The Butterfly Effect

Do not frown at me. This is not about the scientific phenomenon called the butterfly effect, though that in itself is quite a fascinating notion. It’s a Sunday morning which started with the usual happy feeling that I could read the whole newspaper without worrying about reaching to the office in time. But as it turned out, I am bored to the death after reading two newspapers without actually enjoying any of them. So here I am, in the balcony of the house, looking outside for anything which can charge me up.

The day is certainly not sunny. The early morning rain still ensures a bit of cold air, and the clouds have not yet thought of releasing the sun from their stronghold. The silence has invaded the scene; the only sound being the hiss of the trees in light breeze. To my merriment, a cuckoo does try to sing occasionally. A tree branch has extended itself till the wall of the house. As I try to play with the branch, I see a butterfly passing in front. I follow its flight. It keeps flying around without giving any sense of purpose. Maybe the flight is the purpose and quite a noble one of it – don’t we still dream of flying one day? And fly to where? Nowhere in particular, just for the sake of flying. Get me high, let me fly. What good it is to ask me why? Soon another butterfly joins the first one and they start flapping their wings fast to outpace each other. They go up and down in spiral movement chasing each other, which reminds me of the famous double helix DNA model of Watson and Crick. For a moment I think they are siblings -if you can use that word for butterflies – who try to catch each other in a game. The other moment presents the thought of them being lovers with playfulness part of their act of love. I get this strong urge to get the camera and shoot them so that I can show that spectacle to my friends, but I stop myself. There are reasons behind that. First, these butterflies are no different than children. They get your attention quite quickly, you enjoy what they are doing and when you get the camera to capture the moments, they throw all kind of tantrums to escape the lenses. You just can’t get them in the right angle! The second reason is my selfish motive – I don’t want others to see what I am looking at. They should come to know about it through my words. Call it the reward for getting up early. But isn’t that meaningless? The nature treats us all the same, I am another you and there are butterflies to be seen by every one of us. Not only seen, but to be loved. The great thing about the butterfly is that all of us can love it. More importantly, we need not to be apologetic for loving the same object.

I remember a Gujarati poem which I used to sing in my childhood – rangeela rangeela rangeela patangiya (O colorful butterflies!) To these days children perform on that poem. Even I danced on those words with my friends Bhavik and Pradip after I started working professionally. A child within never dies, I suppose.

My instinct says that they suddenly stopped flying because they somehow got to know about my wishful thinking. One of them is now sitting on the branch which I am holding with both its wings folded together. It is a brown and black in colors. Unfortunately it does not appear as beautiful as it was in its flight. It looks like a small branch of a tree which could never grow beyond an inch. There I see why the beauty diminished. The life, and beauty of it, is in dynamism, in certain vibrancy. Jump around if you cannot fly. Play… Dance… Sing…Love. Let the flow go. Be the flow. Needless to say, the butterfly has started fluttering again. This time the movement gives impression of whirling of a Sufi dervish. I am already counting my blessings for the butterfly effect.

Here Comes the Independence Day

India celebrates her 63rd Independence Day today. Apart from the obvious cheers the holiday brings, the another reason to wait for this day is that the whole country clad in the tricolor to celebrate the freedom we got at the strokes of midnight on 15th August, 1947 after a long struggle. Not to forget the patriotic songs – sung by various singers, from Lata Mangeshkar to A R Rehman. But the mood is gloomy on this vary day of 2009. The reasons: The fear of impending drought the country is facing in the wake of less rain received this monsoon and the resultant soaring prices of food items, the scare of swine flu which has got everyone panicked etc.

There seems to be paranoia about swine flu. The health minister of the country should also consider taking chair of chief mathematician at some prestigious university – he didn’t help the country when he derived the math of one third of the country contracting the swine flu in coming months. Spread the panic, Mr. Minister; leave the awareness to the lesser humans! On my way to watch Kaminey (more about it some other time), I see a man on a bike covering his face with a mask to protect himself from the deadly swine flu virus. Nothing wrong in that, but what really gets my head spinning is that he has wrapped just a handkerchief on his head and he is actually driving without wearing a helmet! Anyone who knows a bit about probability would agree that his chance of dying contracting swine flu is much lesser than chance of dying by meeting with an accident, given that he is more exposed to driving in his everyday life and swine flu will be like any other flu as we develop some immunity against it over the time (Remember the farce that was SARS – Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome?). What makes this gentleman so confident about his driving skills, and more so about the fellow drivers on the road? And we are not even thinking about fatal results bad luck can bring to a man without anybody’s fault!

