IMMORTAL GHAZALS OF SHAKEEL BADAYUNI – PART III

This post is in continuation of my ‘Immortal Ghazals of Shakeel Badayuni – Part I’ and ‘Immortal Ghazals of Shakeel Badayuni – Part II’.

On the 10th of January this year I started a Facebook group ‘Main Shayar To Nahin’ primarily to air my devotion for him and some other Urdu poets. I regularly put up Shakeel’s poetry with meanings so that more and more people can savour his excellence. I call him the King of Irony since no one can write irony better than he did. Just one example:

Na milata gham to barbaadi ke afsaane kahan jaate?
If there was to be no sorrow, where would odes of ruin find a place
Agar duniya chaman hoti to veeraane kahan jaate?
If the world would be just a garden, where would deserts find a place
Chalo achha hua apano mein koi gair to nikala,
It is good that amongst own people there was an outsider too
Agar hote sabhi apane to begaane kahan jaate?
If all people were your own (in the world) where would strangers find a place

My blog already has a number of articles on Shakeel Badayuni (‘Shakeel Badayuni – The King Amongst Lyricist And Poets – Part I’; ‘Shakeel Badayuni – The King Amongst Lyricist And Poets – Part II’, ‘The Best Of Old Hindi Songs – Rafi, Shakeel, Naushad And Dilip Kumar Together’, and ‘Another Tribute To Shakeel Badayuni In The Month Of His Death Anniversary’)

We were a slave nation for 31 years of his 53 that he walked on this earth. All his contemporaries wrote about social inequalities, poverty, slavery and the like. Shakeel wrote about Love, Mohabbat, Ishq, Wafa, Ulfat; it is as if he lived in a different world. In addition, his god faring nature ensured that he also wrote the finest Bhajans in Hindi movies.

SHAKEEL_1959405gLets restart the journey into his Ghazals:

Ghazal #31

A RARE HAPPY GHAZAL BY SHAKEEL (He says so in the ghazal)

BAHAAR AAYI KISI KA SAAMANA KARNE KA WAQT AAYA

Bahaar aayi kisi ka saamana karne ka waqt aaya,
Sambhal ai dil ki izhaar-e-wafa karne ka waqt aaya.

Unhen aamaada-e-mehr-o-wafa karne ka waqt aaya,
Badi muddat se arz-e-mudda.aa karne ka waqt aaya.
(Aamaada-e-mehr-o-wafa=bent on love and loyalty; Arz-e-mudda.aa=expression of desire)

Ravaan hain apne markaz ki taraf aasuudaa umiiden,
Hujuum-e-yaas ko dil se judaa karne ka waqt aaya.
(Ravaan=moving/active; Markaz=centre; Aasuudaa=satisfied/contented; Hujuum-e-yaas=mob of despair)

Phir ik gum-karda raah ko mil gayi manzil,
Sujuud-e-shukr-e-be-panaah adaa karne ka waqt aaya.
(Gum-karda=lost/missing; Sujuud-e-shukr-e-be-panaah=touching forehead on ground in prayer to offer infinite thanks)

Kabhi doori thi lekin ab khayaal-e-khauf doori hai,
Fughaan ki saa.aten guzri duaa karne ka waqt aaya.
(Khayaal-e-khauf=thought of fear; Fughaan=cry of pain or distress; saa.aten= moments)

Kahaan par khatam rehta darmiyaan par dil ka afsaana,
Bil-aakhir darmiyan se ibtidaa karne ka waqt aaya.
(Darmiyaan=middle/during; Bil-aakhir=at last; Ibtidaa=beginning)

Har ik jurm-e-mohabbat is nigaah-e-lutf ke sadqe,
Naved-e-aafiyat le kar khataa karne ka waqt aaya.
(Jurm-e-mohabbat=crime of love; Nigaah-e-lutf=look of love; Naved-e-aafiyat=good news of well being; Khata=mistake)

Nigaah o dil se ab tafseer-o-sharh-e-aarzoo hogi,
Zabaan o lab se tark -e-iltijaa karne ka waqt aaya.
(Tafseer-o-sharh-e-aarzoo=interpretation of desire; Tark-e-iltijaa=renouncing request)

Woh aate hain Shakeel ab apne dil se haath do baitho,
Nigaah-e-naaz ki keemat adaa karne ka waqt aaya.
(Nigaah-e-naaz=look of love)

Ghazal #32

ZAMEEN PE FASL-E-GUL AAYI FALAK PE MAAHTAAB AAYA
(A very beautiful Ghazal*)

Zamii.n pe fasl-e-gul aa_ii falak par maahataab aayaa
Spring season arrived on Earth, Moon rose in the sky
Sabhii aaye magar ko_ii na shaayaan-e-shabaab aayaa
All came but none befitting your youth
[Fasl-e-gul=spring season; Falak=sky; Maahataab=moon; Shaayaan=befitting/suitable; Shabaab=youth]

Meraa Khat pa.Dh ke bole naamaabar se jaa Khudaa_haafiz
After reading my epistle she told the messenger, go, good-bye
Javaab aayaa merii qismat se lekin laajavaab aayaa
Her reply arrived (through the messenger) but it silenced me
[Khat=letter; Naamaabar=messenger/letter carrier; Javaab=reply:
Khudaa_haafiz=farewell/goodbye; Laajavaab=matchless/silenced]

Ujaale garmii-e-raftaar kaa hii saath dete hai.n
Light accompanies only fast motion
Baseraa thaa jahaa.N apanaa vahii.n tak aaftaab aayaa
Sun arrived only up to my abode
[Garmii-e-raftaar=fast motion; Baseraa=abode; Aaftaab=Sun]

“Shakeel” apane mazaaq-e-diid kii takamiil kyaa hotii
Shakeel, how could appreciation of seeing her be completed
Idhar nazaro.n ne himmat kii udhar ruKh par naqaab aayaa
Here my eyes emboldened to see her, but she hid her face in a veil
[Mazaaq=good taste/appreciation; Diid=seeing/sight; Takamiil=completion; ruKh=face; naqaab=veil]

(*A Ghazal traditionally deals with just one subject: love; specifically an unconditional and superior love. The ghazal is always written from the point of view of the unrequited lover whose beloved is portrayed as unattainable. Most often either the beloved does not return the poet’s love or returns it without sincerity, or else the societal circumstances do not allow it. The lover is aware and resigned to this fate but continues loving nonetheless; the lyrical impetus of the poem derives from this tension)

Ghazal #33

GHAZAL KYAA HAI?

Abhi taq maine Shakeel ki 32 ghazalen aap ki nazar ki hain. Ab tetisviin pesh-e-khidmat hai.

Iss se pehle ki main nawazish karun, main bataana chahata hoon mujhe Ghazal mein kyaa dikhta hai:

Buniyadi taur pe nazam, she.r, ghazal Jazbaat ke Alfaaz hain. Ghazal to sarasar Pyaar, Ishq, Mohabbat ka andaaz hai, agarche ye pyaar, ishq, mohabbat kisi aadmi ya aurat se hi nahin, Allah ya khuda se bhi ho sakati hai. Gham, khushi, beqaraari, bekasi, havas, tanhaai, afsurdgi yaa aur koi bhi jazbaat jaise ki inteqqaam, in sab ki jadh Ghazal mein pyaar ya ishq ke illawa kuchh bhi nahin.

Yaqeenan, Wikipedia mein bayaan kiya hai: “Most ghazal scholars today recognise that some ghazal couplets are exclusively about Divine Love (ishq-e-haqiqi), others are about earthly love (ishq-majazi), but many of them can be interpreted in either context.”

Ghazal kaa ishq se talaaq hona, mere liye qatal-e-aam hai. Zamaana, log, majlis aur awaam ko ghazal mein sirf ishq ke taluq mein laaya ja sakta hai.

Ek ghazal ka namuuna nazar andaz hai:

Unako ye shikaayat hai ki ham kuchh nahin kehte,
Apani to ye aadat hai ki ham kuchh nahin kehte,

Kuchh kehne pe toofaan utha leti hai duniya,
Ab isape qayamat hai ke ham kuchh nahin kehte.

Yahan poori ghazal mein ishq ki wazaahat nahin. Phir bhi ishq hi isaki ibtidaa hai. Urdu shaa’ir aksar apane ishq mein zamaane ko shaamil kar lete the. Misaal ke taur pe:

Kis kis ko sunaayenge judaai ka sabab ham,
Tu mujhase khafa hai to zamaane ke liye aa!

Shaa’ir to ishq mein chand sitaaron ko bhi shaamil kar lete the par Ghazal ka vaasta phir bhi ishq se hi raha hai.

TUM NE YE KYAA SITAM KIYAA

Pesh karta hoon Shakeel Badayuni janaab ki ek aur Ghazal, jisaki bunayad bhi ishq hai:

Tum ne ye kyaa sitam kiyaa zabt se kaam le liya,
What outrage you committed, you used restraint,
Tarq-e-wafa ke baad bhi mera salaam le liya
Even after the end of faithfulness you accepted my salutation.
(Sitam=outrage; Zabt=restraint; Tark-e-wafa=end of faithfulness)

Rind-e-kharaab-nosh ki be-adabii to dekhiye,
Have a look at the lack of respect of the excessive drinker,
Niyyat-e-mai-kashii na kii haath mein jaam le liya.
He took a goblet in his hand even with no intention of drinking.
(Rind-e-kharaab-nosh=excessive or bad drinker; Be-adabii=lack of respect; Niyyat-e-mau-kashii=intention of drinking)

Haay vo paikar–hawas, haay vo khugar-e-qafas,
Alas that appearance of lust, alas that habit of being encaged,
Bech ke jis ne aashiyaan halqa-e-daam le liya
The one who sold his nest and bought hoops of a net.
(Paikar-e-hawas=appearance or form of lust; Khugar-e-qafas=habituated to cage; Aashiyaan=nest; Hakqa-e-daam=loops or hoops of nest)

Baadaa-kushaan-e-ishq ko kuchh to milaa paa.e sukoon
Some peace or repose wine-makers of love may get,
Husn-e-sahar na le sake jalwa-e-shaam le liya
They couldn’t get the beauty of morning but obtained splendour of evening.
(Vaadaa-kushaan-e-ishq=wine makers of love)

Naama-e-shauq padh ke vo kho gaye yak-ba-yak Shakeel,
Upon reading my love letter she was suddenly lost in thought, Shakeel,
Moonh se to kuchh na keh sake dil se payaam le liya.
She couldn’t respond with her voice but took a message with her heart.
(Naama-e-shauq=love letter)

Ise Talat Mahmood ne bahut khoobsurati se gaaya hai:

https://youtube.com/watch?v=8q7Orziten4%3F

Ghazal #34

This is a very beautiful ghazal by him; and once again will provide you with an understanding of what Shakeel’s poetry means to me.

