Mary Kom, The Movie Trailer

Come 5th September Mary Kom, The Movie, besides painting the glitterati town red-red with oozing bloods, punches & bruises will 'knock an ear-deafening punch' at theatres near you but until then those who are upbeat about this biopic has to content with Mary Kom, The Trailer. Co-incidentally the slated release date will be celebrated as Teachers' Day in India, it will be a double whammy for many young wannabe boxer or world boxing champion who considers Mary as their guru & idol. But sadly, Mary's own pupil at her academy in Imphal won't have anything much to look forward to as Hindi films had been banned in Manipur since the leader of a proscribed militant outfit was shot dead by Indian armed forces more than a decade ago. Even her own folks will be devoid of watching the movie in theatres. Thanks to pirated CDs & DVDs that dotted the roadside in Imphal city, her home-folks may have a silver lining.Without further much ado, let's get to the task at hand (or is it the gloves in her hands?)-judging the movie by the trailer. And don't forget this could only be the tip of the ice-berg as no one has an inkling what the movie as a whole has in store for us. It has to speak for itself, hain na? (That's Ibobi's trademark remark, got it?) I watched the trailer in the wee hours of the night but i felt like i'm being cheated in some mysterious ways. Mary Kom without Mary Kom herself is enough reason to feel something missing. 

At 00:00 viaCOM 18 motion pictures gatecrashed on the screen followed by Bhansali Productions (logo whatever), in shining armor & glamour, seconds later. Each with their disparate background musical score. It's like rotten eggs smacking against the windshield of your brand new imported car. (Pardon, my rudeness,; old habits)

A bell tolls amidst cheering crowds. Two girls in the boxing ring. The girl in blue gets knocked by the girl in red. Powerful punch it was-you can feel it.(You may cover your ears with both hands). Her 'knocked-out' unconscious body flies in mid air & before it falls you saw what appears to be the pugilist childhood: her father enquiring "Kya chupa rahi hai pichche?! Yeh ladki logon ka khilona nahi hai" (What are you hiding at the back?! This is not something for girls to play with). The li'l girl now becomes PeeCee in Mary Kom's avatar wearing shabby school uniform. A roadside romeo seeing her wearing a boxing glove taunts & push her around. Poor lad, he picked up the wrong girl & ended up bruised, cowering & begging for mercy. Bottom line: nobody messed with natural boxer which most Manipuri girls are! ;) (Guys, beware! DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME.. You'll not be as lucky as I was)

Now, with a great impact, the flying but 'comatose' body falls on the ground with a loud thud.

Next follows what appears to be the treacherous road to professional boxer:

"Tum boxer hai?" (Are you a boxer?) looking down from the ring, a certain coach asked Mary still in her untidy school uniform. "Abhi tak to sirph phaiter hai, lekin agar tum sikhayega toh boxer bhi ban jayega" (Until now i'm just a fighter but if you teach me i can be a boxer). Then, in a jiffy, begun her arduous boxing training alongside the boys of the academy. Later she is shown falling in love, becoming a world champion at international event & getting married, walking down the aisle. Reel wedding dress conspicuously has uncanny resemblance to real wedding dress. The costume designer, who ever he/she is, has learnt his/her home-work.

The following dialogue speaks for the rest of what is to unfold:

Someone,most probably her coach, is heard trying to knock some sense into Mary "Ek time World championship jeet kar bas ho gaya, boxing khatam?" (Winning World championship once and it's done, boxing over?)

Then an unseen man said in Mary's face "Aur waise bhi aap ka boxing career khatam ho chuka hai" (Anyway your boxing career is already over)

Mary is shown having 'me-time' saying this to herself "Duniya boxer Mary Kom ko bhool gaya hai, kya Mary Kom boxing bhool gaya?" (The world had forgotten boxer Mary Kom, has Mary Kom forgotten boxing?)

Then who appears to be Onler Kom, behind every successful woman; there is Onler Kom, instill confidence and new grit to Mary by saying "Tu ek fighter hai, Thoi. Aur ek fighter haar kabhi nahi maanta". (Thoi, you're a fighter. A fighter doesn't give into failure. Is it my hearing inability I heard 'thoi'; thoi is a Meetei word for 'dear')
Her coach, after Mary had twins, said with gusto "Ek aurat maa bankar bahut strong ho jata hai, aur tumhara takat ab do guna bar gaya" (A woman on becoming a mother becomes very strong and your strength has now increase two-fold)

What is supposed to be a narrator or a commentator traces the story of Mary with these lines "Ek chawal lugane wala kisan ka beti, Manipur ka chhota sa gaon se nikal kar teen bar World champion banta hai". (The daughter of a farmer, emerged from a small village in Manipur and become World champion thrice. I thought it's five, may be two more title yet to come in the later part of the movie)

Mary going berserk in what is evident to be the result of racial discrimination and step-motherly treatment meted out by the government-its establishments and its officials to people with mongoloid features in India and she says "I'm a (sic) Indian, India meri dharm hai" (I'm an Indian, India is my 'dharm'-religion, here country). This line could be a befitting reply to those Indians who calls Northeast Indians, their fellow Indians, a foreigner or refugees or for that matter chinkis.

