Baba

When one Mr. Gangopadhyay got to know that his would be son in law’s father was in the West Bengal Police Services, his eyebrows took an inverted U-turn. After all, ‘Judgmental’ is a Bengali’s second name. He asked me if I had met the father of the groom. I said, I did.

I had just appeared for my Higher Secondary boards then. The boyfriend introduced me to his father. I was tensed and perhaps spoke a little more than what was required. (Yes, I talk more when I am tensed, sad, happy, angry….okay okay, I generally talk slightly more than the rest of the world. So?). When I left their place, he told his son, “Meyeta kharap na. Kintu khub beshi kotha bole”. (She is otherwise okay, but too talkative for comfort). The son handed over the report card to me and I could see my heart break into two halves, the insides being churned, chili flakes and onion being sprinkled and an omelet being made out of it on a frying pan. : (

I sent him a note a few days before our wedding day. “I don’t think you like me because I talked a lot on the first day. But I was a kid then. I hope that the first impression won’t have an effect on the lifelong engagement we two are about to begin.” In response, a five-page letter (big sheets) arrived which referred to me as “Paramadorer Parama” and by the time I finished reading, the fears turned tears and my doubts turned Dr. Hajra…….Vanish!

When my father met him for the first time, he came home and told me, “He should have been a writer. He talks like a poet”.  The marriage happened smoothly thereafter.

Strangely, we came a long way. Our relationship elevated from ’formal, all-smiles’ to ‘brutally scold each other and protect each other with all our might, as the case may be’ status. I am happy we took time to love each other. Because, I have begun to believe that relationships that happen in a jiffy, take no time to crumble.

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Last year, my father and I were going to Shantiniketan for a day-trip. My mother wasn’t in town. My father in law packed food for the road trip. Yes, he is strangely and uncannily caring. ‘Tiffin’ cakes, chocolate biscuits, cookies, shondesh and Frooti (small tetra pack with a white straw). I was very happy.

After having finished off most of the things, I found, lying at the bottom of the jute bag, a handful of Hajmola candies, Chocolate éclairs, Parle orange lozenges and Fatafat. My heart skipped a beat and my throat gulped a tiny lump. I realised for the umpteenth time that the phrase “Daddy’s little girl” was not meant for biological fathers alone.

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This year’s picnic had prawns on the menu. I am allergic to them. While everyone was busy making prawn-hillocks on their plates, I was controlling the flow of saliva which could, at any given moment put Niagara Falls to shame. Baba called me, handed over a strip of Avil 250. “Gulp this quickly and go ahead.”

‘Why are you carrying Avil to a picnic????’ I was startled.

He flashed a smile. A smile roughly translated would mean, “I knew the menu. And, I know my greedy daughter”.

I will remember the smile for an entire life time. There was unfathomable love in that one simple gesture and it was a reason enough to love him forever. (PS: He flashes the same smile every time the Vodafone Roaming Bill ad comes on TV. :/)

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~ Hello, Baba?

He: Hyan Ma.

This unfailing response is one of the best in the world.

Drink water after consuming a piece of aamloki (Indian gooseberry). You will know the feeling.

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In the midst of all the sunshine, we share cumulonimbus moments as well. He scolds me ruthlessly when the situation demands and he is so irritatingly accurate in judging me that it leaves me almost speechless. We have our stark differences as well. (I saw admiration in his eyes for Swastika Mukherjee’s character/performance in Jatishwar. I ultimately overlooked, considering the fact that it is a genetic problem among males in his family when they see Swastika. *deep breath*)

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While I can go on and on with these asterix-lined paragraphs narrating the little stories of our lives, I decide to refrain. This post is not about how I turned Tulsi Virani or how he turned “Biswas-e melay Chhobi, Sanyal-e Pahari”. This is something about Baba which makes his daughter in law his greatest fan ever. Baba records everything in his life with utmost precision. He is the epitome of “you can fool some of the people all of the time and all of the people some of the time, but you cannot fool me”. His diaries from time immemorial are impeccable records of everything everything everything.

A few days back, I finished reading all of them. He not only allowed me to read them but also read out to me a few pages himself. Fathers and daughters have strange ways of bonding.

Well, it was soul stirring, to put it very mildly. And, I am tempted to share snapshots of the less-personal ones with you.

