Audio Memories.....

Do you have Audio memories??

Memories that are indeliably linked to melodies and tunes and songs…such that the stirring of a note makes the memory wash over you in waves of nostalgia, longing or rememberance..for the person or place or experience. 

I have lots of audio memories…some that I want to shake off and never visit again because they make me relive moments I have struggled to get over. And others, that I want to carefully pick, collect, wrap in soft cotton wool and put them in a treasure box…to be handled carefully and treated preciously…for they are the delicate breaths that suffuse life in me…. 

Here are some that get evoked with the below songs. Here is what I am reminded of…

 Kya ghazab karte ho ji, pyar se darte ho ji…..a boy man I fell in love with one cold winter..who taught me to laugh freely and love the flavour of cinnamon…

 Tere ishq mein baadal dhune mausam bune sadiyan gini lamhe chune…of a bewildered and anxious bus ride from dhaula kuan to punjabi bagh when I really wanted to go to Nehru place..because of a muddled head full of pain and a grieving heart full of hurt nd pain and tear blurredvision. Of not being able to think straight…

Desi girl…of a woman I know who is joyful and exuberant but wears a different mantle in office..

 Meri jaan..mujhe jaan na ko meri jaan..of a beautiful person..a child woman..my friend of the soul..singing it slowly, surely and melodiously in a classroom full of  stolid wooden benches and looking so fragile… 

Aankhein teri itni haseen, ki inka aashiq main ban gaya hoon…of my doctor friend, who professed that she always imagines herself the subject of this song…as now I do too…

Piya basanti re…of my hostel room in the mornings..with the sunlight peeking through and the song playing incessantly (rewound a thousand times)…and especially of a day when I wore the grey saree..my heart full of joy, hope and surety in a beautiful future…

Bahon mein chale aao..humse sanam kya parda….of a strange night when  I experienced that people could fade into the background…and it did not matter where you were but who you were..and of a person who has now become inextricably linked to my life..as out of reach…

Oh hansini meri hansini…of an office bay where it was played on someone’s comp...and the burst of pleasure in my heart 

hai o mereya daadheya rabba…of pain and hurt and more pain and betrayal and longing and sacrifice and just numbness…

Rang rang tere rang rang mein…of a bright morning in spring when my heart almost exploded with happiness and anticipation. A pink morning.

I am alive..of days of reaffirming this to self..but not really believing.

Bin tere sanam…of the pure joy of deep friendship and abundance of wholesome affection.

Aaj jaane ki zid na karo…of a lohri bonfire and supreme loneliness..

Pehla nasha pehla khumar…of hours of admiring myself in the mirror imagining someone is singing for me..in my teenage years..yes, I wasn’t THAT much of a geek….

And this , the ultimate romantic number..how many many times I have fallen asleep in the cold nights of jammu, listening to this one and imagining my teenage self as the protagonist in it..It still remains my top rated romantic expression of attraction…and everytime I hear it, I smile with indulgence at the person I once was…

Zindagi bhar nahi bhoolegi wo barsaat ki raat

Ek anjaan hasina se mulaqat ki raat…..

 

Hai who reshmi zulfon se tapakta paani

Phool se gaalon pe rukne ko tarasta paani

Dil mein toofan uthate hue jazbaat ki raat

Zindagi bhar nahi bhoolegi

 

Surkh aanchal ko dabakar jo nichoda usne

Dil pe jalta hua ik teer sa chhoda usne

Kabhi dekhi na suni

Aise tilismaat ki raat

Zindagi bhar nahi bhoolegi

 

Dar ke bijli se achanak who lipatna uska

Aur phir sharm se balkha ke simatna uska

Aag paani mein lagate hue haalat ki raat

Zindagi bhar nahin bhoolegi..

 

Mere sapnon mein jo basti hai, who tasveer thi woh

Naujawaani ke haseen khwab ki taabeer thi who

Aasmanon se utar aayi thi jo raat ki raat

Zindagi bhar nahin bhoolegi

 

Rush of affection.

I like the way that phrase sounds. A rush of affection.
You can feel it anywhere, anytime and even for people that you don’t usually like that well, or in the middle of a hot headed argument ....