A kurta pajama clad politician threatening the determined Mary "Tumhare sapne mein yeh jo boxing ka shabd hai na, nikal kar chodunga". (I'll erased/removed this boxing thing/word from your cherished dream)

The following line by Mary must be the one to reckon with, a pivotal one if not the climax. Trust me, it's worth a thunderous applause. "Kabhi kisi ko itna mat darrao, ki darr hi khatam ho jaye". (Don't ever scare someone so much so that one no longer gets scare).

Now, let me have the freedom to express my thoughts on the  movie trailer. First thing first, I'm not saying that PeeCee didn't pulled off the role of the five time World champion to the T but in a strange & inexplicable way i felt let down. The simple reason is: if Mary Kom, after at the receiving end of uncountable social, political & economical bouts could managed to punch her way into the hearts of many, i've a strong feeling that she too can act & deserve to be herself in a movie based entirely on her real life story. Provided she is/was the first choice & some acting guru is coming forth to give her some tips. That way, justice will be done to the role & to the viewers and most importantly to Mary Kom herself. I doubt she was ever considered or approached to play herself by either Bhansali, the producer or Omung Kumar, the director. Or without making headlines, she was approached but decline as acting is not her forte. We don't know.

Keeping in view her tale of woes & the arduous journey she has had undertaken to become what she is today the film which is about her doesn't required polishing & refining in the arena (read acting). 
In a biopic such as this film, 'flair' ,acting wise, isn't the most sought after 'punch'. A fair dose of 'raw '& 'crude' acting would not only be pardonable but welcoming. It will breathe life & authenticity to the character & the movie. 


For once Bollywood gets the rare opportunity to change its age old movie-making mantra , outlook & get real through this film but it lets the opportunity slip by for fear of 'acceptability'& trivial Box Office earning. The film ,no matter who stars in it, as long as it holds its rein will be received well. Very much like Mary earned the hearts of 1.2 Billion nation & millions worldwide.

Mary Kom did what she got to do. PeeCee too did what she has to do. And what is done can't be undone. No matter who is in & who is out, let's put our finger crossed, Mary Kom emerged the victor at the end of the day with respect to this movie. I hope that as much as her power-punch reign in the ring this film punch the cash register ringing at the Box Office.

All said and done I ,for one, will be missing Maneithangza's tribute song to the queen of boxing big time. The Kuki rock-star rendition of her tell-tale in musical form was gritty, glitzy and heart-rousing.

A Brawl With The Brawn... (Do i drive home some brownie point?)

If you think music erupts abruptly in the middle of a fight only in movies... think again :)

Feast of the belly and fist of fury :

It was on one Saturday night that one of my childhood dreams came true though not in the way I like it to be. I remember it was Saturday night not because I kept a journal or have a good memory but because I couldn’t go to church the next day. In Delhi we get to attend a church service only once in a week i.e. on Sunday. But at the time of this story I used to attend two services; one was UBF (University Bible Fellowship, Munirka) at 10 in the morning and the other was KWS (Kuki Worship Service) at 5 in the evening.

Well, this is what happened… we got the good news that friends in Munirka had uisa at their disposal and invited us to dine with them. It was around 10 PM already so we went to Munirka pronto from JNU, a distance of about 10 minutes walk, with a fairly good mood and remotely unaware of what was to happen later that night.

As we climb up the stairs to our host room. We heard some buzzing noise from above. On reaching, I was stunned to see the many chappals outside the room; it suggested that the room won’t contain us anymore. The room was crowded with the'machos' and they were having a good time; it was like ‘boys night out’ ! But still one of us barged in and doesn’t care to come back.

A friend came out of the room and took us to his room on the next floor and we cooked for ourselves separately. We’d a hearty and sumptuous meal and at the stroke of midnight a friend said he wanted to get a packet of cigarette badly before the shops down their shutters. The owner of the room offered me his white jacket with a hood. I gladly wear that without any second thought and we set off to the shop racing against time. (If this is about Bhagat’s ‘The 3 mistakes of my life’ this will be my 1st mistake).

After few minutes of walking into the alleys we turned left into the meandering lanes….it was bare and silent as we walked along, the two of them ahead of me and I walked behind; in the middle of the lane. Consumption of uisa makes you warm and I could hear blood gushing in my blood vessels.

After awhile four wasted guys with 'loose screw at their knees' came from the opposite direction; one of them was wearing a white banian (vest) and a chain around his neck. Staggering passed my friends was well and fine but as he passed by me he knocked my shoulder. I turned back and said “hey!”  he looked back and mutter “Sorry” with hic and slur. I said to myself ‘fine' and continued walking.

He stood there and yelled “I said I’m sorry”  it seemed this fellow wanted to mess with me. (He ought to be warned 'Don't mess with the Dragon!') I said “ok”  but he came toward me and mutter the same word but with a derogatory tone and started pushing me. I told myself let him push me once again I won’t just stand and watch. Sure he did. That was his biggest mistake! He wakes up the sleeping lion! I clenched my fist and grind my teeth… believe me, I could hear my knuckles cracking but in the nick of time I remembered the words someone told me “ You’ve got the hands of a lady; small, clean and smooth”. Smooth!? Hell No! (I’ve scars; a reminiscent of a‘fighter’ kid) Small! Yes, I realized using my hands will do me no good. I took a step backward and did ‘flying kick’.

