SALMA AGHA
dil ke arman ansuon main beh gaye
hum vafa kar ke bhi tanha reh gaye
zindgi ik pyas ban kar reh gayi
pyar ke kisse adhure reh gaye
hum vafa kar ke tanha reh gaye
dil ke arman ansuon main beh gaye
sayad unka aakhri ho yeh sitam
har sitam ye soch kar hi seh gaye
khud ko bhi hamne mita dala magar..
fansle jo darmian se reh gaye
some unremembered hand wrote down these lines and besides many things which remain, often, away from common men’s knowledge, Salma Agha immortalized them in her voice . Filtering through or trickling through, a bit tricky to decide which is right, these lines entered the You Tube.
Music has some mysterious relation with human mind. I would have used ‘heart’ but many doctors are advising against this. Science is moving forward and upward.
Immediate response was the first expected thing and it happened. The Zaheer Ahmed wrote. I cannot stop listening this music. Urdu is such a beautiful language and the voice is just amazing.
Everyone knows that NIKAH was a Bollywood film and no one can mistake while guessing its location. Fine, it might be just some confusion. Some misunderstanding of history. VinayShivlal responded with paternal correction. This is Hindi dude, not Urdu.
Some came around with immense liking for the music but some problem with the language. Some blamed the song of being burdened with Persian. But it was with the lyric. Music was just sublime. Some one was sighing like a hot furnace. Beautiful poetry.... finds its way straight into heart....rather a beautiful dialogue between a hopeful heart and a broken heart... wonder what happens next in such a situation.
Jenab added :
Fazaa: Atmosphere, Environment
Ravaan: Move, Flow, Soul, Life
Samaa: The heavens, sky, firmament; a canopy; height, altitude, meridian, highest or uppermost part (of anything), culminating point, prime, spring.
Qaafila: Caravan
Bikhar: Scatter
Wafa: Fulfilling A Promise, Fulfillment, Fidelity, Faithful, Sincerity, Sufficiency
Qurbatein: Closeness, Nearness, Together, (Plural of Qurbat)
Visaal: Death, Meeting, Union
The zaheer ahmed probably woke up to find that some important changes had turned the course of thought and an essential issue remained unsettled. He rolled things back in order to carry them forward.
The film is called Nikah, which in Urdu means Marriage Ceremony - no part of this film is Hindi, all the words are Urdu language. Typical Hindu! in your hatred for Pakistan and Urdu every thing that You admire is Hindi and the rest is Urdu.
Sleeves must have come up.
Quasim streched his eyes to explore some more ditches of history . and his gravity was unmistakable. Before we were British India and before that the Mughals made what is today known as India. India was never a nation state. In fact most of Pakistan belonged to Iran until Alexander the great made it part of the Hellenistic empire. However, we have a shared history that’s for sure and a lot of good art and architecture came out of that ,as did literature, dance and food. to deny this is to be blind.yet we have our own unique culture too.each province, each village!
persian and urdu both belong to indo european language, thats all. yes we have persian influence but we also have turkish,arabic and of course sanskrit and hindi.
History was witnessing its making. No error should stain our role in its making. The worst part of history is that we don’t have a say in this. But that is our predecessors’ mistake. In this age of technologically democratized world one should not miss any chance of correcting or makng the history. Drills were going on. Salma is a paki. But she made her career in India. Some discovered that she was a sister of Rajkapoor. The immense love was creatin an enormous amount of pressure on both the parties as salma was becoming heavier and heavier. Quasim 65 came veilding a pin in his hand to diffuse the tension. yes she is pakistani but cut the crap.not all indians are aryans and south pakistan has aryans too.
Much as I commend the noble intent behind your words, I think credit must be given where it is due. Let’s preserve the individuality and co-exist rather than trying to fuse into "one". Hindu and Muslims are different and yet they CAN co-exist with affinity. Salma Agha is Pakistani and not too Indian. We'd be hard pressed to find any Dravidian roots in her. What endears and unites her and others to each other is music, talent and "the eye of the beholder". Rather a simple concept, really.
In some other corner of the world some one was quite unaware of this urgency of the situation and unable to appreciate the noble mission of setting the historical records straight.
people i beg you all,please forget about hindu-muslim crap.we all are one.i love this song like i love my life,salma aga is as much indian as she's paki.she's my fav,nobody else cud have sung this song the way it is.absolutely amazing......NO WORDS.....never had:)
several chukling sounds echoed on this naïve request. World is not merely for such trivial
things like pleasure, amazement other innocent ga ga gas. It’s the serious jobs as of theirs that keep it going. And they were doing it.