He has a detailed record of all the books he has read. Trust me, the six-seven fat leatherette diaries can put our Goodreads reading challenge to shame. The basic list contains names of the books he has read, name of the author, the date when he started reading it (and in most cases the year it was first published) and lastly, the ‘grade’ (ranging from A+ to C-). At the end of each diary, he mentions BF/Balance Forward and carries forward the ‘profits’ to the next year.

A more specific version of this record is a diary where he maintains, in columns, different years in which he has read the same book. Each year would have a different marking. Let me give you a hypothetical example.

Devdas ~ Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay
1963 – A	1982 – B-	1997 – C+

He also has Author-wise lists in big fat diaries. In Baba’s ‘Literary Fests’, the 153 year old is an unchallenged chief guest. These lists have five columns. Name of the book, Publisher, the number of pages each contains, price of the book and the day he bought/received it. Can any list be more detailed? :D

(click to view a larger image)

Now that Baba has his own library, he has separate diaries for enumerating his collection. These lists are very basic. Name of the book, author and year of acquisition. Simple.

And what fun it is when you discover that you know some of the authors personally! :D

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The man is equally passionate about the reel world. In his teens, he did not maintain a diary. So there were loose sheets. These lists have the following: Date of watching the movie, Name of the movie, Actors, Venue and people he watched it with. The venue ranges from “Dutter Mathh” (a public park where huge white clothes were used as projection screens and people would sit on the grass and enjoy the film) to multiplexes.

I keep on telling Joydeep, “I can’t believe that you are HIS son! What happened to his good genes?”  While flipping through his diaries I gulped back all those words. There are several days when he has watched four to five movies in a day!  He had told me that for Uttam-Suchitra movies, he and his childhood friend would book the first show in Basusree, watch it, run to Ujjala, watch the matinee show there, come back to Basusree for the evening show and call it a day with the night show at Ujjala again. Two movies, twice a day. Phew!!! Yes, good genes are adequately passed on to the two sons….

(He has seen Paapi Guriya [Serial No.80] as well! I always thought it was porn shown in cinemas like Prodip in Tollygunge)

He maintains his “Films I have watched” diaries like an accountant! Bengali (B), Hindi (H), Others (O), Grand Total. :D

Click for a larger image

On Poila Boisakh, I found stacks of Ruled Registers in College Street for sale. It reminded me of school, our Attendance Registers, Ma’s mark book and my father-in-law’s Sidhhu Jyatha records. Baba’s collection of newspaper clippings accumulated over the years is a treasure trove and makes him a quintessence of knowledge about everything under the sun. Books, music, theatre, politics, cinema, history, famous personalities, places, plants….name one and he has an answer to it. The best part about asking anything to Baba is, he not only gives you the correct answer, but also adds all the trivia connected with it. “Baba, which Rabi Thakur’s poem is this line from?” He will tell you the name of the poem, the year it was written, the particular volume of Sanchayita it belongs to and a few anecdotes as free gifts. Same applies to songs….Rabindrasangeet, Atul Prasad, Rajanikanta, D.L Ray to Kabir Suman, A. R. Rahman, Pritam et all. “Barir youtube”, my colleague called him.    

     (Yes, I have personal and biased reasons for putting this particular page. The newspaper cutting on the extreme left was written by yours truly's biological father)

  (And my father in law has his personal and biased reasons for putting this particular page. The advertisement on the newspaper cutting was made by his younger son)

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While reading his diaries and books, I found incense stick-covers made into book marks. The smell of lavender, patchouli, jasmine, sandal and ylang ylang guarded by pages on both sides. Scented memories of a very special man….

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Women often compare their husbands to their fathers. “You can never be like my dad!”, they say. I get tempted to say the same, every time JD calls my father Lalmohan Ganguly on account of the apparent similarities of their physical traits. But I refrain. He doesn’t need to be like my Dad. He has his fair share of good genes from the man I wrote about.

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There are certain books in the book shelf which you don’t read for days. You just know that they are there.

Those same books are the first you pull out when you are standing at a crossroad of blind alleys.

Geetobitan is one such book. 

Baba is one such man.

A thing of beauty

is Jai-Veeru forever…

I watched Sholay for the first time on big screen last Saturday. I have watched Sholay several times, but on the big screen, it was my first ever watch. This post could have ended here….because this will be the most terrible and useless post you’ve read on Sholay. But then, I am neither Jai Arjun Singh nor Diptakirti Chaudhuri. (I am the little black ant and you know who they are.)

