Hum aur humara U.P.

The other day , I was chatting with my Bengali friend .

I got really pissed off at someone and ( angreji gayi choolhe mein ) strated ranting off in hindi .

As soon as I stopped , she began giggling ,”Now that was typical UP ki hindi “

Banaras Ghats

Which made me realize . How come I have never written a blog about hamara UP :-D

From the ‘tehzeeb’ and ‘nawabs’ of Lucknow , the ghats of Benaras , the temples of Brindavan , the Ganga at Haridwar , the ‘thugoo ke laddo’ of Kanpur , the Sangam at Allahabad , and of’course , the Taj ( excluding it’s corridor ) at Agra . 

Hum pesh karte hai  , Hamara UP *adaab arz hai*

1.Hamare UP ki chai 

“Tanik dudhwa kam daliyega . Chai maange hai , sarbat naahi “

Trust me , I’ve tasted chai in every part of the country ( and sometimes, outside the country ) . 

But there is something about hamari UP ki chai .

The way people scream across offices/fields/roads/houses ,”Bhaiya jeeeeeeeeeeee… chai piyoge kaa ? “

No matter whether you get something or not , chai toh milegi hi !

‘Kulhad’ waali station chai , that special ‘masala waali cutting chai’ , the thick ‘kadak’ chai seeping through tiny pores of ‘chhalni’ .

The tea leaves are the same , the sugar and milk too .But I guess it’s the UP ka flavour which makes it more special .

2.Hamare UP ki shaadi 

Bhaiya aisa hai , ki shaadi toh you need to see in UP ! 

The firing of fire-arms , the dance in Baraats ( and there is always that ONE guy who does a bawaaliya ‘naagin’ dance ) , the fighting over buffet and the photo-shoot of the dulan ( with flowers in the background and that red saree )

The bride’s family cursing the groom’s in songs ( if you have been to village marriages ).

The way chachi , bua , tai , mami , bhauji , mausi , naati , poti , gaav waali ‘dooooor’ ki nanad get together and gossip . Music to the ears gentlemen .

And the super loud ( totally off beat ) band wala playing “aaj mere yaar ki shaadi hai  .

Aye haye , karejwa maan aag lag jaat hai ! ;-)

3.Hamare UP ka khana 

Ye toh aapko kahin aur mil hi nahi sakta ( you just cannot get it anywhere else ) .

The khasta , poori , kachauri , oil soaked bread-rolls ,matar-paneer and chhole combo on

Special’ occasions !

Lucknow ke kabab , Mathura ke pede , Agra ke pethe , Kanpur ke laddoo .. all epic in themselves .

The imarti , gujiya , 20 different types of milk sweets ,thandai , Chandra-kala ( again ,a village delicacy ) and the most exquisite , CHAAT ! 

If you are a UPite ( even if you aren’t ) you’ll be drooling over your keyboard right now :D

4. Hamare UP ki kala

UP is the home to Kathak , one of the ancient ( and still surviving ) dance forms .

Not to mention ,the seat of Hindustani classical music ( the other form of Indian classical music is the Carnatic music .. in South India  )

Most of the hindi ( and urdu ) literature arose from UP .

Munshi Premchand ,one of the foremost hindi-urdu authors .

From the urdu shayars under nawabs , to the forlorn kavis writing on the banks of Ganga , we have held our heads high .

Be it the chikan-work of Lucknow , the Benarasi silk sarees ,the jamdani weaving , the 'batik' work or the famous 'attar' from those long forgotten bazaars ...
You know why the we are a bit 'high handed' at times ;-) 


But of’course , (if you are in UP ) you can never ignore the Bhojpuri music and the timeless classics ( saiyyan magan Pahalwani mein , Rus gayel sayya hamar , Aye Sawaan ki Bela ) 

Of’course ,in case you haven’t enjoyed the bliss of Bhojpuri … you can always opt for James Bond (translated ) ;-)

“hammar naam ba Bond … James Bond “

5. Paan aur Politics . 

'Paan' has always been a part of 'nawabi' tehzeeb . 

Those crimson paans ,and silver spitoons are inseparable from the Awadhi culture .

 However , thins do degrade with time .

I have a feeling that Paan Parag and Rajnigandha ( and other such poisons ) have been running solely on Uttar Pradesh .

The amount of paan masala , paan ki paati , choona , kattha , bidi ( and God knows what not ) that gets consumed everyday , is staggering .

And then of’course , there is the ‘peek’ .On the road , in offices , schools , hotels , shamshaan ghats ..omnipresent !

I have a feeling Congress should adopt the “peek” as their election symbol in our state  .Maybe that’ll help :D

Ah ! We are the one of biggest states ,and still send the largest number of MPs to the centre .

But alas , caste politics zindabaad ! We are caught between two parties . How do we say it in hindi ?

‘Ek ser toh dooja sava ser” *sigh*

Ganga Arti - Haridwar

All in all , I have left a lot of things out . It’s almost impossible to cover the entire state in one article . 

Yes , we are not the most developed state ( *cheeky grin* ) . But then , we’ll get there one day .If statues stop erecting themselves and people don’t get trampled under cycles .

