कोई उतार दे मुझे तुम्हारी आँखों में,

बस तुम्हारे सोने से पहले;

तुम्हारी बंद पलकों के नीचे,

तुम्हारे साथ, कैद रह जाऊँगा रात भर :)

Do u thnk such images shud b publshd or shown by media?do respond..

delhi n its kids

Sure does...

Ek Shaam Ismat Aapa Ke Naam

Went to see dis play yesterday. A tribute to the rebellious Urdu writer, Ismat Chughtai.
Presented three of her stories. One of them was Saas (I had forgotten the names of the other two by the time the first one's presentation was over..hope 2 google em out soon and include here)

A good presentation, and an evening well-spent, i must say. Deepak observed that this was far better than watching Race. I think he ought to have been a little more judicious with his comment. Cos Race was trash. It was nothing in comparison to a good play. It was nothing in comparison to anything. Heck, it WAS nothing. Period. But its ok deepak, mai teri bhawnaayen samajh gaya.

The play brought back memories of college days, in more ways than one. We had been introduced to Chughtai, like several other literary greats, during college. It was a short-story, Lihaaf (The Quilt), and the most sensational one of our entire three year course, for us boys at least. (oh come on, i m just being honest! It was on lesbianism, for heaven's sake!)

The stage, the actors, the sutradhaars, the song and dance. Everything was reminiscent of our own "acting days". Of course, the wind of the thought "why did i not choose this field" ruffled my inspired-by-the-moment-mind several times.

Disillusioned

if i bang my fist in d wall,
wud it dent arjun singh's chin?
even if it did,
with the help of some voo-doo,
wat help wud dat be
to the issue at hand?

but dats wat i m doing,
cos i kno that protests are ineffective,
and rallies are such a sham,
petitions are mere formality,
and movements are always a failure.

i wud prefer sighing at injustice,
and saying "this must stop,
i wud be told y dont u do smthng,
n i wl say "deres no point".
a colleague would crack a joke,
and i wud laugh,
close the newspaper report on the agitation,
pack my bags, go home,
and d next day wud be d same.

why? u ask, cant it be any dfrnt?
and i tell you, "u r such an idealist, my frend.
not me, i'm 'disillusioned'."