|
...Interlocutors’ report on J&K...
|
|
|
This above all
TOUCHSTONE
On record
PROFILE: Tigmanshu Dhulia
|
This above all
Besides the armchair in which I spend most of the day reading, writing or dozing off, there is a pile of books whose existence had escaped my memory. One afternoon I decided to take a look at them. I was surprised to find among them "Celebrating the Best of Urdu Poetry" (Penguin Books), jointly produced by Kamna Prasad and myself. I was both overjoyed, as I could reproduce its contents in my columns, and depressed that I had forgotten something I had published only six years ago. Was this an early symptom of Alzheimer's disease of forgetfulness, which had ruined the last eight years of my wife's life? It makes a person a non-person. President Reagan of the United States succumbed to it. George Fernandes is afflicted by it. However, the first entry in my book cheered me up. It is from Mohammad Rafi Sauda (1706-1781). He was of Afghan lineage, born in Delhi. He moved on to Farrukhbad and then to Lucknow, where he died. However, I enjoyed reading my translation of these lines: The cheerful lines read thus: Saaqi gayee bahaar, dil mein rahee havas/ Too minnaton sey jam dey, aur main kahoon key 'bas' ('O' Saqi, gone is the spring of youth;/ Remains but one regret in this heart of mine:/ Had you pressed the goblet in my hand/ Had I but said, 'Enough! Enough! No more wine!!) Even more cheerful are the lines from Meer Taqi Meer (1722-1810). He was born in a village close to Agra. He migrated to Delhi and witnessed the devastation of the city by the invader Ahmed Shah Abdali, which he recorded in his autobiography "Zikr-e-Meer". He moved to Lucknow, where he died a pauper. I quote one of his better known poems on love. Ishq he ishq hai jahaan dekho/ Sarey aalam mein bhar rahaa hai ishq/ Ishq maashooq ishq aashiq hai/ Yaanee apnaa hee mubtala hai ishq/ Kaun maqsad ko ishq bin pahoncha/ Aarzoo ishq muddaa hai ishq/ Dard hee khud hai khud davaa hai ishq/ Shaikh kya jaaney too ki kya hai ishq/ Too na hovey to nazm-e-kul uth jaaye/ Sachchey hain shaairaan khuda hai ishq (It is love and only love whichever way you look,/ Love is piled high from the earth to the sky above./ Love is the Beloved, Love the lover too, / In short, love is itself in love with love./ Without love, what man his goal attains?/ Love is desire, love is ultimate aim./ Love is the anguish, love the antidote of love's pain/ O wise man, what would you know of love?/ Without love the order of the universe would be broken/ God is love - truly have the poets spoken. PUNJAB’S POSITION An Akali minister, when asked how Punjab had slipped from its first position in the country to the 12th, replied: "It is wrong to say Punjab is no longer No. 1 State - look at the National Anthem, Punjab figures first of all. EARTHLY CLOUDS Q: Have you seen Badals on earth? A: Yes, visit Punjab! TRIMMED DC An ex-Deputy Commissioner of Amritsar, who trimmed his beard ruthlessly, once called a meeting for observing 'Vanmahotsava'. While he was stressing that trees were the ornaments of the earth which Nature has gifted us and we shouldn't cut them, an invitee rose from his seat and interrupted by saying: "Sir, hair likewise are ornaments of the human beings, which Nature has given, and we shouldn't cut them". Needless to add, finding himself stumped, the Deputy Commissioner immediately called off the meeting. USELESS APPENDAGE Q: What is common between 'Governor and the appendix'? A: Both are useless when inactive, and liable to be removed if active. (Contributed by KJS
Ahluwalia, Amritsar) |
TOUCHSTONE IRA PANDE
WHAT is it about long summer afternoons that makes us all remember our past years? Perhaps it is the darkened rooms that create a return to the womb kind of mood in us? Whatever the reason, I cannot help remembering how summers were spent before air-conditioners and access to home movies came into our lives. There was a rush for hill stations, such as Shimla, Nainital or Mussoorie. But before that there were long train journeys that needed serious preparation. Puri-aloo and pickles were standard travel food for the vegetarian families, kababs and rotis or chunky sandwiches for the others. Huge tiffin carriers were packed and stuffed into large picnic hampers. Along with them went earthen 'surahis', securely positioned in wooden stands so they would not roll about or break. Bedding was packed into holdalls, which had neat pockets for slippers and pillows. First-class coaches were so spacious that their eight berths often provided room for an entire family. Our greatest joy was being able to buy comics and detective or romance fiction from the AH Wheeler railway bookstalls, along with gossipy film magazines, to read