Please enjoy:

AAJ PHIR GARDISH-E-TAQDIR PE RONA AAYA

Aaj phir gardish-e-taqdeer pe rona aaya
Dil ki bigadii huii tasveer pe rona aaya
Today again I cried at the movement (gardish) of fate (taqdeer)
I cried looking at the marred picture of my heart.

Ishq ki qaid mein ab taq to ummiidon pe jiye
Mit gayi aas to zanjeer pe rona aaya
In the prison of love I lived on hopes so far
As the hopes shattered, the chains made me cry

Kyaa haseen khwaab mohabbat ne dikhaya tha hamen
Khul gayi aankh to taabeer pe rona aaya
What a beautiful dream Love showed me
As soon as my eyes opened, I cried about the ‘meaning (or interpretation) of the dream’ (taabeer)

Pehle qasid ki nazar dekh ke dil seham gaya
Phir teri surkhi-e-tahreer pe rona aaya
First I was stunned/shocked (seham gaya) looking at the eye of the messenger (qasid)
Then I cried looking at the headlines of your writing (teri surkhi-e-tahreer)

Dil ganvaa kar bhi mohabbat ke maze mil na sake
Apani khoyi huii taqdeer pe rona aaya
I lost my heart and still couldn’t win the joys of Love
I cried at my destiny (taqdeer) that I lost.

Kitne masruur the jeene ki duaa.on pe Shakeel
Jab mile ranj to taaseer pe rona aaya
How delighted/cheerful (masruur) I was about the prayers for my life, Shakeel
When I got grief (ranj), I cried at the effect/influence (of the prayers)

Ghazal #35

Another beautiful ghazal:

AB TO KHUSHI KA GHAM HAI NA GHAM KI KHUSHI MUJHE

Ab to khushi ka gham hai na gham ki khushi mujhe;
Be-his bana chuki hai bahut zindagi mujhe.
Now, I neither lament happiness, nor rejoice in sorrow,
Life has made me very senseless (be-his).

Vo waqt bhi khuda ne dikhaya kabhi mujhe;
Un ki nadaamton pe ho sharmindagi mujhe.
God has shown me that time too
When I feel ashamed of her regrets (nadaamton)

Rone pe apne un ko bhi afsurda dekh kar,
Yuun ban raha hoon jaise aayi hansi mujhe.
To see her depressed (afsurdaa) on my crying,
I am making it up as if I am about to break into laughter

Rakha hai tishna-kaam to saaqi bas ik nazar,
Sairaab kar na de meri tishna-labii mujhe.
You have kept me thirsty (tishna-kaam), but my wine server, just look,
My parched lips (tishna-labbi) may not leave me fulfilled (sairaab)

Paaya hai sab ne dil magar is dil ke bavaaajuud,
Ik shai mili hai dil mein khatakti hui mujhe.
Everyone has a heart, but despite this heart,
I found a thing (shai) in my heart that is like an obstacle.

Raazi hon ya khafaa hon vo jo kuchh bhi hon Shakeel,
Har haal mein qubuul hai un ki khushii mujhe.
She may be contented or angry, in whatever mood it may be, Shakeel,
In every way I accept her happiness.

Ghazal #36

Here is the 36th ghazal of Shakeel Badayuni with meanings.

This is, like all ghazals, about Love but see the andaz!

Please enjoy:

ABHI JAZBA-E-SHAUQ KAMIL NAHIN HAI

Abhi jazba-e-shauq kamil nahin hai
Ki begana-e-aarzu dil nahin hai
(Emotion of love is not yet complete
My heart is not (fully) ignorant of desire)
(Jazba-e-shauq=Emotion of love; Kamil=Perfect or complete; Begana-e-aarzu=Ignorant of desire)

Koi parda-e-raaz haa.il nahin hai
Sitam hai vo phir bhi muqabil nahin hai
(Some veil of secrecy is there but it is not a hindrance
It is an oppression but still not a confrontation)
(Parda-e-raaz=Veil of secrecy; Haa.il=Hindrance; Sitam=Oppression; Muqabil=Confrontation)

Sar aankhon pe nairangi-e-bazm-e-aalam
Jise KHauf-e-gham ho ye vo dil nahin hai
(I honour the bewitching deception of the world
(But) my heart is not the one that fears sorrow)
(Beautiful couplet indeed!)
(Sar aankhon pe=To accept with respect; Nairangi-e-bazm-e-aalam=Bewitching art, deception of world; KHauf-e-gham=Fear of sorrow)

Masarrat-ba-daman huun sailab-e-gham mein
Koi mauj mahrum-e-sahil nahin hai
(In the flood of grief, I find happiness in (her) hem
It is not some wave that is deprived of shore)
(Masarrat-ba-daman=Happiness in hem; Sailab-e-gham=Flood of grief; Mauj=Wave; Mahrum-e-sahil=Deprived of shore)

Mohabbat se bach kar kahan jaayega
Talatum hai aghosh-e-sahil nahin hai
(The most beautiful couplet in this ghazal!)
(Where will you go saving yourself from Love?
It is a sea-storm and not the embrace of shore)
(Talatum=Sea storm or upheaval; Aghosh-e-sahil=Embrace of shore)

Woh kis naaz o andaz se keh rahe hain
Shakeel ab mohabbat ke qabil nahin hai
(With what pride and style she is saying:
Shakeel is now not deserving of Love)
(Naaz=Pride; Andaz=Manner)

Ghazal #37

Lest anyone should feel I have given up or even paused my fascination for Shakeel’s poetry, here is his 37th (a long one at that) after I gave his 36th on 16 June: Abhi jazba-e-shauk kamil nahin hai.

Please enjoy: BAS EK NIGAH-E-KARAM HAI KAAFI

Bas ik nigaah-e-karam hai kaafii agar u.nhe.n pesh-o-pas nahii.n hai
Zaahe tamannaa kii merii fitarat asiir-e-hirs-o-havas nahii.n hai
Her kind glance (nigaah-e-karam) is sufficient if she has no hesitation (pesh-o-pas)
My nature (fitrat) is not prisoner of greed and lust (asiir-e-hirs-o-havas) of the bow string (Zahe) of desire (tamanna)

Nazar se sayyaad duur ho jaa yahaa.N teraa mujh pe bas nahii.n hai
chaman ko barbaad karanevaale ye aashiyaa.N hai qafas nahii.n hai
O hunter (sayyad) go away from glance, here you have no control over me
O ye who has destroyed the garden (chaman), this is a nest (aashiyaa.N) and not a cage.

Kisii ke jalve ta.Dap rahe hai.n huduud-e-hosh-o-Khirad ke aage
huduud-e-hosh-o-Khirad ke aage nigaah ke dastaras nahii.n hai
Someone’s splendour (jalve) is agitating beyond the limit of consciousness and reason (huduud-o-hosh-o-Khirad)
Beyond the limit of consciousness and reason there is no reach (dastaras) of the eye (nigaah)

Jahaa.N kii nayarangiiyo.n se yaksar badal ga_ii aashiyaa.N kii suurat
Qafas samajhatii hai.n jin ko nazare.n vo dar-haqiiqat qafas nahii.n hai
Worldly deceptions (narangiiyo.n) have entirely (yaksar) changed the face (suurat) of the nest (aashitaa.N
One that the glance (nazare.n) held as cage (Qafas) is in actuality (dar-haqiiqat) not a cage

Kahaa.N ke naale kahaa.N kii aahe.n jamii hai.n un kii taraf nigaahe.n
Kuchh is qadar mahv-e-yaad huu.N mai.n ki fursat-e-yak-nafas nahii.n hai
No time for complaints (naale), no time for sighs (aahe.n), my eyes are fixed in her direction
I am absorbed in memory (mahv-e-yaad) in such a way that I don’t have the leisure for breathing (fursat-e-yak-nafas)

Qusuur hai ishrat-e-guzishtaa kaa husn-e-taasiir allaah allaah
Vahii fazaaye.N vahii havaaye.N chaman se kuchh kam qafas nahii.n hai
Guilt (qusuur) is that of earlier pleasures (ishrat-e-guzishtaa) as effect of beauty (husn-e-taasiir), by God,
Same weather (fazaaye.N), same breeze (havaaye.N) are no less imprisoned (qafas) by the garden

Kisii ke be’etanaa_iyo.n ne badal hii Daalaa nizaam-e-gulashan
Jo baat pahale bahaar me.n thii vo baat ab ke baras nahii.n hai
Someone’s carelessnesses (be’etanaa_iyo.n) have changed the system of garden (nizaam-e-gulashan)
That thing that was earlier there in the spring (bahar), that thing is not there this year

Ye buu-e-sumbul, ye Khaa.ndaa gul aur aah! ye dard bharii sadaaye.N
Qafas ke a.ndar chaman ho shaayad chaman ke a.ndar qafas nahii.n hai
This smell of hyacinth, this smile of flower (Khaa.ndaa gul) and sigh! this painful voices (sadaaye.N)
Perhaps garden is inside the cage, but, cage is not within the garden

Na hosh-e-Khilvat na fikr-e-mahafil ayaa.N ho ab kis pe haalaat-e-dil
Mai.n aap hii apanaa ham-nafas huu.N meraa ko_ii ham-nafas nahii.n hai
There is neither sense of privacy (hosh-e-Khilvat) nor worry of assembly (fikr-e-mahafil), with whom should I make my heart’s condition (haalaat-e-dil) clear (ayaa.N)
I am my own friend (ham-nafas), no one is a friend of mine

Kare.n bhii kyaa shikavaa-e-zamaanaa kahe.n bhii kyaa dard kaa fasaanaa
Jahaa.N me.n hai.n laakh dushman-e-jaa.N ko_ii masiihaa nafas nahii.n hai
With whom should I complain about times (shikavaa-e-zamaanaa), with whom should I tell tale of pain (dard kaa fasaanaa)
The world has lakhs of enemies of heart (dushman-e-jaa.N), there is no messiah to revive the dead

Sunii hai ahal-e-junuu.N ne aksar Khaamoshii-e-marg kii sadaaye.N
Sunaa ye thaa kaaravaan-e-hastii rahiin-e-baa.ng-e-jaras nahii.n hai
The mad people (ahal-e-junuu.N) have often (aksar) heard the voices (sadaaye.N) of the silence of death (Khaamoshii-e-marg)
(They had) heard that caravan of life (kaaravaan-e-hastii) is not pledged to call of bells (rahiin-e-baa.ng-e-jaras)