My disclaimer speech on no-expectation-from-this-post ends here.

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Take-home from Sholay:

1.      Sholay is the first Hindi film I watched. KG - II. Summer vacation. Rented VCR. Rented video cassette. I watched the entire thing motionless. Love at first sight. I was a five year old and it was thirteen.

2.      I learnt a few things from the film. (When I told JD about this, he said, “What? Talking nonstop nonsense like Basanti?”) Cheap jokes apart, I will share what I learnt. I learnt dipping tobacco. Don’t freak. Read. I was mesmerised at the sight of Gabbar rubbing tobacco. If I had to name the greatest thing I learnt from Sholay, this would be the answer. I substituted it with ajwain (jowan/carom seeds). I used to take a pinch of ajwain in my palm, rub them, make a clapping sound and put the entire thing between the lower lip and the gum. I cannot remember learning anything more interesting in my entire childhood. (Joydeep says that Bengalis as a clan learnt chewing khoini after they saw this film. Pre-Sholay, consuming khaini was not at all common in Bengal)

3.      I learnt drinking tea with a ‘slurp’ sound from the saucer. That famous Socide scene. Basanti rushes to Jai shouting, “Arrey tum kaise dost ho?” In that scene, Jai drinks tea by pouring it in a saucer. I had never seen anyone doing it before watching this film. Found it super cool. I picked up the act. I used to pour water from a cup to a saucer and drink it in ishhtyle. I don’t know how that habit got undone. Ma’s smacks, am sure.

4.      I also thought “Beta so ja, nahi toh Gabbar Singh aa jayega” was the coolest thing to say for putting a child to sleep. Honestly, I would rate it much higher than lullabies and other Bengali ghum-parani mashi-pishi-sissy songs. *suddenly feeling sorry for my unborn children*.

5.      I made Baba buy a mouth organ for me. Tried playing you-know-what. Never could. When I had a Nokia 1100 phone, I had set that tune as my ring tone. And, for the first few days, each time my phone rang, I was Michael Jackson....walking on the moon.  

6.      The scene where Gabbar shoots Thakur’s grandson. Every time I watch the film, I freak out at the advent of this scene. And every time, I get relieved at the fact that they so smartly escaped the brutality. The sound of the gun gets replaced with the sound of the wheels and the whistle of the train in which Thakur arrives.  (Yes, this is one of those scenes which has the maximum impact on me).

7.      Joydeep told me that when Sholay was aired on the national television for the first time, the entire city watched it. The roads looked Bandh-stuck. All shops in their locality were closed. In the ad-break (there was almost 10 minutes advertisement break which was very uncommon in those days), he went out. He said, “For once, I thought a curfew has been declared. The roads were uncannily empty.”

Take-home from Sholay 3D:

1.                     The bullets. They almost landed on my lap. (I was actually scared)

2.                     I watched the movie 1¾ times while watching it last Saturday. The entire crowd (it was house full) uttered 75% of the dialogues before they were actually delivered. It was such fun. Initially, JD and I behaved well and refused to join the bandwagon. By the time Gabbar appeared, we were all into the dialogue-delivery-mode. You get to witness this sight in a movie hall only when the National Anthem is being played. This was the best part of watching Sholay on 3D. (There were whistles and throwing of coins on the screen. This robbed the multiplex effect and transported us to a heaven so beautiful.)

3.                     The only scene where I hoped the entire audience behaved more responsibly was “Itna sannata kyon hein bhai”. Boss, Imaam Saheb’s son has died.  It is a sad scene. Before A. K. Hangal could come up with the line, at least 30 people said it in unison (including the one I was sharing my popcorn with) and the whole theatre burst out in laughter. *face palm*  

4.            When the movie ended, he asked me, “Your reaction to the film. One word please”. I said “Maggi”.  No matter how many times you’ve had it, it is always divine. To this, he added, “Na Sholay is like Kola gachh (banana tree). You can derive something or the other from each and every part of it. The trunk, the flowers, the fruits, the leaves…..everything”. Point.

5.                  Mr. Ramesh Sippy’s interview in T2, Telegraph (9^th January, 2014). I will share the question (with the answer) I loved the most.

