I've been wondering. The protagonist in Ghajini, Sanjay Singhania suffers from short term amnesia. So every fifteen minutes, he forgets everything. Every morning when he wakes up, he has to remind himself that his girlfriend was killed and he relives the whole trauma everytime.
He has reminders like 'Find Ghajini. Kill him' written at random places. But how does he remember why Ghajini is to be killed? And why does he not balk at what must necessarily seem like a strange and cruel message to him, every time the reminder beeps? Surely, the morning's reminders about Kalpana being killed do not last him the day, to justify not being shocked by a reminder to kill someone.
Lyricist Prasoon Joshi wrote this poem after the Mumbai terror attacks. Says the ad guru and film lyricist, "I believe it should reach as many people as possible because it is our collective pain and voice".
Is baar nahin Is baar jab woh choti si bachchi mere paas apni kharonch le kar aayegi Main usey phoo phoo kar nahin behlaoonga Panapney doonga uski tees ko Is baar nahin
(This time when that little girl comes to me with her bruises, I will not blow gently at her wound, nor distract her, I will let her pain grow.Not this time.)
Is baar jab main chehron par dard likha dekhoonga Nahin gaoonga geet peeda bhula dene wale Dard ko risney doonga,utarney doonga andar gehrey Is baar nahin
(This time when I see pain on facesI will not sing the song that eases pain I will let the pain seep in, deep. Not this time.)
Is baar main na marham lagaoonga Na hi uthaoonga rui ke phahey Aur na hi kahoonga ki tum aankein band karlo, gardan udhar kar lo main dawa lagata hoon Dekhney doonga sabko hum sabko khuley nangey ghaav Is baar nahin
(This time I won't apply any balm Nor will I ask you to shut your eyes and turn your head While I gingerly apply medicine I will let everyone see the open, naked woundsNot this time.)
Is baar jab uljhaney dekhoonga,chatpatahat dekhoonga Nahin daudoonga uljhee door lapetney Uljhaney doonga jab tak ulajh sake Is baar nahin
(This time when I see difficulty, uneasinessI will not run to solve the problems I will let them become complicated. Not this time.)
Is baar karm ka hawala de kar nahin uthaoonga auzaar Nahin karoonga phir se ek nayee shuruaat Nahin banoonga misaal ek karmyogi ki Nahin aaney doonga zindagi ko aasani se patri par Utarney doonga usey keechad main,tedhey medhey raston pe Nahin sookhney doonga deewaron par laga khoon Halka nahin padney doonga uska rang Is baar nahin banney doonga usey itna laachaar Ki paan ki peek aur khoon ka fark hi khatm ho jaye Is baar nahin
(This time I won't pick up my tools as a matter of duty, I will not make a new beginning Nor will I stand as an example of one dedicated to my job I will not let life easily return to normalcy I will let it descend into muck, on the twisting paths I will not let the blood on the walls dry out Nor will I let its colour fade away This time I won't let it become so helpless That you can't tell blood from paan-spit. Not this time.)
Is baar ghawon ko dekhna hai Gaur se Thoda lambe wakt tak Kuch faisley Aur uskey baad hausley Kahin toh shuruat karni hi hogi Is baar yahi tay kiya hai
(This time the wounds need to be watched Carefully For a long timeSome decisions are needed And then some brave moves to be made We have to begin somewhereThis time this is what I have resolved)
It's that time of the year again... Time to set some goals and take charge. I'm writing below a list of things I want to achieve in this year. And as I achieve each or when I set a new goal, I want to keep coming back here and updating this list.
Come to office by 9:30 a.m. at least 4 days out of 5.
Leave office by 7:30 p.m. at least 3 days out of 5. This is the lower limit. I want to go home early every day.
Call either of my grandmothers every week.
Set a daily task list - either as soon as I come to office or before going home the previous day, preferably the latter.
Get a car before my birthday!
Get a driver's license before I get a car.
Get gifts/sweets for the watchmen in the apartment house.
Be more aggressive in terms of work-productivity.
Log off from gmail and gtalk for two hours everyday. Can be relaxed when there's no work.
Lose 2 inches off my waist.
Find half an hour to read something other than the newspaper everyday.
Avoid washing my hair with hard water.
Join and complete a photography course.
Get a back massage every time I need it.
Do a painting every month.
Go on at least 50% of the treks organized by the Trekkers Club.
