तेरे भूले हुये ग़म.....

दिल में अब यूँ तेरे भूले हुये ग़म आते हैं
जैसे बिछड़े हुये काबे में सनम आते हैं


इक इक कर के हुये जाते हैं तारे रौशन
मेरी मन्ज़िल की तरफ़ तेरे क़दम आते हैं


रक़्स-ए-मय तेज़ करो, साज़ की लय तेज़ करो
सू-ए-मैख़ाना सफ़ीरान-ए-हरम आते हैं


कुछ हमीं को नहीं एहसान उठाने का दिमाग
वो तो जब आते हैं माइल-ब-करम आते हैं


और कुछ देर न गुज़रे शब-ए-फ़ुर्क़त से कहो
दिल भी कम दुखता है वो याद भी कम आते हैं

-- फ़ैज़ अहमद फ़ैज़

Aaj Dil Ki Ragon Ko Jalaa De Saqi.....

    आज दिल की रागों को जला दे साक़ी
    ज़हर शराब में मिला दे साक़ी

    इक ऐसा पिला के दूसरा ना मांगू
    तड़पती रूह को सुला दे साक़ी

    प्यासा लौटा हूँ बाज़म-ए-हुस्न से
    थोड़ी आँखों से पीला दे साक़ी

    मेरे ख़यालों ने लूटा है मुझको
    कम्बख़्त जहाँ को हिला दे साक़ी

    गम के मारे हैं बोतल से पिएँगे
    तू प्याला-ओ-सागर भुला दे साक़ी

    तेरे सर की बलाएँ लेगा मयकश
    मेरा यार मुझसे मिला दे साक़ी

-- Kalingaa...

Aj Aakhan Waris Shah Nu....

From one of most celebrated writer 'Amrita Pritam' to a legend 'Waris Shah'

aj aakhan waaris shah nu kiton qabran vichon bol!
    I say to Waris Shah today, speak from your grave
te aj kitab-e-ishq da koi agla varka phol!
    And add a new page to your book of love

ik roi si dhii punjab di tu likh-likh mare vain
    Once one daughter of Punjab wept, and you wrote your long saga;
aj lakkhan dheeyan rondian tainu waaris shah noon kahan
    Today thousands weep, calling to you Waris Shah

uth darmandan dia dardia uth tak apna punjaab!
    Arise, o friend of the afflicted; arise and see the state of Punjab,
aj bele laashaan vichan te lahu di bhari chenaab!
    Corpses strewn on fields, and the Chenaab flowing with much blood.

kise ne panja paanian vich ditti zahir rala!
    Someone filled the five rivers with poison,
te unhaan paanian dharat nu ditta paani laa!
    And this same water now irrigates our soil.

jitthe vajdii phuk pyaar di ve oh vanjhli gayi guaach
    Where was lost the flute, where the songs of love sounded?
ranjhe de sab veer aj bhul gaye usdi jaach
    And all Ranjha’s brothers forgotten to play the flute.

dharti te lahu vasiya, qabran payiyan chon
    Blood has rained on the soil, graves are oozing with blood,
preet diyan shahazadian aj vich mazaaran ron
    The princesses of love cry their hearts out in the graveyards.

aj sab ‘qaido’ ban gaye, husn ishq de chor
    Today all the Quaido’ns have become the thieves of love and beauty,
aj kithon liaaiie labh ke waaris shah ik hor
    Where can we find another one like Waris Shah?

aj aakhan waaris shah noon kiton qabran vichon bol!
    Waris Shah! I say to you, speak from your grave
te aj kitab-e-ishq da koi agla varka phol!
    And add a new page to your book of love.

-- Kalingaa...

Funny Definitions...

Define a GIRL:

The one who before going out for a party puts on mascara, eye shadow, eye liner, lip-gloss, glitter, rouge, blush, kajal...
Wears the best dress with heals,accessories, & still asks "over toh nai lag rha na"
Reply: "nai...sahi hai."
GIRL: "yar jaldi jaldi me kch kiya hi nai.. Socha simple hi rehne du.."

Define a BOY:

The one who before going to party calls his friend & asks: "Bhai, tu nahaa k aayega kya!"
Reply "chal saale! MERI SHADI THORI HAI"

Khatarnaak Dosti...

