Ab tera kya hoga Gabbar????

Now Pritish Nandy is making yet another remake of Sholay; as if Ram Gopal verma ki Aaag wasn’t enough to ‘jhulsa-o’ us fans of the original Sholay, down into ashes.

With due respect to Mr. Amitabh Bachchan, we really don’t feel that anybody can even think of replacing the original inspiration of villainy on the silver screen; Gabbar, played eloquently by Amzjad Khan.

Apart from getting frustrated by this series of remakes of legends, it also seems that there is suddenly a bankruptcy of ideas. Why to stick to the same plot when the creative minds of humans can apprehend millions of ideas and execute them with the help of sleek and smart technology??

Anyways, I don’t think that even basanti ki dhanno would like this idea of remakes. After all “ye uski basanti ki ijjat ka sawaal hai”.

yaha se pachas-pachas kos door gaanw me jab bachcha raat ko rota hai to maa kahti hai beta soja ..soja nahi to gabbar singh aa jaayega. Hmm…shayad aaj bhi maa yahi kahegi.


Sorry ramu ke babban uncle, humko aap se darr nahi lagta..:)

Z z z z z z zzzzzzz…..

Cheers to all the busy bees…this buzz is for u!

SHALL C YA SOON SIS...

I WAS ALL ALONE IN THE WORLD OF STRANGERS....

YOU CAME LIKE AN ANGEL AND CHANGED MY WORLD..

I WAS HAPPY TO HAVE A NEW REASON TO SMILE...

AND WAS PROUD OF MY POSSESSION..

U WERE THE MUSICIAN OF THE SONG OF MY LIFE..

TODAY I HAVE MORE REASONS TO SMILE..
AS YOU GO ONLY TO COME BACK AND CHANGE MY WORLD ONCE AGAIN...

LUV U SIS..THIS ONE IS FOR U..:)

Shared smiles, shared tears
All intensified though years
Your dreams, our hope
With you these elope

All wish you return
For the day we yearn
With the golden crown
And valor around

A momentary adieu
We bid to you
And to Him we pray
Victory fills your way…

Lots of blessings from all your loved ones..

I AM A FREE SOUL

Celebration is such an underrated phenomena the world over. Celebrating a birth anniversary for example is a mere assemblage of friends and relatives, giving away the birthday gifts, wearing the best costume among all the other friends and cutting the cake without dirtying the table cloth and disturbing the candles, which grow one by one every year. Has anybody ever thought why do we celebrate a birthday, which is in fact a day marking our proximity to death?

It’s only because we need an excuse for a party or for scotch swigs or for simply looking good. We don’t think beyond that.

Any celebration should be the celebration of growth and its periphery should not be squeezed to materialistic gratification.

15^th August has become so much synonymous with Indian Independence that our perception limits ourselves to a restricted definition of both - celebration of freedom and of freedom itself. We fail to see beyond it. It was 60 years back that India became independent and every year we just remember the work done by our great leaders and salute their efforts. Our salutations should grow in quality and not quantity. 60 years is a long time. Remembrance is not enough. Enough celebration has been done for all these years of the freedom of two countries. But now, it’s time to celebrate the spirit of freedom. Only then can we grow as a country and as human beings.

To me celebration of freedom is not limited to 15^th of August 1947. It’s a part of a bigger phenomenon; that of development of the entire mankind as one world and not just one country.

To me the true freedom lies in abandoning negativity, something that makes terrorists out of innocent people, something that evokes discrimination among men and women, among blacks and whites, among rich and poor or caste and creed.

If every day a terrorist turns into a virtuous individual or at least one girl child is saved from being exploited, every single day would call for a celebration of the spirit of freedom. And I salute that freedom. Each one of us can become a martyr in our own right if we step forward to contribute to this spirit. Adopt a child, feed a hungry, free a pigeon from a cage. If nothing else, educate your own children and make them good human beings, so that tomorrow they do not become a catalyst of violence but a harbinger of peace and unity. Charity begins at home!

Let this song by the artist become a global anthem on the eve of a special day and truly make this world a better place to live for the entire human race.

H2O = A2Z OF LIFE

For little Jane and Lucy, it was just another morning. They, quite ritually, did what any other bickering sisters would do – bicker.

“You greedy slush bucket! Get outta ma way!! Let me wash my face first..do ya understand??”

(water flowing from the tap..)