Damn! Not only did I missed him, my shoes almost flew off. I was wearing an olive Converse # 10 which I bought from Sunday Mkt., a flea market near IG stadium and it was a li’l too big for my otherwise XL feet.

I sized him up and told myself if I go for ‘fist-to-fist fight’ I don’t stand a chance; I’ve got to do something so before he raised his hands so I grabbed his whole torso. I increased my grip on him giving him no space to either hit me or kick me. His two friends tried to hit me at my back but my friends take care of that.

However, after few minutes, I don’t know what the hell had happened but I realized I was all alone fighting three tipsy guys. Later, I came to know that my friends were doing the need of the hour; one of them gave a hot chase to the guy who darted off into the darkness (what if he comes back with a dozen afterward?) and the other one sensing this scuffle could escalated into unwanted large-scale 'Clash of the Titans' went for back-up. While I grabbed the tough guy the other two punches me on my back, neck and shoulder. I buried my head deep into his chest and hold him at his loin clasping both his hands.

In the nick of time I remembered Bruce Lee’s (my childhood idol) teaching “The stiffest tree is most easily cracked while bamboo or willow survives by bending with the wind”. I took the punches like a willow but I grabbed this guy more firmly… the slightest mistake would cost me dear. He tried to free himself but I don’t let him. So like in ‘Zanzeer’ & ‘Sholay’  fight sequence we grabbed each other and he hurled and pushed me against the iron-gate (shutter) and Idid the same while the other two fellows took turn hitting me. One of them hit me right on my temple and for the first time (also the last time) I saw stars in Munirka; forget about stars one hardly gets a good view of the sky in Munirka from the ground.

After about 10 mins of being a ‘willow’ I heard a strange sound approaching fast and the earth was shaking. It was like a pack of ferocious wolves darting off into the jungle as in the‘Twilight’ saga. I bet it would make your coffee on the table trots! I looked at the direction of the incoming sound and I smile. I thought music erupts abruptly in the middle of a fight only in movies but I was wrong it also does in real life too :)

What is music to you? Is it the one Mozart & Beethoven produced? Or closer home A.R. Rahman or one of ours Thangjangam make? Well, I heard one of a different kind...Someone once said “I heard the best music in the middle of a desert” and that moment I heard mine. :)

My ecstasy was cut short though, as I became the first victim once again. An early bird catches the worm so does the fastest wolf. I saw him leaping and raising his hand in the air and before I could say anything his fiery punch blow the smile out of my face. “Aaaarghhh!”  If that punch had landed on my eye, my eye-ball would have jet off from its socket. Though grimacing in pain I felt lucky as he missed my eye only by a whisker. 

“Damn! It’s me”. “Go,get them!” I told him. “I’m so sorry”he apologized when he heard my voice. I don’t blame him as I was wearing someone else jacket with a hood on.

What follow was no less than the action scene in ‘300’. In the midst of all the brouhaha and the melee I stood there a li’l numb and dumb trying my best to bring back some sense into my spinning head. Everything was happening in a jiffy; only me at the centre was in 'slow motion' and I couldn’t hear properly. As I looked around suddenly I felt pity for the three guys who a moment ago beat me to pulp.

Our 're-inforcement' reached us in the nick of time and to my rescue came around 6-8 guys. Things would have been different if everything was happening in the campus. They might have come walking with placards in their hands. SAVE THANG! Or JUSTICE FOR THANG! written on the placard. But lucky me! It’s Munirka…(lol) What are friends for after all? The three poor guys are outnumbered and they don’t stand a stance now. In fact they couldn’t even stand literally now; one blow to the left, another blow to the right. “Take this!” and“Take that!” was the rap (song) emanating from everywhere around.

The noise woke up the entire mohalla/ building on both side of the alley; people in their undies and banian with puffy eyes and unkempt hair looked down from their balconies. One old man on the ground floor dared to open his gate and asked “Yeh kya ho raha hai?”.

 “Peeke marta hai isliye” someone amongst us responded. The old man then picked up a bamboo from the adjoining ‘under construction’ house and whacked him. As I regained some senses my sympathy for the three guys turned into a fit of anger once again. “It’s all because of his folly”  I told myself and faced him upfront and punch him right in his face. My blow had him dropped like a cow-dung on the ground and with that we left the scene.

The three of us, on our way back to the hostel, were stopped at the gate by the G4 security guard and one of us took out his ID and flashed it across the face of the bewildered looking guard while he looked straight ahead and spoke on the phone with his right hand. It was like a scene from ‘My Sassy girl’  where the protagonists in school uniform on entering a bar, the girl (Jeon Ji Hyun) flashed her ID with her head held high indicating she’s above 18 years and legally fit to enter a bar and drink a pint or two.

The friend on the phone after telling the Munirka friends to keep a low profile henceforth, told me “Thang, did you see my ‘Ong Bak’?”  and continued “If I’d known that it was you… you, my brother, who got beaten by those wasted fellow I would have hit them harder…much harder”. While the other friend hold me and walked me home… they asked me to stay over at their rooms. I almost forget to mention;they were room-mates then.

Once we enter their room the jolly fellow put on Miranda’s song “Nei ngaidam in lungdei…”  he sang and enacted the scene and made us laughed. But he didn’t know that he was torturing me by making me laugh.

