In last three days, I have spent time in three cities, taken 4 flights and managed very little sleep. I am infact writing this from the comfort of my economy (read coach class) seat. My legs are cramped, the air is bit too cold and experience, less than pleasant.
Am calling it, Up in the air.
From luxury of my seat, I can hear the chitchat of the air hostesses, the jokes they are sharing about which hostess is sleeping with which pilot and which passenger is a lech etc. Its been about 24 minutes since we took off, the in-flight food and beverage service about to be started. And since this is the holiday season, the flight is almost full. Thats 184 passengers on board.
As I child I have always wanted to fly. Have wings, take control of myself and see places that I have read about. I wanted to be free and wanted to do things my way. I saw flying as the ultimate freedom. What else can be better than spreading your arms and taking off, at your will? But then, this was a long time ago. Today, I dread every time I have to fly. And considering what I do for a living, I have to fly very very often. Call it the occupational hazard.
Come to think of it, flying is not that bad. Atleast the cruising bit. It gets scary during the take off, landing and turbulence. Let me talk about turbulence first. Everytime the plane hits the turbulent weather, it shakes as bad as my juicer does when I am making yogurt with diced fruits and curd. I actually, at times, when I am home, take my juicer out, throw in some diced fruits and switch the juicer on. And I can actually see myself in that juicer, the plane shaking like the juicer, and I being tossed around. Helps me calm down for some strange reason.
There are times when turbulence is that bad that air hostesses actually spill coffee, tea, water or whatever they are carrying. They spilled water on me once and for a nano second I thought I was drowning. Drowning up in the air. Now, it sounds funny but that time, it was potent enough to give me a heart attack. So when turbulence is really bad, they have to be sent back to their resting stations. And this is when the low gasps and scared moans start. And once someone screams, it becomes a roller coaster ride with everyone screaming and trying to outdo each other with their shrillness. It becomes really scary. Obviously, there are announcements that tell everyone, including myself, that its just turbulent weather and it will pass away soon. But do I really believe in these announcements? Do they really calm down people? They dont help me. I am not sure if they help passengers.
You know, funny bit is that, if I compare scales, an aircraft weathering turbulence is similar to a car going through a country road. The car jerks as much as the aircraft does. You are in the car, in your seat, with a safety belt, holding onto your seat. And, to make matters worse, statistically, air travel is the safest mode of travel. The probably of your aircarft crashing is about 10,832 times less than your car being hit by another. And yet, everytime we hit turbulence, my heart skips a beat. My palms get so wet that I cant even hold anything. And all this despite the fact that the air temperature inside the pressurized cabins is maintained at 24 degrees C for comfort of passengers.
There are times when I am flying into cloudy cities. Clouds are different monsters all together. Though I love rains. I love the sight of dark clouds filled with all the serum from God. The thought of a nice rain elevates my spirit to no end. But not when am flying. A plane passing through the clouds is no less than those torture machines that they used on informers and prostitutes in the medieval ages.
Since there are clouds outside, you cant see anything. All you see is the whiteness. Yes, the darkest of clouds, when you are up there, are white. I dont know why. I ought to know but I dont really care. Second, the blinkers on the wings and body of the aircraft, they illuminate the whole goddamn cloud and it feels like you are passing through white. The kind of white they typically talk about when they talk about a white passage that the dead must go through. Everytime I hit clouds, I pray to God for my life. Every single time.
Take off is ok. At least, you know that you are closer to ground. Though once you are in air, it doesnt really make a difference if you are close to ground or up at 33000 feet. If something wrong has to happen, it will happen and there is not an iota of thing that anyone, me, you, the ATC, the ground crew could do about it. Landing is a bigger challenge if you ask me. Since you are diving nose first, towards the ground, at about 500 kmph, at times, you wonder if you were to keep going, how big a crater would the impact make? As large as the craft? Or as small as the nose? Anyways, so this is the part of flying that I am at ease with. Anyways, I read somewhere that pilots are mandated to log 4 times more hours on landing practice compared to take off practice, on the simulators. And in fact, as I write this, I think, the time to put that practice into action has come. I am almost home and hopefully would put my feet on solid ground within another 13 minutes or so.
"Thank you for flying with us. Hope you had a wonderful flight ladies and gentlemen. Have a good day and a pleasant day". And with announcement, I replaced my headset and turned off the mic that I, and all other pilots use to address the cockpit, crew and passengers. I then wiped away all that sweat from my face, my neck and my bald head and fished for the logbook that we pilots have to fill in, after every successful flight.
