Happens Over Coffee

A long time ago, much before Cafe Coffee Day came up with its amazing tagline, coffee houses, and tea shops were sipping the margaritas of the mind while talking about love and revolution , taking apart governments, discussing art and culture, cocking a snook at the world.

It was all happening over coffee, and tea, just like today.

Gouriprasanna Majumdar wrote a song on this dichotomy of the everlasting and the fleeting on a group of friends who met at a coffee house, and Manna Dey sang it.

The rest is nostalgia…

Those coffee house days are no more, are no more

Where have those gold (en) noons gone? Where did they go?

Nikhilesh is in Paris, Moidul in Dhaka – nobody knows more

Desouza, the Goanese guitarist in Grand, shall play no more

A heart-break has put Rama Roy in(to) an asylum

Amal is losing the fight against cancer; life refuses to be a balm

Those coffee house days are no more, are no more

Where have those gold (en) noons gone? Where did they go?

Sujata is the happiest so far

(Heard) she married a millionaire

Diamonds are forever after all

A palace for home, antique cars galore –she is having a ball!

Nikhilesh Sanyal –a dreamer from art college designed ads

Desouza was content to sit and listen, nobody saw him sad (ever)

Those coffee house days are no more, are no more

Where have those gold (en) noons gone? Where did they go?

Around the table – those hours four

Lit with Charminaar, who could ask for more

Sometimes Bishnu Dey, at times Jamini Roy

Became friends as the debates soared

Come rain, come sunshine – wherever we were

Finished our work so that we could gather

At 4 and be merry than kings (rather)

Till 7:30 when we stood up

Those coffee house days are no more, are no more

Where have those gold (en) noons gone? Where did they go?

He looked like a poet with his bag slung from shoulder

Amal will be forgotten soon

None of his poems have been published anywhere

Talent led him to nowhere

Rama Roy acted in the office drama productions

Reporter Moidul read what he wrote and analyzed the situations

Those coffee house days are no more, are no more

Where have those gold (en) noons gone? Where did they go?

The table is there, but those 7 are missing

Though 7 cups are still steaming

The garden is in bloom once again

Only the gardener has gone missing

So many dreams get born here

So many dreams get so near (to reality)

So many have come

So many will come

(The) Coffee House stays as it was

Those coffee house days are no more, are no more

Where have those gold (en) noons gone? Where did they go?

The Other Sides Of The Moon

Moonstruck is a fairly accurate description of being swept by the feeling of love, and the slightly over the top behavior which it ensues is forgiven with a knowing smile. But how do one forgive when a surging bout of tenderness has ended forever, or what do we do when the emotion visits us at an age when Cupid could be a grandchild.

Sahir Ludhianvi, the ‘magician’ of lyrics, and poems was supposed to have met his ex-sweetheart right after a break-up, in a party –among a roomful of people. What he must have felt is not difficult to guess, but he poured out his feelings on to paper, and it became Chalo ek bar phir se (Come, let us be strangers once again) in the film Gumrah,1963.

Gulzar, the poet filmmaker explored the other side of the moon, with his intrinsic honesty –tracing the craters and jagged edges deftly as love takes over the psyche of sextagerian for a woman half his age in Aise uljhi nazar (Bewitched eyes won’t look away), Ishqiya,2010

Kabir Suman, the singer-songwriter who ushered in a band culture successfully in West Bengal in the early nineties has his own take on love in his Jatishwar (Reincarnation). According to him, the history of true love repeats itself.

Chalo, ek bar phir se, Film-Gumrah, 1963, Lyricist-Sahir Ludhianvi

 

Chalo ek bar phir se, ajnabee ban jaye ham dono

Come, let us unwind our friendship, and be strangers once again

Naa mai tumse koyee ummid rakhu dilnavajee kee

Let me not have any expectations great or small

Naa tum meree taraf dekho, galat andaz najaro se

Nor should you allow your gaze on me to fall

Naa mere dil kee dhadkan ladkhadaye meree baton me

My heart should not show up in my words smoldering slow

Naa jahir ho tumharee kashmkash kaa raj najaro se

Nor should your eyes tell the secret of your rows

Chalo ek bar phir se, ajnabee ban jaye ham dono

Come, let us unwind our friendship, and be strangers once again

Tumhe bhee koyee uljhan rokatee hai peshkadmee se

You too have your demon that stalks and haunts

Mujhe bhee log kehte hain, kee yeh jalve paraye hain

People are always reminding (me) bygones are bygones

Mere hamrah bhee rusvaiya hain mere majhee kee

My shadow still wanders in the alleys from the past

Tumhare sath bhee gujaree huyee rato ke saye hain

You too have those nights with you, smithereens that will hurt

Come, let us unwind our friendship, and be strangers once again

Tarruf rog ho jaye toh usako bhulna behtar

When all that is left behind is decorum; it is best to let go

Talluk bojh ban jaye toh usako todna achchha

When all that remains is a load; it is best to forego

Woh afsana jise anjam tak lana naa ho mumkin

That reverie which cannot be brought to shore

Use ek khubsurat mod dekar chhodna achchha

Is best to be spun beautifully, and set afloat

 