Chaman kii aazaadiyaa.N muaKhKhar tasavvur-e-aashiyaa.N muqaddam
Gam-e-asiiriihai naa-mukammal agar Gam-e-Khaar-o-Khas nahii.n hai
Freedoms (aazaadiyaa.N) of garden (chaman) are above all (muqaddam) imagination of nest (tasavvur-e-aashiyaa.N)
Sorrow of imprisonment (Gam-e-asiirhai) is incomplete (naa-mukammal) if there is no sorrow of thorns and dry-grass (Gam-e-Khaar-o-khas)

Na kar mujhe sharmsaar naaseh mai.n dil se majabuur huu.N ki jis kaa
Hai yuu.N to kaun-o-makaa.N pe qaabuu magar muhabbat pe bas nahii.n hai
O adviser (naaseh), do not make me ashamed (sharmsaar) I am forced by heart (dil se majabuur) to say
That the one who has the whole world (kaun-o-makaa.N) under her power (qaabuu) but has no control over love

Kahaa.N vo ummiid-e- aamad-aamad kahaa.N ye iifaa_e ahad-e-fardaa
Jab aitabaar-e-nazar na thaa kuchh ab aitabaar-e-nafas nahii.n hai
Where is that hope of arrival (ummiid-e-aamad-aamad), where is that keeping of promise of tomorrow (iifaa_e ahad-e-fardaa)
Then there was no trust of glance (aitabaar-e-nazar), now there is no trust of breath (aitabaar-e-nafas)

Vahii.n hai.n naGme.n vahii hai naale sun ai mujhe bhuul jaane vaale
Terii sama’at se duur huu.N mai.n jabhii to naalo.n me.n ras nahii.n hai
The melodies (naGme.n) are still there, lamentations (naale) are still there, O you who has forgotten me
Whenever I am out of your hearing range (sama’at se duur), my lamentations have no quintessence (ras)

“Shakeel” duniyaa me.n jis ko dekhaa kuchh us kii duniyaa hii aur dekhii
Hazaar naqqaad-e-zindagii hai.n magar ko_ii nuktaaras nahii.n hai
Shakeel, I have seen them in the world, who have a different world
Thousands of critics of life (naqqaad-e-zindagi) are there, but, no one is perceptive of minute detail (nuktaaras)

Ghazal #38

I have explained several times my adoration of Shakeel Badayuni; I grew up listening to his ghazals and songs and they made an indelible mark on my consciousness. Hence, out of 60 Ghazals and Nazams that I have put up in the group Main Shayar To Nahin (not including 32 of my own), 38 of them happen to be Shakeel’s.

Here is a short one of his that was sung by Talat Mehmood:

RAUSHNI SAYA-E-ZULMAT SE AAGE NA BADHI

Raushni saya-e-zulmat se aage na badhi,
Zindagi shama ki ik raat se aage na badhi.
Light did not proceed beyond the shadow of darkness (saya-e-zulmat)
Life didn’t proceed beyond one night of the candle (shama)

Apni hasti ka bhi insaan ko irfaan na huaa,
Khaak phir khaak thi auqaat ke aage na badhi.
Human being had no enlightenment (irfaan) about own existence (hasti)
Dust was just dust, it didn’t go beyond its limit/boundary.

Naam badnaam huaa sinf-e-ghazal ka lekin
Shairi rasm-o-rivayat se aage na badhi.
Form of Ghazal earned a bad name, but,
Shairi didn’t proceed beyond custom (rasm) and tradition (rivayat)

Be-takalluf hui tajdid-e-mulaqaat magar,
Woh bhi ik tishna mulaqaat se aage na badhi.
The novelty of meeting (tajdid-e-mulaqaat) came down to informality (be-takalluf), however,
That too didn’t go beyond the thirsty (tishna) meeting.

Zulf-bar-dosh woh ik baar to aaye, Shakeel,
Phir koi raat bhi us raat se aage na badhi.
Tresses on shoulders (Zulf-bar-dosh) she at least visited once, Shakeel,
Then, no night (ever) went beyond that night.

Ghazal #39

My adoration appears to be tapering off! It had been 11 days since I put up his 38th: RAUSHNI SAYA-E-ZULMAT SE AAGE NA BADHI on the group Main Shayar To Nahin.

By the way, I was only 16 when Shakeel died; three years before joining the Navy. And yet, witness the strong influence!

Please enjoy: MUJH KO SAAQI NE JO RUKHSAT KIYA MAIKHAANE SE

Mujh ko saaqi ne jo rukhsat kiya maikhaane se,
Khud mai-e-naab chhalakane lagi paimaane se.
As the bar-woman dismissed me from the tavern,
By itself neat alcohol (mai-e-naab) started swirling (or spilling) from the goblet.

Dekh kar haalat-e-dil unako taras aa hi gaya,
Wo bhi ghabra se gaye mere tadap jaane se.
(At last) she took pity after seeing the condition of my heart,
She too was worried to see me wince.

Dete hain taana-e-asnaam-parasti mujh ko,
Sajda karte huye jo nikale hain maikhaane se.
They taunt me on my idolatry (asnaam-parasty)
But I have seen them leaving the tavern with heads bowed in prayer (for her) (sajda)

Aap ke jaate hi aabaad hui bazm – e – khayaal,
Ban gayi aur bhi taqdeer bigadh jaane se.
As soon as you departed, the assembly of imagination (bazm-e-khayal) became inhabited (aabaad)
Destiny became better as it got spoiled.

Mohatasib ab tujhe tauba ka yakeen ho ke na ho,
Ham to takra chuke paimaane ko paimaane se.
Law officer (Mohatasib: magistrate), now you may or may not believe (my) penitence (tauba),
I have finished knocking goblet against goblet (meaning, saying “cheers”).

Apna ham-maslak o hamraaz kise kahiye Shakeel,
Nazar us bazm mein sab aate hain begaane se.
Who to call as belonging to same sect (ham-maslak) and confidante (hamraaz), Shakeel,
All in that assembly (bazm) appear to be strangers

Ghazal #40

Fortieth ghazal – the first one being ‘Kaise keh doon ke mulaqaat nahin hoti hai?’ on the day when the group Main Shayar To Nahin was formed, on 10th of January 2015 – and we cannot get over the beauty of his creations.

IK IK QADAM FAREB-E-TAMANNA SE BACH KE CHAL

Ik ik qadam fareb-e-tamanna se bach ke chal,
Duniya ki aarzu hai to duniya se bach ke chal.
Every step walk away from deception of desire (fareb-e-tamanna),
If you desire the world then walk away from the world.

Khud dhoond lega tujh ko tera munfarid maqaam,
Raah-e-talab mein naqsh-e-kaf-e-paa se bach ke chal
On its own your individualistic (munfarid) position (in life) (maqaam) will find you,
On the path of desire (Raah-e-talab) move clear of the footprints (of others).

Milti nahin hai raah-e-sukuun khauf o yaas mein,
Gulshan ki justuju hai to sahra se bach ke chal.
Path of peace of mind (raah-e-sukuun) cannot be found in fear (khauf) and despair (yaas),
If you have quest (justuju) for garden (Gulshan), you must walk clear of desert (sahra).

Munh jaada-e-wafa se na moD ai wafa-shi.ar,
Lekin huduud-e-chashm-e-tamasha se bach ke chal.
O faithful (wafa-shi.ar) don’t turn away from way of love (jaada-e-wafa),
But move away from the boundary or limit (huduud) of spectacles’ (tamasha) eyes (chashm) (meaning don’t turn away from love but from the confines of spectacles)

The next couplet is really very beautiful:

Kitani haseen hain un ke sitam ki masarraten,
Shukr-e-karam ki zahmat-e-be-ja se bach ke chal.
How beautiful (haseen) are the joys (masarraten) of her tyranny (sitam),
(But) Move away from the unnecessary inconvenience or trouble (zahmat-e-be-jaa) of gratitude of (her) kindness (shukr-e-karam) (meaning, whilst the joys of her tyranny are beautiful, you don’t have to go out of the way to express gratitude for her kindness!

Lamhen udaas udaas faza-en ghuti ghuti,
Duniya agar yahi hai to duniya se bach ke chal.
Moments are very sad, atmosphere is stifled,
If this is the world, then move away from the world.

The last one is a self-analysis and self-caution:

Apne adab pe naaz hai tujh ko agar Shakeel,
Maghrib-zada adiib ki duniya se bach ke chal.
Shakeel, if you have pride (naaz) in own literature (adab),
Then move away from the westernised literary world.

Ghazal #41

Love is not a reasoned emotion. When you fall in love, you don’t compare and rue the loss of others; you cling to the one you have fallen in love with. I wrote a complete essay on it in my blog about why certain songs, ghazals, poetry touch the chords of our heart.

Shakeel’s do that for me. It would have been different if I just ‘liked’ his poetry as I do of others. But, I am in love with his poetry!

Here is his 41st in this group made famous by Begum Akhtar and Peenaz Masani:

DUUR HAI MANZIL RAAHE.N MUSHKIL AALAM HAI TANHAAII KAA

Duur hai manzil raahe.n mushkil aalam hai tanahaa_ii kaa
Aaj mujhe ehasaas huaa hai apani shikastaapaa_ii kaa
Destination is far, ways are difficult, there is a world of loneliness,
Today, I have been made conscious of the the infirmity of my feet (shikastaah_paaii)

Dekh ke mujh ko duniyaaa vaale kahane lage hai.n diivaanaa
Aaj vahaa.N hai ishq jahaa.N kuchh Khauf nahii.n rusavaa_ii kaa
Upon seeing me the people of the world started saying I am crazy (in love)
Today, love is at a stage where there is no fear of stigma (rusavaa_ii)

Chho.D de.n rasm-e-Khud_nigarii ko to.D de.n apanaa iimaa.N
Khatm kiye detaa hai zaalim ruup terii a.nga.Daa_ii kaa
I should abandon the custom (rasm) of self description (Khud_nigarii), break my conscience or faith (iimaa.N)
The tyrant picture of your stretching in bed (a.nga.Daa_ii) destroys (me and my description)

Note: Peenaz Masani sings this as:
chho.D de rasm-e-Khud_nigarii ko chho.D de apanaa haath yahaa.N
Khaak kiye detaa hai zaalim ruup terii a.nga.Daa_ii kaa

Mai.n ne ziyaa husn ko baKhshii us kaa to ko_ii zikr nahii.n
Lekin ghar ghar me.n charchaa hai aaj terii raanaa_ii kaa
I lent splendour (ziyaa) to (your) beauty, there is no mention of that
But, everywhere there is talk of your radiance (raanaa_ii)

Ahal-e-havas ab ghabaraate hai.n Duub ke behar-e-Gam me.n “Shakeel”
Pahale na thaa bechaaro.n ko a.ndaazaa geharaa_ii kaa
People of lust or desire (ahal-e-havas) are now worried whilst drowning in the sea of sorrows (behar-e-Gam), Shakeel
Earlier the poor souls (bechaaro.n) had no estimate of the depth

I couldn’t locate the Peenaz Masani version. I am giving you Begum Akhtar version:

https://youtube.com/watch?v=PHwT0PF2c2E%3F

Greetings to everyone on the Birth Anniversary of Shakeel Badayuni on 03rd August.

