Sunday 21 July 2024

The Reunion

It was late evening at Lutyens Delhi and the traffic on the road was sparse. The mid-November chill was in the air. It was relatively quiet in the area, except in one of the palatial bungalows where a lot of merriment was happening. A motley group of around thirty people in their late fifties and early sixties seemed to be having a good time. The men outnumbered the ladies almost six to one and the minority group was sitting inside the house in the living room with old classic paintings on the walls and antique memorabilia kept thoughtfully on the sideboards and tables. The talk was centered around the grand Indian wedding recently concluded at Mumbai, about the clothes, the unending phEras tour and the amount of money spent in the celebrations that screamed of sheer ostentation. The ladies were wearing smart and elegant dresses, boots and leather jackets and had wine glasses in their hands. A few ash trays with stubs were also going around on the centre table along with some lovely finger foods like kebabs and puffs.  The conversation seemed lively and everyone had something to add to the story. People seemed happy. A couple of men folk, too, joined the conversation in between and added their two bits and then walked away.

The atmosphere in the verandah and open-air garden seemed livelier with the huge spread of wines and liquor on a table. There were also a few bottles of soft drinks for the nay havers. A few of the oldies were hanging around this table but the main group was all huddled together and laughing out loud. Some of them spoke about how they would drop their pencils and then go under the desk trying to pick it up but actually trying to peep at the legs of the pretty elocution teacher sitting in front on a raised platform wearing a tiny skirt. One of them dropped a bomb when he declared that he had many a time seen much beyond the long shapely legs and the others quickly pounced on him saying he was lying. But the chubby guy insisted and also went on to describe in great detail what he had seen and what others never did. It was a moment of instant glory for the man. Now began a session of one-upmanship where each was trying to talk about their school time experiences and moments of ecstasy with teachers, damsels and heartthrobs of old, each one better than the other. 

Seeing this group and listening to their conversation, it was all but evident that this was a reunion of an all-boys school where the only pretty ladies they laid their eyes were the good-looking young teachers and the tiffin time peeping across the bushes that separated their school from the all-girls schools. Boys who announced they had girlfriends were the heroes and worshipped by the rest who then enjoyed the lewd and juicy stories the heroes would create, leaving the awestruck audience to imagine life in a La La Land. Memories of childhood and the so-called trauma of not having mixed freely and in a friendly manner with girls in their young adolescent age seemed to have stuck to these oldies who refused to grow up even after so many years. But one thing was clear, that these men were buddies of old and their friendship as thick as the trunk of a mahogany tree. They all looked forward to this one day in a calendar year when they would descend from all over the globe and India to meet at one place for an evening which turned back their aging clocks by fifty years.

The party was at its peak when a lady, wearing a bright Kanjeevaram silk saree and a pashmina shawl draped on her, walked in. The chatter suddenly stopped and people were looking at each other, not knowing who this new entrant was. The host took courage and went up to ask…

Good evening Ma’am. I think you may have come to the wrong address. Let me help you find your way to the right house.

The lady smiled and said, I have come to the right place. I know it well. It was there on the invitation message. You must be Vinni…right?

Yes, I am Vinni. How come you know my name? I don’t think we have met before.

I know you and know all the others sitting there. I have seen all your pictures from school days to the many reunions you have had over the years. 

Then please come in and join the party and also solve this mystery about yourself. Happy to have one more lady in the group. There is enough food and drinks for you to feel at home.

The lady smiled and walked up to the cane chairs where all the men were seated. By now the ladies had also come out of the living room. They sensed something was wrong as there was no noise coming from outside. Possibly, they were worried their men had forgotten to take them home after drowning in the spirits. The sight looked almost like the childhood days when the madari would come, beat the dumroo and start the monkey dance while singing songs from Hindi films.

Hello everyone. I am Bela Bose, your friend Montu’s wife. 

Oh…that’s wonderful. But why isn’t Montu here? He never misses any of the reunions. Hope he is not behind the Chinese bars… Hong Kong is a changed place now.

The hostess stepped forward; You guys are such a discourteous lot. Didn’t your Irish brothers teach you how to behave with a lady… how could they? They themselves never had luck with ladies. 

Bela, welcome to our home. Please sit down and make yourself comfortable. I was also missing Montu because in this whole crowd of happy-go-lucky drinkers, he always preferred light Darjeeling tea and enjoyed it. Shall I also get you a cup of tea and something to eat?