Main ghar der se pahuncha to Dad ne pucha: "Kahan tha tu?"

Maine kaha: "Friend ke yahan tha."

Dad ne mere hi saamne mere 10 doston ko call kiya.

4 ne kaha: "Haan Uncle, Yahin par tha."
2 ne kaha: "Abhi just nikla hai."
3 ne kaha: "Yahin hai Uncle, Padh raha hai, Phone du kya?"
1 ne to hadh hi kar di, kaha: "Haan Papa bolo kya hua"...!!!

-- Kalingaa...

Chesire the Cat

Cheshire Puss, she began… ‘Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?’

‘That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,’ said the Cat.

‘I don’t much care where-’ said Alice.

‘Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,’ said the Cat

- so long as I get somewhere,’ Alice added as an explanation.

‘Oh, you are sure to do that,’ said the Cat, ‘if you only walk long enough.’

(Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll)

Hands we have never held…

Sun in the earth… sunflower
Bird in the air… rain
Eye within eye… daybreak

Streets we have never walked on
Windows we have never opened
Hands we have never held
Dreams we shall never… never see again

Lives we have never lived
Hopes we have never realized
Fires we have never lit
Loves we have never… never make again

Sun in the earth… sunflower
Bird in the air… rain
Eye within eye… daybreak

I hear those whispers again…

song from the movie “Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi“

-- Kalingaa...

the foundation needs to move...

Very relevant for random noise-makers in current so called crusade against Corruption....

हो गई है पीर पर्वत-सी पिघलनी चाहिए
इस हिमालय से कोई गंगा निकलनी चाहिए

आज यह दीवार, परदों की तरह हिलने लगी
शर्त थी लेकिन कि ये बुनियाद हिलनी चाहिए

हर सड़क पर, हर गली में, हर नगर, हर गाँव में
हाथ लहराते हुए हर लाश चलनी चाहिए

सिर्फ हंगामा खड़ा करना मेरा मकसद नहीं
मेरी कोशिश है कि ये सूरत बदलनी चाहिए

मेरे सीने में नहीं तो तेरे सीने में सही
हो कहीं भी आग, लेकिन आग जलनी चाहिए

- दुष्यंत कुमार

Jab Sheher Hamara So Gayo (तब शहर हमारा सोता है)...

An apt song (Movie : Gulaal) for current socio-political situation in India

आए एक वक़्त की बात बताए, एक वक़्त की,
जब शहर हमारा सो गयो थो, वो राज गजब की

चहुँ और, सब और दिशा से लाली छाई रे
जुगनी नाचे चुनर ओढ़े, खून नहाई रे

सब ओर गुलाल पुत गयो, सब ओरों में
सब ओर गुलाल पुत गयो, विपदा छाई रे
जिस रात गगन से खून की बारिश आई रे
जिस रात शहेर में खून की बारिश आई रे
जिस रात गगन से खून की बारिश आई रे
जिस रात शहेर में खून की बारिश आई रे

सराबोर हो गयो शहर और सराबोर हो गयी धरा
सराबोर हो गयो रे जत्था इंसानो का बड़ा बड़ा
सभी जगत यह पूछे था, जब इतना सब कुछ हो रियो थो
तो शहर हमारा काहे भाईसाब आँख मूंद के सो रियो थो
तो शहर यह बोलियो नींद गजब की ऐसी आई रे
जिस रात गगन से खून की बारिश आई रे
जिस रात शहेर में खून की बारिश आई रे

सन्नाटा वीराना खामोशी अंजानी
ज़िंदगी लेती है करवाते तूफ़ानी
घिरते है साए घनहरे से
रूखे बालों को बिखेरे से
बढ़ते है अंधेरे पिशाचों से
काँपे है जी उनके नाचो से
कहीं पे वो जूतो की खट खट है
कहीं पे अलावों की छट पट है
कहीं पे है झींगुर की आवाज़ें
कहीं पे वो नलके की टप टप है
कहीं पे वो काली सी खिड़की है
कहीं वो अंधेरी सी चिमनी है
कहीं हिलते पेड़ों का जत्था है
कहीं कुछ मुंदेरो पे रक्खा है
सुनसान गॅली के नुक्कड़ पे जो कोई कुत्ता चीख चीख कर रोता है
जब लैंप पोस्ट की गंदली पीली घुप रोशनी में कुछ कुछ सा होता है
जब कोई साया खुद को थोड़ा बचा बचा कर गुम सायो में खोता है
जब पूल के खंभो को गाड़ी का गर्म उजाला धीमे धीमे धोता है
तब शहर हमारा सोता है, तब शहर हमारा सोता है