This is not to say that we should not take precautions against swine flu; we should do whatever we can. Personal hygiene and care have no substitutes. There would be people who would die of it, not because they did not take care, but because they could not get the proper healthcare. With tumbling public healthcare system, we cannot save many people. We do not even have sufficient testing facilities to diagnose the swine flu, forget about curing people in time. There are not many good hospitals, those which are good have not enough beds and the list goes on. Even if somebody finds a good hospital, he may die on the way because the good roads are still a luxury and a few better roads are always blocked by ever-increasing traffic, evoking images of Hanuman’s tail in Ramayana which kept growing and finally burnt the whole Lanka. Probably the man on the bike still needs that mask, not for swine flu but as a safeguard against pollution. Scientists would nod in agreement that Carbon Dioxide is more dangerous than the virus.

There lie our problems - not in the swine flu, but in our crumbling infrastructure. We are not well-equipped and prepared to face the calamities, be it natural or man-made. Why there were no schools shut in other parts of the world? Did people stop going to malls and theatres? This particular Independence Day gives us that chance to introspect and prepare the blueprint of the secure future, at least secure from within. We Indians work better under crisis. George Orwell did not miss the mark when he said, “When it comes to the pinch, human beings are heroic.” They say everything in India is by default, not by design. We need paranoia, indeed, but use it to improve our systems. Surely we will see better things in future. I am positive not because of my being hopelessly hopeful, but because we do have a knack of coming back, strongly and reassuringly. This will take time, we are not speed-frenzy – the mango trees take time to bear the juicy fruits, but it’s worth waiting for, isn’t it? And guess what? The mango is our national fruit!

A Walk in the Rain

As my friend Teju (officially Tejendra) left my home late afternoon, I sat in my room remembering the good ol’ days when we had endless fun together. He would certainly grin when I informed him that power went off the moment he left. It was pointless to stay inside the house, so I started for an evening walk in the ever-enjoyable Bangalore weather.

I like to look at the trees on the way. There were many coconut trees. It was amazing the way the concentric branches spread themselves out with the cloudy white and blue sky in the background. The other majority was the trees with yellow color flowers. The broad-sized leaves and big flowers completely crowded those trees, with little room left for even the birds. Two plants in a house defied the boundaries of the wall and stretched themselves out climbing the wall and iron rode grill. Both were laden with flowers -one with blue and the other with red, touching the mother earth as if thanking her for the nourishment. The bugle shaped blue flowers stared directly in the onlooker’s eyes. The red ones were actually many little flowers united to be big enough to catch a passer-by’s attention. They certainly did get mine. I spotted 3 foreigners on the terrace of the next house. The same power-cut might have brought them there. One of them was sitting on a parapet in a contemplative posture. The other two were chatting and having a drink.

As I turned to get back to my home, a cool breeze passed which made a flock of sparrows fleeing from a tree. I looked at its flight and realized that the sky was dark and it was about to rain. But before I hurried up, it started raining slowly. I took shelter under a tree, waiting for the rain to stop. Some other pedestrians joined me there and suddenly the tree looked smaller for all the refugees. The damn real estate problem everywhere! The half-grown tree anyway was not the ideal place and we had to move under a larger tree. The rain was lashing heavily now. I watched some coconut trees dancing in the wind and the rain. A lonely palm tree was receiving all the blessings from its stretched out palms – a reward, may be, for standing tight and not bending. It struck me like lightening that it was the month of sawan, the month for rain. Though Kalidasa started his epic love story meghdootam with ashadhasya pratham divase (the first day of ashadh, the day when monsoon starts), folksongs mostly refer sawan to describe rain – probably because of the slow and steady life-sustaining rain it brings. That rain reminded me of Prem Warbartoni’s following ghazal - not that I was in a somber mood, but it has some profound lyrical effect:

kabhi to khul ke baras abr-e-maherban ki tarah,

mera vajood hai jalte hue makaan ki tarah

(abr – cloud)

When my shelter-provider drank enough water, it started pushing some water down at us. I tried hard for sometime to skip the water drops, but it was no use. After a while, water was dripping from my head and my clothes were completely soaked. It was foolish to stand there, so I started walking back. Some of the trees were humbled by the rain, and so was I, completely drenched. Water was flowing down the street, and the sound of chhab chhab kept reverberating in my ears as I approached the home.

