The day the music died.....

One fine morning as the sun was about to reach midway skies, I felt the music of harmony no longer existed in my lovely city. Bangalore has been a wonderful city for every individual. It welcomes you with wide arms no matter where you are from and what you do. Every one loves this place! It was on one such day when I realized that the city is beginning to lose an important shade of life. One of the best things and worst things about Bangalore is it’s buses. The blue boards, black boards, red boards and the wonderful pushpaks and of course off lately, the even more wonderful Volvo buses. Do you know when you begin to hate them and call the drivers names? That can happen when you are not inside the bus but driving and sandwiched between two aggressive drivers. Ever wondered what the rush is all about! Just for the thrill of it.
It was a Monday and I was in pushpak 195, on my to shivajinagar bus stand. It’s one of my favorite routes back in those days when Bangalore had no metro plans. A wonderful view of the Vidhana Soudha, the morning breeze of cubbon park, the pigeons flying over the high court. It always felt like a privilege driving on the vidhana veedhi. My love for the city would get refreshed as I passed along that particular stretch. It was on one such journeys that I encountered the changing face of my city. I was listening to music on my phone on what seemed a normal day. In 6th block Rajajinagar bus stop, a guy entered the bus. Tall. Handsome. Fair. Light brown eyes. I believe I was staring for quiet sometime. Then I went back to listening to music and occasionally checking him out.
Suddenly there were a few exchange of words between the cute guy and bus conductor. Then the driver joined in. I hurriedly removed my ear phones to get a reality check. The conductor began abusing this guy because he could not talk in kannada. He seemed to be a north Indian. The driver and some passengers began to issue statements against all non-kannada people. And how they had polluted the city by migrating in such large numbers. I could not believe what I was hearing. The guy excused himself in hindi and escaped before he was physically assaulted.
Bangalore is a cosmopolitan city, with thousands of people belonging to different cultural backgrounds. Language was never a barrier, and a Bangalorean has been the most friendly person. He/she speaks Kannada, hindi, telugu, tamil, English with an ease unknown to other people. Is there a frustration untold within the commoner, despair within hope, hatred within love! What I witnessed were only glimpses of that ‘mixed’ feeling. It was the first time I felt a bit ashamed to look at my fellow people. The rush of high emotions were subsided as I heard the following lines of Don McLean's 'American pie':


And in the streets: the children screamed,
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed.
But not a word was spoken;
The church bells all were broken.
And the three men I admire most:
The father, son, and the holy ghost,
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died.....

August evening!

I opened my hand to check if anything remained. It felt empty! I rubbed them off on the park bench and got up, it was already late. As I walked homewards, something felt light within. I looked at my hands again, they were open. They didn't hold on to anything anymore. What had I dropped off on my way? I couldn't say, but what ever it was. It was worth losing!

A security gaurd was passing by, whistling in to the night. The sound seemed haunting! The August winds blew driving chills down my spine. I increased my walking pace. The roads were deserted, people are locked in their homes on sundays in a place like this one. My mind wandered to the realms of the past. What was I trying to escape from? The present, obviously. Isn't it so easy! It's like a blanket, the past. Cover yourself and pretend to be invisible. But, I tell you what. This blanket is heavy. You can't always carry this one.

Too many memories. Good ones and bad ones. Memories? But I seemed to have lost them. No, they seemed to have lost me. They no longer remained loyal to me. They slipped from my hands like droplets of water. I tried to hold them tightly, but they escaped at a faster rate. I was out of the blanket now. Everything seemed new.

I came to the end of the lane, it was a cross road that was marked 'Past' and 'Present'. I stood there for a long time. There were things I forgot to forget! I stayed there and searched within for every scrape that was meant to be dumped. And then without turning back to say good bye to my past, I walked the road of the 'Present'.

Yonder years......

07/08/1985
Class III
SCC Primary school
Bangalore

'But what's the mistake I have done this time? Why is she telling me to re-write it all over again?' said Neetu in a confused voice. Her eyes were filled with tear drops glistening brightly in the sunlight.'Has she forgotten I am the class topper?' she began to sob. 'See, she gave me an imposition to repeat it 5 times. Am I crying? Don't be a baby!' Smitha replied furiously. Neetu wiped her tears away and told Smitha that she would help her complete her imposition.'I won't cry again Smitha' Neetu promised her best friend. They packed their heavy bags and walked along hand in hand smiling at each other!


02/06/1989
class VII
SCC Primary school
Bangalore

'The new boy who has joined class today, I think he's too pink' Neetu whispered to Smitha. Smitha's eyes looked for the boy, and she nodded approvingly. 'So what do you want to call him?' Smitha asked Neetu naughtily. 'Let's think!' Neetu and Smitha went on a thinking mode for about 5-6 minutes. 'Smitha, who was the founder of the Gupta dynasty?' a sharp voice awoke smitha. It was Mrs. Rita staring into Smitha's dreamy eyes. 'Miss... it was ... it was.... Gupta' Smitha replied in a muffled voice. 'Which Gupta, you said?' Mrs. Rita's voice rose. Neetu whispered 'Sri Gupta, Sri Gupta Smitha' and Smitha caught the opportunity right away and said 'Sri Gupta Smitha Miss'. The whole class roared in laughter. Smitha and Neetu too were giggling away. At the lunch break, they decided to nickname 'the new boy' as Sri Gupta......


