This is from the 1961 classic "Jhumroo"
Musings of a man who is constantly trying to give new perspectives to things we all seemingly know already.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Monday, January 28, 2013
Yaarige Yaaruntu
This is a rare piece of Purandaradasa Krithi. practically no one sings this now a days. Tried my hand at it.
Humne Kaati Hai Teri Yaad Mein
This is a rare ghazal. I do not know the composer's name, but I fell in love with it the first time I heard this 20 years ago
Saturday, January 26, 2013
ஆயக் கலை நிபுணர்கள் நாம்
நாட்டிற்கு இன்றோடு
அறுபத்து நான்கு வயதாம்.
ஒரு வேளை
ஆயக் கலை
அறுபத்து நான்கும்
அத்துப்படி
ஆகிவிட்டதோ?
சகுன சாஸ்திரமோ
சகுனி சாஸ்திரமாய்ச்
சரிந்துள்ளது.
யோக சாஸ்திரமோ
போக சாஸ்திரமாய்ப்
போய் விட்டது.
கணிதமோ
கறுப்புப் பணத்தை
எண்ணத்தான்
பயன் படுகிறது.
ரதப் பரீட்சையோ
ரத யாத்திரை உருவில்
வலம்
வருகிறது.
சங்ககிராம இலக்கணம்
சன் டிவி செந்தமிழாய்ச்
சஞ்சாரிக்கிறது.
மல்யுத்தம்
மக்களவையில்
மங்களகரமாய்
மிளிர்கிறது.
மதன சாஸ்திரமோ
மடங்கள் சிலவற்றில்
மஞ்சம் விரித்துள்ளது.
நீதி சாஸ்திரமோ
வாய்தாக்களின் பின்
ஒளிந்துள்ளது.
வியாகரணமோ
மொழிசிதைவில்
குட்டிக்கரணம் போடுகின்றது.
வேதம்-
பழையன
பல
மறந்தாகி விட்டது.
சோதிட சாஸ்திரமோ
தலைவனின்
தலைஏழுத்தைச்
சோதிக்கிற
சாஸ்திரமாகி உள்ளது.
அப்பப்பா!!
அறுபத்தி நான்கையும்
அடுக்குவதற்க்குள்
அகமே
அடங்கி விடுமோ?
ஆம்- அறுபத்தி நான்கு
ஆண்டுகளின்
அற்புதமோ
அரற்றி
ஆறாது.
வாழ்க நம் நாடு.
வருக இன்னும்
அறுபத்தி நான்கு!
Friday, January 25, 2013
ராசி
என் கையின்
ராசியான ரேகைகள்
எங்கோ விழுந்து விட்டன.
கண்டெடுத்தால்
உன் கையில்
எடுத்துக்கொள்.
என் பங்கு சந்தோஷத்தை
உன் கையில்
அலங்கரித்துக்கொள்.
नतीजा
आम को चुराया पेड़ से हमने
मज़ा लेने के लिए
अब घबराना क्या रंगीन हाथों
पकड़ा जाने के लिए
जब किसी को दिल दिया है हम
खुदा के लिए
प्यार के अदालत में तैयार हैं हम
सज़ा के लिए
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
What is more beautiful?
In the thick of New York's Times Square
On a vibrant Saturday evening we were
My wife was manoeuvring the pram of my baby
For whom, the boisterous ambience was the lullaby
Both my hands were loaded with shopping bags
Struggling to keep poise, I almost became an object of gags.
The dancing lights , to the eyes, were a treat
The flaming Neons made us feel not wanting to retreat
The beauty in Times Square was simply breath-taking
The joy and mirth in the air was no faking.
My wife and I soaked in an ethereal world
Even as my toddler in his pram curled.
Just as we were slipping into another zone
From the pram we heard a little moan.
Moan became groan, and soon into a shriek
Even as I tried to pacify him in a voice so meek.
He wouldn't budge, he wouldn't stop
Until he saw my shopping bags drop.
I picked my gen-next up in a warm embrace
And suddenly, the shrieking face became all grace.
Grimace made way for a lotus smile
That simply blew me off many a mile.
In that instant, the beauty of Times Square
The pomp and pageantry in the air
Blurred in front of this little one's grin
The Beauty contest, he surely did win!
Monday, January 21, 2013
Mother Ganga
I bow before you - O Mother Ganga
Like your son Devavratha did, for his father.
Take me away from this worldly web
Away from sorrow , farther and father.
On your lap many a poor peasant has had his last
Through the ages present and past
Reaching the Lotus feet has thus been furious and fast
Under the gentle spell that you have always cast.