Ji ,humara Lucknow

But the UP spirit of living ,our ‘majakiya andaaz’ , the bhaukali style , the ‘never say die’ attitude is something you wouldn’t find anywhere .

      Kabhi tashreef laiye . You'll love it :)

The Great Chennai Summers !

*camera shifts into focus*

You are walking in a haphazard fashion . Clothes sticking to you back ,you armpits ( and other pits in general ).

Tongue lolling out in distress , skin glittering with an unnatural sheen and your hair plastered flat over your eyes ( if you have coconut oil on . Oh well, That’s a bonus treat ) 

Infact  , you are so disoriented that hallucinations of Amma serving you ‘sambhar sadam’   float in front of your eyes .

Well , welcome to Chennai summers .

That lovely season of the year when roads glitter with heat , lungis get folded as high as possible ( sometimes even higher ) and the demand for ‘moar’ ( read buttermilk ) increases tenfold .

The sweat .

If you live in a hostel with no air-conditioner/cooler in your room ( Yes , my story ) …You would definitely know what am I talking about .

It just dosen’t come out , it flows . It seeps in , it soaks the very existence of your being .

 Infact , I would like to quote Tennyson’s ‘Brook’ here ,

“By thirty hills I hurry down, Or slip between the ridges;

By twenty thorps, a little town, And half a hundred bridges.

Till last by Philip's farm I flow, To join the brimming river;

For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever.”

Metaphorically speaking , replace the hills with with our nose , ear , eye lids , thighs , belly , bum ( or any other curves you might have ) .

Replace the ridges with your armpits , the little town with your belly button and the bridges with your fingers .

The Philips’ farm can very well be some areas down there ( shhhh … Idhu adult blog illae sir . Please understand ) 

And yes , you’ve got the general picture . 

Ps – Getting up in the middle of the night ,realizing there is a layer of sweat between you and the bed sheet .

 It makes you wonder why people waste money on saunas :D

The Power Cut .

Yes, thankfully we have it for just two hours in namma Chennai .It’s around 9-10 hours in dear old Coimbatore and elsewhere .

Have you seen ever seen exorcism ? no ?

Vaangu sir . come to our hostel during (4-6)pm  .People will be roaming with eyes dilated , hair all dishevelled and torn and I would rather not discuss the state of (un)dress ;-)

Some might be found shaking uncontrollably , staring vacantly into space or abusing/shouting/banging walls without any apparent reason . 

Ah ! the simple joys of standing fully clothed under shower and (literally) soaking the marvel of nature , water :D

The solution .

Enna sir ? Namma Chennai la … In our Chennai you will be finding all solutions sir .

Lungi rocks – I am sorely tempted to try my first one this summer . The sheer bliss of feeling air circulating around Philip’s farm !

And automatic air control included .Just shorten it as the temperature keeps soaring ;-)

Coconut – God bless it ! Rs.10 worth of Heaven’s manna .

The talcum powder – Do it macha style da ! Spray it , pour it , bathe in the ecstasy and frangrance of this gift of cosmetics .

Make sure it reaches all the crevices ( It might take some practice before you cover all crevices . But don’t give up hope ) :P

Marina Beach – Pack your lunch , put on your shiniest shirt ,some sexy goggles ( a gold chain wouldn’t go amiss either ) and just hop on .

Just mind you step . Considering the amount of ‘chinna papas’ ( read, nasty brats ) that roam around , you might stumble over and fall face down in someone’s ‘bhajji’ plate leftover :D

General caution : Please avoid buses between (6-8) pm . Trust me ,Hitler could’ve learnt a few tricks for his gas chambers from them !!

Eternal Love

Fallen leaf

And btw , someone turned 23 yesterday . THANK YOU .
To all those people who called and wished and made me feel so special :D

The monster .

I woke up alone , in those depths

Except for those tentacles around

They shackled me ,held me down

And I stood still , helpless and bound

The creature had risen out of nowhere

When I used to dance with the waves

I struggled and shrieked and fought

But it dragged me to the deepest caves

Now I had given it all up , I reveled in it

Cuddling and dozing in his warm embrace

Shielded away from the untamed waves

Until , one day , the sun glimmered on my face

And I wanted to feel it , to breathe air

So I asked him , “Let me be . I need you not “

And miracle it was ! He uncoiled his arms

And disappeared without a second thought

And then I saw , the monster was I

Stopping myself from doing what I must

All of us carry him inside ourselves

And it just takes determination to reduce him to dust …

Reduce him to dust ….

Writer's note : The monster and it's tentacles are a metaphor for the myriad of fears that we create in our minds :)

Growing up Bin Laden

Three weeks of reading it in the loo , in between meals and under the table ( when the teacher was taking attendance ) .

I have finally finished one of the most intriguing books I’ve ever come across , “Growing up Bin Laden” .

The account of the lives of Najwa Bin Laden ( first of Osama’s four wives ) and Omar Bin Laden ( his fourth son ) . Written by Jean Sasson ,the lady with the ‘Princess’ series already under her belt . She has (yet again ) outdone herself ! 