You might feel it for a colleague when they bravely stand up for you even though you might not need any standing up for…
or for this tough guy friend..who you always looked up to as very competent and “with it”. when he claims a bit sheepishly, "well, I’d like to be pampered too.. "
You might feel it for an authoritarian boss who tries to , in her own awkward way, encourage you to open up and share a non existent “concern” about an org change....
I have felt a rush of affection for my best friend when I coughed in the middle of a bitcy argument with her and she naturally passed on the glass of water next to her..
a rush of affection when my dad's face suddenly crumbled as he was being wheeled for his operation..and another one when he was wheeled back in from the OT with a gleeful triumphant look because he did not feel anything!!

A rush of affection for a friend whose forehead I was rubbing to ease out the day’s pressures and who relaxed right into my arms with a deep sigh..
and for my little brother who now does not hug me anymore having reached the magic age of sixteen!

Or maybe I am just a mother hen!! :-)

saaz aur aawaaz

कभी कभी सपना लगता है...कभी यह सब अपना लगता है...तुम समझा दो मन को क्या समझाएं॥

कई बार यूँ भी देखा है, यह जो मन की सीमा रेखा है, मन तोड़ने लगता है। अनजानी राह के पीछे, अनजानी चाह के पीछे, मन दौड़ने लगता है॥

एक ही ख्वाब कई बार देखा है मैंने...तुने साड़ी में उरस ली है मेरी चाबियाँ, घर की। और चली आई है बस यूँही मेरा हाथ पकड़कर...

इन उम्र से लम्बी सड़कों को, मंजिल पे पहुँचते देखा नही; बस दौड़ती फिरती रहती है हमने तो ठहेरते देखा नही..इस अजनबी से शेहेर में, जाना पहचाना ढूँढता है... आबोदाना ढूँढता है, आशियाना धोंद्ता है....

राह पे रहते हैं, यादों पे बसर करते है, खुश रहो अहले वतन, हम तो सफर करते हैं...

and many more such are a few of my favourite verses, yes i lean towards gulzar and the gulzaresque. music to me is more a means of embelleshing shaayari.....the play of words, the weft and warp of complex emotions in simple syntax of language. the imagery, the picture, the imagination. the bringing alive of emotions, the saying of things in a "poetic way"...exaggerated, surptising, yet so true..

मेरी जान, मुझे जान न कहो मेरी जान...... yes, that is just i would say to my beloved. how did they know...

or the soulful and piquant आजकल पाँव ज़मीन पर नही पड़ते मेरे...

or the full bodied and lusty क्या ग़ज़ब करते हो जी, प्यार से डरते हो जी, डर के तुम और हसीं लगते हो जी..

that is why i love bollywood music..of the 60s and 70s genre..or the gulzar and RD type.

Of my love for mehdi hassan and real shayari..i shall talk another day....

the moments pass....

Was reading "witch of Portobello" by Coelho. One of the characters say that "there is no time, only space. That is why it feels like yesterday." I so agree about time being the most fickle concept in the universe.
Sometimes a moment stretches to encompass an entire lifetime. You live , you breathe, you experience, you create…and then it ends, what is left unsaid can never be said now, what is left undone can never be done, because the moment passes ….
Or time itself stretches…and a day stretches out into an age…a life…a different existence..each second full of lovely thoughts, beautiful words, or tranquil languid blankness..each movement languorous, each look warm and your whole being full of the happy sense of well being that only contentment brings..

Sometimes a few months expand to fill your whole existence, you grow up, you see, you feel..you discover passion, and fear and love and trust and longing and pain and devotion and attachment and then pop the bubble bursts….it takes you an entire other lifetime to forget…or come to terms with…a lifetime akin to a train journey where ou are vaguely aware of passing milestones in a blur of motion…cant really see because you are not focused..its only a motion..but you are not moving…yet the journey is happening….and you live through years and years and years a life that is outwardly full and happy and serene and comfortable…and you achieve your dreams and become calmer. Life moves on so much; but definitely lesser that what it moved in the few months that you were alive…


Sometimes when a relationship breaks off, you think the heart will die, and like a dying plant, will shed all leaves but that does not happen. Its like a money plant, a new leaf blossoms even before the old one dies out. Sometimes half your guilt comes from the fact that you actually start enjoying life and it horrifies you to think you can, because you thought your heart/ feelings/ emotions/ self would die out. You will learn to live with it too Es, despite the six years…I will not say soon, because sooner or later are time concepts ..and that does not work for me…



yes Vee, I know this irks you…this whole “moment has passed” business that I keep dishing out….

