Entertaining a sick child is quite a tough job. That's what I've been doing for the past couple of days. I am tired of talking in a robot voice all the time. I don't know why Navneeth finds it funny when I sing in a robot voice. And apparently I am a mix between small wonder's Vickey and the giant robot , I can fight monsters as well as fold the laundry.
One other interesting thing we did was enacting the Malayalam nursery song 'kiyam kiyam kuruvi' , the one about the sparrow and the trees. Somehow he is not convinced by the the simple logic that the God saved the good plantain, which gave the sparrow permission to build a nest while all the bad trees fell during the storm. In Navneeth's alternative story, the plantain had a growth spurt during the storm and became stronger than all other trees and hence survived the storm. After sometime her got tired of this and found some other possible explanations.
My favorite one was : The sparrow had befriended a fighter plane up in the air. The sparrow went and complained about all the bad trees who did not give space to build a nest. And the fighter plane like a loyal, devoted friend 'took care of' all the bad trees during the storm.
The God saved the plantain. Is that too confusing for a four year old? Come on...........
One more love story from apna Tinseltown. Beginning to realize that this could quite be my thing. And this is going to be a very long post.
This is not a story about jilt and abandonment. Neither is this about religion, society or crazy grandmothers standing in the way. This is about two people who belonged together and stood by each other. Theirs was not a high profile romance, it was more of knowing, understanding and belonging. But still they could not do away with the sad ending.
First time I read about them many years ago I literally cried. I told this story very emotionally to my husband that night, but he fell asleep before it was over. The only, only, only time I picked a fight! (Not quite his fault, he was really tired and I get really crazy when I tell stories, but I stopped telling stories after that anyway!)
The year 1947; the country was celebrating its independence but for many families caught up in the craziness and violence of the partition this was a period of confusion and horror. In one such family was a young girl of 17 named Harikirtan kaur. Kita, as she was called was a bold and audacious child. Her father was a Sikh scholar from Amritsar and he believed in the freedom and education of women. His daughters were trained in classical music and dance along with horse riding and fencing. But when they uprooted to Bombay , the family had lost everything and was living in a state of extreme poverty. This is where director Kedar Sharma discovered the talented youngster who had performed some dance numbers in pre-partition Punjab movies .
Harikirtan kaur took the stage name 'Geeta Bali' and went on to be one of the most talented actresses Hindi cinema has ever produced. As her family was fighting for financial security Geeta Bali accepted most roles she was offered. Many say that she frittered away with her talents with a multitude of B-grade films and never found a vehicle worthy of her prodigious talent. But she simply outclassed the movies she starred in.
In early fifties Geeta Bali found herself in the zenith of her career. A young actor made his debut into Hindi cinema around that time. He was a year younger to her and had lived a very privileged life. His initial performances were written off and he was yet to find any success as a lead actor. He also bore the burden of his name as he belonged to the first family of Hindi cinema. His performances were compared to his brother Raj Kapoor's and father Prithviraj Kapoor's and young Shamsherraj Kapoor or Shammi Kapoor was struggling to find his identity.
In 1955 Geeta Bali starred with Shammi Kapoor in 'Miss Cocacola'. Like all his previous movies this one also failed to make an impact on the audience as well as the box office, but the two of them certainly did hit it off and became good friends. They were both impulsive and adventurous, and they both believed in living life to the fullest. Shammi Kapoor was to leave to Ranikhet for the outdoor stints of his movie 'Rangeen Raten' and Geeta Bali joined the unit to do a cameo. My guess is that she just wanted to hang out with her new friend, she did a man's role in that movie for God's sake! What a good sport!
There in the great outdoors of the hill station, they fell in love. This is what Shammi Kapoor says about the magic of Ranikhet. I simply have to quote him as every time I read this I get goosebumps.
"We fell in love with the climate, the scenery, the hills and dales, the rustic hill folks and their music, the mornings, the evenings; and each other."
From then on Shammi Kapoor started the habit of begging her to marry him whenever they met. She was reluctant at first, not because she did not love him, she did love him and she never doubted it, but she still had the responsibility of her family. And she was a year older to him, she did not know how his prestigious family would take that. After many months of agony and non-togetherness she finally agreed, on one condition- They had to get married then and there. The lovers ran to the Banganga temples, but the temple was closed for the evening. They waited the whole night and went back early in the morning and got married. Just like that!
And they lived the life of a bliss, only it wasn't for ever after!