Moontalk

Four disjointed events happened recently which drew my attention. First, 40 years passed by since Neil Armstrong landed on the moon, becoming the first man to do so. Traveling in space shuttle Apollo-11, he got a handful of sand from moon. Second, India’s lone moon mission, Chandrayaan, developed some technical difficulty which may shorten its lifespan. Third, King of Pop, Michael Jackson, famous for his moonwalk, died. Fourth, still not complete, is the rare occurrence of three eclipses – a total solar eclipse between two lunar eclipses – in a month. What is common in all these events – well, well, well, nobody gets a moon for guessing it. Yes, it’s the Moon – the white globe, some 384,403 km away from the Earth, the only satellite of our planet.

From the time immemorial the Moon has been the object of affection of mankind. The two most visible celestial bodies in the space from the Earth are the Sun and the Moon; because of its blinding light, though a source of great life sustaining energy, people could never gaze at the sun for long, but the soothing Moon made sure they never took their eyes off - scientists, philosophers, poets, and lovers all alike. They all have set their eyes on the Moon for their own inspirations. Even Gods were not immune to this attraction. Ramayana notes that Lord Rama, in his childhood, stubbornly asked that the Moon be brought to the Earth so that he could play with it. What interested scientists in the beginning was that it was the nearest heavenly body and it was easy to observe it. The regularity of its phases helped create preliminary calendars and time-keeping devices. The Moon was the most sought-after figure in astronomy. The current drive in scientific community is to find the evidence of life on the Moon, but surprisingly poets and lovers have always found more love on the Moon. Now isn’t that given that love blooms only if there is life? Does it make any sense to have love without life? Or perhaps nothing makes sense when it comes down to love. Blaise Pascal would be still talking truth from his grave – the heart has the reasons which reason doesn’t understand. The love…is…

What really goes in my mind at this moment, though, is the poetry. So let me put down a list of my favorite Moon songs here. Excuse me if songs sung by Mukesh occupy the most of the list. The man has sung Hindi cinema’s some of the most melodious songs. Pity it is that he died at relatively young age and we were not blessed with more of him. They say that the spirit is immortal – but what about the voice we lost forever, my friends? Leave it, enjoy the songs:

• Chanda Re Mori Patiya Leja

This is a duet by Lata Mangeshkar and Mukesh for the movie Banjaran. The lyricist Pandit Mathur and music director Pardesi are not well known, but it’s a classic song. The lover, separated from the loved, wants the moon to take her love letter to him and convey her address so that he can reply. The lovers also request the moon to arrange for their meeting. Take these words:

o aakaash ke sundar darpan

tu hi sajni tu hi saajan

bichde dilon ko phir se milaade

rota chaman hansaa de re

A google search yields an interesting result – this is one of the two songs based on the raga Durga in Hindi movies. They stopped caring about ragas a long time ago.

• Chand Aahe Bharega

You can’t exaggerate praise for your beloved one more than this. The moon sighs that it is not as beautiful as her. She is so beautiful that even the angels will readily take blames for her crimes. Kalyanji Anandji composed music for Phool Bane Angaare. Listen to it for Anand Bakshi’s romantic and flattering words in sweet voice of Mukesh:

ayesaa cheharaa hain teraa, jaise roshan saweraa

jis jagah too nahee hain, us jagah hain andheraa

• Chand Ko Kya Maloom Chahta Hai Use Koi Chakor

The movie Laal Bangla would be extinct without this song. Written by Indeewar and sung by Mukesh, it is about poor lover who loves but cannot gather enough courage to speak his heart out, so he settles for silent love from distance. Chakor symbolizes unspoken, unfulfilled love. The distance, though, doesn’t stop him from loving her more and more:

door se dekhe aur lalchaaye

pyaas nazar ki badhati jaaye,

badli kyaa jaane hai paagal

kiske man kaa mor

• Chand Si Mehbooba Ho Meri

This one is again a Mukesh song from a 1965 movie Himalay Ki God Mein. The last three Mukesh songs are part of famous Chand trilogy of 1960s by Mukesh. Anand Bakshi’s fortunate lover, having found his dream companion, compares her to moon. And yes, simplicity is beauty here:

ek surat bholi bhaali hai, do naina seedhe saade hain

do naina seedhe saade hain

aaisa hi roop khayalon mein tha, aaisa maine socha tha

haan tum bilkool waisi ho, jaisa maine socha tha

• Hum To Hai Pardes Me Desh Me Nikla Hoga Chand

The couple Jagjit Singh and Chitra Singh sang this song, which reminds one of his home and his homeland and gives one fits of nostalgia. It is sad Chitra has stopped singing after her son’s untimely death. Cool night with clear moonlit sky overhead and stars gleaming…Take me back to my land. Oh! How it describes the moon strangled in the house’s neem tree:

raat ne aisaa pech lagaayaa, tuutii haath se dor

aangan vaale neem mein jaakar atkaa hogaa chaand

• Chand Tare Tod Laon

Dreams. Ambitions. And what can be more ambitious than plucking the moon and the stars from the sky? Javed Akhtar weaves dreams around moon in this song, composed by Jatin Lalit for Aziz Mirza’s Yes Boss.