Back to the beginning: To get into a street fight was one of my weird dreams as an unruly kiddo but what actually happened saw a slight change in the script. I wanted to be the one who rescue others not the one who has to be rescued. Anyway, I’ve had it all!

This is Nehkupedia, the narrator-cum-writer, signing off with Adele in the background singing “We could have had it all” (Rolling in the deep) but wait a second, Adele… let me change the lyric to suit my palate (story)… “I’ve had it all”.

Special thanks to Bruce Lee, Mozart, Beethoven, A.R. Rahman, Thangjangam & Mirinda! And lots of thanks & hi5 to the wolves & stars of that night who rescued me from the den of death (I’d love to mention your names but i guess I need to refrain from doing that)…  :)

NREGA/ MGNREGS: To eradicate poverty? What a mockery!!!

While i was in JNU, RaGa (Rahul Gandhi) paid a 'media sans' visit to JNU. 800-1000 strong research scholars, students & wanna-be political bigwigs scurried for a foothold space to greet & chant 'bhajan', also 'bhasan', to the Gandhi scion. No wonder V.I.P-giri has its day even in a rational thinkers & fundamentalists infested 'Live & Let Live' JNU campus. I saw from a distant one Economics research scholar questioned RaGa "What did the Congress govt. do for the 'aam admi' (the 'mango people' a.k.a. the common man, not Anna/Kejriwal's mobo-cracy)?" I heard RaGa quipped "NREGA" with gusto. That's RaGa's style, very much like my own, a unique man of few befitting words (response). I don't follow much of what was said, hailed and hooted that night as i was with a girl. (Well, that's another story & to put to rest your never-ending curiosity- she was 'Just Another Girl'; To substantiate this claim listen to The Killer's- Just Another Girl...lol)

NREGA has since then become the 'cherry on top' for the scam struck Congress to put down all allegations, infamy(s) & appease the mango people in general & above all, in particular to keep their political rivals at bay.

NREGA, with its shining armour & ready to wage war against poverty, had put C.C.pur, a nondescript dist. in Manipur (I don't know much of how things are done elsewhere but i bet it won't be a world of difference), in the good books of the govt. at the Centre as it was awarded the 'Best Performing' dist. (2009-10) alongside 9 other lucky dist. selected from throughout the country during the 'MGNREGA Sammelan' held at Vigyan Bhavan at New Delhi. (http://manipuronline.com/headlines/pm-awards-churachandpur-mgnrega-feat/2011/02/03).Well, that's now only history & the modus operandi for any administration (s)/ office(s) in Manipur with respect to public related works is first gain trust, then rust.

This is true of C.C.pur: Mango people now doesn't get to work 100 days a year, doesn't get paid the promised amount of Rs. 100-130 minimum wages & one doesn't get to keep 'Job card' under their pillow at home. NREGA works didn't cover the length & breadth of the entire village. Only some strategic location were given priority-constructed & painted to last for the next bill/fund to arrive; the neglected areas remain neglected as is the official norms with the Central & state govt.

I heard people lamenting that one village-chief/Thakur made his villagers work for his under- construction palatial building with NREGA's fresh & crispy notes. There are rumours doing the round too that scores of ghost village & villagers came into being. Such village & all villages alike is not free from extortion; self-acclaimed 'nationalist org' but 'proscribed outfit' by media had a plum share of MGNREGS fund. With the presence of uncountable outfits, it's beyond my calculation how much that would amount to.

Like most 'public related works' & policies, NREGA too is not free from irregularities & conspiracies. Smt. Lazarus, DC -cum- DPC MGNREGA, C.C.pur stole all the lime-light & amass the envy of all her colleague at Vigyan Bhavan, New Delhi but after all that laurels & accolades every thing related to MGNREGS went kaput & awry. It brings about a lot of changes; good on the outside, fatal inside.

Paddy fields make way for the creation of 'New Kholui' ('Kholui' means 'Old village';'New Kholui' connotes the perplexing situation,in naming, arising out of the ever increasing new village). Thakurs who once rode a cycle, now rides a mo-bike, those who rode a mo-bike now rides a car. The divide between the rich & the poor is now 'jaw-droppingly' poles apart-a trend which is not healthy for a close-knit society like ours.

The mango people had to come to terms with rampant honking & nausea-tic smoke polluting the once thin & clean air with the sudden appearance of heavy traffic on NH-150 & this further led to innumerable road mishaps & human casualties. It's rather not really surprising as the dist. has no authorised 'Driving School' & no age-bar to get a Driving license. If you could dole out a crispy 500/1k bucks without bating an eyelid, "it can be done'-in a jiffy.

We were known as hard-working & honest 'village-simpleton' as far as i could pee on my own. (That's a pee-lief (sic) to learn something as private & personal as peeing without troubling anyone). The fact is MGNREGS has made everyone lazy, idle & dishonest. None who works in MGNREGS's semi-skilled labour really works; they just show up with spades & daggers to put their names on the paper. Those abled & strong won't come at all, for reasons best suited to their rational thinking; only senior citizens, women & children would turn up taking up the gigantic work halfheartedly. Children learnt the 'golden tips' to be lazy & left the older ones, who sweat toiling under the scorching heat, fuming & cursing. The age-old tradition of respecting the elders & letting them work less took a back-seat & none give it a damn!

