Saturday, September 15, 2007

Post 333 : Passages 42 : Salman Rushdie - Ground beneath her feet - 5 things that move.....

Five mysteries hold the keys to the unseen: the act of love, and the birth of a baby, and the contemplation of great art, and being in the presence of death or disaster, and hearing the human voice lifted in song. These are the occasions when the bolts of the universe fly open and we are given a glimpse of what is hidden; an eff of the ineffable. Glory bursts upon us in such hours: the dark glory of earthquakes, the slippery wonder of new life, the radiance of Vina's singing.
- ( Salman Rushdie - Ground beneath her feet )

Post 332 : Insight 4 : Why do corpses look peaceful even if they died in a horrific death?

I was reading a business article today, which had no connection with the question mentioned above, except that this question was irreverantly thrown around within the article? (something to the effect that," If I had more time, I would think of such absurd metaphysical questions")....

Strangely, but just as usual, this question set me thinking.....

And you know what, the observation by the author is bang on. Its a fact, I have seen gruesome deaths, and yet the resulting corpses look like they are tanning in the lazy chair by the pool.

Maybe, and I can only hazard a guess, just before death comes, garbage collection starts ( I finally am a software progammer), and this cleans up all our biases, fears, desires and clutches....(and this my friend, might be what is called 'my whole life passed me by') ....and in that small interval of time leading to death, you see yourself, you see through the 'Matrix' (without having chosen the red pill...what a daft scam ;-)) and that realization makes you peaceful.

Maybe just the process of unwinding is peaceful.

Whats strange is "peace" must come before death, because otherwise, you would see faces contorted and dismayed, as they tried to clutch life, and yet the vampire of death sucked them definitely 'peace' must come.

Next time around, I am going to look at the face of death, with even more mystified eyes. Thank you missy author, you just set a ball rolling in my head.

Friday, September 14, 2007

Post 331 : Old man at sea (July 2001)

(I had originally written this in 2001....)

Once she went so far as to try and transcribe the Indian part of her name, "Mira" into her Filofax, her hand moving in unfamiliar directions stopping and turning and picking up her pen when she least expected to. Following the arrows in the book, she drew a bar from left to right from which the letters hung; one looked more like a number than a letter, another looked like a triangle on its side. It had taken several tries to get the letter in the book, and even then she wasn't sure if she'd written Mira or Mara. It was a scribble to her, but somewhere in the world, she realized with a shock, it meant something.
- Jhumpa Lahiri, Interpreter of Maladies, Sexy

To call this man old would be an understatement. He had this extremely wrinkled face, and his health is emaciated to put it mildly. I first caught sight of him some months ago. The building structure in which I live was undergoing a complex reconstruction job, involving addition of extra floors and all the associated functions that come along such as plastering, painting and so on. The construction business is quite a labor intensive job, yet labor is possibly the cheapest component, due to its abundance. Workers are like (and are) nomads who travel from site to site, as the construction flows from structure to structure. Most of the time, you shall find these workers exist in a make shift adobe, where they stretch from one construction day to another, and this make shift adobe is actually the construction site itself. The story I am recounting happened in the same structure where I live, and the old man in question was a construction worked living on my premises. (I can't help feel flirtatious about the 'my', somehow sounds hollow isn't it.)

The man was old, must have been around 70 years old. Wrinkled face and emaciated, he was a frail short structure no more than four and half feet. Pitch black, in all probability he was from Hyderabad, since I have often heard him speak Telegu.

I remember the first time I saw him. I was returning home from work, and it must have been around 10.30 at night, and as I entered my building, I saw this man in our compound. Did not shock me to see him, since I guessed that he was a construction worker. He was sitting in a slightly elevated bed made of bamboo and jute wires. He was playing with a small kid who was in fact a girl. The girl must have been no more than 4 years of age. As I walked towards the entrance of my home, my eyes lingered on this sight, and for a brief moment, I found that our eyes met. Even he must have general inquisitiveness as regards a stranger (thats me).

