It’s been very, very long since I got around to appreciating a song from the core of my heart…what with the huge gap between the release of good movies, and the nearly perpetual dearth of good music from the Indian pop albums front…but Kailash Kher’s latest track, Chaandan Mein, from his latest album, Kailasa Chaandan Mein dazzled me from the moment I saw the first glimpse of the soothingly rustic video.

I’ve had many friends asking me why I love pasting lyrics, when they are available on the net for easy access…My answer is simple, when I first start enjoying the tune of a song, I listen to it repeatedly, and unless the music is compelling enough to make me keep coming back, I delve into the words. I enjoy listening carefully, penning down the lyrics on my own…and finally sharing them on my blog…I’m not making the words available for others…I’m simply making them available to me…

So, here goes, I hope I got them right, most of it is Rajasthani folk, and so the lyrics are rather dodgy…The video also marks the comeback of Vikas Manaktala, the highly popular Huda, from the popular sitcom Left Right Left, and he looks fresh, and absolutely perfect for the role.

 Just imagine the dusty colours of  a Rajasthani village, long lost childhood love, and an estranged man coming back for his love…his baby…pure heaven…

Song: Chaandan Mein

Album: Chaandam MEin

Singer: Kailash Kher

Khaab haarun, pag pakhaarun, samay nihaarun ji

Taand vaarun, baiyyan dhaarun, naina haarun ji,

ooooh

Aeji mhaare chatar sujaan,

Li jo pehchaan, kaahe bhar maao ji

Aawooji, aawooji, aaooji…

Aawooji, aawooji, aaooji…

Aeji mhaare chatar sujaan,

Li jo pehchaan, kaahe bhar maao ji

Aawooji, aawooji, aaooji…

Aawooji, aawooji, aaooji…

Chaandan mein, main ta koori,

Tera sona mukhda, pyaara pyaara mukhda,

Aanchal mein, main rakhoonri,

Chandaa ka tukda, aeji pyaara mukhda

Tu dhare jahaan paun toh,

Muskaaye yeh dharti

Saiyaan, saiyaan

Ohji mhaare binti sunlo aan,

Mhaare bhagwaan, humein na sataao ji,

 Aawooji, aawooji, aaooji…

Aawooji, aawooji, aaooji… 

Sarpat se, soona soona,

Kaisa meetha sa zeher,

Aeji meetha sa zeher,

Darad badhe, doona doona,

Uthe hiyaa mein lehar,

Uthe hir-daya mein lehar,

Main karun shingaar toh,

Sharmaye yeh darpan,

 Saiyaan, saiyaan

Oji uunche chadhke deun azaan,

Banun anjaan, parda hataaoji,

Aawooji, aawooji, aaooji…

Aawooji, aawooji, aaooji…

Aawooji, aawooji, aaooji…

Aawooji, aawooji, aaooji…

Khaab haarun, pag pakhaarun, samay nihaarun ji

Taand vaarun, baiyyan dhaarun, naina haarun ji…

I live in a beautiful little house on the fifth floor of our building. My parents particularly chose to live here because it faces the southeast- glorious sunshine, warm in the winters, cool in the summers- and very auspicious in all respects. What I enjoy the most however, is the view I get from one of the balconies. There are three might I add, one facing our neighbours, the other towards the back of our compound, overlooking the city, the cacophonious(I think I made this up!) bus-stand, adjoining hotels, and the general hustle-bustle of the accompanying town life. My favourite one however, faces the “other world”. This beautiful strip is lined with my mother’s favourite dahlias, and since it receives the maximum sunshine and affords abundant privacy I love spending time there…

I generally have very specific reasons for visiting my favourite balcony-to dry my hair, to escape the chill in our rooms during the months of December and January, and more often, in a pretext to study in “solace”. I have learnt a number of lessons, rambling in “the balcony near the kitchen”, mind you, but I’ve always been fascinated much much more by the sights and sounds around the place, than the laws and molecules governing my textbooks…

It’s bizarre how inside our house we find it really straining to catch what my mother shouts at me from her room to mine, but standing in that balcony, I can actually find myself tuned into the sounds(i don’t call them noises) of utensils being scraped across the floor, bangles jingling, cricket balls being caught, and children laughing, least aware of anything around them, five floors below..!

