Ye hain Hindustaan meri jaan
Yahan dakshin hai uttar se anjaan
Yahan har rajya ki hai ek apni bhasha
Bhool jaate hai, ki kya hai rashtriya bhasha
Sharab ke vigyapan se hume sankoch hai
Par ‘dry day’ ke din har gali, bas isi ki khoj hai
Rashtriya geet ka ched-chad inhe pasand nahin
Par usey likhne waale ka naam inhe yaad nahin
Koi Assam ka banda dhang ki hindi bol de
To hum kehte hai “Bhaiya tum Assam ke ho nahin sakte”
Ma aur behno ko hum bahut izzat dete
Afsoos, unka sabse zyaada zikr hum gaaliyon mein hi karte
Sarkaar ko gaali dene mein koi peeche nahin rehta hai
Par election ke din vote dene bas sattawan pratishad hi jaata hai
Mirza Gaalib aur Munshi Premchand ko hum sab hai jaante
Par bache aaj bhi T.S. Elliot ki zubaan hai kehte
Angrezi filmo se chapne ko ‘Copycat’ kehte hai
Par hindi filmo ki duniya ko aaj bhi ‘Bollywood’ kehte hai
Jinn videshi khiladiyon ka hum tiraskaar karte hain
IPL mein unhi ke liye hum seeti bajate hain
Basath saal pehle humne angrezo ko nikaala tha
Ye keh kar ki ‘wo yahan ke nahin hai’
Aaj har state se koi nikal raha hai
Yeh sochkar ki ‘wo yahan ke nahin hai’
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Dastak!!!
Viraaniyon mei goonjti thi dastak
Akelepan ko door karti thi dastak
Jinki aawaz se khushnuma thi mehfil
Aaj unhi yaadon mei uljhi hui dastak
Har mod har simt fir fanaa ho gayi
Adaavat se bhari jo aayi thi dastak
Wo ulfat thi ya thi zindagi ki kashmakash
Aaj bhi chaunk jaata hun jab aati hai dastak
Kabhi hum bhi shumar the deewano ki ginti mei
Par aaj koi nahin deta iss dil pe dastak
Akelepan ko door karti thi dastak
Jinki aawaz se khushnuma thi mehfil
Aaj unhi yaadon mei uljhi hui dastak
Har mod har simt fir fanaa ho gayi
Adaavat se bhari jo aayi thi dastak
Wo ulfat thi ya thi zindagi ki kashmakash
Aaj bhi chaunk jaata hun jab aati hai dastak
Kabhi hum bhi shumar the deewano ki ginti mei
Par aaj koi nahin deta iss dil pe dastak
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
My husband made me a prostitute.
But he didn’t have to force me. I volunteered myself. Initially my family and my in laws had a problem, but now they’ve adjusted to my new lifestyle.
In my profession I get to meet various kinds of people everyday, mostly brats and unsatisfied husbands. The more I see them the more my heart fills with pride, because I know my husband would never do something like this.
A few months back I hated prostitutes, obviously then I’d never thought I would become one. But now my perception has changed. It gives me a new name everyday, not to mention a new man as well.
The pimp who gave me this job makes sure I sleep with safe customers. He even suggested I undergo tubectomy, to avoid any sort of hindrance. I am considering his suggestion but I guess I’ll have to take my husband’s permission. But I’ll have to wait for it, because he doesn’t talk to me. He doesn’t talk to anyone. He is in coma. The doctor says he needs to be operated within 2 months. We’ve sold our houses, our cars. Our parents are too old to work. With the education I have, prostitution wasn’t the only option, but I chose it, because it was the highest paid.
Sometimes I wish he hadn’t left for the party that Saturday. That’s when the truck hit him. My doctor says his spinal cord had been shattered, and it’s a miracle that he survived.
I am sure this isn’t the future he had planned for me, but I don’t mind living it. May be I die everyday, but I’m sure my husband will live one day.
It’s your family who’ll pay the price.
Don’t drink and drive.
Issued in public interest by the author of this blog.
In my profession I get to meet various kinds of people everyday, mostly brats and unsatisfied husbands. The more I see them the more my heart fills with pride, because I know my husband would never do something like this.
A few months back I hated prostitutes, obviously then I’d never thought I would become one. But now my perception has changed. It gives me a new name everyday, not to mention a new man as well.
The pimp who gave me this job makes sure I sleep with safe customers. He even suggested I undergo tubectomy, to avoid any sort of hindrance. I am considering his suggestion but I guess I’ll have to take my husband’s permission. But I’ll have to wait for it, because he doesn’t talk to me. He doesn’t talk to anyone. He is in coma. The doctor says he needs to be operated within 2 months. We’ve sold our houses, our cars. Our parents are too old to work. With the education I have, prostitution wasn’t the only option, but I chose it, because it was the highest paid.
