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Saturday, December 21, 2013

The yet unknown Devyani case

and Dhoom-3!

Hi guys,
- I thought why don't I talk about issues which are going in the country, which affect me or touch me somewhere, and are ignored in the nation or the society.
And as always, my big doubt -  why don't we ask questions and raise these points.

This is the latest case about Devyani, an India-born US diplomat, who was staying in the US and had an Indian maid. One evening, the maid had gone to get veggies. She got them and while returning, she was stopped by a group of drug addicts and was stripped naked and supposedly raped.

She was arrested by the NYPD (New York Police Department) officials and was stripped again and other DNA tests were done and in the process, supposedly raped again.
Devyani did not like this. She complained it to the US officials and surprisingly, none of them acted upon it and they practically 'Ignored' this.

- Meanwhile, the political scene in Delhi was active with news stories of Sheila Dixit's defeat and Khejriwal's victory and the media was full of those stories. Some responsible media houses raised this issue and took the careless Indian govt's case.
They also said that the Indian congress is super irresponsible and not working anywhere towards its victory for the next lok Sabha election.
Somehow, the sarkar woke up and
they reacted, Jhatke se: The barricades from the US ebassy were removed, the US  employees at the US employees had half of their salaries detained and half the Indian  embassy salaries were increased. The US embassy, for the first time in the history got Fucked by the Indian government.

Now what is the big scene: Amidst stupid news of Dhoom-3 releasing in stupid theatres and Modi blabbering somewhere in UP, we have the latest news is that the US government in return is not accepting benefits for Devyani and is not accepting its own negatives.
This is another thing which we can sit over chai and keep on debating. But my only problem is that why are the people so Ignorant in India and why is Dhoom 3 so important.

Wednesday, September 11, 2013


My Banaras Journey (Continued)

5th September,
Amroha, 9:30 pm

The sky right outside the train window looks magical. There are very few or no lights at all, so I get to see the sky with most of the starts in the sky. These are stars which I have just seen once in my life, in the  Andhra sky in my father's village long ago. I look into the same sky and it takes me back into time, years ago.
Times have changed, I have changed, but what hasn't changed are the skies and the beautiful stars.
Like the stars, there is some twinkling of the Fireflies, which adds so much more to the visual. This journey is just marvellous. :)

Muradabad, 10:15pm

Finally, I have started liking these two guys sitting with me. They are quite happy at the fact that I am a South Indian and I speak in such good Hindi. Happiness.
Meanwhile, I try and catch their accent, which is more interesting. They have begun introducing Banaras. Excited I am!

(to be continued...)

Banaras... Phase 1

The recent trip to Banaras (Varanasi) is been recorded in my diary entries. here we go...

5th September '13
Simbhala, UP, 8:35 pm

I am entering the interiors of UP, which I always wanted to do. Staying in Delhi does expose me to a lot of UPites, but when it comes to UP itself, no one else can replace UP itself. I just wanted to get a hint of the journey of the the way changed from the British United Province to the Hindustani Uttar Pradesh...both UP's.
'Trying' to get the UP accent is quite different from 'Getting' it. This is so peculiar, so effortless, so beautiful.

There are different accents across India.  It is true that India has 18 languages, which is quite a lot for a nation. But what is stranger is the no. of  dialects which this nation has. They say that every 40 kms, the dialect changes, which makes the land multi-cultural and diverse.

For instance, one one hand I have this guy in my compartment from Banaras, who is extra respectful and on the other hand, I have another guy from Sultanpur, who is just 2 hours from Banaras, but is super-rude and KHADOOS.
This is not the best way to analyse people, but right now, I have nothing else to do. The journey continues.

I am hungry and as I finish writing this, the dinner is here. :) be continued

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

My One liners :)

It was half past midnight in my watch, half past mid-night in yours... Yours had crossed 12 and was sad... mine was still waiting for 1...all hopeful! 

Monsoon travel diaries

And it was just any other monsoon with the same old stories of a somewhat 'Early' monsoon and I don't know what all. What was new for me was that I was in back in Delhi fter ages... having spent a nice and 'full' monsoon last year at Mumbai. I had worked hard there and was slightly confused whether is it fool-proof to start something new in a city which is famous for all the wrong reasons, or should I say, is notorious.
What happened was not a part of my plan.