mere peechhe mere aage

haath jode duniya waale

bas itna sa khwaab hai

That was my list. I find the Moon more beautiful because of those words and music. So what is your moon music?

A Year After

Dark clouds hiding the sun behind…a few drops of rain here and there…wind sending chill down my spine. The Bangalore weather today reminds me of something very close to my heart. Suddenly I feel a bit nostalgic. Layers of memory unwind themselves to reveal the scenes of my maiden trip to north India. It’s been exactly a year this very day when I came back after one of the most exciting trips of my life.

I didn’t wish to miss the sight of my friends Gurupriti and Mihir getting married to each other in Delhi – they were the first ones in my friend circle to say ‘I do’ or rather a Vedic hymn of that meaning, so that is how the whole plan materialized. Having an employer who grants 30 annual leaves, I thought of turning it into more than just attending a wedding. I planned to visit Agra and Garwhal region of Himalayas for some trekking. Four days before the date of the wedding, I backpacked and started for Delhi in Hindustan Ki Sadabahar Savari Indian Rail. I intended to visit Agra after spending a day in Delhi, but on the way I realized that Agra was en route to Delhi and it was better to get down at Agra first. After around 34 hours of journey, I got down at Agra Railway Station early morning. The attendant at the Tourism Centre was quite helpful. I visited Fatehpur Sikri first and then Agra Fort.

I saved the evening for Taj Mahal. Passing through a long queue, when I first looked at the Taj, my first reaction was “Wow!” This is the mausoleum Shah Jahan built for his beloved wife Mumtaz Mahal. Grief-stricken Mughal emperor kept his words given to his dying wife. Sitting at a side bench in front of the Taj, I wondered what might have gone through the emperor’s mind. In his Mughliya style, he would have asked chief designer Ustad Ahmad Lauhari and his team to erect a white marble architecture, obviously inspired from the other Persian monuments of those days. 21 years down the line, when he had first looked at it, he might have tears rolled down his eyes. The Taj, ageless, timeless, love in marble and minarets, as immortal as love itself.

The next day I went to Delhi, where I was joined by Ravish, Sheetal, Payal and Rachita. For next two days we were to roam around in Delhi during the day time and attend engagement and wedding ceremonies in night. Delhi has its own flavor; history follows you wherever you go. A very few cities in the world can boast of such historical significance as Delhi, though shopping interested more to my friends so I had to put history on backseat. We frequented Connaught Place and Janpath mostly. We danced a lot on the night of wedding. After all, mere yaar ki shaadi thi.

I caught a bus for Hrishikesh(the Sanskrit word meaning lord of the senses, Vishnu) the next morning. Hrishikesh, the gateway to Himalayas, is a city in Uttarakhand where holy river the Ganges parts away with Himalayas to spread itself in wide plains. The river is the lifeline for a large population of north and east part of the country. I reached Hrishikesh in the evening and stayed in Swargashram, on the other side of the Ganges. There was nothing much to do so I visited some temples on the bank. I have fond memories of the dinner I had at Chotiwala’s. The place is famous for its food and is a must-visit for gourmets. The finger-licking dal makhni was delicious.