I found a priceless treasure today, all thanks to the cleaning up that mom made me do (so I guess I should actually be thankful to her, instead of cribbing about all the 'child labour'...)
This old treasure is a thin little pocket diary sans its cover... the pages have yellowed, and I can't quite place it's date, except that its atleast 15 years old. In a very bad handwriting, it has in it, a poem scrawled in ink... without further preamble, let me just present it to you.
Ek ladki thi Miss Prajakta
Na usse tha kuchh aata jaata
Waise usse marathi ka period tha bhaata
Specially jab teacher hoti Mrs. Nivedita
Uska har ek joke hota tha flop
Phir bhi kehti 'I'm top'
Uski bewakoofi ka na tha ek bhi stop
Intelligence ka na ugta uske brain mein crop
Poets ne usspar poetry banaii
Phir bhi uske brain par bewakoofi thii chhaaii
Woh karti bas apni badhai
Aakhir ek din uski bewakoofi rang laaii
Ek din shuru kiya usne doosron ko kaatna
Shukr hai nahin chaha kisi ko chaatna
Yehi dukh humein hai doosron ko baantna
Log uske liye lage naamon ko chhaatna
Koi kehta woh hai crocodile
Koi kehta woh maarti hai crow ki style
Main kehti hoon uski hai bandar jaisi smile
Usski report banati hoon main file by file
Kabhi na hoga iss poem ka khaatma
Kyunki bewakoofi na chhodegi uski aatma
Yehi hai iss poem ka climax
Jiske liye loongi main sabse tax
I kid you not, people. This is for real. I know this was written sometime back in school, but darned if I can remember who wrote it. I admit with some regret that the handwriting is not mine. I have a sneaking suspicion though, that this might be the work of the over-fertile imaginations of more than one mind, and that the writing merely belongs to the person who put it to paper.
Weren't we just perfectly horrid when we were kids? And very happy being so, if I recall correctly... I remember vividly how we teased and harassed the subject of this poetry, Prajakta, and feel a little hot behind the ears about it, at the moment. I called up Meenal to read this out loud to her, soon as I finished laughing my head off about it (so that I could begin again, of course). We both agreed that we were wicked and horrible and completely hateful to her, the poor thing, but we couldn't really help cracking up over this! This is a very insufficient apology, and one that I'm sure will never reach the intended recepient, and I hope, also unnecessary and that she has forgotten and forgiven all this!
Does anyone remember who wrote this? This is an open appeal to all the other girls to tell me, if they happen to read this and remember anything...
I have been away from here for too long. I kept telling myself that I was posting, that I was keeping the blog ‘alive’… but when I read through the previous few posts, I knew I was kidding myself. Not one of them is my thought, not one of them, me. And today I was filled with this intense desire to write… write about? I didn’t know then when this feeling hit, and I had to keep it at bay long enough to get through the day’s work and get home where I’d have some privacy, and I don’t know now, when I’m sitting in front of my PC. But write - I want to.
Oh hell, I might as well be truthful. I tried my best to drown this unrest in me. I watched TV, I called up friends, but I could concentrate on neither. I knew then that I had to write today… I have been to so tied up in things for the past few weeks, that I’ve barely acknowledged this side of me, barely remembered the pleasure I get through writing. There’s a goal to achieve and work to be done, and the flowers can wait till next year, and the music must hold on too. Today, I must run, and not pause to ask what I am running for, lest I lose the reason to run. And to stop running is to get run-over and to accept defeat. Right now, anything but defeat….
But maybe today I can pause? To close my eyes and lose myself in the things I enjoy, if not to ask what I’m running for? Surely, that much I can risk… I struggle to find an answer… I wish I knew. I wish I could decide one way, without feeling guilty about abandoning the other. All my life, I’ve wanted to avoid these guilt traps, for I know them for what they are. And in spite of being so aware of their guile, I’ve only rarely been able to avoid them. It’s not easy. And yet, if I am to find pure pleasure in anything – success or leisure, I must rise above them.
My mind is running amok, like a calf released from its pen after being tied down for a long long time. Very like the calf, it’s chasing the clouds, never concentrating on one… a thought comes, and the mind follows it for a while, till it sees another more interesting one, and it abandons the first… and the second is soon deserted for a third and then a fourth and a fifth… till I don’t even remember where I began and what I started out to say. There’s so much that has been waiting to be said, it’s quite a revelation! Maybe there’s still hope for this blog… maybe I haven’t run out of things to say!