Mehfuz

Long back when someone had told me that good music can give you goosebumps, I was quite skeptical. Today, I can't agree more. For me music in itself is not as potent to cause my skin to erupt as long as I am not under the undue influence of alcohol or am watching a horror movie, (A particular friend would like to claim that I even get scared of the friendly dolphin-like shark from Finding Nemo but that understandly is taking it a bit too far) It is the words which cause the rush of blood to the head.

Mehfuz - Euphoria

Faasle they hazaaron darmiyan,
Waqt ke they hazaaron imtehaan

Fir bhi ban ke nishaan,
Tere honthon ke kisi kone mein,
Hansi ke tarah, main mehfuz hoon

Teri aankhon ke chipe dard mein
Aansoo ki tarah, main mehfuz hoon

I don't know but deep down somewhere these words strike a chord, may be the same one which reading Ruskin Bond does.

Lone Fox Dancing - Ruskin Bond

As I walked home last night
I saw a lone fox dancing
In the cold moonlight.

I stood and watched. Then
Took the low road, knowing
The night was his by right.

Sometimes, when words ring true,
I'm like a lone fox dancing
In the morning dew.

The words above are unlike Ghalibs which to the uninitiated can only cause disappointment. I don't mean to decry him. He probably is the best for all I know but I can't make a lot of sense. I have tried reading Ghalib and have even may be understood a few of his couplets. I have felt good but has it been because of the excitement of deciphering the words (just like the excitement of a school boy of solving a difficult puzzle) or at being able to understand the meaning.

With all due respects to Ghalib and without further ado let me just rest my case by saying that - Simple yet Profound - Euphoria and Ruskin Bond - that is what they are and as far as the rest of us are concerned - Khuda hum sab ko Mehfuz rakhein !!

Waada Raha Sanam

Just last weekend, listening to Waada Raha Sanam, from the movie Khiladi, reminded me of the time spent at Oak Grove. To be very honest, it always does. I vividly remember hearing the song first time from Nicholas Banerjee. I was then in Class VI, the junior most class of the senior school and Nicholas was in XI, the class of the prefects, the all powerful, feared, awed lot.

As clichéd as it might sound, boarding school is a world in itself, especially true for our school. It was in a godforsaken place called Jharipani where our only contact with the outside world was the nature walks that we used to go on, once in a few months. Imagine 8-9 year olds walking in pairs holding hands visiting the same old Raja's palace again and again. In spite of the sameness, it had the freshness which only 8-9 year olds know who stay in a remote hill village with its bunch of ghosts and even more dreadful seniors in a hostile jail like administration. Being away from home didn't really matter except for the first few days because after that it really was rock-n-roll. Of course we didn't go for nature walks in VI. Senior school made men out of young boys and women out of young girls (not sure of the latter though) - who were allowed a monthly outing to Mussoorie.

When I think of Oak Grove, so many thoughts come to my mind that it becomes hard to keep track. It is so easy to lose myself but it has got to be Waada Raha Sanam and Nicholas today.

Our world was so complete that we didn't have to look outside to find people we idolized, we hated or admired. We had our own Tendulkars, Dhyanchands, and Shahrukh Khans. Nicholas didn't exactly fit into one of these categories - but he was up there somewhere. He was from Dubai and he brought peanut butter to campus. In a school where children of lower-middle class railway employees studied, it meant something to be from Dubai. His cupboard was full of deos, perfumes, chocolates and latest electronic gadgets. Nicholas was a great guy and had a girlfriend too. The only thing queer about him were his designer under wears. I always felt that those bright-shiny-little things were so sissy that they were never ever to be touched by men of honor.

Coming back to the music of Khiladi, I am not sure if people find the songs of Khiladi as good. To me, I had bought the audio cassette of the movie 4-5 times before the world was taken over by unlawful do-gooder copyright violators. The average and simple lyrics of the song meant hope to an eleven year old and the belief that the world was simple and innocent where promises of love were kept and where people like Nicholas existed – rich, generous, in possession of tons of peanut butter and a girlfriend too.

Like they say, those were the days, my friend!!!