Someone bursted in with a deafening voice. It was shivalien. Watt u sons of fucking bitches mother fuckers go and fuck ur sisters asses . its better than liking the stinking cunt of that paki whore while sitting in india. A sudden silence . it continued. The stormy course of history halted for a moment to see the immensity of this torrential outburst. And then it changed its cource.
On this new course new events were happening to guide and protect the history. Aftab had a sheet in his hand. Nice song But I hate this women. She is a home breaker. She destroyed Mahmood Sipra's house and then Javed Sheikh’s house. Both the men divorced their wives becasue of this Two dollar Whore. She is the kind of women who will do anything for money. That’s why I hate this Bitch.
Some one was more worried. He had seen an interview of salma on you tube and the anchor, a cracking masculine voice, was pouring all his humility on her while addressing her as the asset of the land.
what a shame, now under a corrupt General we are putting kanjars as our assets..........no wonder we as a nation are going down the drain...
Again the things were contextualized on the sub continental level but in an oblique manner.
Kanjroon ka kia hota hai jo marzi bulwa lo are yeh to mazze mein thee abb haal hee mein iss kee cousins daikh lo Karina & Karishma from bollywood
Someone was making another point.
Well we call this performing arts. There is nothing with to dance and sing. Its an art. Only our backward and stupid religion tells us that we should not dance or sing. Kanjar are also children of God. So dont throw stones when you live in glass house yourself.
Dins were echoing sometimes in ding dong and sometimes in silence.
Across the wall another salma was singing in a music reality show. Some bengali song on some Bangladeshi channel. Someone smiled with compassion and sent an advice.
Yaar Bina Chain Kahan Re Yaar Bina Chain Kahan Re Sona Nahin Chandi Nahin Yaar to Mila Chal Pyar Kar Le...stop copying songs silly cow .
Reply came quite close to the heels.
this song is our folk song and older than 100 yrs.Yaar bina chaen kaha re was tuned by Bappi Lahiri and it was sung by Runa Laila of Bangladesh.U may know Bappi Lahiri’s old home is Bangladesh,he might've copied from here or the tune worked in d back of his mind while making Pyaar bina chaen even RD Burma and SD Burman were in Bangladesh and their old home are still in Comilla Bagnladesh. we gifted to India for them you are proud now so see back past brother.
Some old voices were still wandering in search of some empathy. Finally, they sat on their bottom, waiting for some sympathetic touch of warmth.
Adiba had seen Nikah, the film, and felt moved by it. She appreciated its effort to give women some voice. At least on the silver screen. Commendable job for its period and also quite inspiring.
It is not a slap on Islam but rather how some people misuse divorce laws for their own ends; it's not about Islam abusing women but men abusing Islam against women. ABCDE had cried-
i dont understand ur comments. there is nothing 2 do with religion or so. It’s just d love for music we come here n listen or upload our favorite songs here....so just enjoy music n give positive comments.....Allah hafiz .
(listening salma agha's song will be really helpful while reading this piece. all the statements are taken from actual comments made on You Tube. few words need some glossary thing which i m not doing right now but promise to do later. till the time wikipidea can help. hope you will like reading this stuff.)
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
BONEFIRE
Bone fire
Aahh…yo…aah…yoo…ah….yyooo…come on…
bodies were rocking with the music and the party was on.
Hey da roll some grass…just baby wait a minute…hey dude do it quick…just baby…hey move a bit…hi Sid how u chap…new glasses oooohhh…mast man…aahh…yo…aah…yoo…ah…yyooo…yupp me back and now say what were you asking?
Sam your documentation is awesome man! How did you do it? I mean it’s just awesome…brilliant…moving. I love you for this bastard. What a charming natural setting. Awesomely beautiful scenery…oh what a…
Samresh was having a really big drag that just kept on going and going and going while all possible compliments candied with most charming words showered over his chest and flowed from Shweta’s mouth and showered over Sam’s face and kept flowing. Bonfire was burning and the flames were leaping into air and coming back to spring again and music was filling every heart with some energy that moved all feet with the rhythms changing with the changing tracks and demands and the whole atmosphere was bathed in the alcoholic aroma that had its sacred resources in those many beautifully moulded bottles bearing various labels and various flavours and tastes and fragrance and everything else.