Q: “Is there anything you wish you had done differently?”

A:  That was the toss of the coin during the time when Veeru holds Jai’s dead body and tosses the coin away when he realises that his friend had deceived him with a same-sided coin. The film was shot in stereophonic sound and the impact of the sound of the coin was such that people in the hall would look under their seats for the coin. But I felt later that the placement of that sequence wasn’t right at the time because that was the time when Jai was dying. It was a fun and frivolous moment and shouldn’t have been placed in a death sequence.”

6.           We watched Sholay together for the first time. I always thought I was the only one who cries every time she sees Jai dying. 

Bollywood Mujik : My favourite 12.

Looking back at a not-so-good, neither-too-bad year, I sat down listing the music that had hit me hard…at the right and the wrong places.

Here are 12 most favourite tracks from Bollywood that released this year (not exactly in the order of preference). Favourite in terms of music, lyrics, picturisation, the maximum number of hits on You Tube, mobile phone, “songs” folder on the D: drive or the general enthusiasm expressed when they were being played on radios or parar club.

Generally these lists are either of 10s or 20s. However ‘12’ is strategically chosen for an obvious reason. Reason: Cheap publicity stunts. :/

   1.       Piya tu kahe rootha re (Kahaani): 

I am unusually attracted to songs which portray the feelings of a woman, but are sung in a male voice. Having said this, I instantly remember two songs where I wasn’t sufficiently moved by the music or the lyrics, but the above factor had an impact very deep. (i) “Mera jeevan kora kagaz” from Kora Kagaz (Jaya Bachchan –Kishore Kumar) and (ii) “Muchhe jawa dinguli amay je pichhu daake” from Lukochuri (Anita Guha - Hemanta Mukhopadhyay).

And, then there was “Aaoge jab tum o sajna”… (Kareena Kapoor - Ustad Rashid Khan).

Such is this song. (Vidya Balan’s emotions depicted through this song sung by Javed Bashir).

Vishal Dadlani and Shekhar Ravjiani, I love you both. The music you produced made me high, low, happy and sad. So did Bashir’s voice.

The bottom line: the guitar chords hit me hard at the not-so-right chords of my heart.

The favourite lines: “Chali kos kos mein akeli; mosey boojhi jaaye na paheli….birhaah bani mori saheli…..”

2.      Chinta ta chita chita (Rowdy Rathore):

What kind of music was that?? And what kind of lyrics? What was Akshay Kumar wearing?? (Isn’t Salman the only person in Bollywood who’s allowed to wear such obnoxious pink/orange/green trousers?)

I am devoid of any answers to the questions above. But, I am full of love for this song.

My 5 year old niece: “Mimi, my teacher said me to colour these.”

Me: Said me? What kind of English is that?

She (getting where she went wrong, within a flip of a second): “Wrong English. Like, ‘Don’t angry me.’”

Me (to myself): Isn’t she only faaive?!

Me (to her): Don’t say that again and don’t angry me.

Like her Mimi, the little girl is obsessed about Rowdy Rathore and the ‘chinta ta chita chita’ hand movements. And like her Mimi, she sings the flute part, ‘pyan pyan pya’ parts and all the no-lyrics parts in the song with rapt attention.

The favourite lines: Chinta ta chita chita chinta ta ta (for being the most meaningful).

PPS: There’s a Bengali version of the same song from “Bikram Singha – Lion is back”. Lend an ear.

3.      Pani da rang (Vicky Donor):

Me: JD, you know why I love this song?

JD: Hmm?

Me: The actor himself sings the song. This gives a strange kick, na?

JD: Kono din to Kishore Kumar sombondhye eshob bolte shunini! (Never heard these praises for Kishore Kumar from you).

Me: …….

JD: Accept the fact that it’s his LOOKS. Looks, body and then voice….

Me: (‘I-give-up’ smile)…

JD:  ‘Sung by the actor himself!’ Mithyebaadi Draupadi! :/

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Yes, I mean, the boy is so dishy that you can’t blame me. Undoubtedly, in the entire year, Ayushman is the only man I fell for, who’s blessed with such amazing looks. And an amazing voice. (In addition, the Yummyness he was paired with! Sigh.)

The favourite lines: “Baba hein? Pishi ghhar pe hein? Nahi? To hum kya yahan bethhke LUDO khelenge?”