Thank you so much. I do not blame these ‘boys’ for being so surprised to see me as no one has ever met me before. I came here today, for a promise I made to Montu. 

A few months ago, Montu had a terrible pain in his abdomen and was diagnosed with a tumour in his pancreas. The tumour had spread all over and the doctor, as a last resort, tried surgery. Montu did not come out of the OT. He breathed his last on the table. A few days before the surgery, he was in great pain and I was sitting beside him. He said that the school reunion, which he had never missed over the last twenty-five odd years, was coming up in two weeks. Since the planning for the get together usually happened many months in advance, he had confirmed that he would be definitely coming. He showed me the WhatsApp group messages with all of you writing about how much you all were looking forward to this year’s reunion which would mark forty years of leaving school. 

Montu had booked his tickets and stay almost two months ago and then things went from bad to worse with each passing day. He never wrote about his illness in the group or with any of you one on one even though he considered you all more than his own blood relations. That night he asked me that if something were to happen to him, I should not disclose it to anyone of you or else the reunion would be called off. Secondly, I was to keep the WA group chat alive and he asked me to keep posting a line or two confirming attendance and finally, I should go to Delhi, if he failed to make it. 

Bela had tears rolling down her cheeks as she finished speaking. Her voice too had choked. The silence in the house was eerie and understandably so. There were many who broke down listening to Bela. They all put their glasses down and one by one they walked across to her, hugging her, saying a few words or just kept their heads bowed in sadness and respect. The playful little French bulldog in the house could also make out the change of mood and quietly strolled to where Bela stood and put his head on his forelegs and lay on the floor without disturbing anyone. 

Bela wiped off her tears and then picked up one glass of wine from the centre-table and announced …I am sure Montu would be sad if the party sprit here were to be dampened by his life story. He was always smiling and laughing and I am sure each one of you knew him as much or even more than I knew him. He always played pranks and often got into trouble in school. He told me how he created ruckus in the classroom when the teacher was away and was made to stand out for three days. Then of course there were other instances where the teacher made him stand on the desk with shoes held in outstretched arms for playing mischief. So, for the spirit of Montu, I propose a toast to the Band of Brothers as you call yourself. Pick up your glasses and join me and wish your friend a happy afterlife. I am sure he must be watching us from up there and wanting us to celebrate our friendship and our annual reunion.

All in the house picked up their glasses and in unison shouted…. To Montu and To the Band of Brothers, forever and ever more!

यारोंदोस्ती बड़ी ही हसीन है

ये ना हो तो क्या फिर बोलो ये ज़िंदगी है?,

SS 

Sunday 14 July 2024

Trilogy

While cleaning up the vacant house in Delhi, I happened to pick a few editions of National Insurance News to cheer up D who happened to be a part of the editorial board of the company's quarterly newsletter. Those were the good old days when the scripts were written in hand, with folded hands you asked the office typist to type the matter and then corrected many times over and with each round of re-typing, your backbone bent forward in subservience that much more than before. Then came the rounds with the printer for the proof reading and layout, all done, painstakingly, manually. With some time in hand, I tried to glance through the contents of these magazines and suddenly came across an article written by me in the Jan-March 92 edition of NIN. I had completely forgotten about the article which had been awarded the second-best entry on the subject of environment. 

Re-printing the article written about thirty-two years ago which may appear in pretty much amateurish language and style but the theme and situation are definitely relevant even today. Like a good student of history, the article called Trilogy is in three time periods where the first and second parts deal with the future in 2025 and 2050, as I saw it then. You did not need the talent of Nostradamus to foresee the future that reckless and mindless deforestation and concretisation were doing to the world. The third part is how we should have acted since 1991 when this article was actually written. 

Part I

Year: 2025 AD
Place: My Home
Time: A very good morning

I get up and open the window
Take a deep breath of fresh air
Cough..cough..cough…
It’s good, fresh morning no more.
My little daughter comes to me 
She wishes to go out in the rain.
She goes, comes rushing back and black
She looks as if she’s come out of a drain
For rain ain’t rain anymore.
I take her to the shower
Put the tap on
Drip…drip…drip…
Our throats go dry and showers have choked
We went without fresh water for ever more
I go to the Supermarket,
Buy a few gas masks,
Acid proof rain coats,
A small desalination unit
And a synthetic Christmas Tree
To celebrate the ‘Last Supper’.