This is day 08 in a series of 31 daily blogposts. Other posts are here.
Aug 07: So Gaya Ye Jahan
Another day on the road. Another post from the phone. Since am on road, I shall write a piece about romanticizing roads. Will try for fiction. Let's see what comes out.
Jack loved driving. And he loved nights. And the only thing he loved more than the two, was driving at nights. He had this theory. That while you are on the road, you not only burn rubber and add kilometers to the odometer, you travel within and you get closer to yourself. Ofcourse no one understood a thing back then.
Fast forward to today, while Jack is away, everyone misses him. They know somethings missing from their lives but they can't pin point what it is. May be that intensity, or that earnest expression, or that attitude that challenged all norms. Or may be it was his armchair philosophies and theories on everything under the sun! Most of these are unspoken but they do talk about his exploits on the race track.
Back then, it was really tough for a boy of his means to get active with underground racing. Wtf, even now, its tough for any boy/man with any sort of means to get an entry into motorsports and we are talking about a 15 year old rubbing shoulders with men twice his age and grinding them to dust.
Some attributed it to his luck. Some said it was his foolhardy attitude. Some even went to the extent of saying that since he was what he was, he had nothing to loose. And the glory, the aura, that came with the podium finishes released more testosterone than a boy his age could handle. And it showed. Though he kept to himself, he was very intense. Even at that tender age, most people found it hard to meet his gaze.
Life was all good before that fateful night. They were to collect toll road slips of all the 4 toll points around the city. They could choose to do them in any order, take any road, do watever. But they had to reach the starting point fastest. To make things exciting there were no finish lines and no audience. These guys were gonna be following the racers they could catch upto.
What happened that day, is the stuff legends are made of. And yet there has been some sort of silence reigning over the sequence of events that night. That night changed Jack. He was back to being a normal 15 year old and soon faded away into the oblivion. And one fine night, when people had grown indifferent to Jacks absence (or presence), he packed his bags and slipped out of the city.
I wish I could write about that night. The race. The victory. The defeat. The brightest flicker of a nebula, before Jack and his story turned into a blackhole!
This is day 07 in a series of 31 daily blogposts. Other posts are here.
Phlogging!
This is probably my fourth post that I am typing on a phone. This mode, the phone one, gives me some kind of an exhilaration. I know that phone is not making an iota of a difference. The readership remains dismally low. Am nowhere close to bringing the change I want to bring in this world. Am last, not writing any better. And yet am hooked on!
But then, irrespective of things, something draws me towards this. May be I am trying to talk to someone. May be this blog gives me the feeling of authority. Maybe am trying to compensate for lack of action on FB and twitter. I don't know but I am hooked to blogging all over again.
Its like, am back in the 2004s again! Loving it!
Tags: #phlogging, #blogging, #mobile, #personal
Aug 07: Re-living Mr. India
"Kamra. Kamre kay aage balcony. Balcony kay aage garden. Garden kay beach. Beach kay aage samunder. Samunder main pani". So said the great Anil Kapoor, before his Slumdog, 24 and MI4 days. He was peddling a room to the lead actress of Mr. India and describing in vivid detail, the beauty of the room and the view.
Am at Goa right now, waiting for a meeting to happen. And while the client wakes up from her deep slumber, I am idling away my time at this amazing place.
Goa is a coastal state and is hence dotted with beautiful beaches. Here, beer is cheap, women come by scores, poisons easy to find and time, all the time to while away pursuing intellectual conversations and thoughful ramblings. Goa is a classic example of a place where time moves slow and things happen at a leisurely pace. You could choose to gape at the ocean, drowning in the sound of its music, wondering about that lone boat that you see docked in the horizon. Or you could choose the walk on the beach, feeling the sand, waves kissing your feet and whispering those unexplainable messages, as they come and crash against your feet. From your vantage point, you could also choose to let your gaze follow that beautiful lady in red, walking on the beach and paint a picture of her life in your head. Like this woman am looking at, she must be one of those MBA types, she's moving in a straight line, at the exact place where waves just end. Very calculated, precise, sure. She would be single. I don't see any signs of commitment. And at the pace she's walking, she is not in any sort of hurry to go anywhere. She is content by herself, the way she's hugging herself. Probably the serious kinds. I have been seeing her move around for a while and she is yet to kick some water or bend down to pick those shells. Obviously well to do, as evident from her taste, clothes I mean. Probably here to take refuge from corporate jungle that she lives in. Am wondering if I should go and try my hands at being the kamra salesman and see if I can make an offer she can't refuse. But then, the question remains, is she looking for a kamra, with all those benefits that we spoke of in the beginning?