You know I got this grass from there only. It’s dirt cheap there you know. They have cheelum in which you can stuff larger amount of grass and a single drag is enough to fill you inside and outside both. Look at this guy! Sam stopped the video suddenly and dragged his browser to a particular face. Look this man can make this much big flame rise from his cheelum in the very first drag. Sam waved his palm in air to denote the rising flame. And it is really difficult to do so in the very first you know. It’s not even properly lit and grass takes some time to catch fire. Man he was just awesome with his cheelum…Ohh damn! At least four or five faces were looking at his face and experiencing the same awe as if the person was performing the wonderful feat right in front of them. Video was running again. Samresh was holding his glass of whisky. Shweta had her beer can that she took to her lips and removed again after having a sip and her eyes were fixed upon the video. Music was playing and many bodies were following the rhythm, jerking their body and waving their hands holding glasses or cigarettes or both and bonfire was fed with some fresh wood by that guy who again shifted himself into a distant corner and wrapped his shawl around which was holed by rats and the catering owner had promised to give another one in a few days. Shweta had removed the headphone from her ears and was calling for Sam. He was just busy in rolling another. His friends had got some stuff. In full excitement he came to her and told look this is the stuff I simply love. I had got some with me when I went to shoot this documentary and you know men just fell for it. Hey something funny now. You know those people rub tobacco and the dust that remains they sniff it and sneeze and sniff again. Their nostrils glisten with that sticky stuff…owwwh it was disgusting. I don’t know how they did it. And now my part. I showed them this stuff and asked if they wanted to sniff this. And they started laughing upon me. Said that that tobacco dust was medicine for their nose when it gets stuck with goo and this powder... You know they thought this stuff to be powder and said their women can use it but it is so little. Blockheads…simple blockheads. And then I explained everything to them. And you know once they were in they were in. they were just dying to have another sniff but I had no more. They bought my promise for more when I come again. And look they gifted me this much grass. Sam waved his palm in the air to show the quantity he received for his promise. Hey Sam it’s not fair man. You must give us some. Jaggy was showing all his front teeth as his eyes were almost closed after sipping a bitter drink. Fuck..Fuck…fuck…I think I changed my drink with somebody. He is always a late reactor. Sam and Shweta and Pal and Addy, all were laughing as Jaggy was swaying his body up and down and side and side and uttering the same four-lettered fashionable taboo word with increasing vehemence. And suddenly he ran towards a corner and holding his chest with one hand and another supporting against the wall he was puking once twice and thrice…and …and…
Water! Just one gulp and stop. Sam was holding a glass of water, Pal was stroking his back, and Shweta was saying something and sitting at some distance that shawled boy also murmured something. Music was high and bonfire was high and party was on. All were back. Shweta was watching that video and Sam was sitting, explaining certain things and jaggy was also watching that video. Addy was back into the rocking group and Pal was rolling another one and Sam was sipping from his peg and talking with Shweta and Jaggy and Pal. It’s quite a dismal scene there. I mean it’s just poverty, hunger, starvation and you know it’s just like some hell. Thankfully, I carried that much water and food. Still I had to travel back with my whole group to the nearest town, which was at least hundred kilometers. I cannot believe how one can drink that water or eat that food. Sam took another sip, his peg was finished, and he took another from pal’s hand. Rolled grass was also in his hand. Shweta just shifted a bit closer to him and Jaggy was feeling sleepy so he went to sleep. I think Paul sir will be very happy with your work this time. It is really brilliant and can move any heart. Shweta’s remark drew Sam’s attention to her as he was looking at a girl standing in a corner of that video still. He is a damned bastard. Even this time you know he will begin with oh Sam this is really a brilliant video but dubbing part is not up to level. It does not create the vibes you know. This word doesn’t go with the scene and this doesn’t give the shocking effect what is needed and then just add some more idyllic flavour. Usually this goes with general image of these sorts of rural lives. And blah… blah… blah…blupp.
She was just laughing and laughing and laughing and he was also. Anyway, who is this woman? Shweta had noticed that woman standing in that corner. A real bitch. Sam’s tone was unusual here. And Shweta noted that. She put the video on move and soon both were engrossed in the various aspects of that documentary. It had crooked legs, shrunk chests, ballooned bellies, and bulging eyes. And parallel to it ran the dubbed sound narrating the story of their poverty and diseases and superstitions. A narrative of malnutritioned maternity and irresponsible males and the oral stats of pregnancy deaths followed the hanging breasts of women covered in a strange manner that left them almost showing. How can they do this? It’s brutish I mean they simply fuck their wives into pregnancy and then leave them to rot. Bastards. Sam caressed her back above the jacket and under her jacket and cooled her. They are just like that. Almost savages. Video was running and they sat close to each other and they were so close that when they spoke they felt the warmth. Look this is a ritual that they perform with musical accompaniments. Is this a music? All those naked men howling their lungs out! One minute. Sam how can you appreciate this music that is no music at all? It’s just howling and howling and howling. Just jumping around the fire, swaying the body in such weird ways, and making these howling noise. Shweta had taken off the headphone and rested her head on his shoulder. And what these women are doing there? Standing like zombies.