Part II

Year: 2050 AD
Place: Mount Arafat
Time: Heavenly

Overheard from the clouds.
First Cockroach: Trying to play food ball alone?
Second Cockroach: This is not a ball
It is a seed and I’m planting it.
First: Planting it…for what?
We have nothing to do with seeds and plants.
Second: I’m planting it for I have seen man
Who once inhabited this planet.
He prospered by cutting trees,
By building concrete jungles, polluting the air
He did everything for himself
But forgot Nature.
Today, Nature has forgotten him,
What good is our life without man,
We lived in his house,
Ate his food,
Played hide and seek with him.
Only if he had looked after Nature
The way Nature looked after him.
He would have been alive.
I am planting this seed
May be a plant may grow
And man might stalk the green earth again.

Part III

Year: 1991 AD
Place: A remote corner in India
Time: To Act

The foregoing is not a science fiction
But just a peep into the future.
What can I do?
There is an old jungle saying
“No grass grows where Phantom wee-wees”
This must be corrected today
“Grass grows wherever man wants it to be.”
Let us go to the forest
And Chipko to the trees
“Cut me before you cut the log”
And become a true Green Warrior.
Chimneys and dams must be built
But not for the ‘dam’nation of the man
Nature and Progress must become comrades in arms
And not foes in arms.
Let us ask ourselves a few questions…
Have I planted a sapling so far?
If No, then it is time to Act.
Am I Polluting the air?
If Yes, then it is time to Retract.
Have I been wasting or polluting water?
If  Yes, then it is to time to ‘Hydrophobia’ct.
Can I write a book “How Green is my Valley.”
If No, then it is time to die…

Save the Planet: Perhaps it is not too late!

SS

  

Saturday 6 July 2024

Duur Se Koi Aaye

“Yaadon ka phir, aanchal uda, 
Na jaaney kyun…”

 

U2’s iconic “I have climbed the highest mountain…” was the inspiration for “Sar kiye ye pahar, dariyaon ki gehraiyon mein tujhe dhoonda hai,” said Bilal. Whaaat? I was stunned by this piece of information. 

A few days ago, I happened to chance upon an old interview of Bilal Maqsood on YouTube and ended up listening to the entire interview which was over an hour long. It was truly a trip down memory lane. He spoke about the formation of the band, how the video of Sar Kiye ye Pahar was accepted by MTV Asia, many of their songs, their time in India, Coke Studio and a lot of other topics. Like their music, this interview too was very comforting to the ears. Just a quick introduction, Bilal Maqsood and Faisal Kapadia formed the band Strings, at times being joined by two other members. Having been their die-hard fan, it brought back a lot of memories, “Titliyan, yaadon ki, udti jaayen.”

I was introduced to Strings through MTV, Channel V and the radio, when they used to be the sound of the youth, played fresh voices and promoted and popularized indie-pop religiously. I think I bought the cassette Dhaani twice because the first one got spoilt beyond repair by the multiple rewinding on tape and with pencil. And when that faded out, I got the CD. Later added the songs to iPod, years before music became boxed into the palm of a hand and plugged to individual, solitary ears. They were also part of the age when music videos had a concept, originality and charm with bands writing, composing, and singing their own songs. I can still picture in my head these two boys/men (I think that depends on the viewer’s age) in shades, standing on the ledge of a tall building, crooning on to a mic and strumming the guitar with the wind blowing their hair and John Abraham floating down like a dark angel with wings and everything! I am sure most of us would have screamed with Faisal when he sang, “Uske bina mera jeevan, jaise koi soona gaon! Duu-uu-uur.” Not to forget the absolute marvel of faces blending, shifting from Faisal to Bilal to Spiderman in the video of Na Jaaney Kyun! And remember Anjane and Sohniyae? In 2003, Dhaani had the most progressive video, far better than the over-zealous, attempts at inclusivity or women empowerment. They had vibe and rizz, way before the terms were coined. 