In that moment, I detected a sense of fear in his eyes, the fear of the society. Possibly, for him, I represented that section of the society which he resented and had learnt to treat with respect and sacrosanct, a section he was afraid. There was some acquiescence about the whole look, yet there was no malice.

As I thought hard, I realized with a shiver and shake that it must be so claustrophobic for the life embedded within that man. He knows that he is towards the last days of his life. At the age of 60-70 he still needs to toil hard for 12 hours a day to earn Rs. 100. (My dad is about the same age too.). At night, he eats roti's (wheat cakes) made without oil or grease on plain hot coal, with a few pieces of onion and green chilies (sounds filmy, but very true, I have seen that myself).

This life which I am assuming is so similar to mine, does not crave for a Mercedes, does not want to have a rendezvous with J Lo, does not want to wear gold rings and chains, even to dream of these things would be perfidy for him.

What is that which distinguishes two similarly capable lives. Birth and environment maybe....I don't know, but thats such an unfair brownie to be held by one life against another.

What is it that I felt at moment. I could not help imagine what must be going through the old man's head. And I knew if I were him, I would have hated life, and run to death. Don't I do that already? The old man does not have a life, and is not allowed weapons using which he can fight for one. He is a slave, not to life, but to the society around him. I hate being a slave.

What forced me to write this. Guilt. Nope. A man without a set of values and conscience cannot experience guilt, guilt as a concept in itself is alien to me. Philanthropy. I never believed too much in that, think in its common form, its more of evil than good. Anguish, a response to the pain around, like the Buddha maybe. Nope. I am surprised at the pain around, but nothing even close to the Buddha. What is it then. Despise...maybe.

BTW, I spend Rs.100 daily on my food and travel expenses without a second thought, and Rs.100 is exactly the same amount the man fights to make after 12 hrs of grueling work. . For a person(me, that is) who does not believe in God, after life or any of that bull crap, its hard for me to reconcile with the fact that most of us are completely servile, puppets in the hands of circumstances, victims of some cruel experiment gone completely awry.

Do I love life?

Post 330 : Passages 41 (Algebra of Infinite Injustice)

My world has died. And I write to mourn its passing.Admittedly, it is a flawed world. An unviable world. A scarred and wounded world. It was a world that I myself have criticized unsparingly, but only because I loved it. It didn't deserve to die. It didn't deserve to die. It didn't deserve t be dismembered. Forgive me, I realize that sentimentality is uncool- but what shall I do with my desolation?

-The Algebra of Infinite Injustice, Arundhati Roy

Post 329 : Passages 40 (Free Will from The Devil's Advocate)

MILTON: Free will. It's like butterfly wings.Once touched, they never get off the ground. No. I only set the stage. You pull your own strings.

Post 328 : Passages 39 - God. vs. Devil (The devil's advocate)

Read carefully. The script is awesome. If you can, then do hear Al Pacino recite those dialogues. It what I call dicton in motion.

Read on.

MILTON: ... Guilt is like a bag of fucking bricks. All you gotta is set it down... Who are you carrying all those bricks for anyway? God? Is that it? God? Well I tell you. Let me give you a little inside information about God. God likes to watch. He's a prankster. Think about it. He gives man instincts. He gives you this extraordinary gift and then what does he do? I swear, for his own amusement, his own private cosmic gag reel he sets the rules in opposition. It's the goof of all time. Look but don't touch. Touch but don't taste. Taste but don't swallow. And while you're jumping on one foot to the next, what is he doing? He's laughing his sick fucking ass off. He's a tightass. He's a sadist. He's an absentee-landlord! Worship that? Never!

LOMAX: Better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven. Is that it?

MILTON: Why not? I'm here on the ground with my nose in it since the whole thing began. I've nurtured every sensation man has been inspired to have. I cared about what he wanted, and I never judged him. Why? Because I never rejected him inspite of all his imperfections...I'm a humanist. Maybe the last humanist. Who, in their right mind, Kevin, could possibly deny the 20th century was entirely mine? All of it, Kevin. All of it. Mine. I'm peaking, Kevin. It's my time now.

