can bet you will get to hear ‘Yeh Zindagi Aaj Jo Tumhari’ from the album ‘Insight’. As a collection, ‘Face to Face’ remains undoubtedly one of my all time favourite albums; every ghazal equally pleasing, not one of them out of place.

 

Here’s wishing Peace to the Melodious Maestro’s soul. He may be no more, but his soothing immortal voice will continue to live with us and bring us joy for ages to come.

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To Tea or Not To Tea

I am off to England with a bottle of Cinnamon essence, to experience the tranquil of the hills of Darjeeling. Do I seem like I have gone mad? Mad I was, with the experience I had. Never had one given me an explanation this lame, so confidently. I was laughing (at the explanation) and crying (on being the chosen one to receive it), at the same time.

There's a coffee shop near my place that I believe in patronizing. One, it is a good concept - coffee and coffee table books, together with good stuff to munch on, in a relaxed minimalist setup. Two, it was an entrepreneurial venture - who knows it could have been me behind the counter trying my hand with Espresso. Almost for the last 2 years since it was founded, and since I found it out, I have been a regular there - most of the baristas recognize me, or so I guess.

Today, for a change, I thought of trying some tea, something I usually prefer over coffee, unless I am in a coffee shop that is. It was a debate between the aroma of Darjeeling against the strength of Assam. After lengthy deliberation that only tea lovers are capable of, aroma won over strength and I opted for the D-Tea, specially brewed to get the flavour of Darjeeling.

To say I was taken aback to see that the 'special brew' was only a tea bag in hot water is an understatement. But what really got me mad was that the tea bag read 'English Breakfast'. For so much of deliberation and anticipation, I was served an 'English Breakfast' tea bag under the guise of 'special brew Darjeeling'. Any guesses what would have been different if I had opted for 'speacial brew Assam' instead?

Not the one to let go such lapses, I checked with the Barista what would have been different if I had ordered Assam tea.

He : "The flavour sir".
Me : "Fine then, and I suppose it would be the tea bag that gives it the flavour"
He : "No sir, the tea bag would have been the same". The series of lies start here.
Me : "So is it the water that adds to the flavour?"
He : "No sir, both the tea bag and the water are the same in both teas, only the flavour is different"
Me : "So, something has to introduce the flavour. If it is not the tea or the water, and since sugar was already at my table, can you please tell me what is making my tea 'Darjeeling'?"
He (pointing to a counter) : "Sir, the flavour is kept there. I added it when 'preparing' the tea"
Me : "So you added it to the water?"
He : "Yes sir, I added it to the water."
Me : "Please can you show it to me, and also show me the one you add to make it 'Assam'."
He (pulling out a bottle from under the counter) : "Sir, I think we have finished the Assam flavour, this one is for Darjeeling."

And there it was, a bottle of Cinnamon. To rest any doubts that the label did not read what was inside the bottle, I reconfirmed that it was actually Cinnamon that he added to make my tea 'Darjeeling'. And would I not know if there was even a minute trace of Cinnamon in my drink?

Well then, am I ever returning to this coffee shop? But of course, why would I not? But before you think I have actually lost my senses to go back to them, let me tell you, I am returning to let my displeasure known to those who run it. They can't take their customers for granted, at least not me.

Phir Miley Sur

I have always felt about authors that their first successful book is usually their best. The sequels are mostly an attempt to cash in on the fame from the original, trying to milk every possible penny that the original thought or concept was ever worth. The same applies to movies too - how many times you may load and reload 'The Matrix', can the sequels ever get more original than the original?

'Phir Miley Sur' is another case in point. For someone who can still recite (right or wrong) the original lyrics in most of the languages it was sung, in almost the same sequence that it was played, and recall most of the 'Icons of India' who contributed to the original, Phir Miley Sur was a huge disappointment, to say the least. The original composition had a message, a meaning, a sequence, the right representation, and a passion in rendering the message through. The duplicate is just a lame commercial excuse of a copied message, with no representation and absolutely no passion.

To start with, did you ever know who produced the original; honestly, did you even care? It was the messsage that mattered then, and the fact that it was on the lips of everyone who had seen or heard it once. The makers of 'Phir Miley Sur' of course are all over the TV, appropriating credit and free fame to cash from the original. What else explains a full day coverage of 'Making of Phir...." on Zoom, when they did not even put enough thought into getting the representation right?

So what was wrong with the representation? Firstly, there is more to India than just Bollywood. If it was only the tunes of Bollywood that met, it made sense, but the spattering of 'icons' from other walks of life makes one feel that the rest of India is miniscule in comparison. And whoever said India was the World's largest democracy, with a growing industry; a sporting nation, rich in art, culture and scientific research?

Amitabh Bachchan, who probably is the only link between the old and new forms of 'Miley Sur', obviously does not need to justify his Icon status, but watching Abhishek And Aishwarya romancing to the song, sounded like a retake of the silly Lux ad they air these days. May I ask what special Aishwarya or Abhishek have done to represent the country? Or for that matter Priyanka Chopra, Shahid Kapur, Karan Johar or Deepika Padukone? Both Khans - Salman and Amir - had positive messages to give, but none that no one else could have given. And the third Khan, Shahrukh, should be thanked for agreeing to shoot in a Mumbai backdrop and for not insisting on a Swiss locale for integrating India. Ideally, the three Khans (with the fourth Saif, who was conspicuously missing) could have shared screen space to proclaim aloud 'bury your hatchets, think integration'.