The result-apart from saying 'something is better than nothing' it has none. Some workers play 'hide & seek' literally while there are some 'you'll miss if you happen to blink' during working hours. There are some who came for 'time-pass', mostly teens, as they have nothing better to do at home or wants to escape bore-dom, study or domestic chores. While idling, the pillars of our future, becomes the much dreaded-devil's workshop.

NREGA corrodes us in & out, and in a hindsight it is only a mere vote-bank politics & a tool to keep the mango people a puppet in the hands of the govt.

A young widow and her son

Seven months following her husband’s untimely death Heshi one night remains fully awake lying on her bed; she couldn’t sleep a wink and many thoughts of her Lienpu, her husband and the first and the only person she fell in love with came flashing across her empty but sorrow-laden mind. She thought she had already overcome her lonesome ordeal with nights of sleeplessness but she was wrong.

She remembered him; his smile, his voice, his warmth embrace… She recalled him calling out her name in hush-hush tone during History class in High School at the initial days of their dating. She would blushed and she used to give him her most irritated and ferocious look to behaved, the persistent pest, lest he will get caught and would be made to stand with one leg holding his ears through the remaining hours of the class.

Without her knowing streams of tears were rolling down her cheek; she remembered him and misses him like she’d never miss him before. Her parents were pleading her to bring her 5 months old son and stay with them but she chose to stay at this house, the 2 BHK wooden floor tin roof her Lienpu had built for her with his own caring and loving hands; the last remnant of her doting hubby. Lienpu was not only her husband; he was also her best friend and soul-mate. Nothing in this world could make her change her mind. She was a stubborn girl since childhood and it’s her stubbornness that made Heshi and Lienpu walked into each other lives.

It was in the year 1997 while they were in VIII standard that their story had its unusual beginning. Story has it that while on their way back to school a guy of her class riding a bicycle pour the remaining water in his bottle on Heshi’s head, she chased him all the way up the climbing road and caught hold of the bicycle from the rear end and doesn’t let go until he apologized. Walking behind was Lienpu who  picked up her school bag which she had thrown away when she started chasing that naughty class bully. He walked briskly all the while shouting “You forgot your bag, miss!!!” but she doesn’t look back.

Lienpu couldn’t believe his eyes, at the back of his head he exclaimed with awe “What a girl!”. He knew her as they sat in the same class but he was not like those guys who are suave and had the skill to talk to girls. When he finally catch up with her he saw that her face were all red, he was a little intimidated and gave her the bag. She snatched the bag without saying anything. It was that moment Lienpu’s innate sense of humour took its long overdue birth and accidentally he blurted “a li’l thanks will do”. And for the first time they spoke to each other and became friends, then best friends, then lovers and soul-mate and finally they got hitched.

But life can be unfair and cruel to some people who are deeply in love. After 7 months into a blissful married life ‘selfish king of tragedy’ gnawed its sharp and pointed teeth into Heshi’s tender heart and shaken her small world topsy turvy.  Lienpu met with a road mishap and died, with a packet of ‘sohlu’ (Indian gooseberry) in his hands for his young and pregnant wife. After 2 months she gave birth to a healthy baby boy and named him ‘Haolunglen’after Lienpu’s father ‘Lunkhohao’; the  name Lienpu had written in his diary, in fact he had written two names the other one a girl’s name on top of ‘Haolunglen’. Lienpu wanted their first born to be a girl.

Thinking that her son will grow up to be fatherless she started sobbing, her tears soaking her pillow. She decided to go out to cry to her heart’s content at the back of their house but as she tries to get up her li’l son won’t let her go as he held his mom’s ring finger tight. She moaned “O! Lunglien, my son! Mommy is not going to leave you. I’ll never do that.”

She wiped her tears and lit the candle on the table beside the bed and lie down. She takes a good and affectionate look at her son. She always argued with Lunglien’s aunt, her sister, that he had his father’s face; oval shaped with flat fore-head, tiny nose and big ears but she believed what her sister told her: he had her eyes. She rubs her hand across Lunglien’s face and run her fingers through his curly hairs.

She watched him sleep, sleeping unaware of his mother’s suffering and the realities of the unfair world. She finds comfort in that. His chest was going up and down with every breath he takes. The sound of his breath getting louder and louder. “O! My son, you started snoring huh!?” She smiles and once again her face becomes full and red and her hazel eyes came to bloom. She matches her breath with his and soon she fall asleep.

Khuga Dam(n)-ed!

Damned you! Khuga Dam

Flawed from head to toe

Armed to the teeth.

What hast thou given us? Power?

Yea, to men-in-uniform with binoculars.

Water to quench our thirst?

Yea, the hot spot for the insatiable thirst: lust.

Water for crops? Nay not so; never.

Shame you brought us; despicable name and fame.

Your icy cold hands took away our young lives.

Worst; even the life out of the living.

Damsel in distress her fortress plundered.

Modesty of her's looted.

Her character now hooted.

Her image tainted.

Her soul for life maimed.

Damned you! I,R & Bs' where is your pity?

Is that what you did for security?

It's over now, your age-old impunity.

This devilish acts of yours be condemn by all society!

Fight the lone battle strong, girl

People, still with hearts, will throng

The streets and the meandering lanes

For you and for me; for justice.