The films on which I had worked last year as an AD (Assistant Director) had begun to release now, when I was in Delhi. When in Mumbai, I could not see a glimpse of anything of this. What I had seen always and still believe in is the fact that one should work hard for TODAY and forget everything else.
First came BOMBAY TALKIES, where I was assisting Dibakar Banerjee, and I was the Da (Director's Assistant), then came out SHIP OF THESEUS (by Anand Gandhi), where we had all worked very hard and never knew when would this release. Amidst all this Mrigh Lamba's and Farhan Akhtar's FUKREY released, and I was happy.
This happiness somehow transferred into the documentary work and the theatre work I had just initiated here, in Delhi. People came in, some left in days, some went on to become friends for life.
 KAMAAN and MY-CROW THINKING FILMS began on a note which was happy and content.

This monsoon has been nice and has been teaching a lot. We did 2 shows of DUSTBIN, which I re-wrote. Both the shows were house full. We got an Invite from NID and left for Ahmedabad. What a time we had. Was a show which none of us would like to forget.
We also went to Kerala and saw some awesome visuals at Konkan and the Kollam beach.
We have just returned to Delhi and we have started working on our next play.  All this was nice and then out of no where we got a call from Rishi Valley school, Banaras calling us for a workshop for the kids . All this was a lot of hard work, but who cares when you get to do what you always wanted to!
We had a meeting yesterday with this industrialist who wants us to do a bunch of street plays in his Plant in Chhittaurgarh, Rajasthan, in October!

Filmwise, we have been working hard too. My-Crowthinking Films got a UN project which is getting edited.

Meanwhile I also get ready for Shlok Sharma's HARAMKHOR, a film by Anurag Kashyap, to which I gave  everything I had then :)

Amidst all this frolic ,writing and editing, I  get up soon and pack for Banaras tomorrow. Travelling continues.

Hardwork, truly pays :)

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

The Beauty

Sitting in the auto I looked out,
it was raining, with the roads full of people,
getting late for office,
getting later for work, which was anyway ahead of them,
people getting late, as always.

Sitting in the auto, I still looked out,
at the non-stop rain, refusing to stop,
refusing to fight against people getting late,
refusing to inspire people, who were never late.

Sitting in the auto, I noticed the sunlight coming up,
lighting up every nook and corner, still drenched in the rain,
with sun rays as beautiful as ever,
making everything look as good as gold,
but the people kept running, fighting with time.

There were people running against time,
and missing those shiny droplets of rain, getting lost in the sunlight,
there were men and women fleeing in panic,
and I was sure that they had definitely won the race against time,

but they had defiinitely missed seeing the shine around them,
they had missed how scenic the sky looked,
they had missed how beautiful the RAINBOW looked in the sky

Sitting in the auto, I looked out,
at men and women winning their race against time,
but definitely missing their chance to see the beauty which nature offered.

They were happy, I was happier.

Thursday, August 8, 2013

The pleasure :)

The play which was more of a dream,
more of an illusion,
which happened and there were smiles everywhere.

There was applause,
and there were so many things which we could learn,
but what could not be described was the feelng on the stage,
when we all bowed down after the play, together,
and we all smiled with our heads bent,
with so much of pride,
such an award that smile was.,
Such joy.

Such pleasure :)

Thursday, June 27, 2013

The Afghani journey

A group of twelve men and women, from Kabul had recently visited India, to see and learn things at the Indian NGO's so that they could take and go back things to Afghanistan which would help them in rebuilding their society. These men and women had come through this organisation called Action Aid, Afghanistan.

I had got a call from Action Aid India to make a film on this journey which these young men and women were taking. I got excited and I started shooting and travelling with the Afghan team for the next 4 days.

This trip has been an eye opener not just for the Afghans but also for me. It has taught me a lot and also made me realise the fact that this country has so much to offer and I need to travel and explore so much before I talk . The film is getting ready and I would share it soon.


Did I sleep well?

I got up early and i slept again.
I definitely got up, but did i sleep well?
With men dying in the mountains,
and kids crying next to the dead bodies.

I could not sleep at all.
I just got up...

Friday, June 14, 2013

That open window

That open window,
right above my pillow,
has happy questions,
with unhappy answers.

The sun rays enter,
wake me up,
from dreams,
unseen and unknown.

Just because of that window,
that open window above my pillow,
that I keep forgetting
my doubts and my problems,
unseen and unknown.