Here is his Ghazal #42 on this auspicious day that in a way tell us what his life and poetry are all about.

Please enjoy: KABHII ISHQ KAA TAQAAZA KABHI HUSN KE ISHAARE

Kahii.n ishq kaa taqaazaa kahii.n husn ke ishaare
Na bachaa sake.nge daaman Gam-e-zi.ndagii ke maare
Somewhere there is demand (taqaazaa) of Love, at others there are gestures of Beauty
You won’t be able to save the hem of your dress from the sorrow of life

Shab-e-Gam kii tiiragii me.n merii aah ke sharaare
Kabhii ban gaye hai.n aa.Nsuu kabhii ban gaye hai.n taare
In the gloom (tiiragii) of night of sorrow (Shab-e-Gam) are the sparks (sharaare) of my sigh (aah)
Sometimes they appear as tears and sometimes as stars.

Jinhe.n ho sakaa na haasil kabhii kaif-e-qurb-e-ma.nzil
Wahii do kadam hai.n mujhako terii justajuu se pyaare
Those that couldn’t obtain the intoxication of vicinity of destination (kaif-e-qurb-e-ma.nzil)
Those two steps in your quest (justajuu) are dear to me

Mai.n ‘Shakeel’ unakaa ho kar bhii na paa sakaa huu.N unako
Merii tarah zi.ndagii me.n ko_ii jiit kar na haare
Shakeel, I couldn’t claim her even though I was hers,
Like me, in life, no one should lose after winning.

https://youtube.com/watch?v=NhLvDElehXQ%3F

BENGAL BASED HINDI MOVIES FROM ANURADHA TO PIKU

I am fascinated by the talented Bengali film makers, story writers, directors, actors, singers and music directors of Hindi movies. Most of them have brought something refreshingly new, challenging and memorable to the table. I am indeed working on an essay to bring out their contribution to the Hindi cinema; which is mammoth indeed. This essay or article is only about one aspect, that is, movies based on neglect of women in the emerging Bengali society. Now, I am not saying there is no neglect of women in other Indian societies; after all, just a few years back, when female foetuses were found abandoned in a well in Patiala (Punjab), it shocked our nation to know that even the state that touts itself as the most progressive has scant regard for the female child. It is just that the projection of these issues has been so repeatedly and so well done in Bengal based Hindi movies that it is worthy of comment.

Bringing out treatment of women and making movies wherein a woman is the main protagonist has been the focus of many Bimal Roy movies. Take the 1953 movie Parineeta (literally translated as ‘Married Woman’) for example. Meena Kumari as Lalita, daughter of a poor clerk Gurcharan, is in love with Shekhar Rai, a landlord’s son, portrayed by Ashok Kumar and they are married in their minds. All is well except for the poverty in her family that makes her father to take loan from a kind hearted gentleman Girin. By an unfortunate misunderstanding, it is rumoured that Lalita is sold off to Girin.

The movie, based on a story by Sharat Chandra Chattopadhayay went on to receive the Filmfare Best Film award as also got its heroine Meena Kumari, the Best Actress award.

A scene from Bimal Roy's 1953 movie Parineeta. Shekhar accepts Lalita as his wife even before they are married.
A scene from Bimal Roy’s 1953 movie Parineeta. Shekhar accepts Lalita as his wife even before they are married.

Except for his first movie Do Bigha Zameen (which, by the way, was not just the first movie to win Filmfare Best movie award but also the first Indian movie to win an international award at Cannes Film Festival) that was based on Indian neo-realist movement, all his other Hindi movies had women as the main protagonists. After Parineeta, we had Biraj Bahu starring Kamini Kaushal, Madhumati, Sujata and Bandini.

The last scene and song of Bimal Roy's 1963 movie Bandini with an outstanding song sung by SD Burman on his own music and Shailendra's lyrics: Mere saajan hain us paar. A woman is bandini (in bondage) in many different ways.
The last scene and song of Bimal Roy’s 1963 movie Bandini with an outstanding song sung by SD Burman on his own music and Shailendra’s lyrics: Mere saajan hain us paar. A woman is bandini (in bondage) in many different ways.

For depicting the theme of neglect of women or their desires, which is what this essay is all about, I have picked up four movies: Anuradha, Sahin Bibi Aur Ghulam, Anubhav and Piku.

Anuradha is a 1960 movie directed by Hrishikesh Mukherjee with story by Sachin Bhowmick and screenplay and dialogues by Rajinder Singh Bedi. The story based roughly on the novel Madame Bovary by Gustav Flaubert. Leela Naidu plays the protagonist Anuradha Roy, daughter of a rich father who has earned fame as a singer on All India Radio and in public functions. Shailendra as lyricist and Pandit Ravi Shankar as Music Director have done remarkably well to bring out her feelings through songs: those of blithe happiness when with her father and of sadness and neglect when with her husband Nirmal Chaudhury played by Balraj Sahni. He is an idealist doctor who has taken it upon himself to render selfless service to the rural poor. He is unmindful of the fact that his obsession results in his wife’s talent lying totally atrophied. He doesn’t even remember their anniversary. In the end when he is gifted Rupees 20000 (a princely sum during those days) by a millionaire for saving the life and looks of his daughter who meets with a car accident when traveling with Anuradha’s erstwhile ardent lover Deepak played by Abhi Bhattacharya, his family doctor played by Nasir Hussain brings out that Nirmal Chaudhury is not as deserving of the reward as his wife Anuradha since she sacrificed everything for the sake of her husband. Indeed, in the movie, when Deepak tells her that she hadn’t got anything from her husband, she takes offence to it and reminds him that he shouldn’t be insulting her husband under her husband’s roof. I was immediately reminded of Bimal Roy’s Bandini wherein Nutan is portrayed as Bandini (in bondage) to tradition and her first love Ashok Kumar despite her subsequent relationship with a kind-hearted and understanding jailer Dharmendra. There must be something about the portrayal of a Bengali woman’s undying devotion for her husband as a virtue worth acquiring.

Leela Naidu as Anuradha Roy singing to Abhi Bhattacharya as Deepak: Kaise din beete kaise beeti ratiyan piya jaane na; and yet not accepting his denigrating her husband Balraj Sahni as Nirmal Chaudhury.
Leela Naidu as Anuradha Roy singing to Abhi Bhattacharya as Deepak: Kaise din beete kaise beeti ratiyan piya jaane na; and yet not accepting his denigrating her husband Balraj Sahni as Nirmal Chaudhury.

In Guru Dutt’s 1962 movie Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam, directed by Abrar Alvi (who was Guru Dutt’s favourite writer and director; they did Aar Paar, Kaagaz Ke Phool, Pyaasa and Mr & Mrs 55 together, in addition to Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam), Meena Kumari as Chhoti Bahu had a very poignant role opposite Rehman as a husband. Rehman was the face if the moral rot in Bengalu feudalism; he’d spend more time in the company of courtesans than with his wife. The movie’s songs are exceedingly beautiful and meaningful, penned by my favourite lyricist Shakeel Badayuni with music by my favourite Hemant Kumar. Two of the songs, sung by Guru Dutt’s wife Geeta Dutt, and picturised on Meena Kumari bring out the intensity of her emotions; Piya aiso jiya mein samaayi gayo re, and Na jaao sainyya chhuda ke bainyaa kasam tumhari mai ro padhungi. Both bring out how she would dress up, do make up, and even drink alcohol to please him enough so that he’d spend time with her rather than with courtesans. This theme is the same as Anuradha’s; which is that a woman would do anything to win the attention of her husband and that husband, irrespective of the treatment meted out to her, is still worthy of veneration.

A scene from Guru Dutt's 1962 movie Sahib, Bibi Aur Ghulam. Meena Kumari as Chhoti Bahu is desperate to keep her husband Chhote Sarkar from visiting courtesans. In this song: Na jaayo sainyya chhuda ke bainyya, she promises everything that a courtesan would give him.
A scene from Guru Dutt’s 1962 movie Sahib, Bibi Aur Ghulam. Meena Kumari as Chhoti Bahu is desperate to keep her husband Chhote Sarkar from visiting courtesans. In this song: Na jaayo sainyya chhuda ke bainyya, she promises everything that a courtesan would give him.

Cut now to the third movie on this theme: the 1971 movie Anubhav directed by Basu Bhattacharya (who made a trilogy on similar themes with Avishkaar (1973) and Griha Pravesh (1979). In this movie it is Tanuja as Meeta Sen who is facing neglect by her husband Sanjeev Kumar as a newspaper editor Amar Sen. In order to win his attention, she gets rid of all the domestic staff except AK Hangal. It has a positive effect only partly. However, by this time her ex lover Dinesh Thakur as Shashi Bhushan enters the scene. The movie ends with Sanjeev Kumar acknowledging that her past wouldn’t have had a chance to wreck their lives if he had taken care of the present. Her ending dialogue in the movie was: “Main samajh gayi hoon ke tum samajh gaye ho” (I have understood that now you have understood). The movie has some excellent songs sung by Geeta Dutt and Manna Dey on the music of Kanu Roy; three of which are outstandingly beautiful: Meri jaan, mujhe jaan na kaho meri jaan; Mera dil jo mera hota; and Phir kahin koi phool khila, chahat na kaho isako.

A scene from Basu Bhattacharya's 1971 movie Anubhav. Real ecstasy is to have husband at home giving her full attention.
A scene from Basu Bhattacharya’s 1971 movie Anubhav. Real ecstasy is to have husband at home giving her full attention.

The fourth movie, Piku directed by Shoojit Circar, is only different in one respect in that the neglect of the woman, Deepika Padukone as Piku Banerjee, is not at the hands of a husband but by her father, Amitabh Bachchan as Bhaskor Banerjee. He has chronic constipation and gastric condition and he takes it for granted that life of everyone in general and his daughter in particular should revolve around his minute to minute condition. For her, as an architect, there are many embarrassing moments such as when she is busy in her office and news of her father’s latest constipated condition is broken publicly over sms. In his obsession with himself and his constipation in his old age (70 years), he totally ignores her desires. For example, when she is romantically inclined with her co-worker in office, Syed, Bhaskor tells him that his daughter is moody like him and also not a virgin. Bhaskor decides to visit his house in Kolkatta where his brother and his wife live. But, fastidious that he is, he finds going there from Delhi by train or plane unsafe. So, finally, he is driven there by Rana Chaudhary played by Irrfan Khan, who is the owner of a cab company only because none of the drivers want to do duty with Piku due to her moods. He closely observes the totally self-centered, annoying and always complaining habits of Bhaskor and her dedication towards him despite these and tells us, “You have now fallen into the league of great women like Rani Laxmi Bai and Annie Besant.” In the end, Bhaskor dies a kind of death his always wanted – peaceful, no tubes, no ventilator. At a funeral ceremony, Piku tells family and friends, “My father was in peace. No ache or dilemma on his face. And those who know my father, they know, that he only had one problem – constipation. But he was cured of that as well before he passed away. So his death was a happy one. And I’m gonna miss him.”