Families of the lower class workers live in these flats just outside the boundaries of our complex. Some houses are well structured, but those I can see only from a distance. The ones nearest to my balcony have a thatched asbestos roof, they share walls with a ground which we use for dumping garbage, and are adorned with a drain running across all four sides. Although I can see only two doors, i’m sure the families are huge, because there is always a surprisingly large number of kids running around, and more than often, climbing the roof.

Just the other day I was standing there, a towel in my hand, a frown against the blazing sun, and my eyes narrowed to get a better view of the construction in progress beyond one of the buildings. Rather out of the blue, and with a spring in their step, three little boys climbed up onto the roof of the house directly facing the balcony. Technically speaking, it would be the third floor, two floors below my level. Well, they sauntered up, and- I wish I didn’t have such a horrible vision-looked around to check if the coast was clear(this is basically my lucid imagination, it may have well been nothing of the sort!) and the eldest(or maybe the tallest) of the three took something out of his pocket, and the three began to shift around a bit looking for a nice spot to do whatever they had to(I couldn’t see!)

Anyway, I had gotten a bit too cosy i guess, and was quite properly leaning against the balcony railing, and as bound as it was to happen, the smallest kid spotted me. I looked away with as much dignity as I could muster, standing with my hands folded, and… so did he! That was sort of the end of my afternoon outing in the balcony, and I glided back inside the kitchen. It may well have been my entangled mane that struck the kid as something worthwhile to look at, but nevertheless, my guilt at eavesdropping(sort of anyway..) drove me to come up with this entry…

The first author I truly ever enjoyed and who in a way compelled me to bask in the glory of the written word was Ruskin Bond. Even today(six years since I first read a Ruskin Bond story), every time I read a short story, or a novella of his I let myself believe he is actually telling a tale of something that happened to him. His protagonists are always strugglers, either unsuccessful professionally, or with love. They are always close to nature, and to the streets of India. They always deal with some of the most hopeless, yet the most profound day to day issues faced by about ninety per cent of our countrymen. But in all the melancholy and sombreness, there’s the zeal to live, the enthusiasm to make the most of the smallest things in life, love, flowers, trees, hills, rivers…

My balcony, is my window to that world. I look at those kids, playing cricket in their lanes, flying kites on their roofs, shabbily clad, with an unmistakable air of malnourishment, and I smile. A part of me even longs to be in their place. I told my father once, he smiled and said, “It’s okay if you feel that way, but the thing to think about, is why?” I really don’t know why, maybe I look at them playing, running around, and feel they don’t have the responsibility, to study, to work, to do many things that I have to. But in a way I also feel I am foolish to think of it that way, they obviously have responsibility, when they grow up, they will have to make ends meet, something I may not find as tough in my life. They are free as children, but will I be freer as an adult? I really can’t answer this, can you?

For now, I enjoy my window, I enjoy watching the ladies put up their clothes for drying, I enjoy them chatting up on their verandahs, I love the sound of bat hitting ball, I love to see the little girls in the school uniforms, bouncy red ribbons, slates and tuition bags. Maybe my balcony to the “other world” will someday help me to fulfill my dream of writing about people, writing about life, writing like Ruskin Bond. Till then, it’s my novel, and I read it…

Recently, many controversies in this enticingly diversified nation of ours have had me thinking of our “clan” as a bunch of “hypocrites”…

Yeah, I don’t deny the same about myself, it took me something like this to happen to Shah Rukh Khan’s Billu Barber to actually write about it, hypocritical enough, if you ask me…

Distinctly etched out in my mind, are three major controversial films over the last two years, and needless to say there were a countless other issues apart from these, which aren’t as vivid in my mind anymore, but were debatable,  nevertheless…I