“Yeh kahani nayi hai, purani bhi hai

Kuch anokhi bhi hai aur suhani bhi hai

Surmayi shaam hai aur deewani bhi hai

Baat keheni bhi hai, aur chhupani bhi hai”

The year was 2006, I was 15, I think at end of ninth grade or beginning of tenth. My aunt and cousins from Australia had come to visit us. My cousins were twins, Diya and Hiya, just a year older than me. We used to stay in Andheri, very close to the multiplex, Fun Republic. While returning from office one evening, dad happened to see lot of crowd near Fun Republic. Apparently, it was the night of the premiere of the movie Zinda. After dinner, my dad and I had the brilliant idea of walking down to Fun Republic to see what was happening. So, dad took three of us girls in our pyjamas and slippers for a night stroll. We climbed up the steps at the entrance of Fun Republic, where a lot of excited people were waiting. Apparently, the stars, Sanjay Dutt, John Abraham, Lara Dutta, Celina Jaitley and the others had just arrived and gone inside the theatre. We thought we would hang around, probably get a glimpse of one of them. A stout, bald man was going around the crowd announcing, “I am giving away two tickets for the premiere to two lucky people to watch the movie with the stars.”

“You guys should raise your hands, he might give them to cute kids,” dad joked. I took him rather seriously, jumped up and started waving my hands wildly and screaming, “Uncle, here here!’ My cousins joined me for the fun. It worked!

The guy came towards us and handed us two tickets. “Uncle, we are three of us, we cannot leave the third one behind,” I said. “Alright, alright, here you go, here is one more ticket but it is in Screen 4,” he said, handing over the third one. “Thanks a lot, but I cannot let the kids go alone for a night show. Maybe, you should give these to someone else,” my dad said. He is a genius! The man gave in and finally gave four tickets to us, two for Screen 3 and two for Screen 4. Dad was still apprehensive about taking us for a night show, especially since my cousins were quite firang and quite lost in the Indian crowd and I had school the next day. We decided to go and come out in thirty minutes. Randomly we split the tickets, I would go with Diya to Screen 3 and dad would take Hiya to Screen 4. It was the interval of the movie. We found our seats and also found out that all the celebs would be coming to Screen 3 soon to talk about the movie and watch the rest of the film. Remember, this was when we did not have cellphones, so obviously we could not contact my dad. Diya, who had absolutely no idea who these Bollywood actors were, was over excited. To say I was excited would be an understatement, but not for the Bollywood actors…it was for Strings!!!! They had composed a song for the movie- would they be there too? I was losing my head in anticipation. And then they entered, including Bilal and Faisal! For a few seconds I forgot about my jaw hanging down like an orphan vestigial organ as I watched them go across the hall to stand with the crew in front of the huge screen for the photo op. “Diya, keep your eyes glued to those two guys, see where they sit,” I whispered. As they came to their seats and the crowd descended on John, I dragged my cousin straight to where Strings was sitting. I still feel guilty after all these years, but after shaking hands with both Faisal and Bilal, I shamelessly took the Zinda premiere ticket and asked only Bilal for an autograph. Bilal was, and still is, the one who gives me the flutters, shivers, chills, and Titliyan. I was successful in winning my prize and was over the moon with joy. As we walked towards the exit, since 30 minutes were almost up, we gave into peer pressure and made our way through the group of frenzied females and shook hands with John. 

Triumphantly we came out and met the other two. I held up my ticket with Bilal’s autograph, grinning from ear to ear. Diya was talking non-stop about what had just transpired. Dad was overjoyed, knowing fully well how much I loved Strings. Unfortunately, Hiya was crushed and she started weeping, then sobbing and then full-fledged crying for having missed out on meeting the stars because she ended up going to Screen 4. We tried consoling her and then started downplaying what had happened, “Oh it was really not that great, we could not really see them from far”. It did not work. We walked back home, silently with only the sound of sobs filling the still night air. 

My mother opened the door and saw a weeping teenage girl and three very quiet and distressed people. She, of course, thought the worst. “Why did you take them to the Premiere? Who asked you to do all this? What happened? Did somebody do something?” My mother and aunt were scared and the major brunt of it fell on my dad for having taken three teenagers to a Bollywood shenanigan. When the story was finally told, my aunt burst out laughing, “You don’t even know who John Abraham, Sanjay Dutt and Strings are, how does it matter?” That basically aggravated the situation and the crying resumed. At last, everyone decided to call it a night and quietly went to bed. With all the drama going on, I was keeping a very straight face. I was holding back my emotion of absolute joy and clutching on to the ticket tightly, folded into my pyjama pocket. I wanted to scream, I wanted to sing, and I wanted to celebrate, I wanted to show off my autograph to my mother. I HAD MET STRINGS THAT NIGHT! But silently I went to my desk and put the ticket in my small autograph book. I would celebrate some other day. My parents, cousins and aunt now laugh about that night. I look back and feel the same unplugged happiness I did that night I met Faisal and Bilal, the night I met Strings. 



