Smoke-scape

In The Name of God

Remembering 26/11 with a song I wrote.

SHOLAY – The Original Ending

This was the original ending of Sholay which never made it to the movie, thanks to the censor board. To think of it, this should have been the logical conclusion of the story- everything that happened before had been planned and put in place precisely for this climatic encounter between Thakur and Gabbar Singh. Watch Thakur’s/Sanjeev Kumar’s breakdown after killing Gabbar- absolutely breathtaking! Sadly, we missed one of the finest scenes in the movie, and got a rather meek climax, making this ‘the greatest story never told’!

A Flower in Bloom

For most of us it’s around the time we cross the age of 30 that the coin drops; and we realize that our lives are indeed finite. There’s neither the innocence of childhood nor the brashness of youth to shield us from the imminent truth, is there? What’s more, you also realize that the world will go on after our time here, without so much as batting an eye lid. Ah, there’s that hollow feeling within, like you are falling into a black hole or something. You look around and wonder why people run around frantically and do the things they do anyway? What’s the point?

Slowly the chaos subsides, the storm stalls and you see clearly- Life is not a dash to get somewhere. Life is a journey. And the journey is all. The things you see, the things you learn, the friends you make, the experience you gain is all. So, you learn to see with new eyes; you notice the little things, you catch the details. You find meanings in things you thought you had already seen and known. You feel the beauty around you – watch a flower bloom and then die away, say a little prayer if you feel like it – Feel love and compassion fill up that hollowness inside.

You still run around frantically and do the things you do- you have to pay your bills and make the ends meet after all. But every once in a while you stop, take a deep breath and remember not to take yourselves too seriously and to enjoy life right now – for you are a flower in bloom.

Men are from Mars, Woman are from Shopping Malls!

Before I write anything else, let me write out three words - I Like Woman. I really do, they are such wonderful, caring, loving and gentle beings. Until they reach a shopping mall, that is! Where all hell break loose and perfectly sane and grown up of the said species transforms themselves into something else and ransacks the place, like a….like…,….well, like a woman at a shopping mall!

I had plonked myself onto one of the three chairs provided in over a thousand square feet of this shopping mall, baby in one hand, feeding bottle in the other, my tired and almost lifeless legs somewhere in front of me, my eyes spaced out and staring into eternity…To the outside world, I must’ve looked like a monk or something, because I was beyond reacting. Way beyond. Once in a while I catch men of the species walking about in similar state of trance, and sometimes we make eye contact, and exchange mutual respects with just that knowing look.

Why? Why can’t men and woman think alike when it comes to shopping? I have been trying to figure it out. Sample this: A man wants to buy black trousers. What does he do? He goes to the trouser shop, asks for black trousers, checks out the style and the price (not necessarily in that order) tries it out- and decides on one black trouser. Average time for the process is 10 minutes.

Now, sample this: A woman wants to buy a red skirt. What does she do? She goes to a shopping mall, checks out all the other shops before entering a dress store. Then she looks at all the dresses there and at the end of it she could be holding up 10 different colours and shades of cloths, which may or may not have the colour red or something resembling a skirt! The average time for this, if she is in a hurry, would be about an hour or so. On the other hand if she has time on her hand, then God help you!

You see a pattern here? Men go about their shopping by a process of elimination to reach to the one black trouser. Whereas, woman does it by a process of accumulation to arrive at …well, at least two pieces of attire in their hands.

At the end of it, they’d hold it up at you, and ask: ‘This one or That one?’

You jump out from your state of temporary coma, adjust your retina, point to one of the accused and declare confidently: ‘This one!’

The woman considers ‘This’ and then turns to ‘That’ and goes: ‘What’s wrong with That one?’

Man: ‘Nothing’ (Oh God!)

Wait a minute, I think I got it now! Yes, the process of accumulation! The woman did not come here to buy the one red skirt in the first place. That’s why they do not get cowed down by many choices or the confusion with it- they came precisely for that- many choices and more confusion! They just love it! A smile spread across my zen like face, I think. I have cracked it finally!

I jerked back to life on hearing my name being called out. There she is, my lovely wife walking towards me with two dresses in either hand. She halted in front of me, and asked:

‘This one or That one?’

I wish I vaporized into thin air.

I Go Round!!

Beautiful World

Idea of India and Theory of Chaos

One anguished screenwriter wrote in one of his screenplays: ‘….go to America, you’ll see Americans, go to Africa, you’ll see Africans, go to China, you’ll see the Chinese, go to Pakistan, you’ll see Pakistanis. In India, show me one Indian…we have Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, Christians…. And we have divisions based on states…where is the Indian?’

The hero of the movie mouthed this dialogue with vigor and passion and I sat back and said, ‘nice!’

That was long back.

Recently, I happened to see the same scene from the movie in one of its countless re runs on TV during my aimless channel surfing.

Bang!

It hit me.

Where are the Indians?

Do we, think of India in our conscious mind, ever? India as our mother land, India as our own? I guess not. Most of us don’t, I don’t. There is too much rot going around to think of it all as my own and internalize it. Why bother? I have enough troubles of my own to take care of already, thank you.

But something has happened to us after 26^th November 2008.

I can’t even begin to fathom how and why it affected us the way it did. But it has. The feeling of hurt and anger at the events that unfolded on that fateful night was real and it was coming from somewhere deep within. A feeling we did not know we were capable of. I guess the real Indian was right here all this while, asleep.

Now that we have awakened like a Rip Van Winkle, what greeted us was a rude shock of chaos around. After a lot of whys and wherefores, the realization dawns that the corrupt politicians, the inept police and the rotten system around us did not fall off from the sky into our world. Neither did it sprout out from the ground one fine day. It was always here, getting more corrupt, more inept and more rotten, while we were busy taking care of our troubles.

Take a closer look at the idea of India- 28 different states with different languages, cultures and agendas, many gods, religions and many many more sub castes and communities, the very rich and the very poor, the middle class and the backward class, North and South, left and right, center and states…all these contradictions come together to form India as we know it today. It becomes a little less bizarre to comprehend the chaos around us once we understand the fabric of society. This is a mad rush to claim ones identity, the identity of the nation is lost somewhere in this melee.

But, at least we have woken up. No, don’t expect anything to change overnight. Nothing might happen even for a long time. Change happens first in our heart, then our mind and then it will have its physical manifestation in the real world through our actions. The one that happens in the heart is probably the most difficult of all, for you can’t will it and make it happen, you can’t tell it and make it happen…it has to…well, happen. And it has. Maybe only for a few now. But it’s a start. It will catch on, like the embers that eventually lead to a wild fire.

Keep the embers burning.