Sometimes I wish he hadn’t left for the party that Saturday. That’s when the truck hit him. My doctor says his spinal cord had been shattered, and it’s a miracle that he survived.
I am sure this isn’t the future he had planned for me, but I don’t mind living it. May be I die everyday, but I’m sure my husband will live one day.
It’s your family who’ll pay the price.
Don’t drink and drive.
Issued in public interest by the author of this blog.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
You are no longer the same person.
We change as soon as we say, “Mera placement ho gaya”, only to realise that we’ve turned a lot of eyes green. People who we stayed with, people who've cleaned our homes after a Saturday night party (let’s not forget there’s many who puke). Such people develop a new talent ‘Back-biting’. I am sure we’ve all heard quotes like “Zyaada bhao mat kha” or “maloom hai ab tu bada aadmi ban gaya hai”, when you know none of that is true.
“You can take shit till you can handle it, once the line is crossed you give it back.”
That’s when you become a no-longer-the-same-person.
But, things get worse when you start working. You miss out on parties, evening faf-talks, latest gossips and of course you are always late for your date. There are times when you refuse to go to a party, just because you have an early morning meeting the next day. Your friends feel that your priorities have changed. What they fail to realise is that, it’s not the priorities that have changed but, your responsibilities have increased.
There are times love birds break-up just because they don’t find time for each other. At least that’s what they like to believe. People wit a gigantic ego can’t accept the fact that their guy /girl has started earning before them. Things go worse when he / she calls, and you say “hey honey I am in the middle of an important meeting, I’ll call you as soon as it’s over.” Then onwards you are no longer an understanding or a caring person. Hence you are no longer the same person.
Initially I thought such things happen with everyone, but later I realised a little bit of maturity and patience can help you survive the transition period.
So I guess once you start earning you do lose a lot, your party-animal recognition, important parties where you speak not so important facts, always-there-for-you pals and if it’s a worst case scenario you lose you sanity.
But, these are the times that make you realise the true gems of your life. Friends who always understood you, who never asked more than one question, who understood your responsibilities and was matured enough to give you the much need space. Well I guess they are same people who know so well that for them you’ll always remain the same person.
“You can take shit till you can handle it, once the line is crossed you give it back.”
That’s when you become a no-longer-the-same-person.
But, things get worse when you start working. You miss out on parties, evening faf-talks, latest gossips and of course you are always late for your date. There are times when you refuse to go to a party, just because you have an early morning meeting the next day. Your friends feel that your priorities have changed. What they fail to realise is that, it’s not the priorities that have changed but, your responsibilities have increased.
There are times love birds break-up just because they don’t find time for each other. At least that’s what they like to believe. People wit a gigantic ego can’t accept the fact that their guy /girl has started earning before them. Things go worse when he / she calls, and you say “hey honey I am in the middle of an important meeting, I’ll call you as soon as it’s over.” Then onwards you are no longer an understanding or a caring person. Hence you are no longer the same person.
Initially I thought such things happen with everyone, but later I realised a little bit of maturity and patience can help you survive the transition period.
So I guess once you start earning you do lose a lot, your party-animal recognition, important parties where you speak not so important facts, always-there-for-you pals and if it’s a worst case scenario you lose you sanity.
But, these are the times that make you realise the true gems of your life. Friends who always understood you, who never asked more than one question, who understood your responsibilities and was matured enough to give you the much need space. Well I guess they are same people who know so well that for them you’ll always remain the same person.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Bloody Northies!!!
That’s what I heard most of the time in the span of 3 years that I stayed in Bangalore. A small-town guy by birth, I moved to Bangalore to pursue higher education. Well, I guess that’s what 90% of all small town aspirants do. So, is that a mistake? It turned out to be one. Since our (Northies) first day we were told that, this city is not our home and it can never be. We are not allowed to ‘disrespect’ any ‘Localite’, or date a local chick.
All that was taken into consideration, but there was one important thing we didn’t know. “We aren’t supposed to perform well”! In case you did, your teachers will make sure it doesn’t show in your results. Of course we all passed.
Coming back to the “Disrespecting a Localite” part. One of my Northie counterpart pushed a Khatta (that’s how we addressed them) while playing ‘pitto’. Inculcated with ethics my friend helped him get up. But, what does he get in return? A couple of abuses and a slight mishandling of the collar. Now, we small town guys can tolerate every bloody insult, but, someone holding our ‘Girebaan’ is something we can’t stand.