Drama Queen

People with humility don't think less of themselves, they just think of themselves less." Ken Blanchard

Hmmmm. Hmmmm. so thats what it is, eh. think of yourself less...ingenious. Also, baffling and bloody darn difficult.

This year at the company offsite, my boss playfully called me the Drama Queen. And you know what, in that instance i realised that i am! Drama queen.

Not in a derogatory, negative sense of the word, but quite practically as it is.

I see myself as the centre of the stage main lead all the time ...and all theot hers as my audience...and an adoring audience at that , atleast most of the time!!!!

Maybe it comes of being my dad's princess and the darling of the family. maybe it comes of being the school topper and prefect, maybe it comes of just being a very confident person! I dont know, I can't analyse whether those are the causes or the effects...but in my life's drama, i am the central character..i am the focal point, standing right below the floodlight. I am, as he said, the drama queen..

So in times of grief and loneliness, i am central too...i focus energy inwards, not letting the wounds show, the eternally cheerful person who struggles to cope and does not reach out for help as i dont want to expose my weak side...

is that why i do not remember names...because i see ME as being more important than THEM? is that why i would get hugely offended if THEY did not remember MINE? Is that why I hope to be waited on hand and foot by friends and family alike (as i do for them , i hope)...and expect a standard of service wherever i go...

Em says i dont need to attend sumedha's as i have it all figured out already...maybe i do need to, because i suddenly saw a mirror and am surprised at what i see...cant say whether i like or dislike it....am just surprised...like when you get a new haircut and cant decide whether you want it quite that way or another way...

Am i narcissistic? or un-humble(arrogant sounds a little aggressive!) or just plain nakhrewali and petulant? Or am i just content with being who i am and dont really care about what he or she or they may say or think or judge...am i cold blooded or just peaceful with thngs...

I certainly am confused....

Creating Memories

I have often marvelled at how one's most wonderful memories are the ones that get created impulsively and on the spur of the moment.

the hastily arranged picnic...like the one we had in college, where instead of appearig for the corporate strategy exam, we all pooled money, hired sumos and went off to kasauli..just to have pakoras and chai, shivered delicately at the cool air, and then hurried back to eat tubfuls of fresh warm jalebis at baithak..

Or the lazy evening spent over rich conversation and rich red wine with no agenda, the skyline spreading above you, the siver and golden lights twinkling..and you engrossed in discussing the mysteries of life in the warm glow of a cane lamp...

Or the drive at 40 kmph on a 120 kmph highway, watching the mountains leisurely unfolding .....the car undulating with the softly curving tunnels..... the leisurely savouring of good company, oftentimes just that of your solitude, and in special times, that of resonant others, and feeling the cool soft breeze ruffle your hair.

Heated conversations over a midnight cup of coffee, on life, love, colleagues, politics, or even the state of the economy, knowing full well that the next day is a working day, yet savourimg the passion in the exchange of views....

the spur of the moment "yes" to going out dancing at the end of a hard and long work day when friends suddenly call. Dancing till the wee hours, drunk on life and full to the brim of music, the adrenaline coursing through your body that makes you feel truly ALIVE , crashing to sleep with each muscle in your body aching...and dreaming of nothingness...

the impulsive get together dinners at friends' houses where you eat so much dal makhani that your tummy aches and laugh so much that your jaw aches..

rolling on the floor laughing at a ridiculously funny movie, knowing the movie is stupid and its you that are hysterical with general well bieng and happiness...

or just lounging, plain and simple, with a blank mind...not even white noise, just basking in being alive, secure, safe, healthy and loved. And suddenly understanding what the word Languid means!!!

Yes, its been a wonderful weekend! How was yours?