Shottyobadi Yudhisthir, I am in a tsunami of good old memories. ;)

4.      Tumhi ho bandhu (Cocktail):

Sung by Neeraj Sreedhar and Kavita Sethh, this song reminds me of drinking raw Vodka (Dev D style) on the streets and beaches of Goa, falling in love with all the moments around, falling in love with every possible sight and above all, falling in love with one’s own self over and over again.

I also told JD that this should have been our wedding song. Such honest lines, man! 

Additionally, “Mein hoon hi nahi iss duniya ki” is killer. So is “Tu hain jaisa, mujhko waisa dikhna….”.

Tu hain jaisa, mujhko waisa dikhna…. (mentally humming it).

I feel like dancing again, making those “thumb meets index” hand movements. And drink raw Vodka.

The favourite lines: Haven’t I said them already?

5.      Mein Pareshan (Isaqzaade):

Amit Trivedi! What else can you expect of him?

And Shalmali Kholgade! I want to lift her voice and sing like her. The “khaare bhi meethe hai” tone mesmerises me…for long.

The song is also wonderfully worded by Kausar Munir (I don’t know who he is. I copied the name from You Tube). The song is awfully romantic. I loved the sound of bullets in between the music. That fits my idea of romance. Love in the time of chaos. Love in the times when everything else is wrong, except LOVE itself.

The favourite lines: Zara zara phoolon pe jhadne laga dil mera,
zara zara kaanton se lagne laga dil mera. 

6.      Go Govinda (Oh my God!)

I used to dislike Sonakshi Sinha.

And then this song happened.

I have watched the movie thrice in the theatres and watched this song three hundred thirty three times on You Tube.

The Aman Trikha-Shreya Ghoshal duo is fantastic so is Prabhudeva’s chewing gum body-movements. But, the girl takes the cake. What a happy soul she looked! Yellow shoes, yellow nailpaint, yellow belt and the aika-dajeba nose pin. Not to miss her body language and her almost-perfect steps to match the Indian Michael Jackson. I accept, had I been a man, this girl would have given me wet dreams.

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On our umpteenth time of watching the video, a particular gentleman’s observation: “If I had to run away with a girl, she would be the one” (expecting me to start my hate speech for her).

Me:  Take me along.

O gawd! I actually have a same-sex crush on her! : (

The favourite lines: I am in a messed up state. Can’t remember.

7.      Rabta (Agent Vinod):

      Amitabh Bhattacharya! The man! He will put your soul into a washing machine and turn on the quick-spin mode.

     

      I found a number of versions of this song on You Tube and similar sites.  What I love THE most, is the Hamsika Iyer-Arijit Singh version. The lyrics are clichéd, common and mushy. There is nothing extraordinary in “humko hai rehna jannatein bhulaake teri baahon mein panaah leke”. (Where else does one expect to find solace?)

     

      Yet. Yet, there is something extraordinary about the song as a whole.

    It too has sounds of bullets, chaos and collision. And in the midst of all that is not-so-beautiful, emerges this song. I got goose bumps for the first few times.

      

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     While standing on the footboard of a very crowded bus (with stinking armpits all around) and holding you to keep you from falling, has anyone ever whispered, “You can make heaven out of a crowded bus. How can I not love you?”? If yes, you’ll agree: The most clichéd feelings suddenly sound extraordinary by their manner of execution.

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     The picturisation reminds me of Suman Chattopadhyay’s lines “Rastar kawle rickshawalar snan, tomar jonno likhchi premer gaan…..”

   
   Such is this song.
     
  The favourite lines: “Ruthi hui khwaaishon se thodi si sulah leke, aaya tu khamoshiyon mein baton ki jirah leke, khoya tha samandaron mein tanah safina mera, sahilon pe aaya hein tu jaane kis tarah leke..”

8.      Phir le aaya dil (Barfi):

Pritam waved a magic wand and out came the music of Barfi. I want to preserve this one as the best music of 2012 (as an album). Hats and caps off, Pritam. This is unarguably your best till date.

About this song, I love the Rekha Bharadwaj version which was not used in the movie. The Arijit Singh version that was used was truly beautiful and had the same “picturised on a woman, sung by a man” effect. Yet, once you have heard Rekha Bharadwaj sing phir le aya dil, your mind would stop right there.