2015 movie Piku's pics courtesy: www.feastforyou.com. Bhaskor's obsession with his constipation at the expense of his daughter's happiness is reflected in the commode he carries atop the vehicle that takes them 1500 kms from Delhi to Kolkatta
2015 movie Piku’s pics courtesy: www.feastforyou.com. Bhaskor’s obsession with his constipation at the expense of his daughter’s happiness is reflected in the commode he carries atop the vehicle that takes them 1500 kms from Delhi to Kolkatta

There are, I am sure, many more such movies in which self-abnegation in comparison to her husband’s or if single, her father’s comfort, happiness and success exemplifies the Bengali women. Bengali women, as shown in such movies are the epitome of self-sacrificing love, unquestionable loyalty to their husbands, and the ones who would display genuine offence if their husbands are insulted in front of them. Portrayal of Bengali women in the movies is perhaps a reflection of their society wherein women are not displayed as sensuous or young or attractive but as devoted wives, mothers and grandmothers. Even when they are neglected or ignored they continue to be devoted wives, mothers, grandmothers and daughters.

There are, of course, dissenting or divergent voices. Anirvan Chatterjee in a January 1997 essay titled ‘Exploring Bengali Women’s History’ abhors the idea and psychology of arranged marriages for Bengali women. She writes, “I find it a bit puzzling how my mother, and other Bengali women like her, could so casually accept the idea of being sent into the houses of men they’d never met, living in a country 8,000 miles away, having their whole future lives’ paths determined for them in a single act outside their control. The thought of being in my mother’s shoes scares me; I picture myself as a much-bedecked lamb being led almost forcibly to the “slaughter” of the marriage ceremony.” However, she also brings out that just two books helped her get a better understanding of Bengali women: Malavika Karlekar’s Voices from Within and Manisha Roy’s Bengali Women.

Despite the motley of divergent views as those of Anirvan Chatterjee, the most endearing image of Bengali woman would continue being the one who’d do anything in her devotion for her man. The 1953 movie Anuradha, for example, has, in the last scene, Anuradha busy sweeping the floor of her husband’s house. Anyone watching the movie would know that for her self-abnegation has been honed into a fine-art. She may be meek in her devotion or she may actually be like Durga as in Sujoy Ghosh‘s 2012 movie Kahaani avenging the disappearance of her husband; the raison d’être for her.

In her quest to avenge the disappearance of her husband, the distinction between Vidya Bagchi (played by Vidya Balan) and goddess Durga is blurred.
In her quest to avenge the disappearance of her husband, the distinction between Vidya Bagchi (played by Vidya Balan) and goddess Durga is blurred.

ARMED FORCES’ PENCHANT FOR SECRECY

This is a humorous take on our penchant for secrecy, the kind that evokes nostalgic mirth. It is not meant as criticism. Of course we have our reasons for secrecy and most of these are valid reasons. Humour, of course, obtains from those quaint situations and anecdotes that arise from this ubiquitous penchant.

Secrecy cartoon
www.outsiderclub.com

Armed forces personnel are, by nature, secretive and suspicious. I must have had traits of a potential fauji at very early stages of my life. As kids, we were of impressionable age when the Indo-Pak War of 1965 started. We were in the town of Mandi in Himachal Pradesh. Our group of 11 to 12 year olds had felt that what stood between the country’s continued freedom and hostile destruction was – to a large measure – our vigilance. Inspired by the news on All India Radio wherein Paki spies routinely disguised themselves as sadhus and beggars, every such person visiting our colony was subjected to intense search and scrutiny. One or two of them were severely beaten up for not being able to prove their identities. A Horticulture (my dad’s chosen field of work) Colony was coming up in Jawahar Nagar (now must be called Sonia or Rahul Nagar in keeping with the equivalent penchant of our netas) and the labourers were mainly of Tibetan origin. They were living in tents across our house and used to cook on wood. One night – the first night after we had finished putting carbon paper on all glass window panes so that no light would show outside during black-outs – our vigilant group spotted these Tibetans cooking on wood-fires. We felt that these were open invitations for the PAF Canberras to bomb the hell out of us. So, we stridently ordered the labourers to take their fires inside the tents; much against their protests. After about 30 minutes of their complying with our orders, two of the tents caught fire and it took us hours to put out the fires. Luckily, PAF Canberras were not as vigilant as we were.

Ten years later, I joined the Indian Navy as a commissioned officer and realised that my sense of secrecy was still precocious; I had much more to learn. As a Lieutenant I was made a member of a pricing board for buying fresh vegetables. Those days, rations were not supplied to us by the naval Base Victualing Yard (BVY) but through the ASC or Army Supply Corps depot in what we had erroneously been thinking of as naval area but was later confirmed as military area because of the Army’s penchant to hold land even in naval stations. I was stunned to see that the proceedings of this board were marked SECRET. I was thinking of it as a misprint but the board president, a Colonel, assured me otherwise. Later, when I became married, and started receiving those free rations (subsequently called entitled rations so that our civilian counterparts would not exercise their own penchant for always bringing out that freebies were given to us at the drop of a hat), I knew that marking them SECRET was the right thing to do; even I would have wanted them to be SECRET so that others won’t see my mortification at their poor quality. There is always a reason!

Top-secret-stamp-006

Often, the marking of classification evokes curiosity in others. It is somewhat similar to the boss telling the secretary: “Mark this SECRET; I want everyone in the office to read it”. Take social media, for example; you painstakingly put up your posts on which you spend hours researching. However, no one reads them including those who press the Like button. However, if there was some way you could tell people that it has information meant only for the few select ones, see how fast the readership would grow. At one time, the information about Pak Navy assets including weaponry and missiles was SECRET and all of us knew the details like the back of our hands. And then it occurred to Naval Headquarters as to why should stuff that had been gleaned from Jane’s publications be SECRET; so they made it unclassified. End of our curiosity and their being widely known! I can imagine the Naval Intelligence officers exchanging chuckles whilst reading this; they know they were engaged in something useful all these years by passing off news items as intelligence.

(Pic courtesy: www.secrecyfilm.com)

Now, I am sharing with you another source of real intelligence for the naval community in Mumbai, during our days: the newspaper vendor called ODI Mendon. Lets say a friend of yours owed you money (a realistic scenario) and he told you that as soon as he’d get his pay (an unrealistic scenario) he’d return the money since during those days you received your pay in cash. On the first of the next month when you went by you mobike (with the last drops of petrol in it) to extract your owing from him, you found that his ship had sailed. It was a catastrophe and only the hope of the ship’s return would provide you with some silver lining. However, the ships’ movements are highly classified and you can’t get information from anywhere. If you thought hard, you’d find that ODI Mendon was the answer. He’d tell you when exactly the ship would be back; they having stopped the newspaper with him, before sailing, for a specific number of days. He would also tell you which other ships and submarines had sailed. Similarly, MM Pajni, the LIC agent would tell you the ships’ programme as he knew when exactly to come to Naval Dockyard and collect the due premiums of the Life Insurance policies.

But, SECRET or even TOP SECRET doesn’t attract as much curiosity as something called PERSONAL AND CONFIDENTIAL (P&C). As a young Lieutenant  I was posted as an instructor in Navy’s Leadership School INS Agrani at Coimbatore. Our CO, we came to know through rumours, was being overlooked for promotion. During those days, officers received P&C letters regarding the status of their promotions. So, when such a letter arrived at Agrani, curiosity got the better of us. We broke the seals, opened the letter and read how the Navy is such a pyramidal structure and how at various stages some people, however outstanding they are, have to fall off; and so on. The problem was how to put it back: there was an outer ordinary cover and then there was a sealed cover inside; whose seals now had perished. So the Captain’s Secretary (Cap Sec) overnight got a seal manufactured and on the next forenoon the operation of resealing it was done. During those days, it cost him a bomb.

personalconfidentialrubberstampWhen the CO arrived next day and the mail presented to him, he took out the sealed envelope, didn’t even open it, gave it to his Cap Sec and said, “Just open it and file it in my P&C File. It is a letter from ACOP (Assistant Chief of Personnel); I am not making it to the next rank.” Cap Sec felt like a heel.

The most curious incident of this misplaced secrecy was a signal regarding the movement of one of our Chiefs of Naval Staff (CNS) who was accorded high security due to our operations in Sri Lanka against the LTTE (Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam). Hence, whilst a MOVREP (Movement Report) signal is generally unclassified, his MOVREP signals used to be SECRET and encrypted accordingly. As CCO (Command Communication Officer) it was my duty to decrypt them and show them to only the C-in-C and the Chief of Staff (COS). The MOVREP signal is in a format that reads: Name, rank, number, designation, arrival date and time, from where arriving and how (train, air etc), purpose of visit, number of days of visit, departure date and  time, and whether transport and mess accommodation are required and any other information. I showed the decrypted signal to COS and he remarked, “By making it SECRET, at least his movements are now classified and not known to everyone.” I disagreed and showed him three unclassified MOVREP signals of three Naval Headquarters officers received simultaneously. In the palce about how were they arriving, each one of them had dutifully written: ‘By CNS Aircraft’.

This was like the parts of those messages received at sea wherein the classified words were coded in Naval Tactical Code. So a signal would read something like: “Call-sign F1 (say Fleet Commander) would be airborne from 1630 to 1715 hours by NATCO blah blah blah blah UNNATCO”. You didn’t even have to decode it to bring out that blah blah blah blah meant HELO. Only the absolute dumbo would imagine that Fleet Commander would be airborne by KITE or BIRD!

Life goes on. Some of our things are so SECRET that even we don’t have any idea of what they are.

DOING THINGS WITHOUT APPARENT PURPOSE OR REASON

Seeing the quality and popularity of my blog posts,  people frequently ask me to write and publish books. In addition to love for my writing, I know that they mean well by suggesting that I do something about my ever dwindling financial resources. When I left the Navy after nearly 37 years, I didn’t have much and I didn’t even covet much. I also know that they feel that the posts ought to be read by wider audiences.

My biggest concern is that I do not want to get into a rut wherein the quality or even acceptability of something that I am passionate about is to be measured in terms of money earned or readership.