on the way. These were regarded as special treats because our strict parents never allowed us to buy such 'trash' in our non-holiday lives. These train journeys were leisurely two or three-day affairs, where often lasting friendships were forged with total strangers. The romance of such train journeys vanished with the introduction of the super-fast, vestibulated, diesel and electric trains in the Seventies. No one carried food and bedding any longer and chair-car naps replaced the magical sleep to the sound of the clickety-clack of the old steam engine. Our children, who grew up long after the steam engine had retired, never heard its jolly toot-toot, except as replicated in their toys. However, for those who stayed back in the hot plains there were other delights to savour. Khas-tattis that filled the whole house with the aroma of vetiver grass were draped over windows and doors. The deep verandas that skirted old houses had jute curtains fitted to keep the loo at bay. No child was allowed out until the sun had set and we spread matting on the cool floors and spent the long day playing ludo, carrom and endless card games. Come evening, the jute curtains were rolled up and the courtyards flooded with water to cool them down. Dinner was cooked in open air kitchens to relieve the cook of the horrors of a boiling indoor kitchen. On special occasions, ice-cream was made in the old-fashioned hand-cranked, wooden 'bucket' ice-cream 'machines' and that taste lingers on my tongue till today. Once the courtyard had cooled down, string cots were laid out and mosquito nets fixed over them. Huge pedestal fans wafted cool air and bowls of 'motia' or the 'raat ki rani' bush lent the night air a magical romance. Watching the stars sparkle from inside a mosquito net and following the moon's journey across the sky is an unforgettable experience. What a pity that air-conditioners and high-rise apartments have made it all vanish. Before this sounds like a requiem for a lost age, let me count the ways in which summers are spent now. Power cuts, water shortage and a daily war with stubborn and indestructible mosquitoes have become a fact of life for many urban dwellers. The only escape is offered by movie halls and malls, where hundreds of families spend the entire day, riding escalators and snacking. Public spaces, such as the India Gate lawns, attract all those who are unable to afford 'malling'. Teeming with people and vendors selling 'chuski', balloons, ice-cream, popcorn and bhel-puri, they are markers of a way of life when money had not begun to separate Bharat and India so sharply. On the top of this pyramid are those who fly off to their apartments in London, villas in France or Spain. They fly in private jets or sail in fancy yachts to escape the heat and dust of an Indian summer. Our hardworking politicians and bureaucrats discover all kinds of reasons why their presence is urgently needed abroad, and why not? Don't we all need a break? The finale in this memory trip is the annual visit of the circus to the mofussil towns of yore. Posters announcing their imminent arrival were pasted and colourful processions with the local brass band ushered them in. A huge marquee was pitched in the local Ramlila Grounds and the stench of the animals wafting over the neighbourhood was like the Pied Piper's flute for us children. How we begged to be allowed a visit! I can never forget the thrill of the performances that entertained us. The trapeze artists in their spangled costumes (their black arms and legs artfully covered with white tights and layers of pancake make-up on their faces to cloak their dark skins), the dwarfs and clowns, the frightening roar of the lions (many little ones wet their pants, I'm sure) and the cycling bears, cartwheeling dogs… the list of delights was endless. Loud music from an orchestra made us forget the oppressive heat and stench that accompanied every circus. Animal rights activists have killed these travelling magicians. What we have now are expensive trips to a 'Kingdom of Dreams', where Bollywood wannabes, glamorous laser pyrotechnics and overpriced food have taken over the simple joy of a childhood treat. Our progress from a participative democracy to a super economic power has paid a price we have forgotten to assess.
|
On record Padma Shri recipient K.P. Saxena is not only a prolific writer, satirist and columnist. The young non-reading generations recognise him as the dialogue writer of well-received films like "Lagaan", "Swades", "Hulchul" and "Jodha Akbar". Few remember him as the pioneer of Indian television serials. He was the writer of the popular first ever serial on Indian television, "Bibi Natiyon Wali", on Lucknow Doordarshan way back in 1981.
