A song about having a dream to hold on to.
A song about the joy of making it come true.
Caralisa Monteiro's voice is haunting and seductive, both at once. This rendition is a fitting finale to a Bollywood flick that I actually enjoyed watching (and those have been few and far between). And I'm posting it here because it's been in my head for the last three days, and putting it out here is the only way I know of getting it out of my head. It's a beautiful song but I need my head for a couple of other things right now.
And if you like it as much as I do, buy the CD. It doesn't cost a lot of money. And it's worth it if only for this one song...
__________
aankhon mein jiske
koi toh khwaab hai
khush hai wohi jo
thoda betaab hai
zindagi mein koi
arzoo kijiye
phir dekhiye...
honthon pe jiske
koi toh geet hai
woh haare bhi toh
uski hi jeet hai
dil mein jo geet hai
gunguna lijiye
phir dekhiye...
yaadon mein jiski
kissi ka naam hai
sapnon ke jaisi
uski har shaam hai
koi toh ho jisse
apna dil dijiye
phir dekhiye...
khwaab buniye zaraa
geet suniye zaraa
phool chuniye zaraa
phir dekhiye...
That's the answer. The full monty.
And it took all of 100 Rupees to find out.
Bye bye bright white number plate...
ek akshar lihaava
ek tap thaambaava
mag dusra akshar
anhi tithech mrutyu
Translated-
write one letter
and wait a lifetime
then the next letter
and then, there is death
__________
aayushya ovaalun taakaava
ashi ek kavitaa
na uchchaarlelyaa kaahi shabdaanchi
na rekhlelyaa don ek akshar maatraanchi
na korlelyaa ekhadyaa binduchi
bhalyaa pahaate lihili ekaa jhaadaana
gaaylich paahije malaa
urlelyaa aayushya bhar
Translated-
a poem worth a life
of a few words, unsaid
of two lines, unmarked
of a single dot, uncarved
written by a tree
at the crack of dawn
i will sing it
my remaining life
__________
These words were written by RK Joshi. Designer, calligraphist, typographer, linguist, poet, adman, educationist and one of the most inspirational people I have ever met. He passed away earlier this year and left a huge void that may never be filled again.
ek tap thaambaava
mag dusra akshar
anhi tithech mrutyu
Translated-
write one letter
and wait a lifetime
then the next letter
and then, there is death
__________
aayushya ovaalun taakaava
ashi ek kavitaa
na uchchaarlelyaa kaahi shabdaanchi
na rekhlelyaa don ek akshar maatraanchi
na korlelyaa ekhadyaa binduchi
bhalyaa pahaate lihili ekaa jhaadaana
gaaylich paahije malaa
urlelyaa aayushya bhar
Translated-
a poem worth a life
of a few words, unsaid
of two lines, unmarked
of a single dot, uncarved
written by a tree
at the crack of dawn
i will sing it
my remaining life
__________
These words were written by RK Joshi. Designer, calligraphist, typographer, linguist, poet, adman, educationist and one of the most inspirational people I have ever met. He passed away earlier this year and left a huge void that may never be filled again.
Very recently I changed my facebook status. Here's what it says-
I didn't realise what I had started with what I thought was a fairly innocuous statement.
For starters, I received a lot of questions in response. Questions like 'What are you inspired by?', and others with a similar drift. I received these questions as facebook comments, over the email, on the chat and, in one awakening instance, a concerned friend calling me late in the night from a different time zone! My answer was, a fairly anemic sounding 'The world, dude!'. Which did kind of sum it up nicely while completely failing to mention what it was that it was summing up.
So I thought an explanation was due. So I thought since I was going to be thinking anyway, and trying to articulate my thoughts through words anyway, I may as well do it here and make a post of it. It may turn out to be a completely meaningless post for the most part, but it will be a post nonetheless. Another little box ticked for today.
So here's what inspired me to announce I was inspired-
Life is inspiring. If you have it in you to be inspired by it. Every problem is also an opportunity. All you need is to be able to look at it with hope rather than despair. Sahil loves to talk in cliches!
But you don't have to take my word for it. A lot of people seem to think so. Believe so. People who've made it their life's mission to be inspired by life and change the world. Go take a look. Perhaps you'll come away inspired...
"Sahil is inspired!"
I didn't realise what I had started with what I thought was a fairly innocuous statement.
For starters, I received a lot of questions in response. Questions like 'What are you inspired by?', and others with a similar drift. I received these questions as facebook comments, over the email, on the chat and, in one awakening instance, a concerned friend calling me late in the night from a different time zone! My answer was, a fairly anemic sounding 'The world, dude!'. Which did kind of sum it up nicely while completely failing to mention what it was that it was summing up.
So I thought an explanation was due. So I thought since I was going to be thinking anyway, and trying to articulate my thoughts through words anyway, I may as well do it here and make a post of it. It may turn out to be a completely meaningless post for the most part, but it will be a post nonetheless. Another little box ticked for today.
