Author: Swati Sani

वही ताजमहल

मेरा भी ताजमहल

अाहट हुयी
हौले-हौले कदमों की
दिल की हर तह में उतरती चली गयी
एक नशा सा छा गया
वास्तविकता से स्वपन की दूरी
कम हो चली
लगा, हर पल चाँदनी से सुसज्जित है
चमकते, दमकते ये पल
मेरी स्वपननगरी ने अाज फिर
एक नये ताजमहल का निर्माण किया
श्वेत, शुद्ध, पाकीज़ा
मेरा अपना महल -ताजमहल

कदमों की अाहट न जाने कैसे
इतने पास अा गयी अचानक
स्वर तीव्र हो गये,
अाहट, अाहट न रही
एक धमाका बन गयी
ख्वाब मेरे टूट गये
वास्तविकता के ताने बाने
रेशमी ज़ंजीर बन गये
छा गयी फिर काले बादलों की िसयाही
मेरे स्वपन निर्मित ताजमहल पर
दरक गया ताजमहल,
टूट गया मेरा ताजमहल

Kalidas Festival 2011

Parasailing at Ramtek
Tarique Parasailing

After many years Tarique and I  attended  Kalidas Festival this year and not just for our love of music. For the first time, Arayan Wachan (literally translates to watching the jungles) and Parasailing were organized as a part of the festival at Ramtek on 28th February (about 40kms from Nagpur) by Amol Khante of CAC Allrounder. Tarique and I couldn’t have been happier. Three things we love, music, adventure and jungles and an opportunity to explore them together all gave us the push we needed to drop all work on two weekends and become adrenalin junkies.

Bird Watching and Jungle watching was enjoyable in itself but what came as a huge bonus was discovering a Grey headed fish eagle at Mogarkasa. Perhaps a juvenile in search of a new territory (the GHFE was seen again at the same spot 2 weeks later).

Grey Headed Fishing Eagle (Ichthyophaga ichthyaetus), spotted at Mogarkasa.
Grey Headed Fishing Eagle

As if the high of spotting birds was not enough, we decided to push ourselves further and decided to parasail. And what fun it was. After almost 20 years both of us got a chance to go up in the sky and the thrill was unbeatable. Promising ourselves more of it, we returned home.

The week was hectic and we worked long and hard hours and missed all the musical evenings of Kalidas Festival till it was Sunday again. On Sunday, 7th March, thanks to Sameer Naphde of Nirzar we got the chance to attend what was the pinnacle of Kalidas festival – An evening with Padmashree Smt. Shubha Mudgal. She presented Koshish- a musical crossover, her new venture of mixing Jazz with Indian Classical music which was a treat to watch and listen to. Shubhaji sang all her popular numbers but for me the biggest attractions were the two unreleased songs she sang (one written by Alok Shrivastav, titled “O-re bawari” and the other by Gulzar Saheb titled “Shabnam”)

Her effortless singing and mesmerizing voice sent shivers down my spine. I and Tarique held hands as she sang this romantic nazm by Gulzar. Set on Jazz; she took poetry to a level so high that only music could reach it. She made poetry look more beautiful than itself, her singing brought poetry to life, and her music and Gulzar saheb’s poetry became soul mates.

Shubha ji's photo by Nitin Joshi

कल की रात गिरी थी शबनम
हौले हौले कलियों के बंद होठों पर
बरसी थी शबनम
फूलों के रुखसारों से रुखसार मिला कर
नीली रात की चुनरी के साये में, शबनम
परियों के अफसानों के पर खोल रही थी
दिल की मध्यम मध्यम हलचल में जैसे
दो रूहें तैर रहीं थीं
जैसे अपने नाज़ुक पंखों पर
आकाश को तोल रही हों
कल की रात बड़ी उजली थी
कल की रात उजले थे सपने
कल की रात तेरे संग गुज़री

My prized possession

I was lucky to meet Subhaji before the concert and so awestruck was I that I could not even tell her that I have been her fan for a long long time and have all her albums (all but one -“Ali more angana” It’s under litigation I learnt) But she was gracious and kind enough to sign two album covers for me.

Subhaji’s  awesome Koshish team included Dr. Aneesh Pradhan,  Mr. Sudheer Nayak,  Mr. Pratap Rath, and the Jazz musicians Mr. Joaquim Dias, Mr.Benoni Soans,  Mr. Berry D’Silva and our own Nitin Joshi. It was lovely to meet Nitin after a long time.

I Want! by Zarina Sani

The boon of youth is a life of immense and infinite possibilities ahead. The bane of old age is that you are left with just the satisfaction or regret of a life well lived or not so well lived.  The old age satisfaction of a life well led cannot  rival the excitement of what lies ahead for the youth. The following is an unedited poem written by my daughter one fine evening – it surprised me and made me proud too!!

I want to be a writer, and spin a tale enticing.

I want to be a writer and keep this world gawking.

I want to be a writer and watch this world crumble.

I want to be a writer, must I be humble?

I want to be a bed time story, not a martyr’s book.

But do I really want to be, a faceless little crook?