Let someone with no blemish point fingers.

The rest blame her not.

Blame, if so keen, the flame that kindles the passion.

Flesh and blood we all are so is she.

Pity this city now lies awaiting Doom's day.

How much longer can one keep the ticking 'water-bomb' at bay?

Nature terrorist tell me when is D'day?

Save a soul or two I may.

No more lives, no more shame I pray.

Enough! Don't, no more, try.

Damned you! Khuga Dam

Flawed from head to toe, armed to the teeth.

I may be gone before you're gone...

From a river to a brook

I've come a long way.

I'd been here before you came.

Watered the crops you grow in your fields and farm.

Cleanse you off your filth and the stains on your robe.

I'd done my best in bad times and in good times.

From Patlen to Tuitha

I'd glided down vales and hills;

Pass by few villages I know once as fond.

Your cattle flocks I bathed them and quench their thirst.

My sole companion the fishes you robbed me off.

I'd been gentle on your land and crops when there was flood.

Alas! What have I done to deserve this?

You robbed me even off the stones and pebbles that doth my path.

And stripped me stark naked and bare.

The gurgling music I chanted on my way down now unheard.

I've no more nerve to go on but I've to serve.

Like tears I now flow in small volume and in agony.

I've none to care for me.

Not a single soul not even one.

Soon I'll have no more tears to shed.

And dwindled away to obscurity.

I was here before you came

I may be gone before you're gone...

I got it all wrong :)

Towards the end of the 'peaceful' era in CCpur, there was a pop song which caught, all and sundry alike esp. the young minds, by storm. "Beri (Bidi) chep chep gollhang ahi; Khaini mom mom nungah ahi". In short, let's say 'smoking makes you cool'. By that time, the rebel in me was in its nascent stage and who knows, my hormones must have been raging rapidly with each passing day. To be labelled as 'gollhang' was what every boy of my age were after and 'curiosity' and 'breaking the rules' got the better off me and my peers. I got into bad company I wasn't good either even before that (smirk).

While fathers in our village were hanging out in the hotel talking nonsense me and my peers would eavesdrop outside following closely what they were bragging. They would speak at length about how much the PM of India is paid ( not 'earned' as it is even today with most Babus & netas ), some boasting about their hunting adventure which would put Corbett to shame, some 'Khan Azham Khan' in the group talking about his glorious past and long gone wealth. We were not there just for the 'made-up stories' but we were, in the true sense of the term, posted to undertake a mission. Whenever one throws bidi/cigarette stub away we would look left and right and pick up the stub in a jiffy provided it is 'all clear' (no one looking). This modus operandi was mostly undertaken in the cover of darkness at night. Each one of us would be posted at different hotel and we would meet up after sometime at our 'rendezvous' point… the bushes by the Koite river which flows along Salbung coastline.

The leader of our group was never impressed with me as I can't smoke at all. I would cough as soon as the glowing match-stick lits the 'second hand' bidi. I recalled there were many occasion where I tried to control myself not to cough but always ended up coughing. Forget about coughing any movement (noise) in the bushes were believed to invite suspicion and trouble if anyone happens to pass by. I was amazed at seeing my peers puffing away effortlessly and making a misty cloud over their head. I was attracted especially to the skill they have in inhaling the smoke and exhaling it through their nose and ears. Some even knows how to let the smoke comes out of their eyes...amazing isn't it? I always wanted to create one of my own, a ring of clouds, hovering above me like a guardian angel and as a personal body guard.

After rewarding and pampering ourselves with our hard earned 'second hand bidi stub' we would pluck leaves of a certain bush and chewed it until we think that the bidi odour had gone. To make sure the smell had vanished, we would smell each other’s breath to be in the safer zone. We were a born scientist! (lol) I remembered we often take bath stark naked in full glory under the moonlight and it was all the more fun with the glittering stars far and away staring at us. (lol)

However, no matter how discreet and stealth 'protocol' we adhered to in our mission words were buzzing around that we were involved in illegal activities and to make matter worse, it was rumored that we were undergoing 'recruitment spree' and inducting as young as a 5 year old boy into our fold. It was baseless accusations to malign our secret organisation. (lol)

 As a matter of fact, in one or two occasion we made a mistake, in one drizzly afternoon my friend stole his father's WIN cigarette and we were smoking inside the bushes. Unluckily, his younger brother caught us red-handed, I was to blame; I coughed. We made an offer he can't refuse… we offered him my cigarette and in return he has to keep his mouth shut… he sealed the deal without batting an eyelid. I was taken aback at how this imp puff away like a pro and in a way he humiliated me. After he gets the kick, he told us he would go to their house and steal three sticks for the three of us. We can't refuse his offer either. Smoking with two of the most feared 'don' in the neighbourhood must have been too irresistible for this kiddo to zipped his mouth. The cat was out of the bag!!!

CWA (Citizens Welfare Association) was at the helm in disciplining unruly kids in Ccpur and its neighbouring village so was Salbung. After dinner a messenger knocks at our door and told me I'm being summoned to appear before the CWA court. I knew what was in store for me so I wear two pants… a pyjama inside a trouser. All familiar faces crowded the corridor of Salbung haosapu's (chief) house. We were separated into two groups… junior and senior. I fall in the latter. Juniors were first called into the Anganwadi centre while we waited in the haosapu's corridor with one member of CWA as guard. Nobody knows what goes behind closed doors of Anganwadi Centre but I'm convinced that they were grilled to unearth the inside story of our activities and closely guarded modus operandi. They were let off after an hour with a warning.