There must be something that we do that is not done with a purpose, intent, end or aim in mind. However, in our current national and community thinking all tasks and engagements must have a specific purpose or reason. We even call into question God’s accountability and use such phrases as: “All the money that I donated to the temple fund appears to have been wasted since our son still couldn’t get admission in medical college” or “Yes, God answered our prayers in getting mataji’s health back. But, out of rupees 10000 that I paid as chadhawa (offering to God), God appears to have given back only about 2000 rupees worth”.

A few years back I started trying my hand at the game of golf. Since I am fond of open spaces (Please also read: ‘Walk Or Gym? I Like It In The Open’), I liked walking on greens, through bunkers and woods chasing a small white ball. However, soon many of my friends started teasing me, “So, you have decided to become an Admiral? This is the sure shot way.”

It must be a world-wide phenomenon; but, it is much pronounced in India. Everything has to lead to something. You can’t have friends unless they can be of some use to you when the chips are down. Indeed, many people actually think of friendship as an investment. Similarly, political people, babus, doctors, lawyers etc have to be nurtured assiduously with the purpose of providing some return when needed.

Children’s education too is seen as an investment. There has to be some return else it is not worth making him or her an engineer or even well read or well educated.

After retirement from the Navy, I started this blog with the idea of giving vent to my creative energies. It was supposed to be a leisurely pursuit. However, then I made the mistake of joining Indiblogger (Please also read ‘Blogging – Race Or Stampede?‘). Soon I was hooked on to monthly ranking: mozRank, Alexa rank, frequency of posting, and external juice passing links and the like and then it became as banal as anything that we do in our life.

The other day, I was reading this light-hearted take on blog writing: ‘It is like various stages of prostitution; first you start doing it for fun, then for your intimate friends, thereafter for wider circle of friends and acquaintances but finally you start doing it for money. My writing is still at the first stage and I am – as they say in McDonald’s  ad – I’m lovin’ it.

Yesterday, once again, I was taking a class with the young executives of my company on Leadership and Team Building. In yet another talk, I reminded them about Abraham Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. In the pyramid, at the base, are the Physiological Needs, going up to Safety Needs, Love and Belonging Needs, Esteem Needs and finally Self Actualisation Needs. Privately I was thinking that we Indians are almost perpetually at the bottom of the pyramid, doing things only to satisfy some basic need or the other. There is always a purpose for doing anything.

MaslowIs there no time when we would do things because of passion, a fire that burns inside, a quest that needs to be quenched? Is there no time when we would be like the avid mountaineer who was asked why did he have to climb a
mountain and he replied, “Because it is there”?

(Pic courtesy: skreened.com)
(Pic courtesy: skreened.com)

There is no price that can be placed on a smile; and, if you can smile inwardly, without any apparent reason, it is priceless indeed. A mother does it so often with her child and doesn’t ever count the number of likes and comments her child gets or her ranking in the world because of him.

Your pet does it and you do it for your pet; you read a number of articles about how having a pet is good for you. But, those are after you have got him or her.

Love is not a reasoned emotion and yet, it is the greatest of human emotions.

INDIAN NAVY IS THE ONLY LIFE THAT I HAVE KNOWN AND SEEN

There must be thousands like me in the armed forces of India; we join at a very young age (I was 19 when I joined the Naval Academy or NAVAC at Cochin (now called Kochi) in 1973) and retire when we do not have much life left to see (I retired in end Feb 2010 as Commodore at the age of 56). The other day, on Facebook, I saw security executives in my present corporate where I work celebrating four years (to them it appears a long time with the present trend of job-hopping) of having been there in the same industry. I spent 37 years in the Indian Navy and I could have celebrated this feat nine times over!

I was given the President’s Commission on 01 July 1975 and just a few days back my course-mates and I greeted one another on having completed 40 years of commissioned life. At the time of joining, some of my course-mates were suave, smart, confident and in with the naval way of life. To me, it was all very strange (if I were a girl, I would have been called Alice irrespective of what my parents would have named me!). One or two of the course-mates even appeared to have been from a different planet; one still appears thus. I must have been the most awkward and unlike a Labrador, the least trainable.

What fascinated me about the Navy? The short answer is books and movies; I lapped them up during my boyhood days and imagined myself standing on the deck of a ship like, say, Willie Keith in Caine Mutiny or George Ericson in The Cruel Sea. I also had this strange wanderlust and hence going to sea was as far as I could get from the hills of Himachal where I had been for all my childhood and boyhood years. Now that I have retired from the Navy though the sea is still as fascinating (Please read ‘The Lure Of The Sea’), my next fascination is about matters of philosophy and meta-physics (you will find my writings on these in the Philosophy section of this blog)

So, one fine day, from my home-station in Simla (now spelt Shimla), in May 1973, I took a train to Cochin to be trained (tough job for them!) to become an Indian Navy officer. Here are the last two pictures with my people before Navy claimed me:

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You must have seen two things in the above pictures: the short hair-cut that I supported in preparation for the Naval life and the huge smile. As soon as I landed up at Cochin they modified both. The journey to Cochin from Simla had taken only two and half days and how much my hair would have grown in less than three days? However, the urgency with which I was taken to the barber (barbarian?) made it seem like I was some hirsute sadhu who had emerged from the caves in the hills after long hibernation. I couldn’t believe the mirror when this barbarian had finished with me; all resemblance to a wantonly college-going teenager was gone forever. My snake-leather belt, large brass buckle and my bell-bots were all gone. Even civvies for us were the muftis with a neck-tie. Uniform became a way of life in profession, in spare time, in thoughts and even in sub-consciousness.

The next were my seniors who appeared to be direct descendants of Goebbels; they made me wipe my smile as if it was an ugly scar. One of them got used to ragging me with a simple monosyllable word repeated ad-inifinitum (one of the two in his extensive vocabulary; the other being No). An intelligent conversation with him went like this:

A: Why didn’t you report to me yesterday?
Me: Sir, I broke my leg.
A: So?
Me: I reported to the hospital.
A: So?
Me: They put my leg in a cast. It is still in the cast as you can see.
A: So?

“So, Sir, I prayed whole night to God to make me a bird” I wanted to add, “But, then He told me I would have to do without a brain because He had given you the bird(‘s)-brain.”

I also found out that neither my seniors nor any of the staff at NAVAC respected time of the day or night; one could be asked to do front-rolls immediately after dinner or do somersaults in the middle of the time. I was also to learn, at great cost to my dignity (or whatever remained of it) and physique that during war we may have to change various rigs in less than a minute each time lest the enemy should steal advantage over us. And, in order to prevent enemy from seeking this advantage, those of us who couldn’t finish rig-changing in a minute’s time had to go through the kind of torture that the enemy would have unleashed on all.

These staff and seniors, totally bereft of even the remotest traces of civility, made me do things that were well beyond my own endurance and stamina and against my loudest protestations. For example, they predicted that if they threw me in the deep end of the swimming pool, I would automatically learn swimming. I knew it was impossible and I tried my best to tell them so. However, they insisted on the correctness of their theory. Lo, and behold, after a few dunkings and after my having drunk gallons of chlorinated water, it is they who were proved right and I automatically learnt swimming. Late at night in my bed I formed the opinion that it wasn’t correct that God listened to the godly and righteous people; He also listened to such devils.

In likewise manner, I automatically learnt many a thing and discovered newer limits for my own endurance and stamina.

I learnt, for example, that one could go to sleep whilst standing erect on the bridge of Cadet Training Ship Delhi with binoculars in hand tied to a lanyard around the neck.

I also learnt about Relativity of Time; four hours spent in the club (Officers Institute) in the drunken company of my course mates would pass in a jiffy; whilst the same four hours during the middle watch on the ship appeared like four years.

To add to the misery of training days was the naval lingo that had quaint feel about it. One had to say “Aye aye Sir” if one wanted to say “Yes Sir”; port for left, starboard for right, and “very good” whilst acknowledging a report even if the report was about an impending collision.

I remember seeing the Daily Orders for the first time and laughed that even in an official document personnel were called by their nicknames such as Popti for our physical training instructor until it was explained to me after considerable front-rolling and bend-stretches that it wasn’t Popti but PO PTI (Petty Officer Physical Training Instructor).

Armed forces are, I gradually learnt, always training. Many years later, when I was the Director of Maritime Warfare Centre at Mumbai (I am the only officer who has been Director of all three MWCs in the Navy involved in tactical operational training of Command teams), the motto on the Large Screen Display in the auditorium was by General Patton: ‘The more you sweat in peace, the less you bleed in war’. Armed forces, therefore, are always sweating.

On Cadet Training Ship INS Delhi, our only contact with the civilian world was to be taken for what was called RWR (Road Walk and Run) along the Marine Drive in Bombay. What a world awaited us, we thought; Bombay, the dream city of Hindi films (not yet bastardised to ‘Bollywood’) and glamour, the city of marines and window to the rest of the world, the city of money, and the city of possibilities. And when I finally joined it, honestly, there was this air about us that put us on a pedestal. During those days, you rubbed shoulders with the elite and they were dying to be seen with you. During my Acting Sub Lieutenant days, we could sit in the Ante Room and enjoy the company of Nutan and Tanuja. A video of those days is going around showing really big film stars, singers and music directors attending the Navy Ball.

Forty years back, I remember, I had gone in uniform to receive a senior officer at Bombay Central. After receiving him, as I stood in the queue for a cab to take me back to my ship INS Himgiri, a cop who was directing people into cabs, beckoned me at the end of the queue, stopped the next cab for me, put me into it, without any protest or demurring from anyone ahead of me in the queue. It felt really nice being a uniformed naval officer.

And what about going abroad? For a boy from a small town in Himachal, who was awed by walking and running along the Marine Drive in Bombay, stepping on a foreign shore was ecstasy indeed. Our CO said we were to be ambassadors of our great country and as I covered in ‘Foreign Jaunts’, it felt great to be in the naval-diplomatic role wherever we went. Many decades later, in the year 2001, as the Indian Navy organised its International Fleet Review in Mumbai, the motto selected by them was ‘Bridges of Friendship Across the Seas’. I remember our visit to Odessa in erstwhile USSR (now in Ukraine) on Himgiri, my second ship as a commissioned officer after three weeks on Vikrant in harbour. The official reception was held on the second evening. All the lovely Russian damsels attending the reception asked us why the officers were not attending the reception. We were flummoxed until the mystery unfolded. In foreign shores, sailors go on shore leave in uniform whereas officers go out in civvies. Some of these damsels, fascinated by naval uniforms, gave company to some of the sailors over drinks, dancing and dinner. When they inquired from these sailors the meaning of two crossed anchors badges on their sleeves, the sailors responded that they were officers (conveniently forgetting to add that they were Petty Officers!) and hence permitted to wear uniform ashore whereas the other ranks had to perforce go out in civvies.