The result: A fight for dignity and self respect. Bruised faces, uprooted shrubs, torn T-shirts, a fractured thumb and a couple of half-murder cases followed. One of my friend got 17 fractures in his thumb and till today (incident happened 4 years back) struggles to bend his thumb.
We thought we won the fight, but we failed to realise the fight wasn’t over. 2 hours before his first semester exam my friend (with a fractured thumb) was denied a writer. All of us were denied a place in the hostel. Most importantly since then whenever anything went wrong we were called for interrogation, doesn’t matter if you weren’t in town. “Saaley humey talcum powder samajh ke rakhe the, jab khujli hui bula liya” (Courtesy – Sanjay Gupta’s Kaante).
I don’t really hate the city because it gave me fantastic friends and taught me many lessons. They have their reason for their actions. They are jealous of the fact that we achieve as much as they do in their hometown. They feel that because of us, many of their people are unemployed. Most importantly the population density has increased. May be they have a point, but don’t they do the same. I refuse to believe that none of them move out of their cities for a better future. How can we point at the western nations for being racially biased when the same shit happens in our country?
All that was taken into consideration, but there was one important thing we didn’t know. “We aren’t supposed to perform well”! In case you did, your teachers will make sure it doesn’t show in your results. Of course we all passed.
Coming back to the “Disrespecting a Localite” part. One of my Northie counterpart pushed a Khatta (that’s how we addressed them) while playing ‘pitto’. Inculcated with ethics my friend helped him get up. But, what does he get in return? A couple of abuses and a slight mishandling of the collar. Now, we small town guys can tolerate every bloody insult, but, someone holding our ‘Girebaan’ is something we can’t stand.
The result: A fight for dignity and self respect. Bruised faces, uprooted shrubs, torn T-shirts, a fractured thumb and a couple of half-murder cases followed. One of my friend got 17 fractures in his thumb and till today (incident happened 4 years back) struggles to bend his thumb.
We thought we won the fight, but we failed to realise the fight wasn’t over. 2 hours before his first semester exam my friend (with a fractured thumb) was denied a writer. All of us were denied a place in the hostel. Most importantly since then whenever anything went wrong we were called for interrogation, doesn’t matter if you weren’t in town. “Saaley humey talcum powder samajh ke rakhe the, jab khujli hui bula liya” (Courtesy – Sanjay Gupta’s Kaante).
I don’t really hate the city because it gave me fantastic friends and taught me many lessons. They have their reason for their actions. They are jealous of the fact that we achieve as much as they do in their hometown. They feel that because of us, many of their people are unemployed. Most importantly the population density has increased. May be they have a point, but don’t they do the same. I refuse to believe that none of them move out of their cities for a better future. How can we point at the western nations for being racially biased when the same shit happens in our country?
Hope you’ve read Wren & Martin
During my school days when I was studying Wren & Martin, I did it to pass my English exams. Only if I knew it’s gonna shape my career, I would have taken it more seriously.
As a copywriter you are supposed to be good in English (most importantly grammatically correct). All your feelings should be expressed in writing. And I guess the ideal place to showcase your feelings is a blog. I’ve always enjoyed reading blogs, never really thought of actually writing one. Until, my fellow copywriter Utsav told me “writer hai aur blog nai hai to kya hai”. So thanks dear Utsi your words have been an eye opener.
For a person who has never thought of advertising as a career and one who has studied film-making, it was tough to understand the nuances of advertising. Frankly speaking when I entered this industry I hardly knew how to write. But thanks to Anshumani, Sambit bhai (he hates being called Sambit da) and Kunal who taught me the art of writing (trust me it was their toughest brief).
So here it is - my first blog. None of the stories in my blog will be co-incidental and a resemblance to any character living or dead is purely intentional.
As a copywriter you are supposed to be good in English (most importantly grammatically correct). All your feelings should be expressed in writing. And I guess the ideal place to showcase your feelings is a blog. I’ve always enjoyed reading blogs, never really thought of actually writing one. Until, my fellow copywriter Utsav told me “writer hai aur blog nai hai to kya hai”. So thanks dear Utsi your words have been an eye opener.
For a person who has never thought of advertising as a career and one who has studied film-making, it was tough to understand the nuances of advertising. Frankly speaking when I entered this industry I hardly knew how to write. But thanks to Anshumani, Sambit bhai (he hates being called Sambit da) and Kunal who taught me the art of writing (trust me it was their toughest brief).
So here it is - my first blog. None of the stories in my blog will be co-incidental and a resemblance to any character living or dead is purely intentional.
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