Come, let us unwind our friendship, and be strangers once again

 

Aisi ujli nazar, Film-Isqiya,2010, Lyricist-Gulzar

 

aisi ulji nazar unse hatt thi nahi

As if in trance, the eyes won’t look away

 

daant se reshmi dor katt thi nahi

A silken bond is the hardest to get away (from)

umar kab ki baras ke safaid ho gayi

Years have turned white like a shroud

kaari badari jawani ki chatt ti nahi

Spring still drifts in like a cloud

walla ye dhadkan bhadne lagi hai

(The) heart is beating faster

chehre ki rangat udne lagi hai
                                         Face is losing its luster

darr lagta hai tanha sone mein ji
                                      Sleep has become a nightmare (now)

dil to bachcha hai ji

heart thinks like a child

dil to bachcha hai ji

heart acts like a child

thoda kaccha hai ji
                                                      raw –at times

haan dil to baccha hai ji
                                                     heart is a child!

aisi ulji nazar unse hatt thi nahi

As if in trance, the eyes won’t look away

daant se reshmi dor katt thi nahi

A silken bond is the hardest to get away (from)

umar kab ki baras ke safaid ho gayi

Years have turned white like a shroud

kaari badari jawani ki chatt ti nahi

Spring still drifts in like a cloud

kisko patha tha pehlu mein rakha, dil aisa paaji bhi hoga                                       Who knew that the cloistered heart would play such a prank

hum to hamesha samajhte the koi, hum jaisa haaji hi hoga

Always thought, it was a good Samaritan

hai zor karein, kitna shor karein

Throws a tantrum, creates a storm

bewaja baatein pe ainwe gaur karein

Willfully bends the norm

dil sa koi kameena nahi

Winks –as it plays the tramp

koi toh rokey, koi toh tokey
                                           Catch it (someone), hold it (someone)

iss umar mein ab khaogey dhokhe                                                I don’t want to be in the dumps

darr lagta hai ishq karne mein ji

The thought (of love) gives me goose bumps

dil to bachcha hai ji

heart thinks like a child

dil to bachcha hai ji

                                      heart acts like a child

thoda kaccha hai ji

                                      raw-at times

haan dil to baccha hai ji

                                     Heart is a child!

aisi udhaasi baithi hai dil pe, hassne se ghabra rahe hain                                    Sadness has spread like the dusk, it hurts to laugh

saari jawani kathra ke kaati, piri mein takra gaye hain
                   Whiled away time seeking, it took so long for the heart to start beating

dil dhadakta hai to aise lagta hai woh, aa raha hai yahin dekhta hi na woh

(Already) everything is fleeting

prem ki maarein kataar re                                               Love is a killer (I say)

tauba ye lamhe katate nahi kyun                                                 Why is this moment forever?

aankhein se meri hatt the nahi kyun                                                 Why can’t the eyes look elsewhere?

darr lagta hai mujhse kehne mein ji                                                  I feel afraid even to tell her…

dil to bachcha hai ji

heart thinks like a child

dil to bachcha hai ji

heart acts like a child

thoda kaccha hai ji

raw-at times

haan dil to baccha hai ji

Heart is a child!

 

 

Kabir Suman, Jatishwar (Reincarnation)

 (I) Won’t live forever,(I) don’t even want to

Life finds a meaning when it seeks you (only you)

Moment grows up fast like a newborn, blinding a reincarnation

Memories of last life, lost incantations

Torn pages of an ancient tome with wind breathes anew

Life finds a meaning when it seeks you (only you)

Cobra’s hood sways with the nostalgia of Lakhinder’s plight

Behula can never be a widow, says Bengal’s sprite

The raft floats twice a day, carrying the same body

Died once, will die afresh –for love I am ready

Born several times; passed away always at your side

Denied salvation so that I did not lose you ever from my sight

We two have come back always for the love of our earth

At times Gangur, at times in Kopai Kapotakksha’s art

Gangur has become Kaberi sometimes (2) Mississippi

Even Rhine or Congo’s idyllic euphony

Lyrics I never wrote, or shall ever write

In people’s songs through the ages, I want you by my side

I sought you out many times, many births ago

When Tathagato blessed our sunset, long time ago

His piety touched you to become a wanderer at heart

As it did me, who picked up a beggar’s shirt

I did cry out for your love then, as I do now

Bless my dream with your love, with bent knees I bow

Barricade the poem of love; with our lips entwined anew

Let a revolutionary kiss witness, as I find you (only you)

A muse to my dreams, you have come several times

I was your desire each time, I was your rhyme

Whenever you broke your heart, you had found me

I had been your man always, forever your land of glee

Whenever you gave birth, I became a father

So many times, our sons, darling had set our pyres on fire

Both of us came back again, as fresh as dawn new

Once again shall come back to say I seek you (only you).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Greatest Stories on Earth

The Iliad, the Odyssey, the Ramayana, and the Mahabharata are the original dynasts of the oral story telling practice – written down and embellished several times over, down the ages. And like all noteworthy bloodlines coming out from the same gene pool, they share resemblances powerful enough to set one off on a journey of what ifs, and whys in the exotic corridors of the mind. The startling similarities that stand out as prominently as the ‘Hapsburg jaw’, could have occurred due to cross – cultural chinese whisper sessions on a telluric level, gifting the successive generations the thrill of the guessing game, and plots and details to be replicated over and over again, in the grand narrative of the human imagination.