“Dil mein jo kuchh tha wohi

Honton pe aane laga

Chahta hai woh bhi mujhko 

Badal batane laga

Kar mera intezaar, 

Mera bichraa yaar, mera bichraa yaar”

Five years later, December 11, 2011, Strings came to perform in Mumbai at the Bandra Fort. My parents took me for the open-air concert, and I can say without a doubt that it was one of the best, if not the best concerts I have ever attended. They involved the crowd and mesmerized them, belting out their greatest hits. My parents, who had heard a lot of their songs because of this crazy fan in their house, thoroughly enjoyed themselves, grooving and clapping to the songs and singing along. “You know even this one? You know all the words?” Dad kept saying as I screamed my lungs out. 



“All I need is the rhythm divine

Lost in the music, your heart will be mine”

In 2004, when Times of India carried the news of Enrique coming to India, I did not have to say or ask anything. It was understood that I had to go. The poster on my bedroom door had been doing that for two years. As I diligently cut out all announcements carrying Enrique’s pictures from the newspapers every week, my dad started finding out information about tickets. Remember again, Bookmyshow did not exist! While I stuck the photographs carefully on to my scrap book, he stood in the queue to get tickets. While I already knew the songs by heart, my D and S started listening to the songs so they could give me company. April 11, 2004, Enrique Iglesias performed in Mumbai, BKC grounds. Mom and Dad took their 13-year-old kid for a concert and stood with her from 3 pm, waiting patiently for him to, finally, start performing at 7.30pm. And we had a ball! Of course, the next day’s newspaper carried news of how the show was risqué because of one performance with a girl from the audience who, might I add, thoroughly enjoyed herself being serenaded by Enrique! I do not think anybody goes to concerts to get lessons in morality. And the song was one of the most romantic ones, Could I Have this Kiss Forever, I mean, excuse me!



“Like the sun coming up in the morning

Like holding the world in your hands

In a way I could never imagine

The way you make me feel”

MTV Immies Award, 2005, was going to be held at the Andheri Sports Complex and Ronan Keating was coming to India to perform. Again, I said nothing at all, but my mother got two tickets for dad and me! I went for his concert again when he came to Mumbai in 2023, but 2005 was special. We did not have phones to capture unlimited videos but made more memories than 512GB. Ronan serenaded the crowd and I do believe that the heart-eyed emoji had its origin that night as I watched him. Ronan’s performance was followed by Abhijeet Sawant’s which we gave a miss as we made our way to the other end of the stadium. Those days, security was efficient but reasonable. They let in a 14-year old heart-eyed kid to the VIP section while my dad waited back. I went down the steps of the sports complex, which seemed to go on and on, unaware of several pairs of unknown eyes following me, and headed straight to where Ronan was sitting wearing a white suit. I wanted to say so many things to him, but this time, I was lost for words. All I could manage was to hand him my autograph book which he graciously signed. And I ran back up the steps to my dad, clutching the book close to my chest, suddenly aware of the eyes on me, as if they all wanted to take away my book from me. 


“Din din bhar ho pyari batein, 

Jhume shaamein, gayen ratein 

Masti me rahe dooba dooba hamesha samaa 

Humko rahon me yuhin milti rahe khushiyan”

Having your best friend in the Institute of Chemical Technology meant access to her college festivals that brought us many unforgettable musical shows from Shaan, Sonu Nigam to Kailash Kher. It is strange to now think that in that crowd, where we could not see anyone other than our small group of 4-5 friends, there was also my best friend’s future husband singing and dancing to the same tunes. During second year MBBS, the Pulse trip was something all medicos looked forward to. Pulse is the college festival of AIIMS, New Delhi (those days there used to be only one, now one has to be specific). That was the only time when we were allowed to take leave from college and attend the festival. It was a trip with the friends you make for life. I must confess, I attended Pulse more as an undergraduate student from my alma-mater KEM in 2010 than as a postgraduate resident at AIIMS itself for 3 years! That year, Shankar, Ehsaan and Loy came to perform at Pulse, and it was a rain show! All night we danced in the pouring rain and came back soaked from head to toe, feet caked in mud, throats sore, and to top it all, eyes infected with an epidemic of conjunctivitis, but with spirits soaring sky-high. Those were the days, my friends!