Questions I have,
about life and death,
murders and suicides.
I stare into that window,
and miss my parents,
who are happy just with the memories of my happiness,
all unseen and unknown.

So, it is just this windo,
which answers my questions,
all unseen and unknown.
and nothing else.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Just the fan, Bablu ji!

Delhi is super hot this year, I think much more than the previous years I have lived here. Also, adding to this is the fact is that I have been living in a room with the fan not working and the cooler without a pump, so what happens is that the cooler throws air, which is hot and killing!

I have been staying alone in Delhi and I am liking the experience till now. It is nice and pleasant. But about 8 days ago, my fan stopped working and right on the next day, my cooler's pump stopped too. I stay alone in the room, so I complained it to my landlady about this and she gave me the no. of this electrician called Bablu ji. 

Now the thing is that when Bablu ji comes to repair the fan/cooler, I have already left for office and when I come back (which is late), I can't get Bablu ji. Amidst this mismatch of time between me and bablu ji, I had started to grow accustomed to the whole concept of living in a room without a fan and a hot cooler! In the beginning, this was a huge problem for me, but as I continued with it every day I realized that MAN can survive anywhere and any how.

Something similar happened to me when I had just moved to the same house in Delhi, about 3 months ago. The power in my room had just stopped, so every day I would take a bath with cold water and read and write in candle light (Mind you this was winters and hence the geyser had become such an important part of my life). The landlady gave me the same Bablu ji's reference and he took about 20 days to come and repair the power situation and provided me with the geyser. But till then, life had taught me this lesson that what I thought was just an addiction today for me, were actually luxuries in the older times and are still luxuries for many people who belong from a class quite different.
 All thanks to Bablu ji!

My parents called me last night and they scolded me. My dad said that I should call the dealer and get a split AC fixed in my room. My mom said that it was so careless of me not to call an electrician and get things fixed. I could not argue. But actually speaking, wasn't it a carefully drafted plan to see and 'learn' things! But I love my parents and I like all the love they shower on me!

This morning, I also realized that I should not challenge the Weather Gods . I started puking and everything I ate was coming out. So, I took a call and decided not to go to office and waited for Bablu ji.

Bablu ji came, examined things and said that he will repair the cooler pump first as that would be nice for me. That would provide me relief. But I said 
"Bablu ji, I don't need the cooler now. I just need the fan"

Mahatma Gandhi was once asked to describe an ideal life style and he responded by saying "Simple living and High Thinking"
 "Just the fan, Bablu ji" :)

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

The joy of 6 am

6 am, Delhi.
Post school, this has been a time I would never be awake at. But a recent trip to Jharkhand, changed things for me.
When I am home in Hyderabad, this is when my parents would also wake me up for early morning chai and after chai, they would leave for the morning  walk and I would get back to my happy slumber.

In Ranchi, I was spending a couple of days at my mama's. So every day I would get up at 6 and with my mama , my cousin and mai (mama's wife!) I would go for a walk. But this Jharkhand journey was one of those trips where I am open to everything new. Things which might have been happening in my life, since childhood, but in some of these trips, I leave all my beliefs on one side, and I UNLEARN. I had actually gone there to do some research for one of my documentaries, but I was open to everything coming my way.
So, me and my cousin, Divya walked behind and my mama-mai walked forward. It was early morning and I could feel the freshness in the air. Divya and I were just talking and she said that she gets up by 7 usually, and that is when i realised that I have been missing the joy of an early morning, just because of my pure laziness or stupid reasons. I also felt that I could change my whole schedule just to feel that moment of freshness.

With resolutions, I came back to Delhi and the first thing which I had to work on was sleeping early, which sounded impossible. For getting up at 6, i had to sleep by 10, which sounded absurd. So, I pushed the time to 12 am, as sleeping for 6 hours is good (12 to  is 6 hours!). 

On the first day, I finished all my work by 7 pm, so that I go back home, cook, read a book, write stuff, wash clothes and have dinner by 12. I realized that the more I kept a track of time, faster I would work. The big change had come when from the usual 1 or 2 at night, my room's lights went out at 12. 

The alarm woke me up at 6. With the whole excitement, I got up, went to the loo for 10 minutes, and I came out and opened my window. As I opened it, I experienced fresh air again. I got a glimpse of what-heaven-might-feel-like.
I wore my slippers, locked my room and went out for a walk. The early morning breeze is absolutely amazing. I don't know if there is a word in the English language, which describes the freshness of an early morning. With birds chirping and dogs being super active, the early morning had another story to tell me. In fact, I have noticed that an 8 o'clock morning is less fresher than a 6:30 morning. They say, that you should get up with sunrise, or if possible may be before it.