Joshimath was my next destination, actually a base camp sort of place for tourists who go to Badrinath, Valley of Flowers or Hemkund. Compared to Hrishikesh’s 356 meters of altitude, Joshimath is at 1875 meters of altitude. The 5 AM bus in the morning forced me to wake up very early so I was sleeping in the bus when it halted nearby Srinagar (Not Kashmir’s capital). I must admit I remember it because I had the best breakfast of my life there. An elderly smiling man had the distinction of serving it. The paratha and tea were nowhere else to find. What makes them so tasty is, may be, the air of the mountains and joyful nature of the inmates. For 9 Rupees (Oh really?), you might want to fill your stomach for next thousand days, only if the stomach knew the language of money and taste. The unwritten rule of the mountains is that the vehicle has to stop wherever a passenger is available. The reason: simple one, don’t add to the hardships of the people who are already facing an uphill task against the nature. Another interesting thing happened – when I reached Devprayag (the town situated at the confluence of Alaknanda and Bhagirathi rivers), I was the only person left in the bus so I thought I would have luxury of travel alone. But my bus driver asked me to get down and put me into another bus. Rule of mountains again – cooperate. The winding roads slowed me down on my journey. As we climbed up, the road got scarier. On one side of the road, the mountain almost touched the sky and on the other side of the road was river Alaknanda, roaring on her way down. It took me 12 hours to cover the distance of 250 kilometers. I stayed in a Gadhval Mandal Vikas Nigam (GMVN) hotel where I met a friend and his group who completed their trekking expedition on the same day and were returning back to Hrishikesh next morning. We had dinner together and then played cards for some time.

From here onwards it was trekking for next 3 days. By now I was feeling lonely and praying to God for some company. For once he answered my prayers. When I got into jeep for Govindghat, I saw a couple running towards us. As they got into jeep, the man asked if anybody was going to Ghangaria for trekking. I was on the same path as they were. They were a Spanish couple, Joan and Maribel, on a long vacation to Indian sub-continent. From Govindghat, we started ascending to Ghangaria. We talked a lot on the way – about them, about me, about India and Spain, about sports. That was year of Spanish sports: Nadal winning French Open and Wimbledon in tennis, Spanish football team winning Euro 2008. When thirsty, we drank directly from river Lakshman Ganga. The 13 km trek was covered in about 5 hours, from 1828 meters altitude to 3049 meters. I made them stay in GMVN hotel with me.

Valley of Flowers was what we all were looking forward to. Despite having rain in the morning, we started for the valley, hoping that the clouds would disperse to help us reach to one of the most beautiful places on the earth. That happened! Again, answered prayers! Crossing the glacier, we entered the valley and were awe-struck looking at the beds of flowers. The sun was out which added to the beauty of the flowers. Lakshman Ganga nourished the flowers with its pure mineral water. The 10 km long and 2 km wide valley was protected by mountains from three sides. We savored the place for hours and came back unwillingly as rain clouds again started gathering overhead in the afternoon.

Hemkund trek is very steep and difficult. The 5 km trek takes one from 3049 meters to 4329 meters of altitude. Hemkund is a holy place for Sikh people. Hemkund Sahib is the world’s highest Gurudwara. There is a Lakshman Temple also. After climbing up for 4 hours, we saw the Hemkund lake. The water was still, showing no sign of how cold the water was. A security person requested me to take a holy dip in the lake, but when I tried to enter it, it froze me. I excused myself and bowed down in Gurudwara. I looked for the famous Brahmakamal flowers in vain. The steep trek was easy when climbing down. In 2 hours, we were back to Ghangaria. I bade goodbye to Joan and Maribel the same day as they had to catch bus for Hrishikesh the next morning from Joshimath.

Though I didn’t plan it in my original itinerary, since I had an extra day, I went to Badrinath after trekking down from Ghangaria to Govindghat. Because of a landslide, I had to wait for 2 hours on my way to Badrinath. One of the most holy places of Hindus, it is located between Nar and Narayan mountains at the height of 3415 meters. I started my way back to Joshimath the same day.

The next day was spent in traveling back to Hrishikesh. That was my last day in the Himalayas. In the evening I was sitting outside a temple nearby Ram Jhula on the bank of Ganges, reflecting on my trip. On the other side of the river were buildings with the Himalayas in the background. As the sunset approached, buildings were illuminated with bulbs. The Gangeswas in full flow, singing high notes. The breeze was cool, adding to the music of the river. The voice followed the breeze, Sultan Khan singing Ameer Khusro’s Chaap Tilak Sab Cheeni. Though I had heard that song innumerable times before that, it felt anew and different. The spirituality was flowing as if it was an incarnation of the Ganges. The God also seemed to agree, showering blessings in the form of rain. I sat there, still, enjoying the rain and the song. Sometimes, in life, there comes the moment when you wish time just stops. No catching up with time. That was the moment for me. No past, no future. Nothing precedes that, nothing follows. No mind, no thoughts, only the soul and the state of bliss. The moment of life, the life in a moment.

A year after, what remains of the trip is a lot of fond memories. I am not the same as I was before the trip. I am enriched with a little of the Himalayas inside me, and a drop of the Ganges. The memories will live on, forever.