I remember the first happened last year, when Madhuri Dixit’s comeback film, Aaja Nachle’s, title song had to be edited because a certain strain of lyric in the song was  disparaging to the sentiments and cultural integrity of a certain section of our society, who by the way, I want to make no mention of, but I do remember downloading the song specifically after I heard of it, and having quite a nonplussing fifteen minutes trying to figure out which line was so offensive that they had to actually snip it off…

More recently, this year, we had a debate over whether or not the title of the film “Slumdog Millionaire”, was offensive to the slum dwelling community of our nation. Might I ask, if this film hadn’t won international acclaim, not to mention the Golden Globes, Producers’ & Actors’ Guilds, and now even the Bafta Awards(fingers crossed for the Academy!), who would have even had the time to sneak a peek of its rushes? The word “Slumdog” as perceptible as it is, has been coined from two independent words, namely “Underdog” and “Slum”. The protagonist having lived his life in a slum, and ultimately becoming an unlikely winner of a quiz show, has been referred to as a  Slumdog. Quite simply, “the underdog of the slums”.  We know this is true, why then do we have to take it to imply a defamation? Shouldn’t all this hype, just be called a ploy by those associations to gain attention, then?

For the third dispute, refer straight to the title of my post…

Barber is an English word, explicitly referring to a person whose vocation is to cut people’s hair. It has no altercation whatsoever to do with a caste, sect, or community of India. Yet I found it rather honourable of Shah Rukh Khan to chop off the word from the title of his latest production, just to ensure that no more controversies prevented a smooth and profitable release.

This isn’t the end of the story actually, people object to almost every single issue a movie is made on, a book is written on or any other such content that draws popularity. What I fail to gather from all this, is that the people in whose name these protests are actually made are as oblivious to these goings-on as most students are to their school-work(:P). They on the other hand, have a survival to eke out, meals to lay out on chipped plates. They have jobs to find, employments to sustain, roofs to mend, and an incessant struggle for mere existence, for one day more, one rupee more, one moment of happiness and peace, more…

Then why do these people, who have almost as much to do with being minorities as I do with being a parakeet ignite these fires, whose embers hardly ever die out, and instead pave way for much darker times, in this already tormented existence. When things get worse, it’s not these people, the so-called spokespersons for the rights of the underpriviledged who have to face the wrath of society, of violence, of hunger, and of homelessness, but it’s actually those not so few unfortunate human beings, who probably never even find out in the first place that they were being fought for, that a voice was being provided to them and to the injustice being done to them.

As diverse and multi-ethnic as my country is, if even a few per cent of our population used their right of freedom of speech and expression for the benefit of its fellow countrymen, contrary to futile, baseless, and inconsequential squabbles, I think we’d be sharing this land with much more fortunate men and women…

I just can’t seem to get enough of Yuvvraaj since I heard the album for the first time yesterday…almost every song is reminiscent of a symphony, yet still, so truly and impeccably bearing the mark of A.R. Rahman’s mystical musical genius. He has symphonically combined both Indian and Western Classical forms of music, blending the subtlest tunes, and the most rustic of instruments and given rise to ballads which are so different, yet so true to his incorrigible style. Here are the lyrics of the second song in the album, I can’t get over the opening strums on the violin…divine…

Song: Tu Muskura

Film: Yuvvraaj

Music: A.R. Rahman

Lyrics: Gulzar

Starring: Salman Khan, Anil Kapoor, Zayed Khan, Katrina Kaif

Produced and Directed by: Subhash Ghai

Tu muskura jahaan bhi hai tu muskura
Tu dhoop ki tarah badan ko choo zara
Shareer se yeh muskurahatein teri
Badan mein sunti hun main aahatein teri

Labon se aake choo de apni lab zara
Tu muskura jahaan bhi hai tu muskura
Shareer se yeh muskurahatein teri
Badan mein sunti hun main aahatein teri

