एक कामरान

हकीकत ज़ालिम सी लगती है,
उस ज़ालिम से हम डरते हैं,
और इसलिए दिन रात हम,
तसव्वुर मे जिया करते हैं।
अफ़सानों के समन्दर की,
गहराईयों मे रहते हैं,
हम ख्वाबों के सौदागर अक्सर,
तनहाईयों मे रहते हैं।
ज़रूरत नही है कुरबत की,
अपनो से बेगानो से,
बस दर्द ही मिलता है,
काज़िब से अरमानो से।
जो तिशनगी इस दिल मे है
बुझाना उसे आसान नहीं,
हमारी दास्तान  कह दे जो,
ऐसा कोई तर्ज़ुमान नहीं,
छोडो हमको अपनी इस,
हालत मे ही रहने दो,
दिवानगी की कश्ती मे,
इस कामरान को बहने दो।

Chak diya India!

For me, Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikander was the best sports movie that had been made in India till Chak de got released. Not that Jo jeeta... has lost its rank in my list, but it has found a worthy partner for sure.
Except a few technical and script based snags (which can be overlooked) Chak de is one of the most convincing 'zero to hero' kind of movie that Indian cinema has seen. The most important aspect that has gone into making this movie look so realistic is the casting. Not only the director made a commendable effort to bring about the regional diversities of such a team but also that the players do look players and not models or actresses which they actually were. A touch of rawness in the acting made the girls look even more convincing. And on this even Mr. Sudhish Kamath of The Hindu seems to agree with me. I loved the short girl called 'Komal Chautala ' in the moviewho actually was portrayed as the most un-komal kind.
The next best part was the mind blowing performance given by you know who. He looked every bit of the King that he is called. The only word I can find to describe this kind of performance is - Natural.
The cinematography in the movie is A grade. Especially in the scenes where the press has been shown, the shaky camera makes the scenes look amazingly real.
And at par with all this was the screenplay. The background score was good enough to move you at times and the timing of the songs is perfect.
The commentators shown in the movie could have done a better job but it is nevertheless okay. The dialogue writer too has done a commendable job.
Thus its as complete a sports cum feminist movie as India has ever seen and my only comment to Shimit Amin is - 'Chak diya'!

India at 60 !

Koi 'Rock'o Naa, Deewane Ko!

He was in terrible pain. It was hard to make out whether the pain was physical or mental. I saw him holding his crotch a couple of times though. But the way he was jumping in pain and crying with his eyes closed, his whole body seemed to have been taken by some deep wound. He was shouting at the crowd. He was pleading to them. So loud was he crying that even the heavens would have heard him. But I had never seen a crowd crueler. Albeit some of them seemed to be sympathetic towards him and some even had tears in their eyes, most of them seemed to be deriving some abstruse pleasure in watching him cry. The ones on his side could do no more than just pity and watch.
And then suddenly I saw his agony turning into anger. His bent structure arose all of a sudden and he thrust all his scorn towards the crowd. He cursed them, he condemned them and he even showed them the finger. But the more he vented his frustration the more they seemed to enjoy.
And then he challenged them. He called them to have a go at him. Although no one came towards him, this time the whole crowd started cursing him. He looked shocked and tired. His face was full of sweat and he stood their aghast. And then suddenly as if he was possessed he started to shake. He looked up to the god. The agony was overly conspicuous.
After that he took off his clothes and threw them towards the crowd. As if telling them to take all they could for he had nothing to lose. He ran across the platform. He wanted to run away. But there was no escape. They were everywhere, all around him. Provoking him and cursing him. In the end he fell on his knees perhaps praying to the god and his voice grew somber and cold. Those butchers who were deriving so much pleasure in his pain suddenly stopped too. And then……………………………………………………………………………………….he rose and thanked them all. The Rock show had ended.