Post 327 : People I admire - 4 (N Jayakumar, Prime Securities)

An ex-citibanker (from the scam days - heavily involved in the 1992 Harshad bhai scam), is quite an eloquent and clear speaker. I like hearing him out on CNBC.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Post 326 : Zen. Jain. Next (originally from 10th Nov 2005)

One day in my recent vacation, quite suddenly, I had a flash of understanding.....Before I get to explaining what that was, I must confess, the feeling was magical, the magic of being alive. For example, you are driving along long winded roads in Munnar when quite suddenly, a jolt of inspired logic, it makes me wonder....what prompts these synapses to fire this way....In moments like this, I am MOST tempted to believe that a higher intelligence (God) must exist....if he does not, then how do I explain my synapses running amok.

Coming back, we were driving through tea gardens in Munnar, watching as a swarm of women were all plucking the fresh buds from the tea buds....Don't know how this connected, but quite suddenly it occured to me, why possibly Mahavir's Jainism prohibits followers from eating carrots, potatoes, onions and gingers.....

Kajal is a pukka Jain, she has been reared in a conservative Jain family for the best part of her life, before we got together (I have been the corrupting influence in her world...and I really own up to it). All over India it is not uncommon to enter a restaurant and have a menu section devoted to 'Jain' food, which means it is sans carrots, onions and the like. I have often questioned Kajal and the ilk on why Jains shun the food which 'grows under the ground', and I was told that it was primarily for two reasons; the first being 'hygiene' and the second being the fact that Jains are particular enough not to snatch food away from microbes, earthworms and whatever breed under the ground. Both of these principles are ensconced within the Jain world so much, that is common knowledge for almost a complete outsider like me.

I have been reading quite a bit of Zen in my recent past. As soon as I mixed Zen with Mahavir, the shunning of carrot and onions took an entirely new dimension. Possibly, Mahavir did not actually want us to eat these fruits (or vegetables) because in the process of using a ginger, we actually have to uproot the whole tree (or life force) of the plant, vis-a-vis an orange which you can pluck from a tree in the really don't have to kill the orange tree.

If you think of the underlying principle, it suddenly makes a lot of sense.....since Jainism is one of the strongest proponents of non-violence, as I said, even violence towards microbes is frowned upon. When I bounced this off Kajal, she kind of asked me, if this were true, how did Mahavir, allow for rice and wheat, both of which are again harvested and in essence, end up killing the plant.

I did some cursory research, and from what I understand that rice crop if not harvested in time, dies under its own weight, and typically a rice plant is good enough for just one flowering (or one set of rice output). Farmers, typically harvest a part of the plant, and transplant a part of the plant to a new piece of farming land. So again, this appears consistent with my theory of why.......
The more I think of it, the more this theory seems to be correct....but strangely it seems completely lost on a whole set of Jains who are following rules without even an inkling of the underlying philosophies (I did not even seem to convince Kajal on the same)....BTW, these are the same Jains who now-a-days indulge in pesticides to keep roaches out of their home. On a single night they murder almost 1000 roaches......

Mahavir must be squirming in his grave (quite literally, he took samadhi and not a normal cremation). What a (modern Gen Next) life we live, where we swear by symbols without any reference to their underlying significance.

Post 325 : Passages 38 Algebra of Infinite Injustice

Yes, I have heard - the (nuclear) bomb is (mentioned) in the Vedas. It might be, but if you look hard enough, you'll find Coke in the Vedas too. Thats the great thing about all religious texts. You can find anything you want in them - as long as you know what you are looking for.

-The Algebra of Infinite Injustice, Arundhati Roy

Miss Roy remains someone I adore and respect - for a variety of reasons, some being as simple as her dedication to a cause, and others more personal - like the swashbucking style of her writing.

