अर्धवट कविता...करीन पुरी कधीतरी!

मी नव्हतो आधी कोणी पण
मला व्हायच नव्हत कोणी ही
पण मला ओळख मिळालीच नाही.
ह्या सगळ्या अनोळखी जगात
माझा चेहरा पुसालच जात नाही
आणि मग तू, मी आणि आम्ही
पण मी खरच त्यातला नाही.
झेंडे, फुले आणि शस्त्र
मी होऊच शकत नाही विवस्त्र
तू कोण, कोठून, कोणाचा
पहिल नाव, शेवटचा नाव संगितल्याशिवाय सुटकच नाय

Colour me Blood

Today was a happy day in Bhausaheb's office. His supporters were gathered around a colourful tent built only for this day since the early morning. The courtyard is decorated by rangoli, a supposed to be devotional music were playing with the breaks for popular bollywood item numbers. Outside the tent a huge flex was erected wishing 'Bhau' many wishes, and with hell lot of pictures of their supporters. A small temporary cabin was packed with flowers and gifts, everything was trying to be organised, in its own disorganised manner. Yes it was Birthday of Bhausaheb or 'Bhau' as he is lovingly called.

Contradicting to the festive mood of the office two quite ambulances with four doctors were standing on the circumference of the crowed. Few supporters brought a huge weigh scale from a scrap yard, and they started decorating it with flowers. Another strange thing. These two strange things will be explained by a banner being put under 'Bhau's flex-It said: Blood donation camp and 'rakta-tula' on the occasion of Bhau's birthday.

These things still are quite ordinary or expectedly weird for anybody who doesn't know what happened to this town 6 days back...

What happened here was a remote reaction to something that didn’t happen to another town few thousand of kilometers away. On the last Monday suddenly a mob inspired by a will to change...at least modify the world according to their leaders thoughts attack an area of the town. Their leader wanted a monument of his leader to be erected at a disputed land. But law prevented him from doing so and arrested him. The mob attacked the colony of the people who were not personally but religiously different than their leader's leader...and incidentally the Police commissioner who gave the order of his arrest was also of their community. The violence lasted for two days...

But today the leader was out on a bail...and incidentally it was Bhau's birthday too. Bhau, though a supporter of that arrested-and-released leader, was not a bad man heart, at least that what he wanted to prove. So he arranged this 'rakta-tula'. He will donate the blood equal to his weight to the city hospital to treat the people who got injured in last week's violence.

Rakt-tula is inspired by suvarna-tula. A custom in Indian fairy (?) tales. Where a king used to weigh him by gold coins and ornament on his birthday or any auspicious day and then he used to donate those amount as a charity.

Here Bhau will weigh him by blood bottles, and frozen blood packets, and this he will donate that blood to the hospital. Well well...

Bhau arrived with his convoy. Everybody jumped to open and hold the door of the SUV for Bhau. After few speakers talked about Bhau and his achievements, his majesty Bhau also talked about the importance of blood donation and the necessity to erect the monument. After people ate the breakfast and sweets, the function which everybody was excited about started-The only rakt-tula or Rudheer-tula as Bhau called it.

Bhau sat in one pan of the weigh scale. He was wearing white kurta and white pants, a gold chain in neck and a golden watch. The supporters waiting for the function to start was reflecting in his black Ray Ban. Being a corporator is no easy job. You can't give time for your body, your food and drinks. After being the corporator Bhau also suffered from this ignorance-o-health mania. You can't really call him fat, but yes fats increased his girth quite a lot after being Corporator. He couldn't get time even for exercise. That was showing clearly when he tried to sit down in the pan. Well his supporters supported him.

Oh the doctor...yes the doctors were called...lazy bums only standing near the ambulance all this while. After few flashbulbs burnt and the official inauguration of the function, the function started.

The first packet of blood was ceremonially thrown in the other pan by Bhau’s wife Kokilabai. Then Bhau’s brother had his turn. After few others dignitaries, the donation was going to open for public. Everybody was talking about Bhau and his…well weight of course. Dada said, “you were unnecessary worrying about you weight…it is helping for a good cause now…hahaha” “Yes”, supported Nana “These doctors are getting helped because you didn’t listen to them about the weight-loss program” Everybody was bursting in to laughter and started teasing doctors. Everybody wanted to show they are happy with the responsibility…and they also want to please their leader.

Nana was putting a bottle of blood in the pan. The pan was already heaped; the bottle slipped of the heap and landed on the floor. Splash! Nana’s chappal and lower part of his white pants got soaked in red. Boom! Everybody suddenly got so quite after the noise. Nobody moved, said or ordered anything. The sweeper came to his senses first; he ran and grabbed a mop to clean the floor. Ohh suddenly everybody started giving orders to our fast thinker…wash this, wipe that. Nana looked at his trousers, “Doctor, will this cause me any disease…say AIDS?” and he loves his jokes, he thought this is hilarious and started laughing hysterically.