Why Kaminey Music Blew Me Away

To a man whose encounter with dreams in sleep can at most be called only faint acquaintance, it must be weird and other-worldly to wake up one morning having memory of his last night’s dream. It was no different for me. Looking at the monsoon clouds outside the window of my bedroom, I recollected the dream – visuals eluded me, blame my high eye powers, but in the dream I was lamenting the fact that music of upcoming movie Kaminey(literally a bastard) was launched but I had not listened to it though a full day had passed. What is so special about Kaminey? Well, it’s movie by my favorite film director Vishal Bhardwaj. When I checked about the music launch, I came to know it was on the very next day of my dream that the music would be launched. I did not waste any time in downloading the music the same day it got launched. How could I resist the temptation of treating myself with the music whose lyrics are written by Gulzar and is composed by Vishal himself?

When the words of the first song of the album penetrated my ears, I jumped out of my seat in excitement. And why not if Sukhwinder renders aaja aaja dil nichode\ raat ki matki todein\ koigood luck nikale\ aaj gullak to phodein. Who else but Gulzar can come up with such lines about squeezing the heart to find some stroke of good luck? The song was Dhan Te Nan. Vishal Dadlani(Vishal of the famous Vishal-Shekhar pair) joins Sukhwinder in the song. The next lines announced Til til tara mira teli ka te\l kaudi kaudi paisa paisa paise ka khel(Why do you think I downloaded the music – all paiso ka khel!). Some people may frown at the mindless words til tiltara mira, but that is the essential Gulzar for you. The man creates magic with profound words like naino ki mat maniyo re\ naino ki mat suniyo re\ naina thag lenge as well as gives us mindless but utterly enjoyable Beedi jalai le jigar se piya in the same breath. The carefree youth of the country likes to dance to such tunes. Many times I wonder how he mixes English and Hindi words in such a meaningful manner. Take this - aaja ki one way hai\ yeh zindagi ki gali\ ek hi chance hai\ aage hava hi hava hai\ agar saans hai to\ yeh romance hai. Dhan Te Nanhas that flavor of 70’s film music of a good cop chasing a bad man. Children of 70’s and 80’s have grown up playing this music with their mouths while recreating the scenes of their favorite movies on the streets of their towns – needless to say their loyalties shuffled based on whether Amitabh Bachan was a police inspector Vijay or a goon Vijay hardened by childhood hardships. Make no mistakes; Dhan Te Nan is going to be the favorite ringtone of mobile phone users and children of this decade will fondly remember it after a few years. There is also a remix version of the song, which is equally enjoyable. And the theme music of Go Charlie Go grows on its own before merging into instrumental Dhan Te Nan which transports you into 70’s completely if you missed the previous flight.

The guitar strings bring you back when the song Pehli Baar Mohabbat starts. This soft rock song is sung by Mohit Chauhan, the Masakalli fame. As his sumptuous voice sings thode bheege bheege se\ thode nam hain hum, it takes you to a romantic and sultry world. This is a song for lovers. Though the words are pehli baar mohabbat ki hai\ aakhri baar mohabbat ki hai, one can’t help but fall in love with the song again and again – zillion times over. Give special attention to how Mohit stretches his vocal chords when he sings pehli baar mohabbat ki hai. Also note how Gulzar remembers the days of love and the eyes of the lover - khwab ke bojh se\ kanp kapati hui\ halki palkain teri\ yaad aata hai sab\ tujhe gudgudana, satana\ yun hi sote hue\ gaal pe teepna, meechana\ bewajah besabab\ yaad hai peepal ke\ jiske ghane saaye the\ hunme gilhairi ke jhoote matar\ khaaye the. Simple yet sensuous. Oh, my love!

Raat Ke Dhai Baje seems to be a wedding song. It has hosts of singers - Rekha Bhardwaj, Sunidhi Chauhan, Suresh Wadker and Kunal Ganjawala. This is also a faster and less serious version ofPehli Baar Mohabbat Ki Hai. My favorite part in the song though is when Suresh sings, slowly,raat kuch aisa hua\ jaisa hota toh nahi\ thaam ke rakha mujhe\ main bhi khota toh nahi and then suddenly Kunal pinches in with fast ek hi lat suljhane mein\ saari raat guzaari ha\ jaan ki gathri sar pe le li\ aapne kaisi zehmat dee hai. This certainly can be considered the weakest song in the album, but still it can have its wedding functions moments. There is also a remix version for this one. Fans of Rekha and Sunidhi will regret that the two ladies didn’t get chance to repeat the magic of songs Namak Ishq Ka and Beedi Jalai Le respectively from Vishal’s last movie Omkara. Well, how can I forget Suresh singing Jag Ja Re Gudiya for Ajay Devgan inOmkara.