Friday, September 07, 2007

Post 324 : My wife thinks I am ill

I have been working 6-7 days a week for years now, and she thinks I am chronic workoholic. If only she knew why I work like this. Chuckle :-)

Anyways, sly metaphors apart, am working all through last week, this week and next. No rest. 4 beats per second and a not a single one missed so far :-)

Post 323 : Power corrupts (even idiots can dream up delusions of grandeur)

The gym I go to everyday, has a college girl playing the role of the coy receptionist. So far, so good.

Recently, I have started hearing her speaking extremely rudely and authoritatively to the (poor) janitor. From one view point, its fair, she is "higher up" in the value chain, and she is responsible in some way for the cleanliness of the gym....and yet, I feel she should spare a thought, is it necessary to be rude to get the job done. I am sure the answer is a resounding "no".

Have you not seen, idiotic police havaldars behave similarly. I think Einstein put it right, when he said, "if wisdom does not keep par with knowledge/power, travesty shall continue to happen" or something to that effect.

You can see this in security gaurds, watchmen, adminstrative secretary's to CEOs who think they are CEO's themselves. Its so easy to feed on delusions. When the scraper collapses, the fall will be hard, and it might break the knees.

We are building an army of idiots who feed on other idiots. Dignity of labor, what the fuck is that?

Post 322 : My child was just like me

I was recently browsing a book sale, and some nincompoopish idiot called Richard Templar, has written books around "self help".....(and all this is besides the point of this post, more of it later).

One of his books, was called, "Rules of Happiness" and amongst them was a rule buried under the rest called " Learn to forgive your parents".

I found it a stark sign of times, that such a rule had to be taught.... and yet, yet...I myself, grew up having hazaar angst with my parents...and not only while growing up, even as recently as 5-7 years ago.

We are all victims of our own thanklessness and delusions. In my head, this situation is just like Terminator, your own creations devoring on your meat.....

I have had quite a few conflicts with my parents, owing to the fact that I considered myself more 'intellectual' than them, and then-and-even-now, I just refuse to open-up-my-side-of-the-story and talk.

32, and few grey tufts on my head, have taught me a thing or two.....No matter what other emotions you harbor for your parents(love, despise, hate, whatever!!), remember, you can never thank them enough, bringing up a child is like experiencing hell on earth (I can hear Belinda Carlisle sing " Oooh, heaven is a place on earth..."). To bring you up, their support was unconditional, hopefully in their twilight you can provide at least some semblance of a similar return (if not for 'love', maybe just as a 'duty' and a 'karmic barter').

Even today, I am far from being able to talk to them like a son (and that shall remain one of my biggest failures in life....and I sit and wonder, does any other "success", even matter?). (I have piled up bad karma by the tonnage...."You consider me your apprentice.....hypnotized by you, I stare at the ring around your finger").

I remember, as a child my dad used to drop me to a creche, before he proceeded to work. And like a pesky kid, I used to be un-managable. And my lovely handsome dad, used to buy me "Poppins" for 60paise from a grocery store called "Ramnath Stores" owned by a old genial Manglorean called Ramnath (this used to ahead of the Bank of Maharashtra, Thane (east) Kopri Colony branch).

And after going through this ritual for a few months, he convinced the 6 year old me that Poppins was bad - too much sugar, and hence I must switch to a "Ding Ladoo", made from dry fruit, grated cocunut and edible gum. (It used to cost 1.25, a princely sum for him in those days, I remember he used to make some 900 pm.....Inflation and wage adjusted, thats like me buying my daughter a Rs. 120 sweet (approx).)

Right till this day, I never fail to relish a ding ladoo, because of the nostalgic memories and the mental association that it is "healthy".

And then today......., he was speaking to me, in a very deferential tone, like he has started doing in the past few years (its his way of telling me - that for him I am an adult), and a part of me cringed.....I wish my old dad was back (If wishes were horses, beggars would ride).

I really wish, he (sometimes, maybe once a year!!) still buys me a ding ladoo, just for old times sake, and gives me that feeling that I am still a pesky little kid, who needs to be dropped off at a creche.