16/03/93
SSLC
SCC high school
Bangalore

The oil lamp was burning in the small room. Neetu and Smitha were reading by it's light. They cursed the whole world for the power cuts during the exams. The sounds of the night were clearly heard, the buzzing insects and the frogs croaking. The neighborhood women made it their routine for some local gossip. But Neetu and Smitha were lost in their studies. They were reading a poem by Wordsworth for their English exams. Smitha read:

"I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze."

She lay the book down and asked Neetu, 'What are daffodils? Some kind of cattle, I guess....' Neetu seemed to diapprove and said that she thought daffodils was the name given to women folk in England.....

And they lived happily ever after.......

As I watched Rakhi Sawant choose her 'better half' in a so called 'swayamwar' my mind travelled back to the days I believed in fairy tales. My favorite character was Rapunzel, the one with the long hair locked up in a castle. Remember!

It's every girl's favorite line! Cinderella lived happily ever after, after her prince rescued her from the wretched family. Snow White lived happily ever after after she awoke from a slumber with a kiss from the prince. Fairy tales, that's what girls are expected to read in their early childhood. I asked my neighbour's daughter what her favorite fairy tale character was, the six year old thought deeply before she shyly answered 'Sleeping beauty' and her cheeks blushed. When I asked her why she didn't like Red Riding Hood or the Little Mermaid, she told me that they were boring since there wasn't any prince!

I tried to remember how I had evolved as a reader since childhood and how seriously I took my reading! And it was really a process of soul searching, I should say. I loved the fairy tales, every one of them. The beautiful princesses, the perfect nose, the lovely dresses, the grandeur, the love, the romance! Who doesn't like a fairy tale. Everyone does! As I grew up, I took a liking to Enid Blytons like all kids of my age. But definitely there was 'something' not so magical about the secret sevens and the famous fives. And then came the Sidney Sheldons, Michael Crightons, Hardy boys, NancyDrews........ Yes I loved them all. The nail biting thrillers, glamour filled pages of a world completely different from where I live. Then came along R K Narayan's books. They had a touch of romance, beautiful and graceful. By then I had outgrown the idea 'and they lived happily ever after.....'. I knew it didn't exit any more, not even in the books.

I was around fourteen then, when my world of 'And they lived happily ever after....' began to get shaky. With all due respect to the Royal family, I was shattered by the death of Pricess Di. A million others must have lost their hopes that day. We all got our reality check. Come on, she was a princess. Not some lady... What happened to her prince! They kept playing the video of her wedding day on the television.... And it was heart breaking. It was meant to be a fairy tale..... they were supposed to live happily ever after.

End of season.....

Photo courtesy: Souvik Prometure

They looked happy to leave. Their faces beamed with energy of exploring another place. We hugged and kissed good bye. And I kept wondering 'How can they leave?' The frustration was killing me within. But I didnt move from the place. I continued watching the sea, Green, Blue, White, Golden.... I kept searching for more colours and hours passed till I saw the next batch of people leaving. Carla and George paused at my table, released their heavy luggage and signalled the others to go on. I smiled faintly and said 'Where next?' They ignored my question and said 'It's time for u to leave too. You know that! Better pack your bags, stay with the rest!' I already knew where they were heading, to the North East. I nodded and wished them a safe journey. And then took a sip of whatever I was drinking and continued to watch the sea. Peace.

As the sun began to dissolve into the vast sea, I sighed at the beauty of nature for a thousandth time. The sky looked like an orange potion as I walked back along the beach. This period was a depressing time here. Three months back the night sky was lit with fireworks. The beach was full of people walking up and down. The shacks looked like beautiful and inviting. It was carnival time throughout. Nobody slept at nights. The music was always ringing in our ears. Now the shops closing down, the shack workers calling it off for monsoon, covers coming up over these places. It was painful to see isolated areas, it seemed like people were packing after a circus act. Those who remained had an wornout smile. They knew it was time for them to get HOME. 'End of act 1' I heard an inner voice telling me.


When I first set my foot in Goa, seven months back I knew I was here to stay. I never once left the place in all these days. And my routine was pretty much the same : watching the sea. It's a mystifying experience, to watch waves huge ones roaring as though to eat up land. But humbled at the slightest touch of earth! Again they rise and fall and wash the feet of earth. An army of immortal waves, they look like at times. It's the most beautiful experience I have ever had. I found peace at last away from home, here. I was in love with the sea. And the season of love never seemed to end.

As I stood there mystified by the sea, I felt the first few drops of rain wash away my fears. I began to walk towards the sea......

Delhi - 6

I was dying to watch this movie from the moment I saw the promos showing Sonam Kapoor dancing to 'Masakali' and Abhishek Bachchan stealthily watching her. I told myself 'this is going to be such a cool movie' when I saw Abhishek Bachchan and Sonam Kapoor having 'that' special moment at The Taj(the Agra one). And yesterday I did watch the movie. The following piece is something like a 'review', I am not quiet sure what to call it though.