So, in the early hours of the day, I would see old people exercising or school kids leaving for school. I would reach the park, take off my slippers and walk barefoot on the soil and the grass. Heavenly!

I would walk around the park, and sit and meditate for 20 minutes. I would have more time to kill, so I would exercise and feel fresh. And after 45 minutes of meditation and exercising, I would go to the chai stall and sip chai.

There is another benefit I have from getting up early in the morning- TIME.  I would come back to my room after the walk, and I would have so much of time with me. This was like 2 'free' hours have been added to my life. So, I can read, write or watch a movie. 
And I am very happy with getting up early in the morning, and I am surely experiencing things, which I had been missing all my life. Now I am not missing sun-rises!

I look back and wonder why would my parents go for a morning walk and never share how they felt. I think I get it now. I know why they would never tell me how awesome they felt. It is just because they could never describe it in words how heavenly they felt.
And it is getting late, I leave for the walk now. I just had this to share.

©K. Harish Singh 2013.

Thursday, March 28, 2013

किस रंग में बेरंग हो?

न सोच न समझ,
न सच न झलक,
न मंज़िल न कोई रास्ता,
क्यूँ बेरंग से बढ़ रहे,
किस रंग में बेरंग हो तुम?

किस रंग में?

न माता न पिता,
बस हैं कुछ दोस्त साथी,
जो आज हैं, पर देखा न उनके संग कल,
वो जाने हैं आज क्या हुआ,
पर न भनक उन्हे बीते हुए कल की,
क्यूँ बेरंग से बढ़ रहे?
किस रंग में बेरंग हो?

किस रंग में?

आज का दिन गुलाल का था,
न था लहू का, न था हिंसा का,
न था मदिरा का, न था गुमने का,
कहाँ से आए ये रंग ज़िंदगी में?
किस रंग में बेरंग हो तुम?

किस रंग में?
किस रंग में?
किस रंग में...

© के॰ हरीश सिंह 2013

Monday, March 25, 2013

Moving on!

Moving on!
Vikrant was a new employee of the Central  Public Works Department, which the world knew as the famous CPWD. He had finished his engineering from a prestigious engineering college and his family was quite happy at the fact that he had got a job in CPWD, an organization which was as old and as trustworthy  as ever.
It had been three months and the feeling of this new job had not yet settled in. Vikrant had just moved to Delhi and got a house here.  It was a nice life here in Delhi, compared to his hometown in UP. The best part for him was his family was no where around. Though they would never be after him to come and sleep on time, but it is just this responsibility which Vikrant had towards them. Now, all of a sudden, he did not have any and wasn't he happy about it!
Somewhere in central Delhi, Vikrant's team was doing a field survey of the number of slums in the area. They were going from one slum to another and checking and collecting documents from the slum owners. This was the first field operation which Vikrant was a part of.
Vikrant was the youngest member of his team and Sharma ji was the oldest. He was retiring the very next week. He had served in the organization for a period which was as much as Vikrant's age. Sharma ji had this hilarious habit of commanding his team with the words "Chalo, Moving on". So the team would check for the documents which included the ration card and the UID card and Sharma ji would shout with pride,"Chalo, moving on!"
Vikrant was enjoying the whole process of collecting the documents from people living there. He had never done this and was enjoying the respect he was getting from the people.
So they entered this slum which had an old woman standing at the door. "Shanti amma" she was called.  She smiled and called these men inside to sit. They came, they sat and waited for her documents. There was this woman who was randomly walking with the officers, telling them everything she knew about the houses. She was old too but was younger than shanti amma.
So as Vikrant was looking around the small house, Shanti amma came in abruptly and put a bag of documents on the floor and sat down looking for them. This was slightly shocking for Vikrant. Shanti amma started going through the documents in a haste. Vikrant could see the tension coming over her each and every moment. Sharma ji said in his deep voice to Shanti amma to chill and look for documents. He said that they are in no hurry. Vikrant liked this attitude of their team.
Shanti amma said that she is looking for her ration card which she can't find. Sharma ji asked her where did she see it last. She said that her son had seen it last. everyone was silently waiting for her to find the ration card. But all of a sudden, Shanit amma got up crying and left the room. This was weird for Vikrant. He thought that it was kind of funny too that a woman is crying for something which is as trivial as some document. Some Ration card!
The woman who was walking with these men spoke, "Sahab, she is a widow. She had a hard working son till last week."  Vikrant was confused when he heard this. What did the woman mean when she said "till last week"?
"He passed away last week in a truck accident. Shanti amma is alone after that. She keeps crying", said the woman.
Sharma ji got up and before anyone could say anything. he said that we can come back to Shanti Amma after sometime. Vikrant wanted to stay for some time, and talk to Shanti amma and comfort her. He felt very sad for this old woman who had recently lost his young son. But before he could do anything, his senior had asked him to move. He looked inside to get a glimpse of shanti amma, but he did not see her. They moved out of the slum.
Sharma ji summed up the whole experience in his trademark dialogue...
"Chalo, moving on!"
And they moved on.