In Split, erstwhile Yugoslavia, my first foreign visit as an officer
In Split, erstwhile Yugoslavia, my first foreign visit as an officer

The fascination for naval uniform abroad was to be seen to be believed. I have seen in real life and in pictures people stopping to have their pictures clicked with men in uniform.

During the training period and in our formative years in the Navy, we almost totally forgot about our families. My only sister, for example, got married when I was a cadet, holy-stoning the decks of INS Delhi (erstwhile HMS Achilles that took part in the famous Battle of the River Plate against German battleship Graf Spee, together with HMS Ajax and HMS Exeter. The movie was shot in 1956 and the ship had already been transferred to us in 1958. During the shooting an aerial photo shoot was to be redone because when the reel was developed, it came out that a Sikh sailor, complete with his turban, had come out on the upper deck of Delhi!). I never attended her marriage or any other marriage; I was married to the Navy.

We did manage to fall in love and get married (Please read ‘Lyn And I – Scene By Scene‘); but, the Navy proudly and correctly told our wives that Navy happened to be our first love and they could, at best, be Number Two. The wives themselves had no doubt and never tried to be Numero Uno in our lives. Strangely, the ladies too learnt the ropes through the automatic process that I mentioned above. Whilst we had learnt quick rig-changing, my wife learnt the art of quick packing and unpacking both on permanent as well as temporary duties. They also automatically learnt how to get the best from MES (Military Engineering Service); for example, how many incandescent bulbs of what wattage they were entitled to in exchange for how many. They waited endlessly for us to return to harbour; only to see us off again on another mission, which, they complained the newspaper man and the dhoodhwalla knew all about; but, which “thanks to your stupid secrecy norms, you don’t tell us”.

Our first child, Arjun, was born immediately after my father’s untimely death in an accident and hence under trying circumstances. Our second child, Arun, was born when I was away for a month to Andaman and Nicobar islands on my ship INS Ganga with Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi and his Italian wife Sonia embarked. Lyn, my wife, walked to the hospital, quickly delivered and returned home so as to look after the first one too. Now that we were raising a family – and in my case, under most difficult conditions (as you would have gathered from the blog ‘Lyn And I – Scene By Scene’) – for the nth time, the automatic process came in handy. Both the children too became fiercely independent (Read ‘Diminishing Dad‘), capable and accomplished almost entirely on their own. The other day, my erstwhile coxswain of INS Aditya, a retired Petty Officer, brought his daughter for selection in ICSI (Institute of Company Secretaries of India) run institute called CCGRT (Centre for Corporate Governance Research and Training). She is from a small town in Andhra and just 12th standard pass. She had to compete against graduates and diploma holders but she easily got selected, thanks to the automatic learning process of the armed forces.

During our days there was a joke about a naval officer’s involvement with his family (I believe the joke is still prevalent). A naval officer was asked how big his two children were. He pointed out with his hands, not vertically, but horizontally. This was rather quaint way of bringing out the size of his children and he was asked to explain. He responded, “I see them in the bed only; when I leave in the morning they are still in bed, when I return late at night, they have already gone to bed.”

Naval families 'automatically' grow up and learn to stand on their own feet.
Naval families ‘automatically’ grow up and learn to stand on their own feet.

Ask a naval officer as to what are his most nostalgic experiences in the Navy. With very few exceptions, he would answer:

#1, the Midshipman Tenure. It was a rank unique to the Navy when one was not quite a commissioned officer yet and also not a cadet. This lasted for only six months whereas we would have wanted it to last a lifetime; you’d start getting some perks of being and officer and yet not too much of responsibility. Indeed, in the naval slang a Midshipman used to be called Snotty as he would be frequently wiping his nose on his sleeve. Our Midshipman tenure was on INS Tir, an erstwhile River Class Frigate of the Royal Navy; and we had a ball, even though we had to do hot-bunking (the number of bunks in our mess being much less than the number of Midshipmen on the premise that a certain number would be on duty by rotation all the times).

#2, the Command of a Ship, Submarine or Aircraft. A Commanding Officer is next to God. Indeed, as the old timers used to say: “Ham God nahin hain, par, God se kam bhi nahin hain.” (I am not God; but I am no less than God). The responsibility that the nation places on a CO of a ship, submarine or aircraft at sea is as mammoth as the unfettered powers given to him; you can’t afford to make mistakes; people’s lives are dependent on you. During our training years we used to wonder how the CO, even whilst asleep in his cabin, instinctively knew what revolutions the ship did by the sound of the engines and whether we were headed into danger. Two decades later when I commanded my own ship, I realised that it comes to you automatically.

#3, to be given an official transport (vehicle). Ahh, for this, during our days, one had to be a very senior officer! And then, the moment this honour (Read: Navy And Staff Cars) was bestowed on you, you sat at the left rear of an Ambassador car, saluted back with a flourish all those who saluted you and failed to recognise your erstwhile friends lest they should ask you to share the prized possession.

Nearly 37 long years went as if in a jiffy. And before you can pause, the Navy retires you. Three days after I retired from the Navy on 28th Feb 2010, I wrote a blog ‘I Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest – Did I?’ in which I concluded “I have no desire to fly over the cuckoo’s nest. The loony bunch is family, for heaven’s sake.” There is nowhere to go. Five years later, after working in India’s largest corporate, there is still nowhere to go; Navy is the only home I knew, the only life I had.

We hadn’t seen any life on civvie street at all. The civilians must be smart in their own ways; after all they command large organisations, governments and countries, whereas all that we do is to command ships, submarines and aircraft. However, frankly, I haven’t met anyone half as smart as a naval officer! In my case, in the Naval Academy, in the Ante Room, I distinctly remember that we waited for someone smart to switch on the television as one, we hadn’t seen one before; and two, with its complex sounding controls such as Contrast, Brightness, V hold and H hold, people would laugh at us if we didn’t know how to get a picture that didn’t jump on the screen. Years later, we were handling with ease, the most complex Electronic Warfare and Action Information systems. The Navy lets you learn all these – well, by now even you know the process – automatically.

Navy was life, a system that used to work; and I know it still works. We were always responsible and accountable for all our actions and non actions; except perhaps during our Midshipmen days. And then you are faced with the lack of discipline and accountability to that extent wherein people die and no one is to be blamed; wherein brand new bridges collapse and no one is accountable; wherein after 40 years of promises and more promises, we still don’t have an OROP (One Rank One Pension) and everyone assures you it would be there shortly.

A Navy man is totally at home when he is at sea as I wrote in Lure of the Sea. But, the moment he is out, he pines for the sea, the only life he’s had.

INDIANS – POOR IN RECORD-KEEPING; ARMED FORCES NO EXCEPTION

As Director,  College of Naval Warfare in Mumbai, in the year 2008; I took the Naval Higher Command Course student officers with me to a tour of South Africa and Mauritius. In Mauritius we visited the Folk Museum of Indian Immigration.  We were surprised to see the records of all indentured labourers who came to British Mauritius from Bihar between 1834 and 1921 (the museum houses 2000 volumes of these). In the year 1835, slavery was abolished in Mauritius and hence these were called indentured labourers.

mgi_immSimilarly, if you go to the Cellular Jail in Port Blair, you would be stunned at the painstaking way in which the British maintained the records of all the prisoners brought from India to the jail that came to be known as Kala Pani (Black Water). The British were cruel and committed untold atrocities on Indian slaves, but, they were much better than us for their record-keeping or documentation.

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When I saw Satyajit Ray’s Shatranj Ke Khiladi I was surprised to see in the end that almost all the credits and acknowledgments of Indian history records were to the Britishers.

We learnt many a thing from our rulers but we didn’t learn from them this due diligence in record keeping. This has resulted in many an embarrassing situation. After the Kargil War in July 1999, Grenadier Yogendra Singh Yadav was awarded the highest military honour: The Param Vir Chakra. His citation read that he was being awarded this posthumously. It was a big relief and huge embarrassment for Army Headquarters to know that he was actually alive. The Armed Forces of India are at perpetual war with the Indian bureaucracy for the step-motherly treatment that they often get (the present OROP controversy is one of the examples). However, it is a fact that we are equally poor in record keeping at least. Please read: Rediff On The NeT Army battling to correct its Param Vir mistakes.

We have had an Army Chief who embarrassed the nation no end through challenging the record of his own date of birth (Read ‘Army Chief’s Age – The Other Issues’, ‘Hats Off To General VK Singh’ and ‘Indian Army Before And After Operation Vijay’).

After the infamous 26/11 Mumbai Attacks, Indian government handed over two demarches to Pakistan. Amongst other things, the demarches asked for the arrest of and handing over of about 20 persons including gangster Dawood Ibrahim, Jaish-e-Mohammad terrorist leader Maulana Masood Azhar and Lashkar-e-Taiba chief Hafeez Mohammad Saeed. It was widely reported in the Indian newspapers that the list also included at least four names of “hardened criminals” enjoying “immunity” in Pakistan when actually they were held in Indian prisons.

We fought a major war with China in 1962. Fifty three years later, we still do not have an officially accepted record of the history of the war. The Henderson Brooks-Bhagat report, also referred to as the Henderson Brooks report, is the report of an analysis (Operations Review) of the Sino-Indian of 1962. Its authors are Indian Army officers: Lieutenant-General TB Henderson Brooks and Brigadier Premindra Singh Bhagat, Commandant of the Indian Military Academy at that time. However, the report has not been declassified even though there has been hue and cry about its publication.

Why do we, as a nation and armed forces, land up in this mess? The reason appears to lie in the glory and glamour attached to operations and looking down on administrative skills. The armed forces have a Defence Services Staff College in Wellington (Nilgiris) to teach the middle ranking armed forces officers administrative skills. However, when an armed forces officer lands up after the Staff Course, say, in Naval Headquarters, he quickly finds out that practically it is so different from what has been theoretically taught to him. Many have realised that locating an earlier letter or file is a virtual impossibility. Hence, an armed forces officer is most likely to indulge in what is known as reinventing the wheel when it comes to long-standing issues (these are “long-standing” because of the babus in the Ministry of Defence).

In the IAF, for example, fliers want to do flying all the times. Attending courses, for them, is considered beneath their macho spirit. When I underwent Higher Command course with the Army (I did HC 25 in the year 1996-97), I was able to learn from my IAF counterparts that officers pull strings to get out of attending courses so that they can continue doing what they like most: flying.