The Mountains, The grass and The sea

The other day, a friend remarked how much he enjoyed watching mountains on the horizon. And I was set thinking.... I have grown up watching mountains on the horizons as far as i can remember and never once thought about it!! can see the Vaishno devi mountains out of my bedroom window in our jammu house...have driven through winding roads lined with cheer trees umpteen times, without even giving them a second thought or look...and just always always thought that the run rises behind the mountains and sets behind them...Come to think of it, I actually find the sea intriguing...the clear line of the horizon, with the sea and the sky merging. it just makes me feel overwelmed and awed to see the nothingness beyond. Makes you feel part of an open universe.

How paradigms change...Here we were, spending each day taking the trees and the grass and the flowers and the fresh air for granted, as our own...and then life brings you to mumbai :-)
I am lucky to live in a very green area in Andheri, and can safely say that am woken up with the suns rays on my face and birdsong in my ears and have my morning cuppa by the large baywindow watching parrots. (and i give a million thanks each day to the lord for these pleasures...)But Alas, there is no grass. No grass to set your bare feet on and make squelching sounds in the dew. No grass to sit on, and smell... No heavenly fragrance of fresh cut grass to come back from college and breathe in......its just indescribably fresh.
The closest i have come to smelling fresh cut grass apart from the original is the fragrance of the BIOTIQUE Biovera aloevera sunscreen lotion. Closest to the real thing. Beautifully summery and light. Try it :-)

इमरोज़ और अमृता प्रीतम...

इश्क के कुछ किस्से शानदार होते हैं....हैरातान्गेज़ भी. शायद ऐसे लोगों में एक अलग ही तासीर की इंसानियत होती है। एक अलग ही इल्म, एक अलग ही अहसास। उमा शर्मा की लिखी किताब अमृता इमरोज़ पढी तोह ताज्जुब हुआ। यह देख कर की उस ज़माने में भी जाती और शक्सियती इमान को जताने के लिए इस जोड़े ने एक ऐसी ज़िंदगी इन्तेखाब की जो सारे मसाहरे को खासी नागवार गुज़री ...फिर भी यह रिश्ता, यह अहद दिनों हफ्तों या महीनों नही, त उम्र रहा....

इमरोज़ ने अपनी पूरी शक्सियत, अपना पूरा ज़हनी वजूद अमृता की परछाई कर लिया...और मख्सूस बात यह है की इस मुआहिदे की मजबूती जहानी बंदिश से परे थी..यह रिश्ता, यह ta'luq किसी की मंजूरी का मोहताज नही रहा....

कैसी रही होगी वह अमृता जिस ने १९ साल की उम्र में यह लिख डाला..और कैसा रहा होगा वह इमरोज़ जिस ने अपनी हस्ती अमृता में मिला दी....

ऐसा इश्क करने के लिए जुर्रत चाहिए। एक सुलगती सी जुर्रत। ऐसा इश्क जंगजू नही होता, ठंडा भी नही होता, बस सुलगता रहता है पसेमंज़र में...

उम्र गुज़रती है और रिश्ते बनते बढ़ते रहते हैं, बस ज़हानी और मशरावी बंदिशों से निकलने की देर है

अज आखां वारिस शाह नूं किद्रे कबरां विचों बोल
ते उठ किताब-ए-इश्क दा कोई अगला वर्का fओल

इक रोई सी धी पँजाब दी तूं लिख लिख मारे वेन
अज लखाँ धीयाँ रोंदीयाँ तैनूं वारिस शाह नूं कहन
उठ दरदमंदान दिया दर्दीया अज तक आपना पँजाब
अज बेले लाशां विछियाँ ते लहू दी भरी चनाब
अज धरती ते लहू वस्सेया ते कबरां पैय्याँ चोण
ते प्रीत दीयां शाह्ज़ादीयाँ अज विच मजारे रोण
अज सभे कैदों बन गए हुसन इश्क दे चोर
ते अज किथों ल्यावाँ लब्ब के में वारिस शाह इक होर

अज आखां वारिस शाह नूं किद्रे कबरां विचों बोल
ते उठ किताब-ए-इश्क दा कोई अगला वर्का फोल

mumbai winter!!

God granted my wish!!

Didnt realise i sounded so wistful when I wished for winter...and god gave it to me! It was as low as 10 degrees in mumbai some nights. The jodhpuri razais multitasked as wraps, rugs and eiderdowns! And the chai consumption increased manifold...helped of course by the fact that the bakery downstairs serves up some delicious brownies.