तब शहर हमारा सोता है
तो मालूम तुमको, हाँ क्या क्या होता है
इधर जागती है लाशें, ज़िंदा हो मुर्दा
उधर ज़िंदगी खोता है, इधर चीखती है दहुआ
खैराती उस अस्पताल में बिफरी सी, आँख में उसके अगले ही पल
गरम माज़ का नरम लोथड़ा होता है,
इधर उठी हर टकरारें, जिस्मो के झटपट लेन देन में उँची सी,
उधर घाव से रिस्ते फूंको, डोर गुज़रती आखें देखे रूखी सी,
लेकिन उसको लेके रंग बिरंगे, मालों में गुण जाई, शोती है
नशे में डूबे सहन से ख़ूँख़ार चुटकुलो की पैदाइश होती है
अधनंगे जिस्मो की देखो, लिपि पटी से लगी नुमाइश होती है,
लार टपकते चेहरो को कुछ शैतानी करने की ख्वाहिश होती है,
वो पूछे है हैरान होकर ऐसा सब कुछ होता है कब,
वो बतालो तो उनको ऐसा तब तब तब तब होता है
तब शहर हमारा सोता है, तब शहर हमारा सोता है
तब शहर हमारा सोता है, तब शहर हमारा सोता है

-- Kalingaa...

Your Eyes (तुम्हारी आखें)...

दिल की हर बात बता देती हैं आखें
धड़कनों को जगा देती हैं आखें

दिल पे चलता नहीं है जादू चेहरों का कभी
दिल के हट ज़ज़्बात को छू लेती हैं आखें

वो हमसे हर शब्द हर बात छुपाने की खता करते हैं
हाल सारा उनके दिल का, बता देती हैं आखें

गम सदा रहता नहीं किसी के पास हमेशा
अश्क़ बनकर कभी छलका भी देती हैं आखें

आता है जब कोई अनदेखा अंजाना सा ख्वाबों में
एक सपने का आशियाना बसा लेती हैं आखें

मान भी लें की नींद आती है आखों के रास्ते
मगर इश्क़ में नींद उड़ा देती है हमारी आखें

शुक्र है खुदा का कि उसने इश्क़ की नेमत दी
अब जुदाई के दर्द और गम को भी संजोती हैं आखें

रूपाली के दिल की हर बात बता देती हैं आखें
कलिंग की धड़कनों को जगा देती हैं आखें
उनकी हर याद, हर कसक को दिखाती हैं आखें

-- Kalingaa...

The forgotten stanzas of Jana, Gana, Mana

Original Article on NDTV.com

Many of us do not know that our national anthem was only one of the five stanzas, composed and penned by Rabindranath Tagore. Below are the five stanzas in their entirety - the original Bengali version coming first; followed by its English translation.           

Stanza 1:    

Jano Gano Mano Adhinaayako Jayo Hey, Bhaarato Bhaagyo Bidhaataa
Oh! The ruler of the minds of people, Victory be to You, dispenser of the destiny of India!

Panjaabo Sindhu Gujaraato Maraathaa, Draabiro Utkalo Bango
Punjab, Sindh, Gujarat, Maharashtra, Dravida (South India), Orissa, and Bengal,

Bindhyo Himaachalo Jamunaa Gangaa, Uchchhalo Jalodhi Tarango
The Vindhya, the Himalayas, the Yamuna, the Ganges, and the oceans with foaming waves all around

Tabo Shubho Naamey Jaagey, Tabo Shubho Aashisho Maagey
Wake up listening to your auspicious name, ask for your auspicious blessings,

Gaahey Tabo Jayogaathaa
And sing to your glorious victory.