It is a part of their belief. They believe that these men have got some divine spirit and whatever they are chanting are supposed to be divine sounds. It brings fertility to their land and their cattle and their women. And unmarried get husbands very quick. How dumb! Shweta felt indignant at the wretched condition of her sex and hurled as many stones as possible by the time sam switched off his laptop and put it into his car.
Bonfire was leaping into the sky, the bodies were jerking with the music’s rhythm, and that guy had fed it with some more woods and shweta stood there, waiting for sam to come. He had already taken off his jacket and now shweta also did the same and both joined the dance around that bonfire. It was some Brazilian band’s track, all bodies were swaying this way and that way, and sam and shweta were close again, feeling each other and determined to evade any distance that could creep between their bodies.
I will miss this campus very much. These bonfires, these parties, and these friends. You know journalism was my dream career and I swear this college proved to be my dream college. Just exclude the creepy teachers and it was the best place. I hope this documentary will prove a good project work. His hands were following his instincts and moving through and exploring her body. She was caressing his back and holding his hair and stroking his chest. I believe it is the best portrayal of rural poverty and backwardness and no one can see as closely. Words were flowing this way and that way, music was flowing all around, drinks were still flowing from bottles into glasses and from glasses into all the mouths and lungs, and alchoholic aroma were flowing from every mouth, as there were several aaahh…yyoo… ye…aah…yoo...yae…and whistles and shouts and whistles.
Our last wild time in this college. Both sighed. Do you want to be a bit wilder? Sam looked into her eyes as if trying to read her answer in her eyes. Fire leapt higher and higher and higher. Fire was surrounded by a thick and still growing cover of fog and at some distance from all this…
Don’t worry I have got pills.
Thank god.
The shawled guy rose again as he had to feed the bonfire.
It was leaping again into the sky and music was getting wild and people around were getting wilder and that guy shifted to another corner now. He was just waiting this party to get over. Someone may be waiting for him…probably outside this college campus…at his lodging place…or far away at a place where he might have left his wife when coming to this distant city of hopes and dreams.
I stood there, looking at this wild night and remembering many such wild and wilder nights from the past and thinking about the many that are to come and felt the warmth of leaping bonfire and jerking bodies and intertwined wildness and…and his shawl as he sat against my wall, murmuring something। I heard the music of machine and music of soul, music of flesh and music of love, music of orgasm and music of arousal, music of enlightened despair and music of blind hope. I still stand there witnessing similar nights.
(i wrote this the day i had a big debate with some of my left wing friends. it began with kabir and went till god knows what. but we had a proud end without any conclusion. issue was, as you can guess, the possibilities for revolution in our society in the post modern world. thankfully this word occured only twice, once when one of our friends mentioned it and another when i asked him to define what he understood by it. i decided to put this story as an entry piece because it got the maximum number of advices regarding my grammar and word selection. and i kept it unchanged. i am glad to share it with u. )
Aahh…yo…aah…yoo…ah….yyooo…come on…
bodies were rocking with the music and the party was on.
Hey da roll some grass…just baby wait a minute…hey dude do it quick…just baby…hey move a bit…hi Sid how u chap…new glasses oooohhh…mast man…aahh…yo…aah…yoo…ah…yyooo…yupp me back and now say what were you asking?
Sam your documentation is awesome man! How did you do it? I mean it’s just awesome…brilliant…moving. I love you for this bastard. What a charming natural setting. Awesomely beautiful scenery…oh what a…
Samresh was having a really big drag that just kept on going and going and going while all possible compliments candied with most charming words showered over his chest and flowed from Shweta’s mouth and showered over Sam’s face and kept flowing. Bonfire was burning and the flames were leaping into air and coming back to spring again and music was filling every heart with some energy that moved all feet with the rhythms changing with the changing tracks and demands and the whole atmosphere was bathed in the alcoholic aroma that had its sacred resources in those many beautifully moulded bottles bearing various labels and various flavours and tastes and fragrance and everything else.