“Dhadkan, khwahish, baarish, boonde

Aur ho koi apna

Usse milke mausam badle

Aur lage sab apna”

It was the summer of 2022, I was almost at the end of my Fellowship at Wills Eye Hospital, Philadelphia and waiting to return home. Atif Aslam, the man with the most magical voice, who had been singing to me from school days, who had become a household name for even my grandmother, was coming to perform in Philly. This was, probably, going to be my only chance to watch him perform in this lifetime. Having equally crazy friends, even in a city away from home, is a boon, and we booked the very day we got to know of the dates. This was much easier now that it was all available online. June 10, 2022, I watched and listened to Atif Aslam sing for three straight hours and I believe my life has been fulfilled. Period.


“One touch, electric shock

Eyes locked, like, did you feel that too?

World stops, just us

Here under dots in the darkness

Of the blue, out of the blue

Is this how it feels to be in love?

This is magical, this is magical.”

The All India Ophthalmology Society’s Annual Conference was happening in Kolkata- a four- day long affair. It is like the FIFA World Cup of Ophthalmologists; they all descend for this one mega meeting. But my tickets for a long-awaited concert had already been booked six months ago. For once the stars aligned, all the paper presentations and the prize ceremony were scheduled in the first two days of the conference. Without waiting another day, on March 16, 2024, I took an early morning flight back to my city to catch Teddy live in concert. We left for the concert well in time (Uber ETA was 1 hour from our home) because I insisted on also listening to the opening act of Prateek Kuhad apart from finding a good spot to stand but Mumbai roads had their own plans. All roads led to Ed Sheeran and all roads had come to a standstill and cars had stopped moving 3-4 km from the venue. My husband and I got off and walked the rest of the way and could catch whisps of Prateek’s whispers from a distance. But once the concert started, we forgot all about that. How could we not? Ed was Perfect! It was an altogether different experience, the stage was circular and open 360 degrees, with visuals only at the very top, so the audience could watch him sing from all sides with city lights glowing and actually making for the backdrop of the stage.


“Yeh rasta mera

Yeh rasta tera

Hai donon ki manzil juda

Hum do humsafar

Hum do ajnabi

Hum donon ka ek khuda”

Yes, we can see them on YouTube, we can replay their concert videos whenever we want from the comforts of our homes, and yes, concerts are crowded, sweaty places where you have to push your way in and keep your spot (I wonder why we complain about the local trains?) but they make you feel things that cannot be reproduced on screens. To watch your idols and hear them live and scream and shout with them and connect with thousands of strangers on a platform transcending all borders and faiths is a different experience. 

 

“Phir yaadon ko sapno mein rehne do

Yeh aakhri alvida na ho

After all these years, Strings still remain one of my favourites. With the revival of Coke Studio, Battle of the Bands, Sajni, Urr Jaaon and others from Strings 30, Strings have remained true to their original essence. Like all their ardent fans, I was heartbroken when they announced that they were disbanding. I think Bilal’s interview was like a closure for me because I realized that Strings did not disband, they ‘concluded’, a word that they used themselves, and it was not a bad thing. They came together serendipitously, made magic for thirty-three years; they wanted to end on a high and they did. They are still making music; they will still remain the two boys driving a jeep and strumming the guitar in the middle of a desert and their music will always be there for me. 

“Ab ke jo palat ke dekhun

Sehmi si hain rahein

Thamein mere sapno ko

Khamoshi se bulaye”

I do think I owe it to my parents for introducing me to music and letting me fangirl, play, replay the same songs over and over again, taking me to Planet M, indulging me with new cassettes and CDs on every occasion and laughing, instead of being aghast, the day a nine-year-old me burst out singing, Shakira’s ‘Underneath my Clothes’ at the dinner table. 


An open mind can understand words describing common feelings, a beating heart can be touched by sounds that do not need a validation of identity. The past was bliss, the future is unnerving.

“Kagaz ki nao pe likha

Aadha pauna jhoota saccha

Lafzon ke dariya mein beh gaya.”

 

MS

(Ab bass Taylor Swift, Ali Sethi and Bryan Adams ki khwahish hai- readers willing to accompany are most welcome!)