I know he will one day soon drop me at a creche, and the ladoos too will be gone....and thats how this story will end.

Post 321 : Snap - Power to gurgle

She sits snugly atop my left hand, her body rests on my chest, her head on my shoulder. She is cosy, comfortable and cocooned. I use my right hand and snap (snap, snap snap.....) and she goes gurgle gurgle gurgle.....just like a mattel toy. Snap...Gurgle,..... no snap, no gurgle :-( . Its a plain platonic relationship. Words mean nothing, emotions mean lesser and the future is unborn and meaningless....all that matters to her (and me) is this 'Mattel' game we are playing with each other. Secure, unthreatened, simple, uncomplicated, in the moment......

Darling, joy comes in all shapes and size, as long the size is small. Joanna, you gimme hope. Snap - GURGLE.

Post 320 : Buddha my friend, you could not help me

I remember looking out of my mother's womb, peering into the world, wanting to never leave the umbilical cord, the crutch of my safety. Buddha had told me that this was the temptation to break, yet I was romancing the stone, a shiny diamond here and a crystal pounding there.

Life is a habit, difficult to break, just like smoking, addiction, sex, nose-picking and other gaseous stuff.

My friend, you should have pulled me back in, but you and your non-violent approach - it did not allow you to "slap me", dunk me in your wisdom.....

Am I complaining? Oops...sorry did not mean for this to come out that way, but yes, in the name of this sacrilegious friendship, request you, not to let me go next time.

Stillborn my child, she talks to me :-)

Post 319 : How long to go before she weeps?

She walked through the trough (and the rough). Her feet ached. Ah...such a long journey. Alone and tired. At the end of it, she realized, all she had done was put more miles between herself and the life on the other side. From one life onto another.....
In that minute of pain, she wondered? "I am such a delusional bitch, why do I think, that this shade of paint is better than that?" Color blind, third eye myopic.....
What did she actually want? Was she running to a goal, or running from the Lord onto the devil, or was it the rings of Saturn on both sides?
Ah, tears would have eased her pain easily. Not now....Save the ocular excercises for the closet. But where is the closet? Close, lose, set....
One more drop and the flood might start, but then "have you ever seen the rain coming down on a sunny day?"

Post 318 : Weight Watcher 9 (God knows I want to break free)

Another month gone....

In the month of August 22 of a possible 31 days I prayed at the body gym.

From 05 Feb 07 to now it makes a total of 132 out of a possible 217 days....not good, but not terribly bad

"Life still goes on.....I still cant get used to living without you by my side" - and Freddie Mercury became does this song feature here...think?

Post 317 : Stolen bits of poetry

Loved this piece at Mr. Author, take a bow....especially your fourth stanza about the 'dog'. (My hyperlinked brain says, "Die...die like a dog, a la Kafka's Trial").

For the sake of easy reading am reproducing it here.....

Kiss the ground beneath your feet,
its moving under you,
it may pull itself,
from under you,
unleashing the savage.

The twisted homes,
the wooden pillars,
crushing a woman,
baby in womb,
the silent cries.

The dog,
alone in the home,
fire eating away flesh,flesh,bone,
a silent death.

A school,
a flash flood,
little souls,
swept away,

Kiss the ground,
when it moves,it kills,silently.

Post 316 : Silky Kumar is the AXE Mascot

Silky Kumar 'Scent of Desire' is nothing but a mascot for the Axe Commercial.....
I think this is an interesting twist to standard ad campaigns....create a song, a video and have it aired on major music channels.

Saturday, September 01, 2007

Post 315 : Chadta Suraj Translation English re-visited (a much better one)

No offence meant to the older one....

The older translation of this song by an external web source seemed to have a few glaring misses, so thought, instead of crying out, why not contribute something to the web…..