Loved the nippy air !!

Dilli ki sardi...

A very “sidey” song kept doing the rounds in my head today…
“…something something….pyar tera aur dilli ki sardi….”

Dilli ki sardi. Am sure there are delhiites that are freezing this season, but one thing I miss most in the otherwise pleasant climes of Mumbai is the famed dilli ki sardi. The feeling of the soft chill enveloping you, when you are wrapped up comfortably all round and your nose braves the cold all alone…the feeling of breathing in chilled air and talking in warm clouds…the languor of early mornings when you are stuck to the soft hollow your curled body has created on the mattress…knowing full well that a one inch deviation in your toe position will bring you back in contact with the icy fingers of the snow queen…

It has to be winter outside if you really and truly want to experience how alu paranthas and butter taste…It may be my imagination, but I have always wondered why gulab jamuns taste sweeter and samosas crisper in the late winter sun..(this particular mystery of the universe was researched well and often in the college canteen, and pored over over endless cups of chai..)

And winter weddings….oh! the sensation of trying to cleverly disguise shivers as exuberance in talking and dancing, as you become more animated in your effort to ward off the cold in the open spaces where weddings mostly happen…because, of course, as a cousin of mine, a style diva in her own right once put it, “honey, you can either be warm and comfortable, or fashionable!! Which will it be,,” A sitter, eh! Ha Ha!

And lohri…Oh beautiful, wonderful, warm-with-the glow-of–the –firelight lohri….
How I have missed the lohri of my backyard these past some years…the biting cold, and the run up to the bonfire, the whole family doing parikrama of the fire, rewaris, moongphalis and yes, even popcorns galore…the inevitable menu of tadoori rotis and mah ki daal that my dadi made…and chacha regaling us with sundry stories late in the night till the embers glowed. Nothing, but nothing can beat the sensation of warming yourself against a fire…all the heaters, blowers and electric blankets of the world can go take a walk. Give me my kangadi any day!!

Bangalore mein ek baar ek lonely soi lohri manayee thi…just to keep the tradition alive, had collected some twigs and lit them up and offered popcorns..and thought of my daadi. I never miss her more than on lohri. And the Bangalore lohri was even more miserable as no one there knew what lohri meant…

Mumbai mein to aisa bravado kiya hi nahi. Collecting twigs has to be a joke in this concrete city..

Sundar mundriye ho,
Tera kaun vichara
Dulla bhati wala..
And so on will the urchins sing, asking for blessings (read money!) from every household…

Family bonfires are rare, so community bonfires will burn. Dhols will sound in all directions in Chandigarh..and delhi..and jammu..
And a tiny little bonfire will glow in a compound in Mumbai !!!

Lohri is on 13th Jan every year.

Romancing The Ordinary...

Many many years back, I was filled with a sense of wonder at how a girl I knew would always have fresh flowers in her room, how she would drink water from a lone crystal glass she had and how she would even eat the humble maggi or chips meal of our PG days in beautiful bright plastic bowls. How she would always perfume herself after she bathed, even if it was a just-before-bed shower and how beautiful she would look in her soft deep red satin nighty with delicate bows at the shoulders...
I would step out in the terrace with her to watch the stars in the dusk, and we would sit out in the balcony of our PG abode to watch the fireworks atop the ISCKON temple on janamashtmi day...
We woke up to the sounds of celine dion singing " I am alive", chatted about our lives and loves with Kishori Amonkar in the background, mused on life to the strains of "athanni si zindagi.."

And then she introduced me to a way of life called "Romancing the Ordinary"..a book by sarah ban breathnach...and said that the book reminded her of me..while all the time the book spoke of people like her, who find joy and serenity in everyday existence and fill people's lives with peace and joy and beauty..as she has done mine.

And then I realised that perhaps our dearest friends are really the mirrors of our soul and we appreciate the qualities in them that we hold dearest to our own hearts...

I passed on the book to some of my closest friends and know that I managed to impact the life of atleast one of them in the same way...because she SMSd me to tell me so :-)Right Em?

And yes, this fond remembrance goes out to En as she has just been blessed by a princess...who I am sure will grow up into a life of wonder and beauty and joy. God bless!