The family accepted them and everybody gave their blessings. Geeta Bali sidelined her career for family but still did a few movies every year. Shammi Kapoor was still a struggling actor and after the birth of their first child he was seriously contemplating an alternative career. But his wife became his pillar of support and kept on telling him that he was going to find success. She was right! With Tumsa nahi dekha 1957 he became an overnight national sensation and with his unique dance moves, backed by Mohammed Rafi's heavenly voice, he became quite the romantic icon of the next decade.
Shammi Kapoor found the happiness of a life time in the early sixties. With her husband's super stardom and the birth of a second child, Geeta Bali temporarily retired from acting. She read his scripts and discussed it with him and was quite his best friend as well as the worst critic.
In 1964 the couple read the script of 'Teesri manzil' together. They were excited as it had the potential of becoming one of the biggest successes of Shammi Kapoor's career. Little did he know that his beloved wife would not be there to celebrate that success with him.
Geeta Bali was excited for one of her own projects as well. She was going to produce and act in the film adaptation of Rajinder Singh Bedi's novel 'Ek Chader Maili si'. This was going to be her 'classic', a role that is worthy of her talent ,something people would remember her for. In the winter of 64 while Shammi Kapoor was busy with Teesri Manzil, she took the kids to rural Punjab where she was to shoot this film. One cold december evening Kapoor visited his wife on the set and was not pleased with the situation there. It was brutally cold and half of the crew were sick. Of course Geeta Bali was a first time producer and she did not anticipate this. So he simply had to ask her to hold off her creativity for the season and the family returned back to Bombay.
On 2nd January 1965, Kapoor returned home to find his wife complaining of a splitting head ache. He cancelled his shooting schedule and stayed at home. Her head ache later developed into a high fever and she was hospitalized. Later it was confirmed to be small pox and on 21 January 1965 she passed away.
May be there is a reason why perfect marriages are rare; they in their strange fulfillment somehow throw the life out of balance, that something like this has to happen. I always think of this, she would have read that novel on a lazy Sunday afternoon leaning on a plush pillow. She would have then said to herself 'What a masterpiece'. Then she would have told her husband all about it and if he fell asleep she certainly would have fought with him. She would have later found herself unable to stop thinking about it and he would have agreed to her idea of making that into a movie.
She was cremated in Banganga, close to the temple where she married Shammi Kapoor. He threw that copy of the novel in her funeral pyre.
Shammi Kapoor drowned his sorrows in alcohol. He had bizarre fevers and lapses of consciousness. After many months he went back to the set of Teesri Manzil. The film did become one of his biggest hits.
After years of drowning himself in depression, alcohol, gambling and many other things, Shammi Kapoor remarried in 1969. The bride was his family friend Neila Devi. By this time he was finding it impossible to keep his weight under control and he wanted to move away from stardom. He lived a quiet and happy life with his second wife.The thing about love is that it can take many forms, it can be thrilling and exciting or it can be quiet and consoling. And Shammi Kapoor of all people deserved to find it again!
In the 70's he grew a beard and did supporting roles. He turned director for Manoranjan, an adaptation of the french play Irma la Douce, which he had watched with his first wife, which they had once dreamt of making into a movie.
In the late 80's he found a new passion; the computer. He was one of the very first internet users of the country. Later he taught himself HTML and did the Kapoor family website himself. I used to follow his video blogs, big fan of the man!
He fought his chronic renal failures for many years before finally succumbing to it on 14 august 2011. He was also cremated in Banganga. I hope he found himself once again with his beloved.
I like this song of Geeta Bali.
Many months after her death Shammi Kapoor went back to the set of Teesi Manzil to do this song. If you ever see this musical thriller remember what he went through during the making of it.
I want to add this quote from Sharatchandra Chatterjee's Srikanta here..
'The love between a man and a woman is such an ordinary thing. It has existed since the beginning of time, and will go on - unchanging, continuous, without pause or rest. Yet the same time, sometimes, on rare occasions, becomes a thing of divine beauty - eternal and infinite. It enriches and elevates generations of men but never consumes itself.'
She is bossy; he is not exactly submissive. She is stubborn; he is not exactly complacent. They are loud and they argue all the time. He puts up a good fight, but she always wins. Its fun to observe them, this couple I know.
We are having a conversation about domestic violence, about a woman who decided to leave her abusive husband.
"How could she do such a thing" The lady says. "He is her husband. He has the right to beat her up if he wants to."
I tell her that I do not think that's true.
"Yes." She insists. "The husband has the right to kill if he wants to."
I want to laugh... 'Yea right, When you know that you can boss your's all you want its easy to make such statements' I think.
Then I look at her husband. He is beaming at her; next time she questions him on his personal expenditure he is going to think 'all this for a woman who thinks a husband can kill his wife if he wants to'
This is how it works! It finally hits me.