Jano Gano Mangalo Daayako, Jayo Hey Bhaarato Bhaagyo Bidhaataa
Oh! You who impart well being to the people! Victory be to you, dispenser of the destiny of India!

Jayo Hey, Jayo Hey, Jayo Hey, Jayo Jayo Jayo, Jayo Hey   
Victory to you, Victory to you, Victory to you, Victory, victory, victory, victory to you!


Stanza 2:   

Ohoroho Tobo Aahbaano Prachaarito,Shuni Tabo Udaaro Baani
Your call is announced continuously, we heed your gracious call

Hindu Bauddho Shikho Jaino,Parashiko Musholmaano Christaani
The Hindus, Buddhists, Sikhs, Jains, Parsis, Muslims and Christians,

Purabo Pashchimo Aashey,Tabo Singhaasano Paashey
The east and the west come, to the side of your throne

Premohaaro Hawye Gaanthaa
And weave the garland of love

Jano Gano Oikyo Bidhaayako Jayo Hey,Bhaarato Bhaagyo Bidhaataa
Oh! You who bring in the unity of the people!

Jayo Hey, Jayo Hey, Jayo Hey,Jayo Jayo Jayo, Jayo Hey
Victory be to you, dispenser of the destiny of India!
   
Stanza 3:
   
Potono Abhbhudoy Bandhuro Ponthaa, Jugo Jugo Dhaabito Jaatri
The way of life is somber, as it moves through ups and downs. But we, the pilgrims, have followed it through the ages.

Hey Chiro Saarothi, Tabo Ratha Chakrey Mukhorito Potho Dino Raatri
Oh! Eternal charioteer, the wheels of your chariot echo day and night in the path

Daaruno Biplabo Maajhey,Tabo Shankhodhwoni Bajey
In the midst of fierce revolution, your conch shell sounds.

Sankato Dukkho Traataa
You save us from fear and misery

Jano Gano Potho Parichaayako,Jayo Hey Bhaarato Bhaagyo Bidhaataa
Oh! You who guide the people through tortuous path...

Jayo Hey, Jayo Hey, Jayo Hey,Jayo Jayo Jayo, Jayo Hey
Victory be to you, dispenser of the destiny of India!

Stanza 4:   

Ghoro Timiro Ghono Nibiro,Nishithey Peerito Murchhito Deshey
During the bleakest of nights, when the whole country was sick and in swoon

Jagrato Chhilo Tabo Abicholo Mangalo,Noto Nayoney Animeshey
Wakeful remained Your incessant blessings, through your lowered but winkless eyes

Duhswapney Aatankey,Rokkhaa Koriley Ankey Snehamoyi Tumi Maataaa
Through nightmares and fears, you protected us on Your lap. Oh loving mother

Jano Gano Duhkho Trayako,Jayo Hey Bhaarato Bhaagyo Bidhaataa
Oh! You who have removed the misery of the people...

Jayo Hey, Jayo Hey, Jayo Hey,Jayo Jayo Jayo, Jayo Hey
Victory be to you, dispenser of the destiny of India!
   
Stanza 5:   

Raatri Prabhatilo Udilo Rabichhabi, Purbo Udayo Giri Bhaaley
The night is over, and the sun has risen over the hills of the eastern horizon.

Gaahey Bihangamo Punyo Samirano, Nabo Jibano Rasho Dhaley
The birds are singing, and a gentle auspicious breeze is pouring the elixir of new life.

Tabo Karunaaruno Ragey, Nidrito Bhaarato JageyTabo Chorone Noto Maatha
By the halo of your compassion, India that was asleep is now waking. On your feet we lay our heads.

Jayo Jayo Jayo Hey, Jayo Rajeshwaro, Bhaarato Bhaagyo Bidhaataa Jayo Hey, Jayo Hey, Jayo Hey,Jayo Jayo Jayo, Jayo Hey   
Victory, victory, victory be to you, the supreme king, the dispenser of the destiny of India!

 -- Kalingaa...