Fatak is the interesting song of the album. Sukhwinder and Kailash Kher teamed up to sing this one. I couldn’t make out which kind of song this is in the beginning. Ke Bhavra bhavra aaaya re… fatak fatak\ ke gun gun karta aaye re…fatak. Fatak doesn’t give any idea of the meaning of the song. But what I liked instantly was the use of the word fatak in the song. Fatak is actually a sound of a whip, symbolizing how some people need a cracking whip to understand a few things in life. It reminds me of Mangal Mangal of Mangal Pandey and Paghdi Sambhal of The Legend Of Bhagat Singh. Only when Gulzar blends his own lines with Jigar Moradabadi’s that I realizedbhanwra is a metaphor for AIDS. It is a song created for AIDS awareness– yeah, by now we have almost forgotten that it is a short form of Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome. Jigar’s immortal lines are mixed with social message to encourage use of condoms: ye ishq nahi aasan\ aji aids ka khatra hai\ patwaar pehan jaana hayee\ yeh aag ka dariya hai. It seems Gulzar has voluntarily accepted to be part of Bindas Bol campaign. After all he has learned his craft from Bimal Roy – the social message and entertainment go together there. The words are unmistakable and unrelenting - ye chipku hamesha satayega\ yeh jaayega, phir laut aayega\ khoon ke maile katre mein\ jaan ke saare khatar ke aaaya, ke aaaya. Or darwazon mein kunde ko\ dafaa karo ye gunde\ ye shaitaan ka saaya re. It ends with the repetition of ke naiya doobe na\ re bhavra kaate na. How appropriate!

But this album would not be what it is without the title song Kaminey. Current lot of music directors keep the best song for themselves to sing and Vishal Bhardwaj didn’t want to break that trend. And boy, did he justify it! He starts with kya kare zindagi\ isko hum jo miley\ iski jaan kha gaye\ raat din ke giley with a little music. A little spark turns into raging fire as he breaks into meri aarzoo kameenee\ mere khwab bhi kaminey\ ik dil se dosti thi\ yeh hazoor bhi\ kaminey. Yes, it is a song of gloom, of despair, of meaningless complaints we have from life. But it’s also a song of reflection and introspection and soul searching - jiska bhi chehra chila\ andar se aur nikla\ masoom sa kabootar\ naacha toh mor nikla\ kabhi hum kaminey nikle\ kabhi dosti kameenee. It talks of desires and deceptions, friendships and betrayals. No, but you can’t say it’s a dark song; it also gives hope in horror. Kabhi zindagi se maanga\ pinjare mein chand la do\ kabhi lalten de ke\ kaha aasma pe taango is reminiscent of a child’s dream, innocent and pure. The song doesn’t complain, it just reflects, trademark Gulzar. He once wrotetujh se naraz nahi jindagi, hairan hoon main. He didn’t complain then, he didn’t complain now when Vishal threw word kaminey at him. Though kaminey is a foul word in Hindi, Gulzar’s lyrics have given it a poetical and majestic proportion, as if a touch of Lord Rama’s foot resurrected Ahalya from a stone and washed all her sins. Mr Bhardwaj, if you are looking for someone to volunteer to brand himself a kamina, look no farther. I will not disappoint you; just make sure you turn on the music.

One dream drew me to Vishal-Gulzar’s Kaminey. Kaminey is a lyrical delight, a magical music. Gulzar’s words played beautifully in Vishal Bhardwaj’s music. They both are great in their fields, but when they combine; they just explode on the scene. We saw it in Omkara and in No Smoking, we see it in Kaminey. Though I have no intentions of interpreting dreams (leave it to Freud), I see a divine signal in that dream – call it God’s will if you will. Did I tell you about the other dream I had the same night? I was roaming in a garden, looking for a particular kind of tree which bore beautiful small yellow flowers. Since it was not a season for flowers, I didn’t get to see the flowers, but I somehow recognized the tree from the dead flowers on the ground. If the Kaminey dream leads me to such superb music, where the yellow flower dream will take me to? I am too excited! Expecting…waiting… for the dream to manifest itself in the real world…the beauty all around…the fragrance…the freshness. You see now why I like that Kaminey title song so much? Meri Aarzoo Kameenee…

Bravo, Andy!