So here's what inspired me to announce I was inspired-
- The fact that I quit my job. Really. Just like that. More or less. If you knew me you'd know, also, that its not something I've been known to do. But I did it. I did it because something had been gnawing me from the inside for a long time now. A thought. It made me very dissatisfied with my work and my life, and what I had made it. Don't get me wrong- there's nothing quite wrong about what I do for a living. But it wasn't bringing any meaning to my life. It wasn't defining who I am. And now I see a life of possibilities ahead of me. I begin to see myself as separate from the work I do. And that means I can see myself in a completely new light. I know I might fail. But if I do I'm going to make a celebration of it. And that is inspirng.
- The fact that a lot of my colleagues, friends and professional acquaintances have approached me since I've quit and expressed their solidarity with what I'm planning to do. Everyone has been congratulatory. Most have been supportive. My closest friends, and my parents, have been believing. And many have offered their unconditional help. There are people who want to be a part of what I am going to start. People who share the same vision for this world we live in. That is inspiring.
- The fact that I don't have to see my work as a job anymore. Work is whatever I want to make of it. If I can make money out of what I enjoy doing, that's work enough for me. I can travel. I can write. I can make pictures. I can design. I can do a hundred other things that I've had a mind to do. And it won't be a job. It will be a life. And that is inspiring.
- The fact that I will be moving out of Ahmedabad soon. Five years in one place can dull your senses somewhat. Living in a comfort zone is nice. But its a tad dangerous for someone who makes a living forging order out of chaos. Life is out there in the boundary regions- that fuzzy zone between confusion and knowing. And I will be moving there. That is inspiring.
- The fact that a friend wrote me this. I will be moving to a city that I've never much fancied. Never much liked. It feels empowering to know that there's at least one person in that place that looks forward to my being there. It feels great to be wanted. It feels great to be loved. And that is inspiring.
Life is inspiring. If you have it in you to be inspired by it. Every problem is also an opportunity. All you need is to be able to look at it with hope rather than despair. Sahil loves to talk in cliches!
But you don't have to take my word for it. A lot of people seem to think so. Believe so. People who've made it their life's mission to be inspired by life and change the world. Go take a look. Perhaps you'll come away inspired...
There was a dream once.
Of white picket fences
and chubby faced children
and much joy and happiness.
Of love
and you.
A dream I'd quite forgotten all these years.
A dream that came back to me today.
It was a happy dream.
It is a sad dream.
Of white picket fences
and chubby faced children
and much joy and happiness.
Of love
and you.
A dream I'd quite forgotten all these years.
A dream that came back to me today.
It was a happy dream.
It is a sad dream.
A musty melancholy settles on me
like days old cigarette smoke.
A dog-end lingers between my fingers
and a coffee cup, unattended, festers.
I miss you friend, for it was never about the coffee
but the bond we shared-
a meeting of minds
a celebration
of kindred spirits.
like days old cigarette smoke.
A dog-end lingers between my fingers
and a coffee cup, unattended, festers.
I miss you friend, for it was never about the coffee
but the bond we shared-
a meeting of minds
a celebration
of kindred spirits.
Something struck me with the violence of a serial killer wielding a jackhammer as I read Mallu's blog a few minutes back. His post about drawing ever shrinking chalk circles around ourselves struck a chord and reminded me of circles of a different kind, yet no less sinister. Ever expanding circles. Without end. And without god.
Here's that thought. The one I was reminded of. Neatly encapsulated in one of the most poignant poems I've ever read. Perhaps its casual, almost conversational tone renders it all the more poignant. You decide-
The diameter of the bomb was thirty centimeters
and the diameter of its effective range about seven meters,
with four dead and eleven wounded.
And around these, in a larger circle
of pain and time, two hospitals are scattered
and one graveyard. But the young woman
who was buried in the city she came from,
at a distance of more than a hundred kilometers,
enlarges the circle considerably,
and the solitary man mourning her death
at the distant shores of a country far across the sea
includes the entire world in the circle.
And I won’t even mention the crying of orphans
that reaches up to the throne of God and
beyond, making
a circle with no end and no God.
- Yehuda Amichai
Here's that thought. The one I was reminded of. Neatly encapsulated in one of the most poignant poems I've ever read. Perhaps its casual, almost conversational tone renders it all the more poignant. You decide-
The diameter of the bomb was thirty centimeters
and the diameter of its effective range about seven meters,
with four dead and eleven wounded.
And around these, in a larger circle
of pain and time, two hospitals are scattered
and one graveyard. But the young woman
who was buried in the city she came from,
at a distance of more than a hundred kilometers,
enlarges the circle considerably,
and the solitary man mourning her death
at the distant shores of a country far across the sea
includes the entire world in the circle.
And I won’t even mention the crying of orphans
that reaches up to the throne of God and
beyond, making
a circle with no end and no God.
- Yehuda Amichai
I've realised that a lot of breakfasts, and lunches and dinners, have gone by since the last post. None of them seem to have provided the necessary mental fortification to conjure up a deep and meaningful sequel to the Wall.E entry. Instead, what we have is an obituary. Right here. This one.
This is the post that tells you it ain't happening. The sequel, that is. This is also the post that tells you that it (again, the sequel) seems to have died a foetal death.
May its soul rest in peace. Amen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)