Aisa hota hai khayalon mein aksar
Tujhko sochun toh mehak jati hun
Meri rooh mein basi hai teri khushboo
Tujhko choo lun toh behek jaati hun

Teri aankhon mein,
teri aankhon mein koi toh jaadoo hai
Tu muskura jahaan bhi hai tu muskura

Tu muskura jahaan bhi hai tu muskura
Tu dhoop ki tarah badan ko choo zara
Shareer se yeh muskurahatein teri
Badan mein sunti hun main aahatein teri

Tez chalti hain hawaaon ki sansein
Mujhko baahon mein lapetke chupale
Teri aankhon ki haseen loriyon mein
Main badan ko bichaun tu sulale

Teri aankhon mein,
teri aankhon mein koi toh nasha hai
Tu muskura jahaan bhi hai tu muskura

*sargam*

Tu muskura jahaan bhi hai tu muskura
Tu dhoop ki tarah badan ko choo zara
Shareer se yeh muskurahatein teri
Badan mein sunti hun main aahatein teri…

Faintly reminding me of Jaage Hain Der Tak from Guru, this track is keeping me on my toes for the release of Yuvvraaj. These lyrics hint separation, and a longing to make sure that the one you love is happy… Gulzar Saahab creates magic with his pen like no one else, and this time again, the lyrics are simple, you don’t need to be a literary genius to understand them, and yet, the feelings that come across are unparalled…

Amazing stuff, A.R. Rahman, doesn’t get any better than this….

Song: Tu Meri Dost Hai

Film: Yuvvraaj

Music: A.R. Rahman

Lyrics: Gulzar

Starring: Salman Khan, Anil Kapoor, Zayed Khan, Katrina Kaif

Produced and Directed by: Subhash Ghai

Aaja main hawaon pe bithake le chalun, tu hi toh, tu hi toh meri dost hai
aaja main halaaon mein uthake le chalun, tu hictoh meri dost hai
aawaaz ka dariya hun, behta hu main neeli raaton mein
main jaagta rehta hun, neend bhari jheel si aankhon mein
aawaaz hun main!

Aaja main hawaon pe bithake le chalun, tu hi toh, tu hi toh meri dost hai
aaja main halaaon mein uthake le chalun, tu hitoh meri dost hai

Raat mein chaandni kabhie aise gungunaati hai
sun zara lagta hai tumse aawaaz milaati hai
main khayaalon ki mehak hun gungunati saaz par
ho sake toh mila le aawaaz ko yeh saaz par

Aaja main hawaon pe bithake le chalun, tu hi toh, tu hi toh meri dost hai
aaja main halaaon mein uthake le chalun, tu hitoh meri dost hai
aawaaz ka dariya hun, behta hu main neeli raaton mein
main jaagta rehta hun, neend bhari jheel si aankhon mein
aawaaz hun main!

oooh,kabhie dekha aisa hai
jahaan shaam karti hai
kehte hain samandar se ek pari guzarti hai
woh raat ki raani hai
sargam par chalti hai
re sa re sa resa sa re sa re sa re

Aaja main hawaon pe bithake le chalun, tu hi toh, tu hi toh meri dost hai
aaja main halaaon mein uthake le chalun, tu hitoh meri dost hai
aawaaz ka dariya hun, behta hu main neeli raaton mein
main jaagta rehta hun, neend bhari jheel si aankhon mein
aawaaz hun main!

Couldn’t find these any where! Had a really hard time figuring these out, my sister helped me out actually…so here goes, from the latest Karan Johar offering, Dostana (14th Nov. 2008), Desi Girl:

Haan desi girl haan desi girl, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl girl girl, girl……..(2)

Jhumka gira de, jo mila le agar woh nazar se nazar mitade…

Nachke dikhade, sabki dhadkan kadam se kadam milale,

Lehron si chaal ke jaal bichake,

Dil ko yun behaal banade,

Saare deewane maane,

Na dekhi koi aisi girl,

Na dekhi koi aisi girl…

Dekhi lakh lakh pardesi girl,

Ain’t nobody like my desi girl!