Both the Iliad, and the Ramayana can be described as the search for Helen, and Sita respectively though the circumstances leading to their disappearances are as different as chalk and cheese (one eloped, the other was abducted), while the prime mover of the Mahabharata plot line was indubitably Draupadi’s unmitigated desire for vengeance. Forgetting the desensitization of the expression, it is possible to glimpse the genesis of the parochial, and perhaps partly true view of the world’s (definitely true in the ancient world)  troubles emanating from three distinct agents – land, riches, and women, successively leading into the French proverb ‘Cherchez la femme’, when one takes into account that the elopement of Helen with Paris, gave Greece the perfect excuse to lay siege on Troy, which it was eyeing for a long time with the thought of capturing-from the focal points of the three epics.

Similarly, the demon king Ravana’s abduction of Sita can be epitomized as the minority’s simultaneous revulsion and fascination for a female from the majority, closely paralleled in the Red Indian’s equation with the white woman as depicted in the John Ford Westerns and its numerous inheritors.

One thing is certain, that the founding fathers of civilization had a tough time with the distribution and safe keeping of land, wealth, and maintaining the identity of the female half of the population – a problem which exists even today in veiled avatars and to a reduced degree and probability of occurring.

As with the problem of guarding one’s possession, the dawn of civilization must have been occupied with outwitting the other clan as a basis for survival, which gets reflected in use of decoys in the Iliad, and the Ramayana. While Troy remained invincible till, Odysseus had a brainwave in the form of the Trojan horse, Ravana, too, could abduct Sita only with an illusory golden deer which took her protectors away on a wild goose chase. Be it getting behind the enemy lines, or snatching an object of desire, deception remains the absolutely indispensable ingredient from the days of The Guns of Navarone (1961), Where Eagles Dare(1968) to the more modern The Departed(2006).

It is also easy to discern, that such an environment fraught with the fear of loss, and humiliation in the next corner would put a prime value on machismo built up to be legends, as a possible measure of safeguard from secondary threats. Awe is a powerful protective vest, which is why America faltered with the destruction of the twin towers, and was swept by a momentary wave of paranoia in the last millennium. Both, Achilles in the Iliad, and Karna/Duryodhana in the Mahabharata, are demi gods in their almost immortal status. While Karna derived his super power from an armour, and a pair of ear rings with which he was born; both Duryodhana and Achilles were gifted this near immortal status by their respective mothers.

While Thetis immersed an infant Achilles in the river Styx, holding him by his heel (which remained the only vulnerable point in his physique); Gandhari asked an adult Duryodhana to stand in front of her open eyes (which she kept covered) without any clothes, which he did with the exception of covering his middle with a banana leaf which made his thighs, the only vulnerable portion of his body.

Needless to say, that both of them succumbed to injuries in those respective portions of the body; Achilles from an arrow, Duryodhana from a mace blow. A legend grows more authentic, if a strand of vulnerability is written in its code, and the trio is a fitting example of the practice.

A time which would require legends of machismo as a safety measure, would also require tales of immense resourcefulness and self sacrifice in their females, highlighting their integrity and loyalty, to prevent any unwarranted advances. Both, the Odyssey, and the Mahabharata shares exemplary loyal female protagonists in Penelope, and Gandhari. While Penelope would save herself from the suitors gathered for her hand in the long absence of her husband Odysseus, by spinning a cloth in the daytime which she would herself unravel in the night (so that it remains incomplete, and keep the suitors at bay, because they have to wait for its completion); Gandhari would put on a blindfold forever so that her blind husband could feel that she was his partner in life, in every respect of the term.

There are other similarities galore. Priam’s blind love for his son Paris, would make him overlook his indiscretions which would lead him on to the greatest one in his life, and that of his nation, i.e, seducing Helen and carrying her off, while Dhritarashtra’s besottedness with Duryodhana would push him to commit a blunder of equal scale and calamity. Achilles would ask his Myrmidion troops to fight, when he himself did not participate in the initial phase of the battle, while Krishna would order his equally formidable Narayani troop to fight on the opposite side, while he himself would act only as a charioteer.

We may find some of their aspects redundant, parochial, gender-biased, and even passé, yet we are living the greatest stories of the world in our lives, we always did.