The movie begins with a scene from Ramayan being enacted. Throughout the movie there's an analogy drawn to the Ramayan. The idea though seemed brilliant to me at the beginning, slowly lost its charm as the movie went along. Waheeda Rehman, mother of a rich NRI in Newyork is about to die. And she decides to breath her last in her own motherland rather on foreign soil. Abhishek Bachchan, her grandson decides to accompany her on this trip. On reaching Delhi, Waheeda Rehman is welcomed with a 'Paan' from Rishi Kapoor who is a close family friend. Abhishek Bachchan is thrilled by the city. He instantly falls in love with Delhi. He seems to love the traffic, the people (crazy he calls them), the temple bells, the cricket playing kids, the lovable aunties, the jeelebis and Sonam Kapoor. Coincidentally there's this KALA BANDAR controversy which has seemed to catch the eye of Delhi. The media running special shows about the menace of the KALA BANDAR. The film shows glimpses of life in the famous Chandni Chowk life in Delhi. The jeelebi shop which is the adda for many people is also the turning point of the story. The harmony of the community is disrupted by religious leaders who cause havoc in what seemed a peaceful world within itself. How Abhishek Bachchan becomes intermingled within the web of the events taking place at Delhi -6 is the story ahead. There are a few lessons of National integration taught which is very much the need of the hour. But could it have been told in a more refined way, without any monkey business? The mockery made about 'Crime journalism' is praise worthy. The director points out that there are still traces of caste differences existing in the society.

The music of Delhi 6 is amazingly refreshing. Irresistibly catchy. A master piece by A.R.Reehman. No scope for criticism in this department. This is a must buy album in 2009.

Delhi 6 is a love story. It depicts the love of a citizen for the city which he now calls his own. And also the budding love story between Abhishek Bachchan and Sonam Kapoor. There are some amazing performances in the movie given by Abhishek Bachchan, Sonam Kapoor, Rishi Kapoor, Waheeda Rehman, Atul Kulkarni, Divya Dutta, OMpuri. The screenplay is excellent. The cinematography is beautiful. IF you are in love with Delhi, this is a movie never to be missed.

As I came out of the theater, I carried with me the images of Chandni Chowk. The ringing bells, jeelebis, empty huge terraces, pigeon and doves, kites, narrow lanes, kids running..... the colors of Delhi 6 will stay in my mind for a longer time than the complex philosophy preached.

The Shakespeare Wallah

The past seemed to unwind in front of her eyes, she felt the ground beneath her feet shake for a while. The burden of the past seemed to flow from her body into the earth and hit her back with double the intensity. As Kamala stood firmly holding the letter in her hand, she felt a sudden urge to collapse into a chair. Time flies. But she realized that time 'tries' at first and then flies. How she longed to turn the hour glass back so that she could un-do everything she did! As she settled down in the arm chair, her daughter's voice lingered in the background 'Amma, I am waiting from such a long time.....'. She looked at the letter for one last time. The handwriting was strikingly familiar. She had no two minds about who wrote it. There was only one question that haunted her. 'Why so late?' The letter read:

Dearest Kamala,

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,
Crooked elipses 'gainst his glory fight,
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

Shakespeare



I wish to see you one last time before I die. Please grace me with the last desire and free me from all mortal bondage! Waiting for you at the railway station. 18/07/08

regards
.......
(Shakespeare Wallah)

She began to recite the sonnet again 'And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand' with a voice which was so muffled that her daughter thought she was talking to herself. Vandana cried to her 'Amma what's wrong?' Kamala was shaken she quickly folded the letter and hid it under the table cloth and turned to her twenty year old daughter. 'Nothing, I was just feeling a little tired. Come, I will serve you dinner' she said and led her daughter to the dining area. They had dinner silently. Her daughter was busy with the mobile phone. 'She is propbably sending text messages to Ashish her boy friend' thought Kamala to herself. And again her mind slipped into past.

She thought about him everyday of her life. About the poetry classes, the sonnets, the books, the library hours. How much she was in love with Shakespeare and the Shakespeare Wallah! They would spend hours together reading sonnets and acting them on stage and wonder how beautiful everything in the world was. But when the time came for her to choose between him and her family..... That was when she wanted to return the hourglass to. To set it at that particular moment in the railway station......

She sent him a sonnet which was a sign that she was ready to go with him anywhere in the world and leave behind her family. It was raining that night and the cycle shop fellow delivered the mysterious letter to him.

O Romeo, Romeo,
wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name,
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.

That was all written in it. He packed his bags and turned towards the railway station. But Kamala, something held her back. She didn't feel she was doing the right thing. She packed her bag and un-packed them and decided to forget everything about Shakespeare and Shakespeare wallah. Later that year she got married to a Mathematics professor. Never did she hear about the Shakespeare wallah again. Her Mathematician husband did not understand Shakespeare and Kamala hated numbers but they made a happy couple.

Now her long last love is back. She did not wait for a good sign. In her heart, she recited repeatedly:

O Romeo, Romeo,
wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name,
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.

And with tears pouring out of her eyes reached the railway station. She had to set right the clock!!!