Nobody gave him any chance of even producing a challenging match when Andy Roddick, popularly known as A-Rod, stepped on Centre Court of Wimbledon for the championship battle against the Swiss maestro Roger Federer. “He is Federer bully,” “He will be defeated in three straight sets,” “Federer won the title the day Nadal declared his withdrawal from the tournament,” and many such statements were part of the conversations of the followers of tennis. 15000 strong crowd at the All England Club, which was there because they bought tickets in advance in anticipation of Federer locking horns with local hero Andy Murray, expected no contest, and rightly so because of the results of the previous two finals at Wimbledon between these two players. Roddick would return defeated as fast as his own serve, so everybody thought. Except the man himself, who had seen the script unfolding in a totally different way.

Inspired by the enormity of the challenge, and transformed by his new coach, Roddick fired two missiles (read aces) in the first game of the match to finish it within a minute. It was evident from that moment that he was not going to be intimidated by the man who was going for his record fifteenth grand-slam title. In the eleventh game of the first set, he bravely saved 4 break points to lead the set 6-5 and grabbed the only chance Federer offered to him in next game to win the set 7-5. The unexpected had already happened. Roddick won the first set. The next set went into tie-break as both of them were unable to break each other’s serve. Federer would have his heart in his mouth when Roddick got 4 set points in the tie-break. But, in the rare moments in the match where Roddick flinched, he committed two errors and gave away the set to Federer 8-6. Federer now saw the opening and moved vigorously across the court, but still a break eluded him. The third set also had the same fate as the second one – to go into tie-break to be eventually won by Fedex. By now, most of the people would have thought that Federer would thrash Roddick but a beautiful passing backhand gave him the break in 4^th set and he held on to it to win the set 6-4. A 21-shot rally was so enthralling that I could hear heavy beating of my heart while it was going on. Two-all. Equal chance for both the players.

But the best was saved for the last set. No tie-break in the last set meant one of them had to break other’s serve. They kept on firing aces and unreturnable services relentlessly in the fifth set. In the end, Federer hit 50 aces, against Roddick’s 27, which is quite unusual when Roddick was believed to have better first service. Everyone kept waiting for the break, and games got added to the score line. Roddick had slight disadvantage as he was serving second in the set which added extra pressure. Suddenly the set was the longest in terms of number of games in the history of Wimbledon when the score read 10-10. By now I was so exhausted that I thought the game should end, whoever wins, though I am a staunch Federer supporter. The game had to end, sooner or later, and it ended when two forehand mistakes by Roddick in the thirtieth (that’s right, it’s 30) game of 95-minutes long set gave Federer the championship, and elevated him to the most successful player in the history of open-era tennis.

After four hours and sixteen minutes of gruelling contest, the match ended as the longest final match in terms of total number of games. I could not overcome the mixed feeling. The confusion was whether to rejoice in Roger’s glory or regret Roddick’s loss. He matched Federer shot by shot; his crosscourt forehands were magical at times. To put on a brave fight against a man who held 18-2 winning record against him and preferred grass surface was nothing short of spectacular. History was not on his side, crowd was not on his side but he kept firing on all cylinders like he was possessed by certain indomitable spirit. At the end of the day, there has to be only one winner. That is the irony of the game. He lost the match but he might have won many admirers, this writer being one of them.

There are not many times that more is talked about the loser of the match than the winner but his extraordinary effort warranted that Roddick captured greater share of people’s imagination. The record books may not mention Roddick as winner, but the memories will remember this match as the best match of Roddick’s life. One doesn’t see such high intensity frequently. It’s very peculiar, and rare, and Federer may wonder what has he done wrong, but come on Roger, we know the old adage winner takes it all, but spare a thought for poor (and indeed, ultra rich on account of this contest) Roddick. Federer was just destiny’s favored child on this day. While Wimbledon’s new multi-million dollar retractable roof didn’t come into much use, as the uncertain London weather made sure there was no rain interruption, I am sure Andy’s locker room was flooded with tears. A friend remarked, on a lighter note of course, that Roddick should not get disheartened as he has got a hot wife on his side. Still there is something we can do to reward Roddick for that close encounter. ‘Close encounter’ is not even remotely close to describe the marathon match, so why not invent a new term ‘Roddick encounter’? If those responsible for compiling Oxford and Cambridge dictionaries and phrases books are reading this, please consider this request. Many slang and casual American words and phrases have invaded English language, so why not this one, rather a deserving candidate? Helluva! It ain’t fuckin’ difficult, Gawddammit!