This song is strong. The sense of incompleteness in the song throws thousand daggers at you making your heart bleed.

The feeling of letting someone go at a moment when that’s the LAST thing you want, is truly painful. Especially, when you have a long “baki hein” list containing daabi si aans, daabi si aanch, adhuri si baat, adhuri si yaad, ruki si raah, ruki si chaah and so on…. With such a cruel “baki hein” list, this song manages to evoke the same amount of tears “Mera kuchh saman” did.

The favourite lines: Karte hain hum aaj qabool kya keeje, ho gayi thi jo humse bhool kya keeje, dil keh raha usey mayassar kar bhi aao, wo jo dabi si aas baaki hai, wo jo dabi si aanch baaki hain…

O god, just humming of the song makes me sad. :(

And I am crying for unknown reasons.

This means it’s a sad song and a bad song.

Shooooo! Shoo song! I don’t want to hear it again.

God knows why I included it in my precious list.

Ok final. I hate this song. And, I shall never hear it again.

9.      Kala re (Gangs of Wasseypur II):

A friend sent me this song. I heard the song several times. Several. And was looking for adjectives to describe it and failed each time, until I remembered an old conversation.

“If I have to choose one adjective for you, you know what it would be?”
Me: Awesome?

“Nah, that’s easy to come.”

Me: O. Difficult?

“Better, but still achievable.”

Me: Then?

“Scary and that’s scarce.”

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Right, this song is scary.

And, that’s scarce.

The favourite lines: None.

10.  Dreamum Wakeupum (Aaiyaa):

“Mujhhe gore log nahi, kale log pasand hein…”

:D :D :D

Again, Amit Trivedi - Amitabh Bhattacharya combination. It’s smart. It’s sexy and it’s sinful.

I love the song. I think Rani Mukherjee was anyways PERFECT, but Sowmya Rao was the icing on the freshly baked cake.

The favourite lines: Heart beatnum dhol peetnum,  Love lust double kasht bada dheetnum.

Body heatnum hot seatnum, Calling Fire Brigade bhi defeatnum.

NO. It’s like choosing between your own children on the basis of who you love the most.

So, here’s the entire song.

Dreamum wakeupum critical conditionum,
Earthum wakeupum hilo dool sab shakeupum,
Face to faceum dharti putram,
Top to baeum kama sutram,
Thighsum thunderum downum underum,
Sizeum matterum thinkum wonderum,
Jumpingum ……pumpingum….
Throbbingum…thumpingum..
Wane runde mune naale….

Heart beatnum dhol peetnum,

Love lust double kasht bada dheetnum,

Body heatnum hot seatnum

Calling Fire brigade bhi defeatnum,

Same to sameum dil me utaram,

Top to baeum kama sutram,

Thighsum thunderum downum underum,

Sizeum matterum thinkum wonderum,

Jumpingum ……pumpingum….

Streelingum …..punglingam..

Wane runde mune naale….

11.      Jeeya jaye na (Talaash):

This is my favourite song of the year. The song is so beautiful, that I wish I could keep her in my pocket, take her out whenever and talked to her.

Javed Akhtar. Ram Sampath. Sona Mahapatra. Ravindra Upadhyay. My salute!

The favourite lines: Mann ab tak jo bujh naa paya, Tum woh peheli ho…Koi na jaane kya woh rahasya hein…Jiski saheli ho..

12.      Tera pyar hookah bar (Khiladi 786):

At times, when I feel no one understands me, I think of him.

No one understands him either!

Himesh Reshamiya, you are my anti-depressant of the year.

You’ve made me your slave.

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The man is like Bappi Lahiri. He never ceases to amaze. Be his looks, his acting, his impeccable singing style or his music.

He lends his voice to this song along with Vineet Singh and Aman Trikha and the result is a second Kolaveri D, in terms of madness.
Trivia: The lyrics have being penned down by Himesh himself.

There are certain songs which makes me wonder: “If I was a man, I would have sung this one for a girl”.

This is such a song. It leaves me intoxicated creating a Vitamin G effect all over the head.

The favourite lines: Teri ankhiyon ka waar jaise sher ka shikar, tera husn dhuyedaar jaise jaltaa cigar.. 

Phew! it's a long post! (And I still wished '12' was not the number).