You know I got this grass from there only. It’s dirt cheap there you know. They have cheelum in which you can stuff larger amount of grass and a single drag is enough to fill you inside and outside both. Look at this guy! Sam stopped the video suddenly and dragged his browser to a particular face. Look this man can make this much big flame rise from his cheelum in the very first drag. Sam waved his palm in air to denote the rising flame. And it is really difficult to do so in the very first you know. It’s not even properly lit and grass takes some time to catch fire. Man he was just awesome with his cheelum…Ohh damn! At least four or five faces were looking at his face and experiencing the same awe as if the person was performing the wonderful feat right in front of them. Video was running again. Samresh was holding his glass of whisky. Shweta had her beer can that she took to her lips and removed again after having a sip and her eyes were fixed upon the video. Music was playing and many bodies were following the rhythm, jerking their body and waving their hands holding glasses or cigarettes or both and bonfire was fed with some fresh wood by that guy who again shifted himself into a distant corner and wrapped his shawl around which was holed by rats and the catering owner had promised to give another one in a few days. Shweta had removed the headphone from her ears and was calling for Sam. He was just busy in rolling another. His friends had got some stuff. In full excitement he came to her and told look this is the stuff I simply love. I had got some with me when I went to shoot this documentary and you know men just fell for it. Hey something funny now. You know those people rub tobacco and the dust that remains they sniff it and sneeze and sniff again. Their nostrils glisten with that sticky stuff…owwwh it was disgusting. I don’t know how they did it. And now my part. I showed them this stuff and asked if they wanted to sniff this. And they started laughing upon me. Said that that tobacco dust was medicine for their nose when it gets stuck with goo and this powder... You know they thought this stuff to be powder and said their women can use it but it is so little. Blockheads…simple blockheads. And then I explained everything to them. And you know once they were in they were in. they were just dying to have another sniff but I had no more. They bought my promise for more when I come again. And look they gifted me this much grass. Sam waved his palm in the air to show the quantity he received for his promise. Hey Sam it’s not fair man. You must give us some. Jaggy was showing all his front teeth as his eyes were almost closed after sipping a bitter drink. Fuck..Fuck…fuck…I think I changed my drink with somebody. He is always a late reactor. Sam and Shweta and Pal and Addy, all were laughing as Jaggy was swaying his body up and down and side and side and uttering the same four-lettered fashionable taboo word with increasing vehemence. And suddenly he ran towards a corner and holding his chest with one hand and another supporting against the wall he was puking once twice and thrice…and …and…
Water! Just one gulp and stop. Sam was holding a glass of water, Pal was stroking his back, and Shweta was saying something and sitting at some distance that shawled boy also murmured something. Music was high and bonfire was high and party was on. All were back. Shweta was watching that video and Sam was sitting, explaining certain things and jaggy was also watching that video. Addy was back into the rocking group and Pal was rolling another one and Sam was sipping from his peg and talking with Shweta and Jaggy and Pal. It’s quite a dismal scene there. I mean it’s just poverty, hunger, starvation and you know it’s just like some hell. Thankfully, I carried that much water and food. Still I had to travel back with my whole group to the nearest town, which was at least hundred kilometers. I cannot believe how one can drink that water or eat that food. Sam took another sip, his peg was finished, and he took another from pal’s hand. Rolled grass was also in his hand. Shweta just shifted a bit closer to him and Jaggy was feeling sleepy so he went to sleep. I think Paul sir will be very happy with your work this time. It is really brilliant and can move any heart. Shweta’s remark drew Sam’s attention to her as he was looking at a girl standing in a corner of that video still. He is a damned bastard. Even this time you know he will begin with oh Sam this is really a brilliant video but dubbing part is not up to level. It does not create the vibes you know. This word doesn’t go with the scene and this doesn’t give the shocking effect what is needed and then just add some more idyllic flavour. Usually this goes with general image of these sorts of rural lives. And blah… blah… blah…blupp.
She was just laughing and laughing and laughing and he was also. Anyway, who is this woman? Shweta had noticed that woman standing in that corner. A real bitch. Sam’s tone was unusual here. And Shweta noted that. She put the video on move and soon both were engrossed in the various aspects of that documentary. It had crooked legs, shrunk chests, ballooned bellies, and bulging eyes. And parallel to it ran the dubbed sound narrating the story of their poverty and diseases and superstitions. A narrative of malnutritioned maternity and irresponsible males and the oral stats of pregnancy deaths followed the hanging breasts of women covered in a strange manner that left them almost showing. How can they do this? It’s brutish I mean they simply fuck their wives into pregnancy and then leave them to rot. Bastards. Sam caressed her back above the jacket and under her jacket and cooled her. They are just like that. Almost savages. Video was running and they sat close to each other and they were so close that when they spoke they felt the warmth. Look this is a ritual that they perform with musical accompaniments. Is this a music? All those naked men howling their lungs out! One minute. Sam how can you appreciate this music that is no music at all? It’s just howling and howling and howling. Just jumping around the fire, swaying the body in such weird ways, and making these howling noise. Shweta had taken off the headphone and rested her head on his shoulder. And what these women are doing there? Standing like zombies.