And yep, in the movie, Mr. Kapoor, aka Mr. India, did manage to sell the room to our heroine, and eventually, lived happily ever after.
Tags: #movies, #anilKapoor, #goa, #travel, #peopleWatching
Aug 06: The Art of Dropping Subtle Hints in an Conversation
So todays post is a bit different. Am typing this on the phone. Tough, considering that I can't format, use html, check spellings (I can but lemme exaggerate), do a word count (all my posts have at least 500 words), type with my fingers (and see my fingers do the jig on keyboard), and worst of all, I would not have the luxury of editing, copy pasting or proof reading this.
But like some things need to be kept sacrosanct, am trying to develop this habbit of penning something each day before I sleep. I have no clue if I would be able to do this in a long run, but I know that I can do it today and here is the post. Am calling it, the mobile revolution (note: changed the title once I started writing). Because, you guessed it, I am using a mobile phone to type this out. And I will write a piece of fiction. Am calling it, The Art of Dropping Subtle Hints in an Conversation.
A: Hi! Ssup? Too late to text? Is it?
B: Nah, not really. Was about to sleep. Have an early flight tomorrow. Wassup with you?
A: nothing much man. Just bored outta my wits.
A: wow! My boredom is infectious. Looks like you've slept. Anyways have a good flight. See you around
A: oh ya, get me some fenny while you are there. Heard its really potent.
B: Haha. I will try.
A: Ok. Lemme be blunt here. How does one make a conversation with you?
B: lol. I don't know. The way you're doing right now?
A: nopes. Its not helping. Ok, here's another Q. What's the weirdest question someone has ever asked you?
B: ummm, tough one.
B: I know. It was "How does one make a conversation with you?" :D
A: Hehe. Nobbad Ms. Smarty pants! And what's the weirdest answer you've ever given?
B: thank you thank you.
A: so?
B: oops. I don't remember sorry. But it was to the effect that, dude, get lost. I am younger than your grand daughter.
A: Aha. Some oldie pervert tried hittin on you? Is it?
B: ya. Sorta. Let's not go there. Anyways. I guess I should sleep. I don't want to miss that flight.
A: Okies. And where's your sense of adventure? Dint expect you to be this boring!
B: ya, Mr. Judge o personalities types.
A: How'd you guess? Its actually a specialty!
B: no kidding. Let's test it. Tell me what am I thinking?
A: Easy! You're thinking when would this guy come around and actually ask me out for dinner.
B: holy cow! So when?
A: There's no time than now!
B: :)
A: Is that a yes?
B: almost.
A: Define almost.
B: let's meet at the airport. Am sure they would have some seats left on that plane. Lemme finish the meeting in a couple of hours and then we will talk about dinners and questions and answers.
Oh yes. See you around. Tc
This is day 06 in a series of 31 daily blogposts. Other posts are here.
Promise me, Son
Promise me,
that you would give your best shot. Each time.
that you will not leave a single stone unturned. In any quest you agree to undertake.
that you would be honest. To yourself.
Promise me.
Tags: #miniNonFiction, #motivation, #inspiration, #randomness, #whatever, #mansSearchForMeaning
Aug 05: The God Delusion
We, the people, the children of Gaia, believe that we are strong. We tell ourselves, all the time, that we can achieve anything that we set our eyes on. We are invincible. Its us, ourselves, who hold back any kind of achievement. After all we have conquered the entire planet. We have breached the limits and set foot on moon. That too about half a century back. We have created mammoth structures that can be seen from the outerspace. We can now play God and create life. We are no less than God himself.
I say, BALLS!
We are probably the most fragile of all the nature's creation. Take us to cold places, our heart stops pumping blood. The brain does not get its oxygen and and we get giddy. Take us to hot places, we start secreting vital minerals. Make our heart work overtime and try and pump more blood, to make up for the loss. Keep us off food, water, air, sleep and we get cranky. And then we get angry. And then we lose hope. And then the mind. And then the body. And then the soul.
We are so fragile, and yet, we bicker over small things like religion, caste, money, authority and other hazaar things. We need to rather realize our place in the universe. Accept that we are as insignificant as a grain of sand in the great Sahara. All this while, we liv our lives chasing greatness. And we refuse to notice supreme greatness, surrounding us, all the time. Everything, from that innocent smile on a kids face, to a smirk on the face of a prankster, to that street dog trying to cross the road, to that new leaf that has just sprung up, to all those rivers, clouds, rains, mountains, everything screams of greatness. Greatness of an artist that no one has known and will never probably know. With all the limitations of this human mind and body, how can we even think about competing with the greatest artist and his greatest creation? Who are we to even touch the magical creations that we can never ever even think about creating? Who are we to stake the claim to superiority when we are mere blips?