Here’s my English Interpretation/translation of Chadhta Suraj (Sooraj)

Hu ye naaamwarr be-nishaan kaise kaise ee
zameen kha gayee naujawaan kaise kaise
aaj jawaani par ithrane-waley kal pachtayega
aaj jawaani par ithrane-waley kal pachtayega
chadta suraj dheere dheere dhalta hain, dhal jayega
chadta suraj dheere dheere dhalta hain, dhal jayega
dhal jayegaa, dhal jayegaa
dhal jayegaa, dhal jayegaa
(Look, how the famous have tumbled and lost their signatures,

The grave has eaten (what were once) flamboyant heroes,

(Listen you who) You are proud of your youth today, you might regret it tomorrow,

The sun which is rising will eventually (maybe slowly enough) finally set (2)

Will Finally Set, (2)

Will Finally Set(2))
Tu yahan musafir hain,
yeh saraye paani hain,
char roz ki mehemaan, teri zindagaani hain.
zun, zameer, zar , zevar,
kuch na saath jaayegaa,
khaali haath aaya hain, khaali haath jaayegaa.
Jaan kar bhi anjaana,
ban raha hain deewane,
apni umr-faani par tan raha hain deewane.
(paani corrected to faani by Atish)
Is kadrr tu khoya hain,
is jahaan ke mele mein,
tu khuda ko bhoola hain,
fakr-ke is jhamele mein.
aaj tak yeh dekha hain,
paaney-wala khota hain,
zindagi ko jo samjhaa,
zindagi pe rota hain.
mitnewaali duniya ka, aitbaar kartaa hain,
kya samajhke tu aakhir, is-sey pyar karta hain.
apni apni fikron mein,
jo bhi hain, woh uljhaa hain
jo bhi hain, woh uljhaa hain
zindagi haqeeqat mein kya hain, kaun samjha hain
kya hain, kaun samjha hain.---------------------------(You are (but) a traveler,

The whole world is an ocean,

A guest for a few days, yes, that’s what your life is (in reality)

Moonlight (Zun), Identity (Zameer), Gold (Zar), jewellery (zevar) .....[
Nothing is going to accompany uou

You came empty handed, you shall return equally bereft of any possessions,

Inspite of knowing this, you ignorant idiot,

You are still playing with these transient illusions,

You are still measuring your life span which is so obviously perishable (
thats what faani means, thanks Atish)

You are so lost in this maze,

Created by this (make believe) world’s fair,

You have forgotten the Lord,

(Immersed) in the game of paupers,
[FAKR means poor]

So far it has been seen,

Those who win (in this pauper’s world) actually lose

Those who (really) saw through this life’s game,

Has only wept and given up on life (upon realization)

Those about to get extinguished, yearn for the world,

(O ignorant), what knowledge drives you towards such a (foolish) yearning,

Everyone seems so immersed in this game,

All of them have got entangled into it (2)

Have any of them really understood life,

What is it, have they understood ?

aaj samjhlee -eee
aaj samjhle, kal yeh mauka, haath na tere aayega,
woh gaflat ki neendh mein soney-waale, dhoka khayega,
chadta suraj dheere dheere dhalta hain, dhal jayega
chadta suraj dheere dheere dhalta hain, dhal jayega
dhal jayegaa, dhal jayegaa
dhal jayegaa, dhal jayegaa

( Understood it today,

Understand it today, for tomorrow might be too late,

Those who sleep a life without heeding (GAFLAT means heedlessness), you will eventually be fooled,

The sun which is rising will eventually (maybe slowly enough) finally set (2)

Will Finally Set, (2)

Will Finally Set(2))

Maut ne zamaane ko,
yeh samah dikha daala,
kaise kaise rustom ko khaak mein mila daala.
Yaad rakh sikander ke hosle toh aali thhey,
jab gayaa tha duniya se,
dono haath khaali thhey.
ab na woh halaku hain,
aur na uske saathi hain,
jung, julus, porus hain,
aur na uske haathi hain.
kal jo tann ke chalte thhey,
apni shaano-shaukat parr,
shamma tak nahin jalti,
aaj unke durbath parr.
( Death has shown various