It is a part of their belief. They believe that these men have got some divine spirit and whatever they are chanting are supposed to be divine sounds. It brings fertility to their land and their cattle and their women. And unmarried get husbands very quick. How dumb! Shweta felt indignant at the wretched condition of her sex and hurled as many stones as possible by the time sam switched off his laptop and put it into his car.
Bonfire was leaping into the sky, the bodies were jerking with the music’s rhythm, and that guy had fed it with some more woods and shweta stood there, waiting for sam to come. He had already taken off his jacket and now shweta also did the same and both joined the dance around that bonfire. It was some Brazilian band’s track, all bodies were swaying this way and that way, and sam and shweta were close again, feeling each other and determined to evade any distance that could creep between their bodies.
I will miss this campus very much. These bonfires, these parties, and these friends. You know journalism was my dream career and I swear this college proved to be my dream college. Just exclude the creepy teachers and it was the best place. I hope this documentary will prove a good project work. His hands were following his instincts and moving through and exploring her body. She was caressing his back and holding his hair and stroking his chest. I believe it is the best portrayal of rural poverty and backwardness and no one can see as closely. Words were flowing this way and that way, music was flowing all around, drinks were still flowing from bottles into glasses and from glasses into all the mouths and lungs, and alchoholic aroma were flowing from every mouth, as there were several aaahh…yyoo… ye…aah…yoo...yae…and whistles and shouts and whistles.
Our last wild time in this college. Both sighed. Do you want to be a bit wilder? Sam looked into her eyes as if trying to read her answer in her eyes. Fire leapt higher and higher and higher. Fire was surrounded by a thick and still growing cover of fog and at some distance from all this…
Don’t worry I have got pills.
Thank god.
The shawled guy rose again as he had to feed the bonfire.
It was leaping again into the sky and music was getting wild and people around were getting wilder and that guy shifted to another corner now. He was just waiting this party to get over. Someone may be waiting for him…probably outside this college campus…at his lodging place…or far away at a place where he might have left his wife when coming to this distant city of hopes and dreams.
I stood there, looking at this wild night and remembering many such wild and wilder nights from the past and thinking about the many that are to come and felt the warmth of leaping bonfire and jerking bodies and intertwined wildness and…and his shawl as he sat against my wall, murmuring something। I heard the music of machine and music of soul, music of flesh and music of love, music of orgasm and music of arousal, music of enlightened despair and music of blind hope. I still stand there witnessing similar nights.
(i wrote this the day i had a big debate with some of my left wing friends. it began with kabir and went till god knows what. but we had a proud end without any conclusion. issue was, as you can guess, the possibilities for revolution in our society in the post modern world. thankfully this word occured only twice, once when one of our friends mentioned it and another when i asked him to define what he understood by it. i decided to put this story as an entry piece because it got the maximum number of advices regarding my grammar and word selection. and i kept it unchanged. i am glad to share it with u. )
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Life's Theatre
Years back on an ordinary day
God concieved an idea from some clay
He moulded another human form
Not much hard work, just the usual norm
Then he devised another fable of strife
And gave me a role in the drama called 'Life'
He decided himself to be the director
And found assistants to play the various characters
So, here I am working in stereotypical divides
Sometimes playing the lead, sometimes just watching from aside
At times I don't want to be on stage anymore
Open my eyes to find it all cast on a distant shore
Existing as daughter, sister and wife
But not living the miracle of life
With consciousness came civilization's rules
Culture, language, morals and other societal tools
I too became part of the system
Sometimes my own and sometimes other's terms
People have so much venom in their heart
Only need a spark to start
Searching hidden motives in every word and action
Full of rhetoric questions
They want to put two and two together
But wonder how the answer can be four
In this play I often get the advise
From those who call themselves older but often the wise
How to dress, express or speak my lines
Why the stars in the sky shine?
Even I became a comrade, a friend
Defining, condemning and taking stand
Limitin or glorifying as much as I can
What an experience to be human!
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