As soon as the six of us entered the 'grilling room' we were whacked. That was very unbecoming of CWA to  greet us this way atleast that was what I thought. I was the third guy standing in a line. When the guy before me was whack I gave out a loud cry 'aanaa!!!' for this mischief I got double the beating my friends got.

The first question was "will you be able to quit smoking?" my predecessors both answered "yes, I can". "If you can quit, why did you ever start smoking?" was what they were told and they got a good thrashing. I was working on that question very meticulously now in my head to avoid the beating even if i've to choose the road less travelled.

"Will you be able to quit smoking?"

"No, I won't be able to".

That was not only a wrong answer but an arrogant one; it irked every member present in the room, each pick up the one thing I dreaded the most that instant and beat me like a boxer does to a punching bag. Two trousers didn't help. Neither did 'acting smart'. Upto 10 whacks I groaned in pain but after that I could feel nothing; I just turned numb. I could hardly remain standing erect.

Next based on whatever evidence and facts they could gather from the junior we were put into a gruelling session of interrogation. One word going astray from what the junior said about us begot us one whack. Stick made from a special and tough bamboo known in the local dialect as 'sanaibi' breaks into splinters after it pounce upon our butts and thighs. While grilling if we didn't answer their questions asap 'sanaibi' stick will kiss our asses so our confession becomes a lie; a bigger lie in the process. Our confession was like memorising a poem and reciting it, within a stipulated time, in a competition. To someone, who overheard what we said and what we got, from a distant would sound like a firing automatic assault rifle. The scars from my butt to my ankle lasted for a week. I'm flattered now as if I remember correctly someone praised me for my bravery the following day. (lol)

After the entire 'fling with the stick' we signed an undertaking never to smoke again. Our story especially mine spread like a wild fire. "Here comes the one who can't quit smoking" was what I hear wherever I go and people jeered at me. I can't take that in easily and inside I wept and vowed not to kiss the butt end of the bidi or cigarette and never let 'sanaibi' kiss my butt ever again.

Looking back, I'm filled with a mixed feeling. I'm happy that I got beaten black and blue for smoking (learning to smoke) if not I won't be able to give up smoking now and amused at my poor 'acting smart' moments which landed me in a bigger soup than the previous one which forced me to take the road less travelled. I'm sad as a lot has changed… waist-deep Koite river is now no better than a drainage, the bushes all gone but few friends still remain unchanged: they still make clouds hovering over their head and I'm afraid I'll never make one by my own mouth, nose, ears or eyes :D

Adios...

Today is my last day in Goa... I woke up with a severe headache but damn the headache! I took a shower before even brushing my teeth and poof! it (the headache) hasn't gone...lol. 

But gone with Go-Goa-gone will be the few encounter i've had the privilege (smirk) while i was in Goa with some over-enthusiastic Indian tourists daring to come up to me and asking me for a click with 'em in the most politest way i ever come across... an offer i can't simply refuse...hagaga

Well, after the click what usually follows is always dramatic, they say "Thank you" faking a big grin with 32 plus teeth they fake to have and that's not the end, they often continues "Which country are you from?" I hate to answer that not because it feels like i'm a stranger in my own country but the frustration my answer has caused upon their 'awhile-ago-glowing faces'. That's because i always ended up telling 'em I-N-D-I-A which they least expected to hear. Some takes that answer in a lighter vein and laugh it off instantly but other fumes and still cursed the people who has nothing to do with this: Chinese and Nepalis. It's time they becomes the scape-goat :D or let me, in my own whimsical thought, put it this way- 'killing two birds with one stone' but causing no injury whatsoever to anyone.

If I lied to them a pic or two of mine may be in their PC or frame-d and hanging on their walls with clearly visible "with foreigner(s) in Goa" written on it. (Just going the extra mile of my wild imagination). The name 'Goa' may conjured up images of sandy beaches, firangi tourists sashaying half-naked, music, party & the wild wild west images but for someone like me who can't make fast friends... you should be thankful i didn't attempt to commit suicide to escape boredom :D

Forget about what people brouhaha about Goa, it seems to me this is where the rich and the famous and people who can afford takes some time out/off away from a billion paparazzi (the former) and their busy/ tumultuous life (the latter) to have the 'me time' and unwind and woke up the next day with a hammering hang-over. In the midst of all the extravagant parties and hullabaloo people deep down inside are as lonely. People who comes for solace gets high in a frenzy and the next day when the pleasures are all gone they are back to square one, solace is so less to find here on earth. It's the memories of the few hours of being away from what they want to run away that they take home with them and walking down those memory lane gave them solace but with the gust of wind this too can go away...

Last night I went for a 10:00 pm show of 'Yamala Pagala Deewana II' not of my own accord but the occupant of an apartment where i put up for few days before i leave make an impromptu plan to watch this movie. Funny, few days ago when my bro & a visitor friend from Delhi was here i told them without batting an eye-lid that I'll never watch the movie even for free. My companion, a friend and batch-mate of my bro, the new CASO Goa airport hailing from Rajasthan wants to watch it badly. The manager of the Z Square, a multiplex in Vasco, reserved two 'executive class' seats in the bigger screen where Ranbir Kapoor starrer 'Yeh Jaawani hai Deewani' was to be screened but the boss has the final word.