Dekhi lakh lakh pardesi girl,

Sab to soni saaddi desi girl,

Who’s the hottest girl in the world,

Haan desi girl, haan desi girl..

Thumka lagaike she’l rock your world,

Haan desi girl,

Haan desi girl…

haan desi girl, haan desi girl, girl girl girl…

Pade kamar pe jo nazar, saare sapnon mein rang bhar jaaye,

Jo thaam le, woh haath toh,

Hanske hi aashiq mar jaayein,

Dhundho jahaan mein chaahe kahin,

Na tumko milegi koi aisi girl…

Dekhi lakh lakh pardesi girl,

Ain’t nobody like my desi girl!

Dekhi lakh lakh pardesi girl,

Sab to soni saaddi desi girl,

Who’s the hottest girl in the world,

Haan desi girl, haan desi girl..

Thumka lagaike she’l rock your world,

Haan desi girl,

Haan desi girl….

Haan desi girl haan desi girl girl girl girl girl….

Jahaan jahaan bhi jaaun main,

Saari nazrein toh peeche peeche aayein..

Rukun zara main jo yahaan,

Thandi thandi saari saansein tham jaayein…

Sabki nigaahon ne hai kaha,

Ki khwaabon mein hai dekhi meri jaisi girl,

Meri jaisi girl….

Dekhi lakh lakh pardesi girl,

Ain’t nobody like a desi girl!

Dekhi lakh lakh pardesi girl,

Sab ko soni lagdi desi girl,

Who’s the hottest girl in the world,

Haan desi girl, haan desi girl..

Thumka lagaike we rock your world,

Haan desi girl,

Haan desi girl….

Jhumka gira de, jo mila le agar woh nazar se nazar mitade…

Nachke dikhade, sabki dhadkan ke kadam se kadam milale,

Lehron si chaal ke jaal bichake,

Dil ko yun behaal banade,

Saare deewane maane,

Na dekhi koi aisi girl,

Na dekhi koi aisi girl…

Dekhi lakh lakh pardesi girl,

Ain’t nobody like my desi girl!

Dekhi lakh lakh pardesi girl,

Sab to soni saaddi desi girl,

Who’s the hottest girl in the world,

Haan desi girl, haan desi girl..

Thumka lagaike she’l rock your world,

Haan desi girl,

Haan desi girl….

Haan desi girl haan desi girl girl girl girl girl….

The day after Bindra won the gold at Beijing, The Times of India read, “First gold in 112 years” and “Curfew in Kashmir“, both headlines, separated by a mere column of newspaper spacing.

Now, after some of the euphoria of the 25 year old’s brilliant victory has died off, and the curfew has been lifted in Kashmir, one thing comes to mind-how many of those, stuck in the curfew, ailing in the hospitals, or mourning their loved ones would have even once considered Abhinav’s win of any importance to their lives?

Normal Indians, in their homes, in front of their TV sets, in parties, dinners and gatherings, are discussing how big an achievement it is for Indian Sport. I found it extremely ironical, how this discussion was going on, parallel with that of the riots in Kashmir, Lucknow, Patna, the confusion regarding the Amarnath Yatra, the Vishwa Hindu Parishad, and all those who have a part to play in the Kashmiri Politics…

TV News channels these days cash in on whatever is the latest fad, not much of relevant news is on air, but sometimes they do stumble upon things that touch your heart. Why do two people die due to grievous injuries and medical conditions because the government has decided they are not going to allow people of their country to move around on a particular day? It makes quite a lot of sense that people should die, just because they happened to fall sick, or got injured on a day our leaders found most opportune to impose their wanton ideals on their nation and its people.