"Shut your damn mouth up! You ragamuffin! I told ya it’s my geography test today…I have to reach early…so u get off my way & I don’t want to see the likes of you muckin’ at the tap..”

Mom – “you two! Downstairs, Now!

“But ma….”

(water still flowing…)

For Christ’s sake stop fighting! I want to see both of you for the breakfast in 10 mins.

(water flow thins)

Jane - @$#%^^&^*E$%#%$

Lucy - $%$%$%&^$#@#$

Mom - $%$%$^^%^^%^$

(water stops flowing..)

Jane, Lucy & Mom (in chorus) – “NOT AGAIN!!!!!”

Nice dialoguing Sneha, but what’s new? All siblings bicker. It’s rather sweet.

Jeez! How can you neglect the tap, which is pouring out the elixir of life, like a God, since last two centuries?? We all seem to ignore the fact that if we go on like this, water will be seen nowhere except in our misty eyes.

Can’t you see the same misty eyed water, now?? Oh! How can you. It’s not your fault. How can anybody see watery eyes of water?? That would be paradoxical.

Do I need to say – “SAVE WATER”??

Milkman’s reply –

“yeah! SAVE WATER, DILUTE IT”..

JAI HIND.

SLIM chances of success

Was reading an article on weight loss and the ill-effects of dieting. And know what? I was glad someone has brought this fact into the notice of those obsessive ladies, crazily following our Bollywood bimbettes for God’s sake!I don’t understand why girls in their teens and even some older ones try to deliberately go on a weight losing spree? Even some feisty ones who are nowhere close to unhealthily big are obsessed by their shape. They pour discontent and hate onto their bodies as if it were only body shape and nothing else that really matters.

Dieting is so not hip! Don’t trust me? Picture this.

KHUL JA SIM SIM…

Amidst the crude smell of wet soil and smoke billowing lazily out of the roof-top chimney, amidst the familiar sound of cow-bells and the aroma of ripe mangoes lingering persistently, amidst the longing to be there once again and catch the glimpse of welcoming eyes, waiting anxiously, I arrived at my grandma’s place.

Every time the Sun God lashed out His excoriating heat, it was cooled down by the pleasant salutations of everyone at my grannie’s place and our stay confirmed the furtherance of this cooling down, making our sojourn a riot of laughter and merriment. Summer vacations were a refreshing beak from school-study-report card hassles and we (Me, Sonia and my cousins) painted the town…. red? Nopes…we painted it polka-dotted!

But the main attraction remained that locked room; the room, which invited a world of speculation and mystery. We requested and sometimes, even threw childish tantrums including foot-pounding and crying, but our granny wasn’t impressed. She remained reluctant to spell out the magical words..”khul ja sim sim…” to open the door . Well, the door had quite obviously become THE DOOR for the kids of the house.

But after many years, when the closed room almost became a casual presence of mystery unresolved, we stopped to query about it.

One summer holy holiday made our granny to grant us the maturity badge and she herself called us to see what we’ve waited for since years. The room opened its door to a sparkling past. Our hungry eyes locked with the shimmering treasure the room protected since so many years. The way our jaw dropped after seeing this khazana, could have put even Alibaba and the challis chor to shame. No there wasn’t any gold or silver, but something even more precious.

As nani opened a huge metal trunk, which seemed like one belonging to Mohenjo-Daro-Harappa culture, we held back our eyelashes from fluttering. The suspense ended and excitement took its toll. The trunk was filled with a swarm of colorful, handmade earthenware – flower pots, statues of different Gods, matkis with attractive paintings on them, diyas, different animal statues, there were ghagra-polka with beautiful embroidery & zari work, scarves, shawls along with paint brushes, colors wrapped in small polythene bags, salma-sitare, chimki of lustrous base metals…all made and collected by my grandma..

That day I remember, we forgot having our lunch, dinner and even hitting the sack..we were completely disoriented for the rest of the day and were awed by our granny’s khazana and her creativity..

Then we learned why nani was reluctant to open the door for us. She valued these belongings more than silver or gold. And back then, the treasure was vulnerable to the attacks of kid ninjas that we were. But now we understood and valued it. Now, for us, this treasure of nani was more than Lost Dutchman’s Gold Mine. We loved it.

I miss the room, the old trunk and more than anything else, my nanihaal. Things have changed and I wish I could go there once again with the same feelings.