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Translation by Sambit Kr. Pradhan :)

This is the awesome translation which our very own Sambit Kumar Pradhan did. Love it:

वो माँ ...
वो माँ,
जिसने अपना बेटा
मुल्क से मामूली मुद्दे पर
लड़ते हुए खो दिया।
खिड़की पे बैठे वो याद करती है अपने बेटे को,
वो बच्चा, थका, पसीने में तर
साँझ के खुशगवार खेलों की मुस्कान लिए
भागा आता था रोज़ उसके पास।
खिड़की पे बैठे वो याद करती है अपने बेटे को।
वो मुल्क क्या है जिसके लिए वो मरा?
क्या वही राष्ट्र-गान है जो वो स्कूल में गाता था,
और उसके रौंगटे खड़े हो जाया करते थे?
क्या वही मुल्क है ये, जिसके लिए वो मरा?
वो मुल्क क्या है जिसके लिए वो मरा?
अनजानों को मारना सीखा था उसने,
सिर्फ इसलिए कि वो उसके मुल्क में घुसना चाहते थे।
वो इस मुल्क के माइने कैसे बताए?
वो कैसे इस मुल्क को अपना और
उस अनजान को अपना दुशमन बताए?
क्या वो उसे मारता अगर वो उसे
सड़क किनारे किसी चाय वाले के यहाँ मिलता?
कैसे मारता वो उसे,
क्या उस अनजान की माँ नहीं होगी?
और वो कौन सा मुल्क था, जिसके लिए वो मरा?
उसे कहा गया लड़ने को,
अनजान अनछुए इलाकों के लिए-
हालत खुदकी उतनी ही बुरी जैसे दुश्मन की।
वो फिर भी लड़ा उन से,
सिर्फ इसलिए के वो फ़िरंगी थे।
पर क्या उसे एहसास था
के उस दूर गाँव के जिन लोगों की
वो हिफाज़त कर रहा था वो भी
उसके लिए उतने ही फ़िरंगी से थे
जितना की वो दुशमन।
फिर, वो मुल्क क्या है जिसके लिए वो मरा?
ये सब सोच वो रोती है।
क्या यूँ बहतर न होता के
एक बड़े मुल्क के बजाए
एक बहतर समाज के लिए वो लड़ता-
सभी बंदिशों सरहदों के परे?
है न?
वो मगर अब न रहा,
क्या करे हमारे बहादुर बेटे की माँ?
वो माँ,
जिसने अपना बेटा खोया,
मुल्क से मामूली मुद्दे पर
लड़ते हुए

(The original poem in English, which I had posted on Feb 14, 2013)

That mother...

That mother,
who lost her son,
fighting over an issue
as trivial as the nation.

She sits next to the window and remembers her son,
this young boy who would come running to her,
all sweaty and tired,
with that happy smile of the evening games.
She sits next to the window and remembers her son.

What is the nation which he died for?
Is it the same national anthem which played in his school assembly,
and gave him the goosebumps?
 Is it the same nation, which he died for?
What is the nation he died for?

He was trained to kill unknown people,
just because they wanted to enter his 'nation',
How could he define this 'nation',
how could he call that person his enemy,
and his nation his 'own'.
Had he met him at the road side chai-wala,
would he have killed him.
How could he kill him,
didn't that man have a mother too?
What is the nation did he die for?

He was asked to fight for regions,
which were unknown and unvisited,
a condition as bad as the enemy's,
but he fought with them just because they were 'foreigners'.
But did he ever realise that the people of the village he was gaurding,
were as foreigner to him as the enemy?
What nation did he die for?