Can we forget the role of industry in the nation's growth? Where are the NRNs, Nandans and the Premjis that a host of Indians look up to? Or can you forget cricket which binds the nation like even Fevicol can't? It was disappointing not to see a Tendulkar, a Sourav or a Dravid, that a plethora of young and old try to emulate in cricket and outside of it. And did we not forget Vishy Anand, Leander Paes, Sania Mirza, Saina Nehwal, Major Rajyavardhan Ratore, Abhinav Bindra et al. What about the likes of Abdul Kalam who still ignite the sparks in the minds of the nation's future. Politicians are a different brood, but could not the Icons of the major parties stand together for once, to give a message of unity?

Fine, the makers got the representation they could best muster. But could they have not got these 'representatives' to show more passion than drama? For the likes of Aish-Abhi, Deepika, Shahrukh and Priyanka this seemed to be a platform to continue showing their dramatics; their expressions sorely out of tune with the message. Compare this with a non-glamorous Bala Murali Krishna or a Lata Mangeshkar or a Kapil Dev, who in spite of being non-actors, did complete justice when it came to showing their passion.

'Phir Miley Sur' - the name itself sounds so sore. So the tunes meet again? What tunes? The musical improvization at every nook and corner, and the drama in expressing it, make it so much out of tune with the simplicity of the original, that one begs to scream 'where is the Sur?'! And have we been out of sync all these years till someone decided to bring us all together again? Did anyone ever hear the original being called 'Miley Sur'? There was no need to brand the song those days, it was the message that mattered; what has changed now?

I may seem to be romanticizing the past, but the makers of the sequel seemed to have grossly missed the point in understanding what originally touched the hearts of millions of ordinary Indians like me.

Beeecause beeecause.....

Finally, after months of slumber, I make a comeback to the blogscene.

It took me ages to get started, and only a couple of months thence to pause. Somewhere in my short blogger's life I underwent a severe writer's blog ('block' said in Malyalam). Thoughts were plenty, just that they didn't find an expression. Many blogs were mentally written, almost one everyday; what was missing was the meeting of the fingers with the keyboard to type them out. There were a few that got typed too, but then never got published. I revive one such 'draft', with the promise to myself, and the hope, that I will continue to publish my thoughts.

I love to speak of the real incident below. It may sound a bit of a cliche to those who have heard it from me. But then, if you are one of those who heard it, I am sure you are one of those who wouldn't mind hearing it again. :-) And if you are one of those, to whom I hadn't had the opportunity to narrate this earlier, please read it for yourself.

Original draft written a few months back
Picture this. I come back home all tired after a long day at office. I get rid of my coat and slump in front of the TV trying to catch some breath before proceeding with the rest of the evening. I feel a slight rustle at my feet, someone taking a measure of my shoes. I bend down to see my little daughter Disha trying hard to figure how the lace is to be pulled.

Me: What are you doing sweetheart?

Disha: I am taking your shoes off.

Me: Why are you doing that?

Disha: Beeecause... Beeecause...I want to take it off.

Me: But why do you want to take it off?

Disha: Beeecause... Beeecause...... "I love you sooo.... much!".

Could the evening have got any better?

Making more sense

On your marks, get, set and go
The gunshot seemed to have told us so
We started running our respective run
We were all running the marathon.

Started off the blocks, from the word 'Go'
Rules of the race kept changing though
Laps got added as I ran
Behind me was not a single man.

Running on this track I was the master
But everyone seemed so much faster
Running around was so much ease
But why is everyone ahead please?

High time, I thought, I raised my gear
To a level no one else could bear
But why cannot I go for the kill
Oh am I not running the treadmill!

Woken up thankfully from my dream
On this message light threw its beam
If there's something to make more sense
Only change the frame of your reference.

Profound Babble

Not so long ago I stood in a queue
Happy without any hesitation,
Drenched in the rain waited for a train
Always so late at the station,
Times were then slow, oh so mellow
There wasn't a News caused sensation.

Lives now differ, the clocks seem stiffer
That something has caught my attention,
Running a race, getting further into a maze
Now the favoured occupation,
Crime and War, and binging at the bar
Seems to be the state of every nation.

Pondering the case, dizzied by the pace
I sought a doctor's prescription
The doctor's advice, stop running like the mice
You only need bit relaxation
Take the chill pill and pay up the bill
Just forget you had an affliction.

Why pay the bill, doctor making a kill
Is there any justification,
Pay up and you leave, hurry, patients I receive
I am in no better situation,
A costly medicine, but went home with a grin
Impatience wasn't it my creation.


Disclaimer:
The lines that I write, let make your day so bright,
Else the poem has no rhyme or reason

Written entirely in a lighter vein. Not meant to mean much. Thanks for reading through.