Allow me to lie on your lap, one last time
In life, I see no further rhyme
Allow me to sleep forever, and cease to chime
I can't hope to have an end more sublime.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
THANK YOU
Thank you – my parents
For giving a body for this soul
For teaching how to live life as a whole
Thank you – my teachers
For showing the way to academic salvation
For kindling the fire of greater materialistic aspiration
Thank you – my childhood friends
For making my day in the playground
For making sure that my childhood dreams don’t run aground
Thank you- my sweetheart in college
For nipping my romance in the bud
For bringing me back to the earth with a thud.
Thank you – my dear wife
For giving a structure to my life
For making sure that life moves on, come bliss or strife.
Thank you – my progeny
For giving me a mid-life missive
For reminding me that I also have my own life to live.
Thank you- O God
For giving life of fine elements
For filling my life with parents, teachers, friends, family and all such determinants
For filling my life with parents, teachers, friends, family and all such determinants
Thank you – my life
For filling me with incessant indictment
For making me realize that all the above are hallucinations, and, at best, transient.
For filling me with incessant indictment
For making me realize that all the above are hallucinations, and, at best, transient.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Chalke Teri Aankhon Se
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=M2Ihu_yoixs
Trying out "Chalke Teri Aankhon Se", a Mohammed Rafi classic
Trying out "Chalke Teri Aankhon Se", a Mohammed Rafi classic
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Give it back
On the wall hung a calendar of the year bygone
I told myself – “New Calendar, time to bring you on”
Time for me, I thought, to get a little verbose
Time for me, to ask Old Calendar to depose.
“Give it all back” I started telling Old Calendar
I really went for the jugular.
“Give me back all the times I had,
The good, interspersed with the bad.
Give me back those jet-black hairs
In whose place that odd silver streak flares.
Give me back the perfect skin on my cheek
That the sun tan made look bleak.”
“Give me back those precious moments
Of which I had cared not to keep counts
The time wasted in empty talk
Or a mere purposeless beach-walk.”
“Those gossips, jealousies, leches, sadness
Empty platitudes, formal courtesies
Vain bravado, foolhardy escapades
Didn’t they all take me closer to my decease?”
“Time for you to pay it, black and blue,
For, I considered you a friend, but time just flew”.
Old Calendar seemed to give me a meaningful smile
This almost made me jumpy and rile.
“Sorry, I do not think I can oblige
For, time always does escape the siege
But my successor has now here with you
Ask him at the end of this year, for all that is due”.
Friday, January 4, 2013
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Rantings of a Wall-Street Discard
I imagined myself as a
disgruntled rookie trader, a twenty-something wannabe Wall Street biggie, who
gets disillusioned by the fraud and the schematics of Wall Street and the foul
practices therein. And I decide to call it quits - in true Guru Dutt style.
Here are my (imaginary) lyrics. Juxtapose it with Rafi's voice, and see the
effect!!
=====================================
Yeh Wall Street,Yeh CDR,Yeh Ghotale Ki Duniya,
Yeh Investor Key Dushman, Samaajon Ki Duniya,
Yeh Doulat Key Bhookhey, Insider Ki Duniya,
Yeh Duniya Agar Mil Bhi Jaye To Kya Hai.
Har Ek Roth Ghayal, Har Ek Muni Pyaasi,
Nigahon Mein Junk Bond, Dilon Mein tho Bonus,
Yeh Duniya Hai Ya Institution Ki Daasi,
Yeh Duniya Agar Mil Bhi Jaye To Kya Hai.
Yahaan Eik Khilona Hai 401 Ka Paisa,
Yeh Basti Hai Murda Ponzi Scheme Ki Basti,
Yahaan Par Tho Azaadi Sey Hai Jail Sasti,
Yeh Duniya Agar Mil Bhi Jaye To Kya Hai.
Goldman Sachs Bhatakti Hai Big Boy Ban Kar,
Jawaan Trader Sajtey Hein Bazaar Ban Kar,
Yahaan Pyaar Hota Hai Vyapaar Ban Kar,
Yeh Duniya Agar Mil Bhi Jaye To Kya Hai.
Yeh Duniya Jahaan IMF Kuch bhi Nahi Hai,
Wafa Kuch Nahi, Dosti Kuch Nahi Hai,
Yahaan FED Ki Asar Hi Kuch Nahi Hai,
Yeh Duniya Agar Mil Bhi Jaye To Kya Hai.
Jala Do Isey, Phoonk Dalo Yeh Duniya.
Mere Saamne Se Hata Lo Yeh Duniya,
Tumhari Hai Tum Hi Sambhalo Yeh Duniya,
Yeh Duniya Agar Mil Bhi Jaye To Kya Hai?
===========
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