We should, rather be grateful that so much diversity is at our disposal. To help us get through this passage that we know as life. We should be thanking the mother nature for the sincere and honest creations. We need to try and preserve them. We need to try and give back.
You know, I have no clue if God exists. If he does, he is really unfair. If he doesn't, good for us. The bottom line is that we need to realize that when we are feeling most heady, that is the time when mother nature (you may choose to call her God) would spring a surprise and show us our tiny little place in the scheme of things. And humble us.
Time for a lot of self-reflection.
This is day 05 in a series of 31 daily blogposts. Other posts are here.
I thought about this first when I was en route to Mumbai. I was travelling with a friend who is very scared of flying and yet has to take more than three flights a week. While talking to him, I realized that we are probably as delicate as glass, or may be dreams, to use a poets metafor. It takes a split second for that blip to disappear.
I say, BALLS!
We are probably the most fragile of all the nature's creation. Take us to cold places, our heart stops pumping blood. The brain does not get its oxygen and and we get giddy. Take us to hot places, we start secreting vital minerals. Make our heart work overtime and try and pump more blood, to make up for the loss. Keep us off food, water, air, sleep and we get cranky. And then we get angry. And then we lose hope. And then the mind. And then the body. And then the soul.
We are so fragile, and yet, we bicker over small things like religion, caste, money, authority and other hazaar things. We need to rather realize our place in the universe. Accept that we are as insignificant as a grain of sand in the great Sahara. All this while, we liv our lives chasing greatness. And we refuse to notice supreme greatness, surrounding us, all the time. Everything, from that innocent smile on a kids face, to a smirk on the face of a prankster, to that street dog trying to cross the road, to that new leaf that has just sprung up, to all those rivers, clouds, rains, mountains, everything screams of greatness. Greatness of an artist that no one has known and will never probably know. With all the limitations of this human mind and body, how can we even think about competing with the greatest artist and his greatest creation? Who are we to even touch the magical creations that we can never ever even think about creating? Who are we to stake the claim to superiority when we are mere blips?
We should, rather be grateful that so much diversity is at our disposal. To help us get through this passage that we know as life. We should be thanking the mother nature for the sincere and honest creations. We need to try and preserve them. We need to try and give back.
You know, I have no clue if God exists. If he does, he is really unfair. If he doesn't, good for us. The bottom line is that we need to realize that when we are feeling most heady, that is the time when mother nature (you may choose to call her God) would spring a surprise and show us our tiny little place in the scheme of things. And humble us.
Time for a lot of self-reflection.
This is day 05 in a series of 31 daily blogposts. Other posts are here.
I thought about this first when I was en route to Mumbai. I was travelling with a friend who is very scared of flying and yet has to take more than three flights a week. While talking to him, I realized that we are probably as delicate as glass, or may be dreams, to use a poets metafor. It takes a split second for that blip to disappear.
India of Tomorrow
There was a time when I was an active contributor on this website called Mutiny.in. I was part of tons of bloggers, all spread across geographies and time and each one of us, would religiously take time off to write things for Mutiny. We could write about things that interested us. Business to politics to sports to policy to education to fiction to cartoons to and anything else under the sun. And we wrote things that mattered. There were grand plans for the website. The owner/editor was talking about print publications, subscriptions and what not. But then, I dont know how and why, it slowly faded away. Everything comes to an end, sooner or later. Somehow, the entire bunch disintegrated and we were left with a url that doesn't even work now!
Coming to the agenda, I want to resurrect Mutiny. Or maybe create a clone. Or a better avatar. I dont know what to call it yet. I will have to ask HK and RN. They are two of the most talented people I know. I take their word without any arguments. If you have any suggestions, please let me know.
The Big Idea.
The idea this time around will be simple. We (everyone that i reach out to and I) will try to imagine a better India. An India that we would love to live in. A India that we would be proud of. We will create content that citizens of this better India would want to consume. When I say better India, I mean a utopian India where elections agendas would not be religion, hunger or poverty. Where youth would not grow up on Roadies, Big Boss or Kyonki Saas ... .Where media would not be a mere entertainment channel. Where ideas would get merit over eloquence. Where we would live with morals like equality, freedom and respect. Where we would be responsible for what we do and we would own up to our actions. And more importantly thoughts.