She weeps as she thinks of all these things.
Hadn't it been better had
he fought not for a bigger nation,
but for a better society,
irrespective of borders and boundaries?
Hadn't it?

But now he is no more,
what could our brave son's mother do?

That mother,
who lost her son,
fighting over an issue
as trivial as the nation.

गलत मोड

जाना था जंगपुरा,
पर गलत मोड ही था,
जो मुझे निज़ामुद्दीन के किसी कोने में छोड़ गयी,
वो बस!

थी वो हरी बस,
पर सपने रंग बिरंगे लिए,
मैं चल पड़ा जंगपुरा की ओर।

इतनी ठंडी हवा,
की जेबों से हाथ ही न निकले,
सिकुड़कर चलता रहा,
वो गलत मोड ही था,
जो मैं चल रहा था।

गाडियाँ इतनी तेज़,
की पालक झपकते ही सब गायब,
देखा मैंने की मैं ही हूँ,
जो चल रहा था।
गलत मोड जो ले लिया था।

पर चलते चलते मैंने वो सब देखा,
जो मैं कभी गाड़ी में सूंघ भी न पाता।

मेरी बंद कविताओं के वो सुलझते खुलासे,
मेरी कहानियों के वो अंजाने अंत,
मेरे उन बेसुरे गानों के वो सुंदर सुर,
सब साफ दिखने लगा मुझे।
वो सब जो मैं कभी गाड़ी से सूंघ भी न पाता।

मैं जो चला तो मुझे आया ये समझ,
की सही ही कहा था उस महान कवि ने,
की मोड़ कभी गलत नहीं होते,
बस इंसान गलत होते हैं।
बस इंसान गलत होते हैं।
बस इंसान गलत होते हैं।

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

The ruler

With the Ganges at its spiritual best,
I saw him look at me,
his eyes said that the river is his,
I agreed,
and with some unexplained happiness,
I met,
the dog who ruled the river... :)

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

The 'Perspective'

Sometimes or should I say once in a lifetime, you go through a phase where there are so many changes happening in life, that you start going crazy! Some of them are unwelcome but some of them are welcome changes, which you somehow want to take place.

During these times, I have just realised or I have been 'enlightened' with this technique which is absolutely marvelous  It is called 'stepping back' and analyzing your life.

I was in Mumbai. I have been busy exploring the developments I was making career wise but I had just stopped looking at my own life. How stupid could I get! I could see the whole race I was a part of of, I could see my competitors competing with, but how could I not see myself running in the race. That is the technique.
When I come out of the race and look at myself with the competitors. I ask the existence of my own self. In fact when I concentrate,I ask the existence of the race in my life!

I am in Delhi, miles away from where the mad race was happening. I was in the race but I left it. I don't know why, but I feel nice and FREE today. This was a big decision as my parents had left the city, my friends in the city had changed, but I somehow liked some part of the city, and I am happy that I am in that part!

'Stepping back' is an amazing technique which gives you a nice perspective of your own life. Meditation is amazing. So is this life. Don't waste it. Live for happiness :)

Thursday, February 21, 2013

My first film

Active Participation

Was a film I made in the first year of graduation, in MBICEM. We were all so young and stupid back then, but not a bad film :)

Thursday, February 14, 2013

That mother...

That mother,
who lost her son,
fighting over an issue
as trivial as the nation.

She sits next to the window and remembers her son,
this young boy who would come running to her,
all sweaty and tired,
with that happy smile of the evening games.
She sits next to the window and remembers her son.

What is the nation which he died for?
Is it the same national anthem which played in his school assembly,
and gave him the goosebumps?
 Is it the same nation, which he died for?
What is the nation he died for?

He was trained to kill unknown people,
just because they wanted to enter his 'nation',
How could he define this 'nation',
how could he call that person his enemy,
and his nation his 'own'.
Had he met him at the road side chai-wala,
would he have killed him.
How could he kill him,
didn't that man have a mother too?
What is the nation did he die for?

He was asked to fight for regions,
which were unknown and unvisited,
a condition as bad as the enemy's,
but he fought with them just because they were 'foreigners'.
But did he ever realise that the people of the village he was gaurding,
were as foreigner to him as the enemy?
What nation did he die for?