On the lighter side, after leaving the Navy in end Feb 2010, I have found that my name and address held in various departments in the Western Naval Command has rarely been correct. Because of this, many a times, I have missed important meetings and functions. I have tried my best in the last five years to get the records corrected by writing mails with my correct name and address and have personally visited the Command Headquarters to get these corrected. However, so strong is our inclination to be administratively poor that until now I haven’t received many letters with my correct name and address.

Another curious thing that I have discovered is that in the header of the mail from an official/authority in the Armed Forces, if a telephone number is given, it is rarely of the officer signing it. If you have a query regarding the letter that you have received and you dial this number, you are likely to get connected to the clerk who typed out the letter and he would have no idea of what you are asking.

The Army Headquarters are the worst in this. At one time an opportunity arose in my corporate to employ retired Major Generals for some very senior billets. Through my friends in Naval Headquarters, I got in touch with the Army Headquarters (MS Branch). The officer there seemed to understand my request for the names of a few Major Generals who had just retired. However, after a few days when I was expecting a list from him, I received a mail asking me to spell out my requirement again by mail (this is a favourite ploy with all services headquarters). A phone number and Fax number was given at the letter head. Fifteen days of unsuccessfully trying to get in touch on those numbers left me totally drained out.

On the First of July this year, my course completed 40 years of having received President’s Commission. I retired five years back and likewise with my coursemates except those who retired as Rear and Vice Admirals later. All of us were full of nostalgia about our active time in the Navy. As if to bring me down to mother earth, just a day prior to that, on 30th June, I received a letter from the Pension Cell in Naval Pay Office that my Genform (a General Information order regarding movements of personnel) for having retired on 28th Feb 2010 had not been received by them. It has been only five and half years. Perhaps in another half a decade they would get it. Nothing changes; we are proud of our administrative inefficiency despite the computer age and improved means of communications.

NPO Letter 26 May 15

HAMARA NAVAL DRAMA

Now that after retirement I am employed in a corporate, I am able to see the difference in work culture: you have people specifically for specific duties as given in their JDs or Job Descriptions. In the armed forces, one is expected to do everything as and when the need arises; and many a times someone else’s job too. No one tells you how; you learn as you go along. If the armed forces were to be a play or drama, there is rarely a prepared script or dialogues or plot; you ad-lib the entire thing. People’s lives are at stake, at times, and hence you better get your role right; the first time itself without any rehearsals. For example: “That over there is Tiger Hill. Now get it vacated of intruders.”

Why did I think of the Navy as a drama or a play when I was in active service? Well, come to think of it, even life is like that. But, I had one more reason: my fondness for acting and directing honed from my school and college days. In the NAVAC or Naval Academy, on the positive side, I was much in demand for plays and skits, even extempore ones during camps. On the negative side, I recall that a boxing bout between me and my course mate was stopped by the referee on the ground that whilst the entire thing looked very impressive complete with wincing and all that, he was sure that we should stop acting and get on with real boxing for a change. Actual blood and bruises followed after that and then only our officers and instructors were happy. Histrionics have their time and place elsewhere in the Navy, I learnt.

One such opportunity came my way when I was posted to Navy’s Leadership School at INS Agrani in Coimbatore. One fine day, our CO called a senior colleague and me to his office and said a letter had arrived from Southern Naval Command at Cochin for us to field a team at the Annual Dramatic Championship. He said the responsibility for taking this task on rested on my shoulders since I was the junior most officer posted there. He said my colleague Amarjit Bajwa would help me out.

Bajwa and I took our task rather seriously and that night discussed our strategy over several bottles of beer that continued till wee hours of the morning. In our drunken stupor a brainwave hit us; which is, that in order to enact a play, we require a script. So, next day we started searching in our library for play scripts. We found that the library was loaded with books on current affairs, history, poems, stories and the like; however, there was not a single play. In the next few days, we ransacked various libraries in and around Coimbatore; but we couldn’t find a suitable play.

We even went to the Staff College Library in Wellington by Bajwa’s Bullet mobike. But, it appeared that whilst in real – life in the armed forces, everybody is acting, there was a dearth of good play-scripts to help out people acting on stage.

After these expeditions, we involved a few sailors in doing a play. Various problems came our way. One prominent one was that most of the play scripts had some female cast. Our tall Regulating Petty Officer (Naval Police) was persuaded by us to put on a saree and shifting his role from being a terror in office to being a terror at home. But, somehow even the donning of Saree made no difference to his austere and upright naval police looks.

We tried a few sailors for their suitability in various roles and found that they were typically suited only for one role!

Dejected, one day, I performed various roles for Bajwa that I had performed in school and college and some that I would have wanted to do. In his no-nonsense mood, he wasn’t tickled. In one of these, I made him sit on a bench complete with his turban and beard. But imagining him as a girl, I approached him with a large sunflower, and wearing a tapori cap and started a dialogue that I had heard in one of Sunil Dutt’s movies, “Dilo dildaar, gulo gulzaar, ahd-e-bahaar, rango khumaar, film star, mallika-tarunnam, malika-e-jahan….” Before, I could finish with “….roop ki raani, baharon ki mallika…” Bajwa had given up on me as a gone case nut.

The date for staging the play was getting closer and it had come to last one week. Let alone rehearsing the play for a prestigious event, we hadn’t even selected a play. That day Bajwa was so annoyed with me that he could have eaten me alive.

That night, I wrote the script for a three-act-play titled Hamara Drama. Whatever we had done in search and preparation for the play was put in the first two acts. In the last act, Bajwa and I were sitting dejected that we still didn’t have a play and that everything had failed. And then yet another brainwave occurred to me and I tell him, “Why don’t we present our search for a suitable play and a cast as a play…is mein khushi hai, gham hai, bebasi hai, suspense hai, comedy hai, tragedy hai….aur kahin kahin to paagalpan bhi hai…hahahaha…hahahaha..exactly like our navy life..” The play ended there with a freeze shot. Bajwa and I, until the last day, kept adding to the dialogues in order to make them more satirical and comical.

When we went to Cochin for presenting the play, our hearts sank seeing the plays of other establishments. Each one of them had elaborate sets, cast, background music and other props. We had nothing. But, now, at that late stage could do nothing about it.

Ours was the last play on the second day. Each play was to be one hour’s duration with ten minutes given for changing sets. During our preparation time, Bajwa and I were sitting with the audience in uniform. When the curtain opened, we got up from the audience and performed on stage. It was a riot. The audience roared with every dialogue. For example, at one stage, I told Bajwa that I could do the famous Rajesh Khanna’s Anand movie dialogue, “Babu moshaye, ye zindagi ek rang manch hai aur ham sabb ismein kaam karne wali kathputliyan; in kathputliyon ki dore ooper waale ke haath mein hai. Kab, kahan, kaise kis kis ko uthana hai ye koi nahin jaanata…ha, ha, ha…ha, ha, ha..” And Bajwa asked me on stage, “But, what has this got to do with the naval audience?” And then I told him that we could modify it…and I enacted the modified dialogue:

Babu moshaye, yeh navy ek rang manch hai aur hum sabb is mein kaam karne waale afsar ya sailor. Ham sabaki dore DOP (Directorate of Personnel) ke haath mein hai. Kabb, kaise, kahan kis kis ka transfer ho jaaye yeh koi nahin jaanata..ha, ha, ha…ha, ha, ha...”

I espied C-in-C and his wife in the front row having side-splitting laughs. It was difficult to proceed from one dialogue to the other throughout the play as the laughter and applause won’t die down. No one could believe we could actually present a play, a humorous take on how we did things in the Navy or for that matter in the armed forces.

The jury was unanimous in voting for Hamara Drama as the Best Play and yours truly as the Best Actor.

Some pictures of the play are still there with me but they are lying in my home-station Kandaghat in the baggage yet to be unpacked, after my retirement in Feb 2010. I shall, subsequently, put them up when I visit Kandaghat next. In the meantime, Bajwa could persuade his wife Jaya to search in his baggage and find some pictures (he himself is on his ship at sea). She was able to find one and I am putting it up:

Hamara Drama1
Persuading one of our sailors to showcase his talent in Hamara Drama. The background prop was from the play preceding ours!

Many years later, in the year 2003, I directed the inaugural play in Mulla Auditorium in Mumbai. The Chief of the Naval Staff was the Chief Guest. My son Arjun acted in it. I adapted it from a Moliere’s play and called it Suddenly In The Park. Navy is a life’s drama in which your families are also acting and involved!

I did many other plays. For example, in Peter Shaffer’s farcical play called Black Comedy, I was Schuppanzigh, the German electrician, sent to repair the fuse since the entire play is as if performed in the dark.

After repairing the fuse, I as Schuppanzigh move to the light switch, saying "God said: "Let there be light!" And there was, good people, suddenly — astoundingly — instantaneously — inconceivably — inexhaustibly — inextinguishably and eternally — LIGHT!"
After repairing the fuse, I as Schuppanzigh move to the light switch, saying “God said: “Let there be light!” And there was, good people, suddenly — astoundingly — instantaneously — inconceivably — inexhaustibly — inextinguishably and eternally — LIGHT!”

I also directed and acted in Mahesh Dattani’s play on incest called ’30 Days in September’. The fauji audiences are normally used to only two type of plays: comedies and suspense-dramas. We were not sure how the audience would view a serious play on incest. Our C-in-C summed up the response by saying, “If Mahesh Dattani had been present tonight at the staging of his play by this team, he would have really felt proud. I was, of course, the bad guy, the perpetrator of incest. For many months after the staging of the play, women and girls, in naval residential areas would scream and run for cover after seeing me.

30 days in september

The last one I did was in 2007, a Neil Simon play called ‘Come Blow Your Horn’. I also acted as the father of Alan and Buddy Baker. Just before the curtains, Aunt Gussie who was all the while only talked about made her appearance. The only problem was that we hadn’t got anyone to do Aunty’s role. So, after my last appearance as father, I quickly changed my clothes and make up and appeared as Aunt Gussie!

Me as father Baker with my elder son Alan Baker, who lives the life of a playboy.
Me as father Baker with my elder son Alan Baker, who lives the life of a playboy.
Me as Mr. Baker with Mrs Baker. Our younger son Buddy is seen in the background
Me as Mr. Baker with Mrs Baker. Our younger son Buddy is seen in the background
Come Blow Your Horn3
Me berating the younger son Buddy Baker for having been spoiled under the influence of his elder brother Alan.

In the final scene of this three act play me appearing as Aunt Gussie with Buddy, the spoiled brat

In the final scene of this three act play me appearing as Aunt Gussie with Buddy, the spoiled brat

That was true reflection of what Navy is all about; we change roles together with the situation; and, we do absolutely strange roles that people least expect us to do. We don’t ever say we ain’t ready for a particular role.

We also do many roles on the stage but not half as difficult or strange as in real life.

Babu moshaye, yeh Navy ek rangmanch hai…..

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