In such a time, when the people of Kashmir, and other places, are either being ransacked by riots, or bombarded by the blasts, how much importance does Bindra’s Olympic Gold Medal hold, for the average Indian? Have we gotten so used to these scandals, killings, terrorism and politics, that curfews in a couple of cities, a dozen odd dying here and there, a few hundred injuries, and a tad bit of bloodshed has no effect on us anymore? Have we gotten so morally immune, and mentally so callous, that it would take much more than a couple of people dying at the hands of a group of masked rebels, who call themselves religious warriors, to look away from the protective bubble of our existences which take into full view only what Bindra wins, or Rathore loses, what Shah Rukh Khan wears, or Rakhi Sawant doesn’t wear?

It was an unprecedented height of Indian History, an Olympic gold in a singular event. But had I been a victim in Srinagar, who had just lost her mother and was praying for the life of a critically wounded brother, would I have lent any thought to patriotism?

Circumstances make us what we are, and they alone drive us to do what we do in life. When life treats you well and you have nothing to shed a tear over, you can enjoy and bask in the glory and joy of all the positive things happening in life. But one who goes through the
most traumatic time of his life would see nothing but the negative around him and in the world.

Call me sardonic, but it makes me shudder to feel that soon a time will come, when we will become used to violence and deaths, it would have to take a lot more than a few hundred casualties for an event to be recognized as a tragedy. Terrorist attacks would mean no more to us, than an average act of crime, in an average Indian city, affecting an average crowd of average Indians. In fact, we are almost already there.

Omar Abdullah’s poignant speech in the Parliament was heart-wrenching. It made you want to feel the pain of being an Indian minority, the subjugation faced inspite of no fault of your own, he promised that Hindus would carry out their Amarnath Yatra, and every Kashmiri Muslim would respect their pilgrimage. He spoke from his heart, but at the end of the day, the promises remain unfulfilled, and the Indian still suffers.

For the leaders it’s a question of being in or out of power, but for Him, it’s a question of being in or out of breath, life, and the chance for survival.

These questions will never warrant a clear answer, this topic will remain as diffuse as ever, life will go on, or in many cases, come to a rude and abrupt end. Is this the question we come in search for from wherever it is before this world?

You cannot be born unless you die, and you cannot die unless you be born.

I love the concept of the phoenix. It always gives me immense strength to think of ‘life from the ashes’. You reach the all-time low, the ultimate dump, and when you think life couldnt get any worse, it takes a u-turn and things start getting better. That’s the only way you can reach the pinnacle, not just of success, but of life as a whole.

I hope this Paradise, though endrenched with the blood and bullets of religious violence
revives its identity, and the long lost beauty resurfaces, better than ever before, a vision to behold.

After all, in the words of Abul Fazal, “agar firdaus bar rooe zaminast, haminasto haminasto, haminast“…(“If there is paradise on earth, it is here, it is here, it is here“)…

The FINAL INSTALLMENT

• We all know the Ramayana was based in Ayodhya
• We all know that Sita was kidnapped and had to live in Ravana’s Lanka

But, what happened after Rama and Sita’s estrangement? Where did she go to live after that, and where were Luv and Kush, their sons born?

We visited the Ram Tirath Ashram, a few kilometers outside of the main city of Amritsar, and were surprised to know how little was known to the world, about this place, despite of it’s huge mythological connection.

The Ram Tirath Ashram is basically the name given to Rishi Valmiki’s Ashram, the place where Sitaji spent her life after separation from Shree Rama. The Ashrama has now been converted into a Valmiki Temple, while there is a tiny hut which is believed to be Sitaji’s Kutiya, and the place where her son Luv was born. There is a “Snaan Kund” a little distance along which is supposedly the pond where she bathed, and also a Pracheen Mandir believed to be of those times in the same location.

Many temples belonging to different cults are located around the area, and a partially dried lake runs across the length of the place. It is said, that when Sitaji reached the place, in order to fulfill her requirements for water, Hanumanji dug that lake with 2 and a half swipes of his mighty hand, it was then that Sitaji prevented him from going any further as he would have eventually dug up the whole city of Amritsar. The lake incidently is across two lengths and a half of a width.