The Details.
To start with, we would create a simple, group blog. Multiple authors post their opinions and make themselves heard. Unlike other outlets, we will not run this as business and money would never be a motive. We would have no political inclination. The endeavor would be to present an opinion and encourage debate. And hopefully stir something within the readers.
The End Notes.
I dont really have the gift of the gab and its tough to get the sentiments across but I am sure this can get started. The Internet gives us so many opportunities to socialize and meet other interesting people. Of the 100 million or so Indians on the Internet, cant I get just a handful to help me with the idea?
Coming to the agenda, I want to resurrect Mutiny. Or maybe create a clone. Or a better avatar. I dont know what to call it yet. I will have to ask HK and RN. They are two of the most talented people I know. I take their word without any arguments. If you have any suggestions, please let me know.
The Big Idea.
The idea this time around will be simple. We (everyone that i reach out to and I) will try to imagine a better India. An India that we would love to live in. A India that we would be proud of. We will create content that citizens of this better India would want to consume. When I say better India, I mean a utopian India where elections agendas would not be religion, hunger or poverty. Where youth would not grow up on Roadies, Big Boss or Kyonki Saas ... .Where media would not be a mere entertainment channel. Where ideas would get merit over eloquence. Where we would live with morals like equality, freedom and respect. Where we would be responsible for what we do and we would own up to our actions. And more importantly thoughts.
The Details.
To start with, we would create a simple, group blog. Multiple authors post their opinions and make themselves heard. Unlike other outlets, we will not run this as business and money would never be a motive. We would have no political inclination. The endeavor would be to present an opinion and encourage debate. And hopefully stir something within the readers.
The End Notes.
I dont really have the gift of the gab and its tough to get the sentiments across but I am sure this can get started. The Internet gives us so many opportunities to socialize and meet other interesting people. Of the 100 million or so Indians on the Internet, cant I get just a handful to help me with the idea?
Aug 04: Welcome to Africa
So far i have written 3-4 posts under Project 0811 and so far, this is proving to be the toughest. I am back to square one. Where I know I have to write a piece and I am clueless what to write on. I am out of stories, anecdotes, ideas, data that I have no clue what to write. Ideally I want to write a short story, in 500 words, but then nothings coming to my head. And starting today, I wanted each blogpost to have a picture/photograph that best sums up the post! But then, dear sire, we need to have a post in the first place!
Let me attempt a short story. Ok heres the deal. I shall find a random link on google and write a piece of fiction inspired by the content on that page. I googled and I found randomwebsite.com. Let me generate a random website link. Drum rolls, confetti blasts, here we go! So it pointed me to AllAfrica.com. And heres the story.
"You dont understand me at all. I cant tolerate you guys for even a minute now. I am going.", said my daughter. She is 13. And I had caught her red handed while she was trying to steal money from my office. Moment she said, you don't understand me, something snapped inside me. I could clearly see what would she do once she leaves home with that money.
She would go buy an ice cream. After all, like father, like daughter. Then she would go for a walk till she reaches the dockyard, which is about 100 meters from our bungalow. No one else but us, call the bungalow, bungalow. This used to be a chawl till about 5 months back before I bought the entire place and created this sprawling landmark.
She will then board the vessel docked farthest from the shore, scared that I might find her and fight with her again. She would get curious with all the instruments, compass boxes, wheels, navigators, maps, logbooks, pens, radio sets, levers, cranks, the tunnels and will get lost in her world where she would play the pirate and fend off the crusaders. She has to be the pirate. The kingpin. Nothing else would do. There is something intriguing about being on the other side of the law. I, I even went to the extent of patching my right eye.
Without her realizing it, the ship would set sail. It would take her to Africa. I could see that cloth banner, that read the most dreaded words I had ever laid my eyes on. Welcome to Africa. She would be surprised at first. Then she would feel lost at a place where everyone is topless, dark, smelly, humid and cold. Then she would be surprised for a bit.
And when the reality would hit her, she would not flinch, leave alone crying. She would be brave. Probably braver than her father. She would take less time, far less to make her fortune in the land of black gold. I dont know what business would she pick but whatever she does, she would survive and reach the top of the game. All the while, slogging, to teach her father a lesson. No other emotion makes a person work harder than hatred.
And sooner than later, one fine day, just like that, she would decide to head back home. And see that banner, the Welcome to Africa banner, for the last time. Ever. And come back, to claim her place. To erect the tallest skyscraper the city had ever seen. At a place where I built a majestic home. Where my parents rented a 6 feet by 8 feet, shared toilets with 30 other "homes".