She weeps as she thinks of all these things.
Hadn't it been better had
he fought not for a bigger nation,
but for a better society,
irrespective of borders and boundaries?
Hadn't it?

But now he is no more,
what could our brave son's mother do?

That mother,
who lost her son,
fighting over an issue
as trivial as the nation.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013


February 2013, Jungpura, Delhi.

This is the weather I have always loved about Delhi. The February sun is like the best thing you could ever get. It is comfortably cold and I am very happy that it is COLD. I had missed the cold ever since I moved to my days n Ahmedabad and Mumbai. So I am back!

The one year spent at Mumbai has been quite rewarding in terms of work experience. I just want to be free now. What is freedom? How do u define it?

Freedom is defined as being able to do anything anytime, irrespective of the timing, or the place where you are. That I believe, is freedom!

I wanted a change of space, which I have. Will (hopefully) get a nice place to stay. And I want to write and keep writing...

"In this nice and lazy weather, with sleepy eyes, 
I write and get lost.
 From the lost world, i hear sounds of Delhi I have lived in. 
It is the same city which has survived ages and still stands upright
with all the walls and the gates. 
As I write, I wonder what is right or what is wrong with this city 
that it keeps going on the way it has been for centuries. 
Some like it, some don't.
Some love it, but it goes on, full of arrogance 
with the February sun. it goes on 

In this nice and lazy weather,, with sleepy eyes,
I write and get lost"

Thursday, January 24, 2013


(This story is an introduction of a series of stories I have been writing, called 'Gokul's Summer Vaccation'. So read and comment. The series would be out (hopefully in print) soon. Enjoy...)

It was a 2 bhk apartment which had four people staying in it. Gokul was one of them sharing the partment.
Gokul Srinivas was new in Mumbai and his search for a job was on. It was just the day before, when he had turned 23. Gokul believed that it was his worst birthday ever. He got calls only from Ma and Pa . All his friends just sent him smses. He would have taken them with happiness, but not on a day when he was frustrated at the situation he was trapped in- A new city- No job- Very expensive!
Gokul entered the room and closed the door behind him. There was some relief for Gokul as his roommate was not home and he had the whole room to himself. Gokul sat on the floor and felt sad at the way things were moving, or not moving at all.
As he was looking around for deviations to enter his life, his eyes stopped at an old framed  photograph. It had his motther, his father and himself. The young 'Gokul' he saw, had no tensions of a job, or of living in a new city. But Gokul wondered that though he did not have any of these pressures, but he was definitely independent and HAPPY.
The image was clicked on his 9th or 10th birthday during the summer vaccations. Yes, the summer vaccations. Amazing they were, always. That was a period Gokul would like to travel back into and live. He just wished that he had a time machine.
Gokul realised that his time machine was waiting for him to be boarded. He took out his diary and started writing. This was the time machine which Gokul always had and was proud of it- WRITING.
With the words he wrote, he started getting into that zone when this Hyderabadi boy was in a small town in Madhya Pradesh. He was in class 4th and he remembered that time really well. He did not know why was he writing these stories. They could be published some day, or even if they were never published, they were giving Gokul a joy which he could not put in words.
With huge amounts of joy and nostalgia, Gokul started writing his re-collection of ... GOKUL'S SUMMER VACCATION.

पता नहीं क्यूँ ?

शुरू सही ही की थी कविता,
सही शब्द, सही विराम,
पर कहीं बीच में, थम सा गया हूँ।
पता नहीं क्यूँ?

विचार बहुत हैं, असीमित।
ख्याल बहुत हैं, असंख्य।
पंक्तियाँ भी बहुत हैं, अनगिनत।
अब कैसे लगाऊँ?
क्या लगाऊँ?
कहाँ लगाऊँ?
बस बीच में, थम सा गया हूँ।
पता नहीं क्यूँ?

गीत भी लिखना शुरू ही किया था,
सुबह की गर्मा-गर्म कॉफी के साथ,
सही अल्फ़ाज़ बने, और बढ़ा गाना मेरा,
पर अब न समझूँ, की कोरस क्या होगा,
पता नहीं कहीं बीच में,
थम सा गया हूँ।
पता नहीं क्यूँ?

न मैं थमता, और न ही सोचता,
ख़ुश हूँ की मैंने शुरुआत तो की,
थमा हूँ, पर रुका नहीं,
विकल्प अब भी जारी है।
थम ज़रूर गया हूँ, पर कविता,
अब भी जारी है।
सोच अब भी जारी है।
जारी है...