Whether to believe if this is true, is upto every individual, after all it’s mythology, you can just never know.

Finally, it was time for my most awaited experience of the trip.

The WAGAH BORDER! It’s something else you know, finding yourself in a place full of Indians, cheering your country on, at the top of their voice, singing, dancing, waving, and just breathing in, the electric atmosphere.

Amritsari Guideline #4: All cellular phone networks get disabled within a radius of about one kilometer of the Border Gate. So, if you cannot live without texting or missed-calling even for a minute, you’ll have to brace yourself to endure a mobile-less existence for over half an hour, throughout the ceremony and the time it takes you to get outside the grid of the jammed mobile networks.

There is a long, long walk to the border after you have parked your vehicles. As you go further, the Gate of India, built on the pattern of the India Gate at Delhi starts coming into view. There are two huge stands jampacked with seats where people sit, stand, crouch, bend, and do whatever is possible to get a clear view and a minimal amount of breathing space. There is a side gate for V.I.P entrance and we were lucky to get in through that gate (thanks to my father’s I.D. Card) and although we were still cramped, and I was sitting in the space between two stairs, we got a very good view.

Crowds start filling in as early as 3 or 4 o’ clock, we went at about 5:45, and the ceremony started sometime around 6:30.

I messaged a friend (afterwards) gushing about how “electric” the atmosphere was, and got a perturbed reply saying, “Were you at the Indo-Pak Border, or at a Football match?”

Believe me, you have got to be there to know how it feels. Even those of you who claim not to have a single patriotic bone in your body will not be able to help the inevitable euphoria that bowls you over.

You sit in the stands on one side of the Border Gate, to the left of the Indian Gate, and to the right of the Indian Tricolour. To your left is the Pakistani National Flag, and their dome-shaped Gate. Their stands have been built much in the same fashion as ours, on either side of the road.

Now, the sounds of Chak De India! and Rangeela Punjab(I think that was it :/) can be heard from quite a far, but it isn’t until you reach the stands that you realize what is actually taking place. Jarring music expressing the patriotism of both the nations respectively, on both sides of the Border welcome you. Border Security Forces of both countries are lined up next to the gates, and people occupy every single space available to them, on the Indian side, thanks to our overflowing population, people line up even on the pavements!

I felt I noticed two major differences in the crowds on either side.

Indian men and women sat together, mixed, and there wasn’t any gender based segregation on their seating. Across the border, the women occupied one side of the road, and the men were seated on the other.

I think us Indians are such a filmy lot, we can’t bear to miss a single chance to let our hair down, even at the Wagah Border! And yes, there were women, and young girls, and tiny kids, all joining up at the center of the road, forming huge groups, and dancing in full swing to the remixed tones of Yeh Desh Hai Veer Jawaanon Ka. Not on the Pakistani side though.

This is what I meant basically, when I said that the atmosphere was euphoric. You may not be sitting on the road, or dancing in the middle, or even shouting slogans till you’ve lost your voice, but you will still love it!

It’s difficult explaining what the BSF Jawans actually do out there in the middle. Drills, I guess. They march up, down, right and left. I thought they were identical, the Indians and Pakistanis, you would want to believe your’s were better, more athletic and more zealous, but I don’t think that distinction can be made. What’s spectacular is that they give it their all, their efforts to make sure that their respective National Flags stay up the longest, not even a split-second’s delay, fascinating. As immensely enjoyable as the whole ceremony is you can’t help wondering what it must take from those soldiers, to do it over and over, day after day, with the same zeal, same fervour, and equal amounts of patriotism… You sit there, and as you do, however cramped the stairs might be, however hot the weather, you feel like an Indian.

Thanks Abhinav Bindra!

Raksha Bandhan is a festival that holds a very special place in my heart. I believe, speaking for every sister who loves her brother very much, as difficult as it is keeping up with various other Hindu rituals and customs, Rakhi always brings a smile to my face.