60 years of Independence and democracy

Written years ago by @ShashiTharoor, but still one of the best columns on Indian democracy I've ever read

By Shashi Tharoor
Weekly Column “Shashi on Sunday” in “The Times of India”
August 12, 2007

When Nehru died, an earthquake rocked New Delhi. Cynics waited for his survivors to fight over the spoils; few predicted the democracy Nehru had been so proud of would survive. But it did. India kept Nehru’s faith. There were no succession squabbles around his funeral pyre.

In three days’ time we will mark the 60th anniversary of our independence. It’s a historic moment for all sorts of reasons, not least of them being that many observers in 1947 doubted we would ever see that landmark. And who could blame them? The new nation was born on a subcontinent wracked with violence, ripped apart by a bloody Partition. Independent India came into being as flames blazed across the land, corpse-laden trains crossed the new frontier with Pakistan, and weary refugees abandoned everything they had ever had to seek the hope of a new life. Circumstances less propitious for a fledgling nation could scarcely have been imagined.

Yet six decades later, the country that emerged from the wreckage of the British Raj is the world’s largest democracy, poised after years of rapid economic growth to take its place as one of the giants of the 21st century. An India whose very survival seemed in doubt during the conflagration of 1947 offers lessons in democracy-building that the rest of the world would do well to heed.
The odds against constructing a working democracy in India were great indeed in 1947. With a million dead, 13 million displaced, billions of rupees worth of property damaged, and the wounds of communal violence still bleeding — not to mention the challenges of administering a country newly freed from colonial rule, integrating the princely states and reorganising the divided armed forces — India’s leaders could have been forgiven for demanding dictatorial powers. Indeed, in many developing countries, nationalist leaders were to make precisely that argument, saying only autocratic rule could weld a post-colonial shambles together into a modern state, and claiming that the divisions engendered by democracy would only impede development.

Fortunately for India, our leaders were greater men than that. With the Mahatma’s assassination six months after Independence, Jawaharlal Nehru had no serious rival for power; the only credible alternative, Sardar Patel, died in 1950. But instead of seizing absolute power or embarking on autocratic rule, Nehru consciously went the other way. He himself was such a convinced democrat that, at the crest of his rise in the 1930s, he authored an anonymous article in the Modern Review warning Indians of the dangers of giving dictatorial temptations to Jawaharlal Nehru. “He must be checked,” he wrote of himself. “We want no Caesars.” And indeed, his practice when challenged within his own party was to offer his resignation; he usually got his way, but it was hardly the instinct of a Caesar.
As prime minister, Nehru spent a political lifetime trying to instil the habits of democracy in his people — a disdain for dictators, a respect for parliamentary procedures, an abiding faith in the constitutional system. He carefully nurtured the country’s infant democratic institutions, paying deference to the country’s ceremonial presidency and even to the largely otiose vice-presidency; he never let the public forget that these notables outranked him in protocol terms. He wrote regular letters to the chief ministers of the states, explaining his policies and seeking their feedback. He subjected himself to cross-examination in Parliament by the small, fractious but undoubtedly talented Opposition, allowing them an importance out of all proportion to their numerical strength, because he was convinced that a strong opposition was essential for a healthy democracy. And he obliged his ministers and civil servants to be just as respectful to Parliament.
That was not all. Nehru took care not to interfere with the judicial system; on the one occasion that he publicly criticized a judge at a press conference, he apologized the next day to the individual and wrote an abject letter to the Chief Justice of India, regretting having slighted the judiciary. And he never forgot that he derived his authority from the people of India; not only was he astonishingly accessible for a person in his position, but he started the practice of offering a daily darshan at home for an hour each morning to anyone coming in off the street without an appointment, a practice that continued until the dictates of security finally overcame the populism of his successors.

During the 17 years of his prime ministership, Nehru got India accustomed to such attitudes and conduct. By his speeches, his exhortations, and above all by his own personal example, he imparted to the institutions and processes of democracy a dignity that placed it above challenge from would-be tyrants. Democratic values became so entrenched that when, of all people, his own daughter Indira suspended India’s freedoms with a State of Emergency for 22 months, she felt compelled to return to the Indian people for vindication, held a free election and comprehensively lost it.