For a moment everybody though he’s gone mad…really got contracted by some weird disease. But no he gasped, breathed and again started laughing in his trademark tone.

Everybody also, meanwhile, started to get fascinated by the red floor. It was gripping visual. Blood clots were slowly getting diluted in the soap water. The colourful film of soap was slowly turning red. Fat women slipped off the soapy floor and bumped on the container of blood bottles. And again another blood bottle broke. The fat lady was sitting in a pool of blood, her hand was red. She tried to wipe her sweat and her face also got blood stained. She was looking horrible…a psycho-serial killer.

Yes and she started the series of murder, murder of the bottles. Now not only Nana but the whole crowd has gone crazy, everybody laughing hysterically on the lady’s red face. Hell, she was embarrassed. Pappu, 6 year son of Bhau, sneaked and reached the container. He took out a packet of blood and ripped it open, and started showering it on his playmates. He was Bhau’s son; after all, nobody can stop him.

Now everybody wanted to be a part of The Red Army. Everybody, almost, started playing with bottles, either explicitly or secretly. Somebody yelled, “Holi hai!!!”

Sure Bhau’s birthday was memorable. He is the leader. He got support. The monument has to erect there now

A LIGHT ON THE THIRTEENTH FLOOR

A light on the 13th floor
Somebody’s having a last fuck
Somebody’s getting ready to try luck
In the crowed to get squeezed & drenched
Alone is the word and multilayered clothes are the new trend
Getting dressed up and a cheek on a peck
They say it makes you successful, the heck

Footpaths are for riding
And pink sandals for dust biting
Find a patch on spit….and Street
Pig on the track…you shit

4:52 deserted first class when going up
And in downwards, a huge turn-up

We need and angel, or may be a goddess
To waive at you from the 13th terrace
Wings are broken or not grown up yet
Doesn’t matter if you are a beautiful saint

Can see it, right into it, through
When you fly up, up, up and threw
Gaze, glance or puke
Analyze that ‘coz you gotta put right bait on your hook

The light on the 13th floor goes off
Again to go on and off and on and off
The angel has flown away
To the 14th floor, to lay
She is the mother surrogate
Bitch, how do you wanna copulate?

Part 2...the sinner returns!

Part 2

planning to write about it for quite long time now...to be precise when slumdog millionaire got its nominations for Golden Globes (or GG as we affectionately call it- Danny Boyle uvaaach!)

Thats the time the Globe came to know about A.R Rahman....thats the time everybody wanted to listen to the slumdog track...and want to watch what a feerang has done to Mumbai and India...

I wanted to be a part of that yet to come mass-frenzy! Wanted to see Slumdog Millionaire...actually I came to know about SDM in a blog by Anurag Kashyap.

so...as the story unfolds we come to know that there is more to it than just rag to riches storyline-said SRK while presenting SDM at the Golden Globes (BTW he was called 'king of bollywood' there...what a moment!)

in my office ( I work for a bollywood music TV chanel) some sites (sexually explicit/adult/hobbies/time waste/criminal nature/kids time.....) are banned...and obviously Torrent sited were also banned under the act downloads....but...

here the story actually starts...

khhhrrrrrwwsssppppppppp

TIME A: few days ahead in the future- a library attendent in our office was asking me, “do u have 'chillamda milleni'?” my initial reaction was blank...


khkhhhhhhhhhhrspsspppppzzz

TIME B: few days back in the future!

one of my friend told me gave me sermon about using proxy server!
And whoa! A new age has started in my life....DOWNLOADS.....TORRENTS....


wwwwzzzxxxrrrrpppppppppp

NOW

so one night I was working late....hardly anybody was using their computer...coz very few people were working at that hour
so the speed of internet was become quite fast...and I downloaded the torrent for SDM...and put it on download...
next day I told proudely about my kartood to my colleague (she always used to ask me to download some weird mushy movies for her) and she was like WOW, why ddnt she think of it before...she asked for the movie and I gave it...!

dude I had made three mistakes of my life...in a span of just a few hours....i downloaded the movi..saw it and distributed the pirated copy!
Well my colleague was advance to me about bragging about her movie collection and soon everybody was craving for the slumdog...

zzrspppppppppppp

12 th Jan '09
A.R. Rahman was climbing up the stage to receive the Golden Globe for 'all the brilliant indians'



kkhhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrkzzzp

TIME A (again):
I was blank..'chillamda....chillam...weed....bengali weed...chilumda... “whats that?”, I asked...he said, “the film everybody is watching...you have it right? Somebody has deleted all its copies from the LAN” (wasn't me, but I thanked that ITwalah...who has by the way blocke all the sites) I saw a mail in my inbox warning us all not to save any movies on the LAN!