This Rakhi, I felt like doing something different. And so, I’ve come up with some new Rakhi Gift ideas(not my own of course!).

Traditional Rakhis have their own pristine charm. But now that almost everything’s getting customised, why not Rakhis?

So, here’s the catch: What would it be like, if you get to design your very own Rakhi, in the comfort of your very own room, using your very own computer?

Really, cool, I know. And what’s more, not simple dorees and cliche designs, you have the choice of making a rakhi that could take you back memory lanes, something so reminiscent of the time spent with your brother that I’m sure he wouldn’t be able refuse to give you a really great gift in return!

So, cut to the chase, I’m talking about Personalised Photo Rakhis. I saw the concept for the first time ever this year on www.itasveer.com, which is basically a photo-printing website, that dabbles in all sorts of photo-related goodies. Apparently, they have something really cool stuff for every occasion, and their concept of Photo Rakhis really had me floored!

So the thing basically consists of a round badge, on which you get your photos, messages, graphics, -whatever and however you design it on the Itasveer Doodlepad- printed, and it is surrounded by the traditional golden gota and dori.

I love personalising gifts, and this was simply fantastic, you can merge many photographs, or use just a single one, they offer various, borders, frames, clip-arts, and even text baubles, to send across your heartfelt messages to your dearest brothers.

You can actually design complete gift hampers, with their other products. Photo Collages, Smugs(Great looking custom mugs), personalised calendars, greeting cards, and chocolates.

It was also fun surfing through their tshirt store. You can design all of these products yourself, adding cool captions, and surprisingly,there’s no end to what can be done just with a wee bit of imagination, some time, and an online gift delivery service. Plus, there’s free shipping for the rakhis in the festival season, in any part of the country, valid till 20th August and a 15% discount on all other items.

If you think you’re not that creative or just don’t have enough time to design a gift for your brother/sister you could simply order prints of your most favourite childhood pics, or those which you cherish dearly, and ship them over, as a sweet and simple Rakhi Gift.

For sisters who have kid brothers, there are also the most adorable Animal mugs, with the funkiest animal shaped handles, which could make awesome Rakhi gifts along with a simple card or a rakhi.

The ideas are unlimited. So depending on what you need your Rakhi gift to be like, surf the site, design the Rakhi, check out the other stuff, combine it with traditional gifts and make the most memorable Rakhi Gift for your brother. Something both of you can cherish for all times to come.

So now I’m off to do the same! Happy Raksha Bandhan Everybody!!!

So I was trying to get my Download Manager to get working and that’s how I finally managed to download the soundtrack of Farhan Akhtar’s much awaited flick in the offing “Rock On!!”. Ohk, it’s not totally Farhan’s this time, we have much more talent to look forward to as well…

The sound of the album is definitely rock, “guitars and the like”,(pardon me for my abysmal vocabulary here, I am an absolute nobody when it comes to understanding, appreciating or explaining rock music ) and the lyrics(Javed Akhtar) are refreshingly cool, youthful, like everyday conversation, and instantly relatable.

Directed by Abhishek Kapoor, in Rock On!! we see Farhan Akhtar making his acting debut, not to mention he has sung almost all the tracks of the album, and amazingly well too. There is also the debut of Prachi Desai, her huge transition from being the small screen’s much adored bahu Bani Walia, to being paired opposite Farhan Akhtar as Sakshi in the film. From whatever I’ve seen of her in the promos, I personally feel she looks really good, and might just be one of the very few telly actresses doing well on the big screen.

So, here are the lyrics of one of the tracks from the album which I am humming these days. It’s not quite like the rest of the songs, less on the drums and guitar. It’s different, simple, sweet, romantic, and quite natural.

Singer : Dominique Cerejo

Song : Ye Tumhari Meri Baatein

Lyricist : Javed Akhtar

Actors : Farhan Akhtar, Arjun Rampal, Purab Kohli, Luke Kenny, Prachi Desai

Music Director : Shankar Mahadevan, Ehsaan Noorani, Loy Mendonca