I want to be an actress and watch this world sparkle.

I want to be an actress, the glamor and the awful.

I want to be an actress, I want to make them laugh,

make them cry, Make em weep,

Want, long, live, die, breathe.

I want to be an actress, I want it all for me.

But do I really want to be a Jane, a Jone, a Lisa,

A dutchess, a princess, a mistress or an actor?

Do I really want to dance for this Director?

I want to be an orator, and feel the crowd cheer.

I want to be an orator and watch their faces whilst they hear.

And hear of beauty, of poverty, of grief, of strife.

I want to be an orator; I want to feel those wings

Of those millions who applaud, talk of me as kings!

But do I really want to be at the mercy of some critique?

Who lives a life, telling everyone how to live it!

I want to be a leader, soar in all that power.

And look straight into those paupers eye’s

Who wants me my love to shower.

I want to be a leader, tall as Mount Dutchess.

I want to be a leader, not a standard I want less!

But do I really want to be left answerable to people?

Little people? Silly people? Argumentative people?

Greedy people? Filthy people? Dark people? Good people?

People?

I want to be that pauper, not a penny less not a penny more.

Just a fist full of dollars.

I want to be that pauper, that man you just ignored.

Because then I am everywhere and nowhere.

Everything and nothing.

I want to be that pauper, that face you just forgot.

Just a prig out of the lot.

But do I really want the rags and not the riches?

The damp dirty ditches?

But alas! I know what I want.

Immortality. Yes?

To be that bedtime story,

To be that body that seduced you,

That man who just moved you,

That crook that just duped you,

That mistress who just tempted you,

That wife who supported you,

That child who questioned you,

The mother that nurtured you,

The boss who hired you,

The god that inspired you.

I WANT NO MORE THAN EVERYTHING!

Inspiration: Daddy dearest and the movie, Nine!

तुम अपनी करनी कर गुज़रो

Very few poets move me as much as Faiz Ahmed Faiz does. His poetry pierces my heart, bleeds it and then heals it and inspires it. What can I say more.. I keep searching for words to describe my emotions, my feelings and then all I have to do is open a book and read Faiz Ahmed Faiz.

अब क्यूँ उस दिन का जिक्र करो
जब दिल टुकड़े हो जायेगा
और सारे ग़म मिट जायेंगे
जो कुछ पाया खो जायेगा
जो मिल न सका वो पायेंगे
ये दिन तो वही पहला दिन है
जो पहला दिन था चाहत का
हम जिसकी तमन्ना करते रहे
और जिससे हरदम डरते रहे
ये दिन तो कितनी बार आया
सौ बार बसे और उजड़ गये
सौ बार लुटे और भर पाया

अब क्यूँ उस दिन का जिक्र करो
जब दिल टुकडे हो जायेगा
और सारे ग़म मिट जायेंगे
तुम ख़ौफ़ो-ख़तर से दरगुज़रो
जो होना है सो होना है
गर हंसना है तो हंसना है
गर रोना है तो रोना है
तुम अपनी करनी कर गुज़रो
जो होगा देखा जायेगा

–फ़ैज़ अहमद फ़ैज़

On Love

This piece is about the most written about subject in the history of mankind – LOVE. And its not about platonic love either – its about man-woman love ( sorry, in modern times, LGBT love also). Half the literature and art world is devoted to love, the other half , thankfully, is sane!

The moot point is that love, especially eternal love, is a highly overrated emotion. The kind of love every artist portrays and every lay person dreams about is essentially transient; not meant to last forever. Let’s face it – the only bell I hear ringing when I kiss my wife is the doorbell; there is certainly no thunderous flash of lightning unless the falling of the utensils in the kitchen can be mistaken for one. The process of being comfortable with a person, of understanding and complementing a person is mistaken for love.

True love as portrayed in the arts does exist, albeit in a transient mode. I definitely remember certain intense phases of my life where the world revolved around a single girl (or a not-single woman). A sideways glance and half a smile was enough to send me in raptures of ecstasy. That flip flop in the stomach; the heady feeling; the insane desire to climb mountains and pluck stars for your sweetheart are all a part of this emotions. But such feelings don’t last; are not meant to last. The joy and therein the tragedy lies in the brief window of time where we are exposed to love. Our best arts are a reflection of what we most desire. Implicit is the fact that we most desire those things which we can’t or don’t have. Once you get your love, it cannot be desired anymore and hence transforms into a comfortable or an acrimonious relationship.

Haven’t all of us experienced true love during our lives? YES. And maybe more than once in a lifetime. The fortunate amongst us have experienced and lost it thereby retaining the charm of love. The not so fortunate amongst us have experienced it and hoping to keep it for eternity, watch it slowly wither away in the humdrum of daily life. The tantalizing possibility of what could be is what keeps the fortunate amongst us in love with love and promotes paeans to the emotion of love. But can you seriously envisage Romeo-Julit, Shirin-farhad, Heer Ranjha surviving eternally the profaneness of everyday mundane life?