He laughed like a kiddo at the slapstick comedy of the father-sons combo Hindi film has to offer ( the comedy rather dry to me who had a good run with the likes of 'MYL', Big Bang, HIMYM & the Simpsons). But in all fairness it's just not the content of the film that makes him unleash his 'most kept secrets' in office & in 'Bharat ka fauz' set-up but the fun of being an ordinary human being in the dim theatre where you can laugh away without anyone noticing. For the indians (mayang), a movie should be purely entertainment and should make you laugh and forget your worries after a hard day's work. The irony is every new day has its own worries... the saga of life after Goa & it's temporary solace continues......

The cold has got me old

The cold has got me old

I was told.

Bound to my bed

Numb and dumb i lay.

But not for this way

I was mould.

Could a soul tell me

when this will end?

Lord! Help me, again to be whole.

And hold me to be bold.

The load has got me bend

I was told.

Bound to my world

Wreck and meek i wander.

But not for this way

I was made.

Could a soul tell me

when this will wane?

Lord! Help me, again to be whole.

And mend me to be lauded.

Lots Of Love

The laughter we'd is yet to die 

( An ode to my younger bro who passed away on 3rd Nov 1990)

Are you playing games with me?

One of a kind; hide and seek.

I can't find you where I does find you

Underneath the bed or inside the cupboard.

Oh! You lay there; calm and serene

Even with eyes closed you seem to smile

It's no time for sleep, my bro

Wake up, dearest friend.

Mom cries, Dad weeps, Bro down and sis shock

I did none I just wait for you

To open your eyes and smile

And play with me in the rains.

Shovel by shovel the earth covers you

Until we see you no more

The laughter we'd is yet to die

It's still around in the air.

Did you see me looking for you?

Inside-out; tense and lonesome

Often methinks what if I find you

With your eyes open and not asleep…

For all that's gone and is to come

Without you it ain't the same

Alas, only on a stone I find your name

The laughter we'd is yet to die….

Unsaid:

For too long I'd taken you for granted

But for too long I'd wanted you

All along you're special

I'm afraid I may leave this unsaid

But I need a new language to say that

You always made my day all these years

Those moments I'd spent with you

 are the ones that I cherish

I never thought I'd miss you one day

Without you around i ain't my true self

I thought you'll always be around

Life's like that

Life was like that (in JNU) :

When life gets too monotonous that you have nothing new or interesting to share with your friends and in your desperation you cease to keep in touch with them and chose to keep a low profile... it is time you should at least look back at ‘Life’s like that’ or, ‘Life was like that’ in my case and get a life- a new lease of life even though it’s got to do with a little brooding about the past.
The memories of ‘Life in JNU’ never walks passed me without making me laugh at myself, giggle, nostalgic,heart twitching etc… but without any room for regret, the only regret I have is I couldn’t be around at this moment to share this in person over a cup of chai. If wishes were horses I’ll ride it, even if I don’t know the art of horse riding one bit.
There is a place in the campus where I once took a girl to… No, it’s not PSR! It’s the most unlikely place to take a girl to but then, to me, it was like Archimedes exclaiming ‘eureka!’. That was the time of the year when the sky is clear; close to what Lord Byron befittingly described as “cloudless climes and starry skies” (The poem: She walks in beauty like the night). 
As if she’d never seen a football ground in her entire life, I took her to the stadium (football ground) & take a walk with her, infact we run amok like kids and finally lie on the dry green grass in the middle of the ground and watched the night sky above & ofcourse the noisy boisterous planes every 3 mins. 
I remembered I told her that it’s amazing to look at the night sky as it’s so enormous, vast & wide that we humans become pale in comparison and whatever problems and complain we’ve at present suddenly becomes insignificant w.r.t the ‘jaw dropping’ master-piece of God up above. I’ve no idea why I confided that to her… may be to escape the awkwardness or stupidity involved but it helps keep the conversation alive & going.
And I also told her about one of our match against FSA now, ISA and how I almost raise my ‘dhaai kilo ka haath’ and tried to hit Khalid, a bulky black guy towering 6 foot something inches… I must have had some balls to even think of that but to be honest I was on the verge of saying “take this!”( dhaai kilo ka haath blow) as often seen in Super heroes comics. Thanks to that Khalid never forget to say hi! henceforth whenever he sees me.

Our walk around the campus doesn’t end there… infact, I took her to almost every nook and corner of the campus. Ring Road, Mahanadi-IIMC border, JNU Cave; Name it you’ll have it…even to the least traveled west gate ( a gate u'll never see open) , in Paschimabad, leading to Nelson Mandela Road, opp. Emporium with her friend… that’s where my plan to show my ‘pole dancing skill’ went kaput. We ended up having a hearty laugh though. Those electric poles leading to the gate were not made of iron beware guys! It’s made of rubber and when I run as fast as my hairy legs could carry, take a leap (of faith) and grab the pole I went flying another 3-4 feet in the air and had a mighty crash on the ground with the other half of the pole in my hand :D