I was curious . What makes a man ‘evil genius’ . What makes a man go down the heinous path of terrorism  ? 

That too , a man who has everything to lose ( including a HUGE family fortune and a huge family ) 

But this , was Omar’s and najwa’s story .Their story of a father , and a husband .

 A man who was demanding to the point of being cruel  ,devout ,rigid in principles and yet kind and considerate and followed the astute prinicples of Islam till the end .

THE HUSBAND

Najwa remmebers him as a quiet child . The one who’d never speak out of turn . Always distant and polite . Since she and Osama were cousins , it was kind of decided that they’ll marry each other ( a common custom in Saudi Arabia )

All through her life , Najwa was in awe of him . And he ( I daresay ) was a perfect husband . He never caused her any pain or threw any cruelty her way .

Infact ,though he took most of the major decisions himself ( and she was more than willing to let him do so ) .

She was always honoured and her advice was always taken into account ( which , is something HUGE if you consider the genral plight of the women in his culture ) .

Yes , he did take four wives .

But here is something we must understand . Islam allows a man to take upto 4 wives ( on the condition that they divide their attention and time EQUALLY among them all ) .

Compared to how 90% of the men cheat outside their marriages . I failed to see any difference between ‘them’ and ‘us’ .

THE FATHER

Unrelenting . He spoke softly ,and carried a huge stick .

Disobidience was not tolerated . Yet ,any dilemmas or doubts asked never went unanswered .

He prohibited the use of modern appliances , even toys . His sons would play with animals , go trekking or learn the joys of gardening and outdoor sports .

He would make them ride in the desert for hours ( with minimum intake of water ) , teach them how to build a place under the sand to hide themselves , and sometimes play ‘hide and seek’ with them too .

Remember , this was not a father who went on business trips and came home at 6 in the evening .

He was an industralist , a farmer and an ex-soldier ( even when his sons were growing up , he had already fought in the Russia-Afghanistan war).

To the end , he loved his sons .

But , like all great men , he loved his purpose in life more .

THE MAN

A mathematical genius , a devout man ( one who could recite the Koran without a single pause ) , a farmer , lover of animals and a scholar .

Osama was a great friend . A man who won the unquestioning loyalty and respect of people around him .

A man who cared for his family , and his comorades , and the welfare of his own country ( he was a key figure in the development of Saudi at one time ) .

Infact , one of the greatest griefs in his life came when he was exiled to Sudan .

An ideal son who valued his mother above all . A man who had lost his real father at an early age , and still missed him somewhere .

A man who demanded and exuded perfection . And yet , was painfully sensitive and shy at times .

THE QUESTION …

The “why” In my mind went unanswered .

To his son , he was the man whose love and approval he craved for (as a child ). And later on , he detested and blamed the same father for ruining his childhood .

To his wife , he was a perfect husband .

But then ,maybe he wss too rigid . He applied the principles of Koran to a world which has progressed much beyond the boudaries of ‘dharma’ .

Or , he had seen too much cruelty at the hands of Russia and America , and his belief in the supremacy of Islam pushed him over the edge .

Whatever , the reason . It was such a shame .

A man who had been bestowed with such qualities could’ve changed the world in a much different way .

But then , we all have our reasons ……

Meera , the poet .

Of all the poets who have inspired me , I must admit that Meera is one of the rare ones who has touched my soul . The more I study her , the more divine she seems . 

There is something about each one of her bhajans . A feeling of complete surrender , of love and admiration so deep .. it crosses all metaphysical planes .

They are the words of someone who has found Him . And totally immersed herself in His glory .They are the callings of a heart so infused with him , that it cannot wait to embrace Him ,and give up these worldly illusions .

And this bhajan of hers just sums up all that she stands for ( Although it isn’t a very popular one )

 “Mai Haricharan Ki Dasi “ ( I , the servant at Hari’s feet ) 

Mai Haricharanan ki dasi

Malin vishya ras tyage jag ke ,

Ram naam ras pyaasi

Janam janam ki dasi

Mai haricharanan ki dasi 

I , the servant at Hari’s feet

I have given up all the unholy pleasures of the world

And the only pleasure I crave for is Ram’s name

For many many births I’ve been your servant 

Dukh , apmaan , kasht sab sahiya

Kutil jagat ki haasi

Meera kahe parbhu Giridhar Nagar

Kaato jagat ki faasi ,

Main Hari charahanan ki dasi 

Sadness , humiliation and and all discomforts I’ve faced

This cruel world has laughed upon me

All Meers wants is to call upon her ‘Giridhar Nagar’

So that He can come and relieve her from these worldly shackles .

Aavo preetam sundar nirupam

Antar hovat udaasi

Maanat nahi mann , dheeraj mohan

Tadpat nis din daasi

Savariyan , mohaniya , nagariya , mero piya

Come O loved one , beautiful and uncomparable

There is such grief within me

Now my heart listens no more , O patient one

And this servant of yours is tortured within

Prabhu aavo , aavo , aavo , aavo

Aavo aavo ji

Prabhu aavo aavo aavo aavo

Aavo aavo ji