The 80-year-youg KP, as he is popularly known, is not only physically fit but also mentally agile, and open to more films. He speaks of his journey that started as a botany teacher in a college. Tell us how "Bibi Natiyon Wali" happened. I those days I was contributing plays for Akashvani and Doordarshan regularly. One day Lucknow station director Abdul Samad Tatari requested me to write something showcasing the composite Ganga-Jamuni culture of Lucknow. Now this was an idea close to my heart. I first conceived 'Bibi' - as a kind-hearted lady with her 'Begumaati zubaan', representing the humane values of the city. The character was amazingly brought alive on screen by Pramod Bala Shukla. Her somewhat irritable partner 'Mirza' was played by Sushil Kumar Singh. I first wrote four episodes. The serial went on to be so popular that it went up to 13 episodes — the first to do so. The Lucknowi 'zubaan' I believe was one of the factors for its popularity. It was also shown on BBC and even in Japan. Nowadays serials stretch endlessly. Was there no proposal to extend "Bibi Natiyon Wali"? After the advent of colour TV, there was a proposal. I had several meetings, but we could not reach an agreement on the payment. What exactly was the disagreement? Well, by then things had changed, and I had asked for Rs 7,000 per episode, but the director said he did not have the authority to pay that much. How much were you paid for the original serial? I was paid Rs 1,500 per episode. How did a botany teacher become a writer? At the age of 10, I along with my mother shifted from Bareilly to Lucknow to live with my maternal uncle after the death of my father. As my uncle, who worked for the Railways, was childless, he kind of adopted me. Then on, Lucknow has been my home. After MSc in Botany, I taught the subject for three years, but did not see my future in teaching. I took up a job in the Railways, and alongside focused on writing, starting with short stories in Urdu. I had never studied Hindi, which I taught myself many years later. I sent my early attempts at story writing to two prestigious literary journals published from Karachi — Naqoosh and Sawera. Those were accepted, and I became a regular contributor. At that point a friend suggested satire in Hindi, a field then bereft of good writers. Over the years, I was recognised as a satirist writing in the Devanagari script, though my language till today remains mostly Urdu. My "guru" Amrit Lal Nagar had counselled me early that if I did not use Urdu in my writing, the "chashni" (sweetness) would be missing. How did films happen? When Ashutosh Gowarikar and Aamir Khan thought of making "Lagaan", Aamir insisted dialogues be written in an authentic Indian dialect, and they considered me for the job, as I extensively use Awadhi in my writings. When they invited me to Mumbai and explained the story, I found it interesting and plunged wholeheartedly into the project. But let me tell you, I never believed a film on cricket would click at the box office! "Swades", "Hulchal" and "Jodha Akbar" followed. In fact, thanks to "Jodha Akbar", for the first time I read history seriously. For instance, it was an eye-opener to learn that the great Emperor Akbar was unlettered. You changes do you notice in Lucknow, a city known for its culture and language? The biggest change is in the language. That beautiful people's language is now confined to a few quarters of the old city. A crude lingo is fast replacing it. Sadly, the young generation prides itself in not speaking any language in its pure form, be it Urdu, Hindi or even English. But Urdu, which has the rich legacy of Ghalib, Mir, Momin and many others, cannot die. Ramcharit Manas would keep Awadhi alive. What are the projects you are working on? I have been asked to write a film on Ghengis Khan. Historicals are very exciting. Any wish that remains unfulfilled? Yes, I wish to visit Pakistan once. My most ardent fans live there. |
PROFILE: Tigmanshu Dhulia THE biographical film on the life of athlete-turned-outlaw, Paan Singh Tomar, evoked a sense of social responsibility for erstwhile athletes living in penury. The makers of the film — director Tigmanshu Dhulia, lead actor Irfan Khan and producers UTV Motion Pictures — have decided to set up a trust called SOS — Save Our Sportspersons — to help sports people in distress. Among the supporters is Amitabh Bachchan, who also was touched by the biopic. As Dhulia says, not many are as fortunate as Milkha Singh. So many athletes have died in poverty or are living wretched lives. According to him, four-time Olympic hockey gold medallist Shankar Laxman died due to lack of medical attention. K.D. Yadav, a 1952 Olympics bronze medallist, died penniless. Swaran Singh had to sell his gold medal from the 1954 Asian Games. The idea to produce the film "Paan Singh Tomar" first came to Dhulia in 1991, when he read about the desperado in a Sunday magazine. The cover page carried a painted sketch of Paan Singh, along with a photograph of Phoolan Devi. At the time Dhulia was assisting Shekhar Kapoor in production of the film "The Bandit Queen", based on Phoolan's life. Paan Singh, who started out as a farmer and became a soldier, moved on to become a top athlete. Finally, however, betrayal and injustice forced him into becoming a dacoit. Finding material on Paan Singh was tough, but Dhulia did not give up. He reached Paan Singh's village in the dacoit-infested Morena district of Madhya Pradesh and traced out his family, Army colleagues, fellow athletes, coach and gang members. Dhulia has been quoted as saying, "Everyone had only good words for him." It took Dhulia almost 20 years to find a production house to back his project. Nobody was ready to fund his research. Eventually, UTV agreed. Irfan damaged his ligament while shooting in the Chambal ravines, where Paan Singh once operated. This led to a long delay. But when the film was finally released in March this year, it won him wide critical acclaim. Youngest of three siblings, Dhulia was inclined towards cinema since childhood. His eldest brother joined the Navy, and the second brother became a judge. Dhulia did his graduation, but guitar and involvement with the Progressive Students Organisation took up his time. His father, a judge at the Allahabad High court, was not pleased, and mother, a Sanskrit professor, forced him to learn typewriting, hoping he could at least become a clerk. But fate willed otherwise. Since he had been active in theatre, he decided to sit for the National School of Drama entrance test. He qualified and won a scholarship too. After a Master's in theatre, there was no looking. |
||
|
HOME PAGE | |
Punjab | Haryana | Jammu & Kashmir |
Himachal Pradesh | Regional Briefs |
Nation | Opinions | | Business | Sports | World | Letters | Chandigarh | Ludhiana | Delhi | | Calendar | Weather | Archive | Subscribe | Suggestion | E-mail | |