Resonance

"I can't put up with grief", she said in a pitch little louder than her usual. I couldn't help notice a quiver in her voice, like it was about to break down. A few minutes back, when she entered the room, she was singing one of my favorite songs. She was a shy singer. Once, she confessed that she did not have a singer's voice, nevertheless, she loved to sing. Often, she sang her heart out, looking at me, which was something she enjoyed the most. That, she had once said, would make her appear more confident, feel more content and look more graceful. And then she would stare at me searching for an acknowledgement of the compliment that she had given to herself.

That day she was looking into her laptop and singing—
Beqarar dil is tarah mile, jis tarah kabhi hum judaa naa the. (Anxious hearts met in such a way, as if we never had gone astray)

The song was interrupted when she stumbled upon an old memory. And then I saw her face change. It illuminated like the rising summer sun, followed by a smile, which was brutally stopped halfway on her face and then it withered away, like a dry autumn leaf, lost in the whirl of wind. 

Her expressions had transitioned from euphoric to thoughtful and then turned wry. I saw her walk slowly and sit on the chair in front of me. She looked at me or rather through me. She seemed to be so far away. All I could do was wait. 

And then she began speaking. She told me how much she loved the people her life. "I want to hold the people I love with these two hands as tight as I can" she said, showing me her hands. "And if that is less, I will embrace them".  She had stretched her arms which made her look like a kid, when she was already sounding like one. Telepathic that she was, she read my mind, put her hands down and restructured her poise.  "I can cope up with sadness but I cannot put up with grief", she said with a shaky voice followed by the explanation of their difference. "Sadness is soothing.  It is like the memories that you hold on to so firmly. You don’t ever want to part with them. It’s the pain of missing someone you loved so much, that you are in love even with that pain. That is sadness. You create it, it grows in you, it belongs to you, you love it and no one can separate it from you. But grief, it is not something you ask for. It’s what comes as an unwanted supplement and is stuck with you for a lifetime. The worst part—you cannot do anything about it". With a large tear rolling down her cheek she completed, "Grief is helplessness".

As much as I wanted to console her, I waited for her to gather herself again. She stood up and walked away. When she came back, she was composed. And she looked at her image and smiled. In resonance we sang-
Tum bhi kho gaye, hum bhi kho gaye, ek raah par chalke do kadam. (You got lost, I got lost too, walking a few steps together)

Singing to her reflection, because that was something she enjoyed the most.

Rising in love

She had always been a deep sleeper. Her sleep had defeated all hurdles. Be it an imaginary earthquake felt by her room mate who had tried in vain to wake her up, or a robbery in the neighbourhood when all the people from the locality were out on the street at midnight and her father had to lock the door when she was left alone sleeping inside or the long power cuts in summer nights when her sisters would wake up and play Antakshari around her. Nothing could disturb her slumber. She slept peacefully, like a baby. Until she fell in love. And no one can fall in love and remain the same. Here's a scribbling from her diary-


Somewhere in the middle, of the night you had woken up because your throat went dry and demanded water. Thousand kilometres away, I had woken up because of the mini earth quake that my phone had caused and had sent the vibration from under the pillow where I had started placing it every night. The long vibration tone and the placement of the phone right under the pillow were both strategic. Since the last few nights my brain had auto programmed itself to react to them- the reaction was excitement. This time, even in the middle of the night, with the sleepiest head ever, my brain got a signal that the vibration had made me happy. I reached for my phone and opened my right eye to check your message. While it took about 2 seconds for my eye sight to adjust to the brightness of my phone screen which contradicted to the darkness of the room, my brain was sending it yet another signal to shut up and go back to sleep. Ignoring that, I fumbled with the phone pass code thrice until I managed to get it right. The phone finally unlocked and I read your message. My fingers went agile and typed a quick response and sent it. I was glaring at the phone with one eye open focussing hard at your status, waiting for it to change from online to typing. It did happen in the next 3 seconds which actually seemed like 3 minutes at 3 am in the night. And even when your message said- 'good, go back to sleep' which was exactly what my brain was asking me to do, I typed Bye and waited - for your status to turn from online to typing. But it turned offline. And in the next couple of minutes, the phone's display, my open eye and my mind dimmed successively, until I was woken up by another long vibration few hours later and I opened another eye.


The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of.. We know the truth not only by the reason, but by the heart." - Blaise Pascal

Pyaasa

This is a fan post. I have turned into a Guru Dutt's fan of Pyaasa! When I mentioned this to my friend who is a fan of Guru Dutt's another cult work, Kagaz ke phool, he said 'kya gham hai tumhari life mein'.

Technically, there is no gham(sadness), I told him. The world has been fair to me, life has been easy and I have always met people who loved me back more than I had expected. But when I watched Pyaasa, something inside me changed. It was the ultimate happiness of liking something that I cannot relate to.

Pyaasa is magnificent- The story of a struggling poet, Vijay, played by the actor who makes me blush at the mention of his name- Guru Dutt. I have replayed that part 12 times when a young bashful Guru Dutt tries to woo the girl in classroom with his spontaneous poetry -

Jab Hum Chale Toh Saaya Bhi Apna Na Saath De, Jab Tum Chalo Zameen Chale Aasman Chale, Jab Hum Ruke Toh Saath Ruke Sham-e-bekasi, Jab Tum Ruko Bahaar Ruke Chandni Ruke

While the entire movie revolves around this artist’s struggle, what keeps him going is his art itself and a secret admirer with a heart of gold. It couldn't have been pulled off by anyone as beautifully as done by Waheeda Rehman, the epitome of grace. When he encounters the woman he had loved and finds her married to his employer, amidst an elite party of established poets, he lets loose the most soulful song of his time. And though I had grown up listening to this melody, I had never really understood the depth of its lyrics until, Vijay the disparaged poet sings it-

Bichhad gayaa har saathi dekar pal do pal ka saath 
Kisko fursat hai jo thaame deewano ka haath
Humko toh apna saaya tak aqsar bezaar mila
Humne toh jab kaliyaan maangi kaaton ka haar mila 
Jaane woh kaise log the jinke pyaar ko pyaar mila

Nothing could beat this lethal combination – S. D. Burmans’s melody, Hemant Kumar’s voice, Sahir Ludhianvi’s words and the screen presence of Guru Dutt.

For the next four days this movie stayed with me and I couldn't help talk about anything else.

‘But Guru Dutt was a pessimist’ said my friend on the fifth day. I blushed, as I had only heard the subject and ignored the predicate of his statement. My friend got confused and added- 'That is why he died a tragic death at 39'.
‘That’s the best part’ I exclaimed, ‘His fans got to see only the young and charming Guru Dutt.’
‘That’s not true’, he said ‘Technically, we have seen the old Guru Dutt too’.
‘Kagaz ke phool’ We both said almost together.

Dekhi Zamaane Ki Yaari
Bichhade Sabhi, Bichhade Sabhi Baari Baari