“yeah I have it...it originated from me...heck!”...he just understood the part 'I have it' and ran to get a blank DVD...


vrrrrrrrrrraasssssssssssppppp

NOW

what went wrong? Before the Golden Globe literally everybody in my office and the office adjacent to us has seen the SDM....so the support for A.R. Rahman was bigger than it could have been had I chose not to download the movie...or had kept it to myself... but really everybody was rooting for Rehman...and everybody was happy...we are watching the Golden Globes footage that has came to our library again and again...

kkkkkkhhhhhhrrrppppppppp

TIME C: few days back on the timeline...after TIME B...just before TIME A

a promo for 'Slumdog Crorepati' arrived in our library- the hindi version of SDM...again it tortured me....what I have done...it is actually releasin in India...when I downloaded it, then I ddnt see any chance, movement of SDM releasing here...so I downloaded it.
The rest of my day went in misery


zzzzzzzzzzzzrrrrrrrrrkhpppp

NOW

where exactly piracy is wrong? Where exactly is the thin line between the regular outine and THE SIN?
Few people from my office are now going to watch SDM (hindi me) in theatres...many people came to know about SDM because of it, otherwise they would have ignored like some...some Mira Nair film!

I mean I want to make movis someday...big movies..
what if I have released my movie....and returning to my home town after the premier and see my movie on my journey back, in the video coach bus! I mean. Would I be elated that the movie is reaching to the wider audience...or will I be upset, coz my producer will not get enough returns and thus blurs my chance of a next movie? I dont know...as an ameture film maker...i want my film to reach to the wider audience...



khrsssssssaaaaaaaapppppppppppppppppp


THANK YOU

Slumdog million sinner

PART 1(!)

at last(?)
we indian came on the Globes...the golden globes...short, brown, confident, modest A.R. Rehman walked up the stage to accept the Golden Globe for his music score in Danny Boyle's 'Slumdog Millionaire'...the music was indeed (offcourse) very good. (at the same time he is giving us 'Yuvvraaj' and 'Ghajini' :P)

THEN WHAT, WHERE IS THE SIN? WHO'S THE SINNER?
Well the sin is been performed by me...i'm the sinner...
...contd.

At the strike

At the strike
When you reach habitually on time to office, you find a lot less people than usual. The reason is the strike of the autorikshaws; you come to know when the first employee hit by the strike enters.
Everyone arrives, either with lot of sweat travelling by bus or train, and the rest of the lot travelled by taxis come with empty pockets. And the sharing of experiences begins; everyone tries to tell that he has the worst tale to tell.
But why? I mean why the autorikshaws union called on this strike….
You search on the net, as it is more near to you, and you can’t participate in the live talk because you have bike and have, in fact, enjoyed the comparatively empty streets. So, the net says, somewhere in America one South American artist with a weird name starved a dog to death, and presented the act as installation art in an art gallery. Thousands of blogs condemned this act, and millions of people (you wonder how people get time to write on Salman’s various hairstyles in his career) have expressed themselves virtually.
To add up spice to the story (I guess) another art gallery invited that artist (with the weird name) to repeat this act. A virtual petition has been released where you can sign virtually to express your disapproval towards the act.
On the net you also find out the explanation of that artist on his act. He says on another blog that it is to tell people how stray dogs die in the third world country, but you have only realized the pain when I have shown you the death and desperation to live in the art’s context. (By the way he has kept some food just outside the reach of the dog, and has written on the walls of the art gallery ‘you are what you eat’)
So, you get pretty much wrapped up in the virtual wired world. But you don’t like the comparatively offensive expression portrayed in the virtual world about the third world. You feel like the starved dog on display and Uncle Sam is broadcasting you all over the world in an exclusive 24-7 live channel. (India TV doesn’t cover that, as it is inside the dog)
Meantime you realized that (the AC is freezing you out!) no you realize that (the road was less crowded), no you realize that (the new girl in your office is wearing dark blue bra, and you can make out it because she is also wet in sweat!), well yeah you realize that (you don’t get to see the quality of rope by which the dog has been tied up in your country), well you come to realize that the autorikshaws are on strike today (but that you know already!) well, the strike is because they don’t want the electronic meters to be installed in their vehicles (the electronics meter could’ve given the printed bill including the fare, the distance travelled, permit number and registration number of the autorikshaw…cool ha!) Moreover they want public servant status and (yet another) reservation in houses. The take of the autorikshaw union on the opposition for the electronic meter is that-they would as prone to tampering and dust and moisture as the existing mechanical ones.
Suddenly you see that girl with the blue bra loses her consciousness, the reason: she waited for the public transport vehicle for more than hour in scorching sun…The strike is a success…may you say!?
The dog had died because of the hunger, so the artist should’ve been more successful by this logic...huh!?
Have you started to feel that you should put this article on your blog?
(By the way the autorikshaw union couldn’t hold for even one day…on the other day the autorikshaws and thus the traffic jam was on!)

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