Seasons to the world

Look how it has vanquished even those who were heroes one

Though Alexander was the bravest and was fearless,

When he eventually departed,

His palms held nothing (and were open),

Now neither is the strong hulk around
[(HALAKU actually means monster]

Neither are his stooges,

(Neither are his) War, Procession or Puru
(PURU was Alexander’s enemy]

Neither are his elephants,

Till yesterday those who demonstrated their strength to the world (and the world quivered),

Today, not even a candle burns

On his grave)
adna ho ya aala ho, sabko laut jaana hain
sabko laut jaana hain, sabko laut jaana hain.
Muflison tawanjan ka, kabr hi thikaana hain,
Kabr hi thikaana hain, kabr hi thikaana hain.
Jaisi karni......e eeeeeee
Jaisi karni waisi bharni,
aaj kiya kal payega,
sar ko uthakar chalne waale, ek din thokar khayegaa.
chadta suraj dheere dheere dhalta hain, dhal jayega
chadta suraj dheere dheere dhalta hain, dhal jayega
dhal jayegaa, dhal jayegaa
dhal jayegaa, dhal jayegaa
Does not matter whether you are rich or poor , your eventual destination is the grave

your eventual destination is the grave(2)

Both the bankrupt and the rick eventually hit the grave
[Muflis means

Eventually hit the grave (2)

As you sow, so you reap (2)

Today’s actions return tomorrow

(You) who walk with his neck tilted upwards, will eventually trip and fall,

The sun which is rising will eventually (maybe slowly enough) finally set (2)

Will Finally Set, (2)

Will Finally Set(2))

-Maut sabko aani hain,
aun iss-se chhoota hain,
tu fanah nahin hoga,
yeh khayal jhoota hain.
saans toot-te hi sab,
rishte toot jayenge,
baap, maa, behen, biwi, bacchhe chhoot jayenge.
(Death will eventually come to you,

No one has managed to avoid it so far,

You will not escape [Fanna means Escape]

This (irrational) belief in you is delusional,

Eventually the breath will stop,

So will all relationships cease,

Father, Ma, Sister, Wife, Children will all left behind (as you die and proceed)
-------------------------tere jitne hain bhai,
waqt ka chalan denge,
chheen kar teri daulat
do hi gaz kafan denge,
All your ‘Brothers’

Will bide their time,

They will fight over all your wealth,

All they will spare for your is 6 feet of grave (space)

inko apna kehta hain,
kab yeh tere saathi hain,
kabr hain teri manzil,
aur yeh baraati hain.
laa-key kabr mein tujhko, qurqabat daalenge,
apne haathon se tere mu pe khaak daalenge.
You call ‘these’ your own,

Was there ever a time when they ‘belonged’ to you,

Grave is the final destination,

‘These’ folks are just accompanying your (funeral) procession,

They will heap mud on your face (on your grave),

With their own hands, they will dump dust on you)
Teri saari ulfat ko,
khaak mein mila denge,
teri chahnewaale, kal tujhe bhoola denge.

All your ‘achievements’ will be mixed in the

very mud which will drown you,

Those you claim to love you, would forget you tomorrow)
-Is liye yeh kehta hu,
khoob soch le dil mein,
kyon fasaye baitha hain,
jaan apni mushkil mein.
---------------------------( Pray, listen to me now,

Think hard,

Why have your stuck,

Your life in this mess)

Kar gunaah se tauba, aake bus sambhal jaaye,
aake bas sambhal jaaye, aake bus sambhal jaaye.
Dum ka kya bharosa hain, jaane kab nikal jaaye,
jaane kab nikal jaaye,jaane kab nikal jaaye,
Mutthi bandh ke aane-waleyyyyyyyyyyyy
Mutthi bandh ke aane wale, haath pasaare jayega,
dham, daulat, jagir se tu ne,
kya paaya, kya paayegaa,

( Give up on the mistakes of the past, come back to ‘reality’

Come back to reality (2)

There is no knowing when our breath might leave us,

When it might leave us (2)


You who came here with clasped fingers,

You who came here with clasped fingers, when you go you will go with open palms,

House, Wealth, Property – have you got anything from these so far?