Wednesday, January 2, 2013

The Shift!

3rd March 2011 was the day I had reached Bombay and my 'struggle' had just started. So in the last 10 months I have been working day in and day out and I seem to be loving this. I had started working as an intern in Recyclewala films with Anand Gandhi and helped (ran around) in the post production of 'Ship of Theseus'. After this, I joined AKFPL (Anurag Kashyap Films Pvt Limitid).
Another journey that was assisting Shlok Sharma and in the group where all film students want to be a part of. Quite an experience as t was also my first feature film, where I was the continuity AD. Taught me a lot of things and I became friends with a huge group of nice people.
I did an ad film and a couple of prjects here and there and I got admission in DBP (Dibakar Banerjee Production) as the DA (Direcor's Assistant) on his new short film which is a part of a bigger feature. The process I am sure was a big learning process for me. But to add to it, Dibakara had got 2 AD's from Delhi. They are actually documentary film-makers whom Dibakar had met in Osian's in Delhi.
So it is only in this process am I able to stop working for a while , take a step back and look at my life. I am working hard, very hard and this has been an awesome experience, but I guess I am somehow missing on the part I loved the most...I am missing documentaries, my theatre, my writing has suffered. And then the biggest thing i miss in Bombay is the political debates we would have before, with random people. When I look at all these things the only city in India which comes to my mind is DELHI!
So the thinking continues. This is a big decision as my parents are neither in Delhi nor in Mumbai. So moving in Delhi would be a tough decision but I like the whole concept of doing Documentaries and theatre, which I had been doing before I had come to mumbai.

So amidst ll these thoughts and confusion, I get the atisfaction that my journey did not stop in Bombay. I do not know if I move to Delhi or not, but what I like is the fact that I questioned myself. So this project ends in march after which I can move. It will also be a year in Bombay. Let us see. Happy confusion  am in, just need to resolve issues!

As I am confused in the Delhi-Bombay debate, the whole country is fired up for the Delhi rape case. But what hurts is the fact that even after this terrible incident there have been rape cases being reported in Bengal and Bombay. Terrible it is. How can man be so inhuman.
RIP Nirbhaya...

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

The Dream on wheels

Every morning,
at the Andheri station as I stand,
I see millions of dreams,
multiple lives, fighting with each other,
over-taking each other,
amidst all the announcements of the trains coming,
I see the train, the shining Local,
all set to accomodate all the dreams inside.
We all jump up on the dream on wheels.
The journey begins...

Each train is a world in its own right,
Full of races,
full of people getting late,
full of noises,
full of illogical jokes people laugh on,
full of the Mumbai I see and know of,
full of ...Life,
There is a reason why are they called the dream on wheels!

As I stand waiting for Bandra to come,
I see a group of people playing music and singing,
these are all religious songs, as loud as the train sounds are,
sung in voices which are absolutely brilliant,
in terms of power and talent.
The train approaches Bandra,
I see them stop singing, packing up,
They are all office goers, who just sing for the time to pass.
Absolutely awesome it is.
As I stand and wonder about these powerful talents,
The dream on wheels leave Bandra.

Every day I see fisher men carrying fish on their head,
standing next to software engineers dressed in formals.
I see students going to college,
standing next to street kids who are confused where to go.
Such is the beauty of this beautiful train journey,
the beauty of a world where all the class differences disappear,
where you do not know whose hand is it holding the bar upon ur head,
is it a rich business man or is it just a fisherman,
and the Dream on wheels continue.

The speed at which the train moves is awesome,
that is the reason why people prefer it to any road transport.
There are random tales which people tell,
and surprisingly there are unknown listeners,
so the conversation goes on,
from Sachin Tendulkar's retirement to the Delhi rape case,
from the workers' strike last week to anything,
it just goes on and on and the train stops.
There are no business cards exchanged,
no phone numbers being told,
People just leave withot even saying a bye.
Strange friendship which happens everyday,
with new faces with the same old topics.
Such is the story on Dreams on wheel since ages.

The trains have been the pulse of Bombay,
in an unknown way of life, they teach you everything,
everything from adjusting to compromising,
in a city which is proud of its jewel- its PEOPLE!
As I get down at Dadar thinking about the beauty of relationships,
The proud dream on wheels continue.

K. Harish Singh. 1st january 2013.