This song is my current favourite. Just notice the tenor in Manna Dey's voice!!
It's fab! I get goose bumps everytime I listen to this song
ऐ मेरे प्यारे वतन
ऐ मेरे बिछ़ड़े चमन
तुझ पे दिल कुरबान
तू ही मेरी आरज़ू
तू ही मेरी आबरू
तू ही मेरी जान
तेरे दामन से जो आयी, उन हवाओ को सलाम
चूम लू मैं उस ज़ुबान को जिस पे आयी तेरा नाम
सब से प्यारी सुबह तेरी, सबसे रंगीन श्याम
मां का दिल बनके कभी सीने ने लग जाता है तू
और कभी नन्हीं सी बेटी बन के याद आता है तू
जितना याद आता है तू, उतना तड़पता है तू
छो़ड़कर तेरी ज़मीन से दूर आ पहुंचे है हम
फिर भी है यही तमन्ना तेरे ज़र्रों की कसम
हम जहां पैदा हुए, उस जगह ही निकले ये दम
1.If you love sports copy the link and paste it in your browser's address bar ( Don't worry it's not a bug...it's alink to an article)
http://www.india-today.com/itoday/08031999/sports.html
2.Read the preceding post.
3.Can you find a connection?
On that chilly summer afternoon, when a bunch of youngsters lifted an innocuous looking trophy, little did they know that their feat would change the nature of the gentleman's game forever. It was on 25th of June 1983 when Cricket moved out of the lush green English countryside to find a new home in dusty lanes of the Indian subcontinent.
The rest, as they say, is History.
As we celebrate the greatest moment in our collective conscience, it's high time for introspection. We as a nation seem to be obsessed with this sport. The sound of a ball hitting the sweet spot on the bat can evoke such emotions that even the greatest of all orators can't. We jump with joy whenever India scores a win, and our heart skips a beat every time Sachin is on 99!
But, have you ever wondered what is the reason behind this frenzy?
The answer probably lies in our colonial past. Cricket is a legacy of our erstwhile rulers. It was the pasttime of the Sahibs...after all it was/is the Gentleman's Game. And it's the aspiration of becoming a gentleman that has led to the immense popularity of the game. Even though the British ruled us with an iron fist,we, Indians seemed to have a love-hate relationship with our perpetrators. We loathed them and yet, in the deep chambers of our heart, we aspired to become one of them... We wanted to shed our brown skins for white one, and if that was not possible, at least we could become like them in our mannerisms.
So we started dressing like them (The three piece suit, the Hat and the walking stick). We even started speaking their language, and we wanted to make their sport ours too. So the popularity of cricket has more to do with our fascination to become like them than with anything else. (Much in the same fashion, we are obsessed with fair skin...the numerous advertisements on the boob-tube just reiterate the fact)
If we could adopt cricket we could truly become the Gentleman, we always aspired to. So we practised, and practised and practised. And on that fateful day twenty five years ago, we achieved our dream...
We truly became the Brown Sahib.
We have all read about this city. We have all seen this city on the silver screen. We have all heard about this city...but it's nothing like living in this city. The more time I spend here, the more amazed I get. It's the plurality of the city that amazes me. The existence of multiple realities and multiple histories characterizes this bustling, bursting city.
Take for example the name itself- Mumbai. The Shiv Sena government which was responsible for the change of name said it wanted to get rid of the colonial baggage, and so sometime in the mid nineties, by the stroke of a pen Bombay became Mumbai. And slowly the city started getting an all new identity. The Crawford Market became Jyotiba Phule Market, and the famous Victoria Terminus was given a new identity by Chhatrapati Shivaji.
But the emergence of a new identity has not erased an older history. So, the old Bombay exists side by side with the new Mumbai. BMC still remains BMC. Fried 'Bombay Duck' still remains the favored cuisine of the 'Mumbaikar'. The faithful Bombayite still waits patiently in serpentine queues to get a glimpse of Mumba Devi. And Mumbai’s politicos/socialites still want to be seen on Bombay Times.
If this is a reflection of the present, let's take a peek into the past. 'Bombay' came into existence with the arrival of the Portuguese in India. And its prominence can be attributed to Britain's love affair with this sea-side hamlet. If this is what official history suggests, popular belief says that this is the city of Mumba Devi. So, do these apparently contradictory histories trouble the denizens? No, it doesn't. For them one is a matter of fact, and the other is conviction of faith.
This city is fighting a losing battle against space. Everywhere you see, there are people...thousands of them, trying to get an extra inch. Everyday millions snugly fit into a few feet in the 'locals'. Look around and you'll see a pair of eyes staring at you. But loneliness is the first thing that strikes you when you set afoot in this city bursting at its seams. Everybody is stranded alone amongst millions, looking ...searching for a 'face' in a sea of faces.
Surprising? Perhaps not.
This city boasts of being home to India's richest. More than half of India's income tax collections come from this city. But in this city of billionaires, poverty runs amuck. Just step onto Senapati Bapat Marg (in Lower Parel), one of the busiest business districts in the city, and you'll find streets lined with uncountable people...fighting to get their piece of bread (or should I say 'pav'?)
It is this co-existence of opposites in apparent harmony, is what surprises me. And as time whizzes past me, this city slowly unfurls itself… It makes me wonder about myself, and poses a thousand questions, to which there are no (ir)‘rational’ answers.