Will you ever will?

chadta suraj dheere dheere dhalta hain, dhal jayega
chadta suraj dheere dheere dhalta hain, dhal jayega
dhal jayegaa, dhal jayegaa
dhal jayegaa, dhal jayegaa
The sun which is rising will eventually (maybe slowly enough) finally set (2)

Will Finally Set, (2)

Will Finally Set(2))

Post 314:Music 30 (Kuch Kariye - Chak De India)

Kuch Kariye is a gritty song. Its got a great MTV video (not the actual one in the film). A little abstruse non-hindi type lyrics, few difficult punju sounding words. Great Translation @

Reproduced below for ease

Chak De India lyrics with Translation

Chak De India - Chak De India
Music: Salim – Sulaiman
Lyrics: Jaideep Sahni
Singer: Sukhvinder Singh, Salim Merchant & Marianne D'Cruz

Kuch kariye kuch kariye nas nas meri khaule, hoy kuch kariye
Do something, with every part of you (every pore in your body), do something
Kuch kariye kuch kariye bas bas bada bole, ab kuch kariye
Do something, enough of all that big talk, now do something
Ho koi toh chal zid padiye, doobe tariye ya mariye (2)

Take a stand, either swim or die
Chak de chake de India (4)
C’mon India!

(Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide
this is the time, just do or die)

Koochon mein galiyon mein, raashan ki phaliyon mein
In streets and lanes, in Ration lines
Bailon mein beejon mein, eidon mein teejon mein
In bullocks and seeds, in Eid and festivals
Reton ke daanon mein, filmon ke gaanon mein
In every grain of sand, and film songs
Sadkon ke gaddon mein, addon mein
In street ditches, in gatherings
Hunkara aaj bhar le, das barah baar kar le
Fill everything with a roar/ferver, not once but 10 times
Rehna na yaar peeche, kitna bhi koi kheenche
Don’t lag behind, even if you’re pulled back
Tas Hai Na Mas Hai Ji, Zid Hai Toh Zid Hai Ji
Don’t budge an inch, if you’re called stubborn so be it
Ghisna yunhi, pisna yunhi, pisna yunhi
Keep grinding on that grindstone

Bas kariye!
Just do it!
Ho Koi Toh Chal Zid Phadiye
Doobe Tariye Ya Mariye
Haye Koi Toh Chal Zid Phadiye
Doobe Tariye Ya Mariye
Chak De Ho Chak De India (4)

Nowhere To Run Nowhere To Hide
This Is The Time Just Do Or Die - (2)

Chak De (5)

Ladti Patangon Mein, Bhidti Umangon Mein
In tangled kites, in the joy of crowds
Khelon Ke Melon Mein, Balkhaati Railon Mein
In playgrounds, in winding trains
Gannon Ke Meethe Mein, Khaddar Mein Cheente Mein
In the sweetness of sugarcanes, in rich loam, in crops
Doondo To Mil Jaave/Jaye (NOT SURE), Tapta Woh Eenton Mein
If you look hard enough you’ll find the heat needed to harden bricks (to toughen/strengthen you)
Tan Aisa Aaj Nikhre, Aur Kulke Aaj Pighle
Let your body glow and liquefy completely
Mann Laaye Aisi Holi, Rag Rag Machalke Boli
Fill your heart with celebration so that every part of you rejoices
Tas Hai Na Mas Hai Ji, Zid Hai Toh Zid Hai Ji
Don’t budge an inch, if you’re called stubborn so be it
Ghisna yunhi, pisna yunhi, pisna yunhi
Keep grinding on that grindstone

Bas kariye!
Just do it!
Koi Toh Chal Zid Phadiye
Doobe Tariye Ya Mariye
Haye Koi Toh Chal Zid Phadiye
Doobe Tariye Ya Mariye
Chak De Ho Chak De India (4)