I could see everything. As clear as you could see things.
History, as they say, repeats itself. I was determined to keep history at bay this time. Just this time. For once. I fought back the tears, ran after my daughter. And dug my head in her neck and allowed that lone tear to roll down my bearded cheek. And I had no clue, who was more surprised. She or I.
This is day 04 in a series of 31 daily blogposts. Other posts are here.
Note to self: Need to fix my woulds and wills, coulds and cans, so on and so forth.
Let me attempt a short story. Ok heres the deal. I shall find a random link on google and write a piece of fiction inspired by the content on that page. I googled and I found randomwebsite.com. Let me generate a random website link. Drum rolls, confetti blasts, here we go! So it pointed me to AllAfrica.com. And heres the story.
"You dont understand me at all. I cant tolerate you guys for even a minute now. I am going.", said my daughter. She is 13. And I had caught her red handed while she was trying to steal money from my office. Moment she said, you don't understand me, something snapped inside me. I could clearly see what would she do once she leaves home with that money.
She would go buy an ice cream. After all, like father, like daughter. Then she would go for a walk till she reaches the dockyard, which is about 100 meters from our bungalow. No one else but us, call the bungalow, bungalow. This used to be a chawl till about 5 months back before I bought the entire place and created this sprawling landmark.
She will then board the vessel docked farthest from the shore, scared that I might find her and fight with her again. She would get curious with all the instruments, compass boxes, wheels, navigators, maps, logbooks, pens, radio sets, levers, cranks, the tunnels and will get lost in her world where she would play the pirate and fend off the crusaders. She has to be the pirate. The kingpin. Nothing else would do. There is something intriguing about being on the other side of the law. I, I even went to the extent of patching my right eye.
Without her realizing it, the ship would set sail. It would take her to Africa. I could see that cloth banner, that read the most dreaded words I had ever laid my eyes on. Welcome to Africa. She would be surprised at first. Then she would feel lost at a place where everyone is topless, dark, smelly, humid and cold. Then she would be surprised for a bit.
And when the reality would hit her, she would not flinch, leave alone crying. She would be brave. Probably braver than her father. She would take less time, far less to make her fortune in the land of black gold. I dont know what business would she pick but whatever she does, she would survive and reach the top of the game. All the while, slogging, to teach her father a lesson. No other emotion makes a person work harder than hatred.
And sooner than later, one fine day, just like that, she would decide to head back home. And see that banner, the Welcome to Africa banner, for the last time. Ever. And come back, to claim her place. To erect the tallest skyscraper the city had ever seen. At a place where I built a majestic home. Where my parents rented a 6 feet by 8 feet, shared toilets with 30 other "homes".
I could see everything. As clear as you could see things.
History, as they say, repeats itself. I was determined to keep history at bay this time. Just this time. For once. I fought back the tears, ran after my daughter. And dug my head in her neck and allowed that lone tear to roll down my bearded cheek. And I had no clue, who was more surprised. She or I.
This is day 04 in a series of 31 daily blogposts. Other posts are here.
Note to self: Need to fix my woulds and wills, coulds and cans, so on and so forth.
Happy Birthday Kishore Da
Did not realize that today was Kishore Kumar's birthday. While reading for this post, I realized how little I know about him. Like, I dint even know his name! Or the fact that he was a Bengali by birth. But then, better late than never. Did read some interesting tidbits about him and absolutely adore the guy.
I dont know how many songs he would have sung during his long career but he left us with so many wonderful hits that its really tough to put in a list. In fact if you asked 100 people to choose their favorite Kishore Da song, I am sure you would get 100 different songs. Thats how Kishore Da is. To each his own. There are so many facets to his life, his personality, his work, his talents that its tough to even summarize his achievements. He is one those, jinka naam hi unka resume hai.
From his work, Pal Pal Dil Kay Pass remains my favorite. Then there is O Saathi Rey. And Mere Saamne Wali Khidki. And Jhumroo. And Musafir hoon yaaron. And Saagar Kinare/ And the list can go on and on. The wikipedia article actually does a good job of summarizing the list. And burrp has a good post as well.
He is one of those people who I really wanted to meet. And like all the other people I want to meet, I would not know what to ask him. And here an idea drops into my head. What if I make a list of people that I want to meet, along with the questions I want to ask them?
May be later. But for the time being, happy birthday Kishore Da. You truly rock!
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