Love is a beautiful emotion, to be enjoyed while it exists and to be savoured with a tinge of joyful nostalgia and single malt when it is not. You can’t hold a beautiful rose in your hand and expect it to stay forever. It withers away and dies. Same is the case with true love

मेरा नया बचपन

This one is for Maneesh, my oldest friend who is right now 5000 Kms. away from his family and daughters, and is missing them.

Posting this on my blog instead of sending it to him on email (as he had asked me to) because I love this poem as much as he does, and because we shared a part of our childhood from nursery to class III.  I would eat the hot dal and rice from his tiffin which his mom would bring every afternoon and then fight with him during the rest of the break because he would pay more attention to our other classmate, Aparna.

बार-बार आती है मुझको मधुर याद बचपन तेरी।
गया ले गया तू जीवन की सबसे मस्त खुशी मेरी॥

चिंता-रहित खेलना-खाना वह फिरना निर्भय स्वच्छंद।
कैसे भूला जा सकता है बचपन का अतुलित आनंद? Continue reading मेरा नया बचपन

Gorukana

View from the cottage
View from the cottage

We are resolved into the supreme air,
we are made one with what we touch and see,
with our heart’s blood each crimson sun is fair;
with our young lives each spring impassioned tree
flames into green, the wildest beasts that range
the moor our kinsmen are, all life is one, and all is change.

— Oscar Wilde

I could not have put into words more appropriately than this what I felt when we reached Gorukana on the winter morning after saying goodbye to FOSS.IN/2010.  **Gorukana (pronounced goru-kana; meaning a web) is a community based tourism initiative which involves running a wildlife resort unlike any other. Nestled in the beautiful web of trees in the forest of BR Hills, south of Bangalore, karnataka; this picturesque forest refuge was conceived by Kalyan Varma and is very lovingly tended to by Shilpa Sequeira. Gorukana is run and managed by the local tribesmen, Soligas and the money raised through this initiative goes back to their own community. Continue reading Gorukana

The General

( Disclaimer :Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely co incidental)

Anti corruption drive is the rage of the season. Media is going ballistic over errant ministers and bureaucrats while the common man derives voyeuristic pleasure at the discomfiture of hitherto untouchables’ thereby increasing TRPs of the channel.  In saner and sober moments, I think of myself as a member of moral –keeping middle class and enjoy the discomfiture of the mighty and the corrupt when they have the mike thrust into their face.  I regard the whore soliciting customers upfront on the roadside more honorable than these morally decrepit souls justifying their self serving ways in well phrased language.

Sitting in the salon, these screen events seem remote, kind of removed from personal life which goes on in its unassuming middle class way.  However a recent happening demonstrates that we all do get touched by the monster one way or other – and therefore its mandatory that we stand up and fight against corruption.

I had just resigned my commission as a naval officer – from serving at the pleasure of the President of India I was now to serve at the whims and fancy of the Company Director! Being in the navy has its plus points – stay in South Bombay, Naval school for children, clubs, golf etc. When I shifted to the big bad civilian world, the major hurdle was getting the kids admitted to a good school in Mumbai. We tried our best; we were booted out by some principals whilst others made vague promises. In desperation, we decided to shift to a nearby city and get the kids admitted to the Army School where I expected some kind of preferential treatment. Unfortunately, the admission picture was not too rosy there either.

Now I am a principled kind of a bloke who does not like to subvert the system for personal gains. But I am also a doting father – a role which over rides all other roles. At this juncture of life, I was lucky enough to have a  friend who was a close relative of the army top brass in Bombay – General Bones. A phone call from the General to the Principal of Army School would have ended all my woes.

My friend obliged by putting up my case to her Uncle. However, he declined saying that it was against his principles to subvert the system and that her friend (me) should know better than to request a serving army general for such favours. Duly chastised, I accepted the General’s logic and admired his moral stance. I also tried to realign my moral compass since I felt I had lost ground on the moral front by trying to take undue advantage of my friendship. Unfortunately, I could not or did not set off on a pilgrimage to atone for my sins. I got the children admitted to schools in Bombay, drawing consolation in the fact that I have done the morally right thing – taken the path of harder right than the easier wrong. I mentally saluted the General for bringing me back on the path of virtue and righteousness once more.

A couple of years passed – kids settled down to their school. Friends scattered. I was watching the TV. The anchor was reporting the most recent scam saying “General Bones has been summoned  for Court of Inquiry investigating his alleged role in illegally obtaining a flat in Ideal Housing Society ”

And in the end..

ITCom 2000
ITCom 2000 -the gang!

We depart for Bangalore tomorrow to attend FOSS.IN and as I was finishing  to pack  a wave of sadness overcame me.  This is the last time I will be packing to go for FOSS.IN, an event which, since past 10 years has been a part of our annual trip to Bangalore – a pilgrimage of sorts.

It all began in the year 2000, I along with Tarique and my three year old (who was just as excited as we were) became a part of what later came to be known as FOSS.IN. A conference which has been more than a conference not just to us but for several others I know. It is here that I made some very good friends, laughed and danced, agreed and argued and learned more about FOSS. Continue reading And in the end..