Yeh kaunsi gali hai?

Khushiyon ke waadiyon pe thi ek gali
Jahan har imaarat ki thi ek apni pehchaan
Par uske khidkiyon pe jo chehre the
Wo nahin tha kisi se anjaan

Na amir garib ka bhed bhao tha, na jaat paat ka
Na mann mein gile shikve na zubaan pe tiraskar tha
Fizaon mein bhi jo khushbo behti thi
Ek jaana pehchaana sa ehsaas karati thi

Par na jaane kab hawaon ne apna rukh moda
Uss mausam mein paudho ne phoolo ka saath choda
Kuch logo ki aagman ne kiya aisa asar
Meri gali ko paraya karne mein rakha nahin koi kasar

Har shaam guzarta hun iss gali se
Par aaj aisa kyun lagta hai ki bahut der kar di lautne mein
Log bi wahi imarat bhi wahi jaani pehchani si hai
To fir uske khidkiyon se jhaakne waale chehre kyun agyaat hai

Kahin andhere mein maine galat mod to nahin le liya
Ya logo ne koi avidit mukhota pehan liya
Iss gali pe to main apni jaan nichawar karta tha
To aaj ye kaisa ehsaas hai, yahan pehle to dum nahin ghut-ta tha

Aapka hukum sirji, aankho par

Office ke darwaaze pe jaise hi kadam rakhte hain
Maano hum mazdooro ke naseeb ke dwaar khul jaate hain
Cabin ka darwaaza iss kadar kholte hain
Maano prakritik aapda ka nidaan ki jaldi hain

Coffee machine ki bhi aukaat nahin
Inhe nakaar sake kya wo jigar hai kahin
Canteen ke bawarchi chahe kuch bhi banaye
Jab tak sajawat hai, tab tak swadisht hai

Biwi ki khit-pit ho, ya bacho ki padhai
Inke sar chadha to samjho shamat aayi
Agar inka mizaz theek hone se pehle aapne kaam dikhaya
To samjho aapne Bhavishya ke Kaleen ko aag lagaya

Facebook karne se wo hume mana karte hai
Par office ki har ladki ko apne friend-list mein add karte hai
Apne laptop pe roz hasgulle padhte hain
Par na jaane kyon hume dikhane se itraate hain

Kaam mein tippani dene se ye peeche nahin rehte
Ye kabhi bhi apne harkato se baaz nahin aate
Ma Baba ki yaad dila dete hain
Jab dimaag moond ke bhavishya ki gyaan dete hain

Kayi baar himmat haar ke sahara talashte hain
Par lagta hai iss shaam ki na raat hain na savera hain
Ye kaisi vipda hai, ye kaisa honsla hai
Raat ke ek baje bhi jaldi ghar jaane ki ummeed hai

Aye mere Boss ke karamchariyon
Zara zameer ko tatol ke ek sawal poocho
Ye kaisi mustaqbil ka sapna liye ghar se chale ho
Jo do waqt ki roti ke chakkar mein apni bhook ko hi bhool gaye ho

My first Beer - Birth of a legend.

Pic - Firangi and I flagging out our favourite T-shirts. Below you'll notice a black thing. It's CMKT's trunk.

Q – What happens when a girl breaks a guy’s heart?

Ans – Two guys become the best of friends.

It was a winter evening of 2003. Firangi and I were sitting in our balcony, speaking about topics which didn’t make sense (about love). With our minds engulfed in dark clouds we hardly saw the next step. Amidst that mist we chanced upon a guy carrying a crate full of beer.

We looked at each other; we’ve never been so sure in our lives. We fled down the staircase. We stared at the board which read ‘ADITYA WINE AND BEER SHOP’.

We had never tried alcohol nor were too friendly with people who were fond of it. Hum to apne Maa-baap ke ache bache the. As a result we weren’t really too sure of the brand and the kind. So considering the budget and the TV ads we decided to get a ‘Haywards 5000’. Of course I decided to pay (Firangi, if you ever happen to read this note, remember I paid for your first social lubricant).

As we were about to enter, my girlfriend called. She resolved our differences. Now, wait a minute, I was about to get drunk because that’s what grown ups with broken hearts do. Now that the damage was re-paired, I had no reason. But I couldn’t leave a man behind. So I stormed into the shop and ordered for two Haywards 5000.

Initially my request was turned down, because we were under-age (we forgot about that). But then I told him that I was from Bihar and my friend was from U.P. That worked. We got the bottles to our apartment.

There was one more problem. My room-mate CMKT was the Nerdiest (MS Word says that’s not a real word) creature on the planet. He wouldn’t allow us to turn our educational abode into a bar. So, we decided to savour it before he returns. No sooner did this idea dawn upon us than the door-bell rang. CMKT was back. With a kingkartavyavimud state of mind we hid the bottles in a trunk. Little did we realise it was CMKT’s trunk.

He wanted to study (as usual), so he opened his trunk to take his books. Have you even been unfortunate enough to watch the entire episode of any Ekta Kapoor soap? You’ll sure see a scene when a particular reaction is replayed thrice, just to reiterate the strength if that particular emotion. That’s exactly what his reaction was. He lectured in a dad-like way. Like prodigal sons Firangi and I took the bottles and walked into the other bedroom.
Beer tasted like shit the first time. But we were so used to taking shit from our fate that we continued consuming it. Finally we finished our beer. We weren’t drunk but we wanted to be drunk, so we got drunk.

Piece of gyaan – Alcohol makes you brave.

Firangi and I stormed in to CMKT’s room and abused him in a way he couldn’t imagine. We scared the shit out of that poor thing. He left the room in tears.

Such was the experience; we decided to face it more times.

And that was the start of two greatest alcoholics our friends will ever know.

Jessica Lall v/s The Police Department

No points for guessing who won the battle. Facts state the answer. March 5, 2006 (6 years after she died), the entire nation came together to fight for her. Armed with nothing but hope and fourteen thousand candles. Our indomitable spirit, dedication and courage will go down in the History books and will inspire generations to fight for justice. Every news channel, newspaper and radio station covered the event.

But, every news channel, newspaper and radio station forgot the police officer who arrested Manu Sharma – the murderer. Do we know about his whereabouts? Is he dead, or is one amongst the unfortunate who live an unknown life?

Such a shame, isn’t it? On one hand we claim to fight all odds and ensure the criminal is sent for trial, on the other we forget the people who did the job for us. Why is it that we always remember the dates and threats, yet forget the people who impeded the cataclysm?

There are numerous examples to reiterate the fact, but that’s not what I am trying to achieve. Each time there is a mishap, a police officer sacrifices his life. For someone they are completely oblivious of. To honour his great deed, his family is felicitated with a cheque of Rs. 1 lakh and a 2 bedroom apartment.

Police officers don’t endorse brands, nor are invited for ‘Page 3’ parties. Sadly, they don’t even make the headlines.

We all know the significance of 15th August, 2nd October, 26th January etc., but do we know the date of Police Commemoration Day?

21st October is the date when the families of police officers (who’ve sacrificed their lives for us) celebrate Police Commemoration day.

On this day, nothing really happens. It’s not a national holiday, no celebrity performance and definitely no media coverage. Which is not to say they want it, but sparing a few minutes would do no harm either.


For once, let’s do things differently.
On 21st October let’s remember the fearless and the forgotten.