When Nehru died, an earthquake rocked New Delhi. Cynics (at home and abroad) waited for his survivors to fight over the spoils; few predicted the democracy Nehru had been so proud of would survive. But it did. India kept Nehru’s faith. There were no succession squabbles around his funeral pyre. Lal Bahadur Shastri, a modest figure of unimpeachable integrity and considerable political and administrative acumen, was elected India’s second prime minister. The Indian people wept, and moved on. A year earlier, Welles HangeAn had written a celebrated book titled After Nehru Who? Eleven prime ministers later, that kind of question is not even raised. Indian democracy will always find someone.

The American editor Norman Cousins once asked Jawaharlal Nehru what he hoped his legacy to India would be. “Four hundred million people capable of governing themselves,” Nehru replied. The numbers have grown, but a billion Indians have demonstrated repeatedly to the world how completely they have absorbed his legacy. Forty-three years after Nehru’s death, that offers our nation, this August 15th, one more cause for celebration.

Hopes are still Alive...

इस ज़माने में ना कोई हम शिकवा रखेंगे
दिल लगाएँगे मगर वफ़ा की शर्त ना रखेंगे

ना ही दिखाएँगे कभी दिल पे लगे ज़ख़्म
तूफान उठेगा दिल में तो हम दबा ही देंगे

सब हटा देंगे तेरी राह की रुकावटें हमदम
दिल के दरवाज़े हर वक़्त खुला रखेंगे हमदम

आपकी हर बात को भूले ना भूलेंगे कभी
सीने से लगाकर रखेंगे उनकी यादें सभी

टूट भी जाएगी उम्मीदें जो तेरे आने की 'रूपाली'
एक दिया फिर भी मंझधार में जला के रखेंगे

-- Kalingaa...

ख़त्म हुआ तारों का राग, जाग मुसाफ़िर अब तो जाग....
ये नगरी अँधियारी है, इस नगरी से जल्दी भाग....

लगता है....

कहीं-कहीं से हर चेहरा तुम जैसा लगता है
तुम को भूल न पायेंगे हम, ऐसा लगता है

ऐसा भी इक रंग है जो करता है बातें भी
जो भी इसको पहन ले वो अपना-सा लगता है

तुम क्या बिछड़े भूल गये रिश्तों की शराफ़त हम
जो भी मिलता है कुछ दिन ही अच्छा लगता है

अब भी यूँ मिलते हैं हमसे फूल चमेली के
जैसे इनसे अपना कोई रिश्ता लगता है

और तो सब कुछ ठीक है लेकिन कभी-कभी यूँ ही
चलता-फिरता शहर अचानक तनहा लगता है

Ishq Bada Sangdil...

Nice Lyrics from this song in 'Ashiqui.in' movie

इश्क़ से जिस ने इश्क़ किया है
इश्क़ उसी का क़ातिल है
इश्क़ की राह में जो भी चले
उस को ना मिली कभी मंज़िल है

इश्क़ में मरना आसान है
जीना बड़ा ही मुश्किल है
इश्क़ में मरना आसान है
जीना बड़ा ही मुश्किल है
आँसू आहें जागना तड़पना
इश्क़ में ये सब हासिल है
इश्क़ से जिस ने इश्क़ किया
इश्क़ उसी का क़ातिल है
इश्क़ बरा ही संगदिल है
ये इश्क़ बरा ही संगदिल है

वादें भूले क़स्में तोड़े
बीच भंवर में ला के तोड़े
अपना जिस को माने ये दिल
बन के पराया हुआ मोरे
सदियों पुरानी है ये रिवायत
ये ना यक़ीन के क़ाबिल है

इश्क़ बड़ा ही संगदिल है
ये इश्क़ बड़ा ही संगदिल है

इश्क़ से जिस ने इश्क़ किया है
इश्क़ उसी का क़ातिल है
इश्क़ की राह में जो भी चले
उस को ना मिली कभी मंज़िल है

पल दो पल की खुशियाँ लाए
सारी उमर का गम दे जाएँ
सात समंदर से ना बुझे जो
ऐसी लगी इस दिल में लगाएँ
इश्क़ से कोई ना इश्क़ करे
बात कही जो बिस्मिल है

इश्क़ बरा ही संगदिल है
ये इश्क़ बरा ही संगदिल है

-- Kalingaa...