Can a marriage work with out subtle manipulations and over compensations ? No....
Do I not manipulate and over compensate for my flaws. Guilty..
Then do I have any right to judge her.. No..
Theirs is a fully functional marriage and nobody has the right to judge.
Leo Tolstoy says in Anna Karenina that all happy families are alike. I don't know about happy families but all functional marriages are not alike. (I don't think the term happy marriage is relevant anymore)
Every functional marriage will have its own way of manipulation and compensation. It will look absurd to the outside world but don't be in a haste to judge.
There are these children, they live in a refugee shelter in Syria, in tents made of plastic sheets without much protection from the cold. They have seen terrible things, things they do not understand. They barely made it through the cross-fires. They have bruises and frostbytes in their beautiful faces. Still they smile when they face the camera. They huddle in groups and giggle. They make me sad but they have the most beautiful smiles in the world.
Then there is this confession by the hero fallen from grace, admitting that everything was a lie. He makes me sad too. I feel sad that he felt winning was everything, at whatever cost, even if you have to sell your soul. When God gives you a second chance, isn't it important to be genuine in whatever you do.
We prepare our children for the competitive world. We train them to be winners. But isn't it important to teach them how to lose gracefully when they have to.
My prayers to the children of Syria. Hope they find more reasons to smile. Some of them have lost their parents and siblings. I pray they become the true survivors, both by body and soul.
My prayers to Lance Amstrong's children as well, they have lost the hero in their father. I hope they survive the disgrace and the tainted memories.
I've been reading about some miserable souls lately and my thoughts fly to this lady who once was the reigning queen of Hindi/Urdu cinema. After a broken love affair she slowly moved away from the industry and lived alone in her apartment in Mumbai Marine Drive (where she had been living almost all her life ) till her death in 2004. I am talking about Suraiya , the singing super star of 40's and 50's.
Suraiya Jamaal Sheikh started her career as a child artist , she played young Mumtaz Mahal in Taj Mahal (1941). Those were the reign of singing stars and Suraiya's voice got noticed. With Anmol Ghadi(1946) she became a full-fledged singing star. After the partition the popular singing actress Noor Jahan left for Pakistan and Suraiya became the undisputed queen of Hindi musicals. Her beauty, her talent and her voice made her a national sensation. All her songs were hits and so were her movies.
On the sets of Vidya (1948) she met a young man who was to be her hero. He was relatively new to the industry and had just a few movies as a hero to his credit. This was alright as heroes were ornamental in Suraiya's movies, she always got the first billing and the selling point was her voice. This young man had left his middle class home in Lahore and had come to Bombay in the hope of becoming a film star. He did not quite conceal his admiration to Suraiya. Love is often uncanny, A boat capsized during the shooting and he saved her life. When she thanked him and said ' I would have died if it weren't for you', he replied 'Then I would have died too'.
Suraiya must have been the biggest star of the industry, but still she was a 19 year old girl. She fell head over heels in love with her handsome co-star. His name was Dev Anand.
The budding love would have done magic to their acting chemistry. Dev Anand - Suraiya pair became quite popular and they did 7 movies together. As they laughed, giggled, made nick names for each other and walked dreamy eyed on the sets they forgot one small thing. Suraiya was a Muslim and Dev was a Hindu. Soon Suraiya's orthodox family got the wind of the affair and the hell broke down on the young lovers.
Suraiya was well under the thump of her grandmother who followed her from set to set. She could not talk to Dev Anand on the sets and friends from the industry had to help the lovers to exchange messages. They made elaborate plans to elope but all were discovered by her family.
The country was only recovering from the havoc of the partition. Suraiya's family and friends ( some of whom were her suitors) made her believe that a riot would break out if she married Dev. Its even said that her grandmother threatened that she was putting Dev's life in danger. She had no way other than to break up with him.
I must be the 100th person on the internet to write about the Dev Anand- Suraiya romance. People still obsess over it even after 60 years. Some say they cried in each other's arms for an hour before parting ways. I wonder how that would be like , to cry in somebody's arms and never to see that person again.
It is also said that an expensive engagement ring gifted by Dev Anand was thrown in the sea. Some say her grandmother did it and some say she did it herself. Poor Dev Anand had loaned money from his friends to buy that ring.
Dev Anand was heart broken and could not bear the thought that he had been jilted by his beloved. He cried and cried and when he stopped he found the will to work 20 hours a day for his new production company. He was not Suraiya's leading man anymore , he had to find a place for himself and he had to prove a lot to her and her family and the industry. He joined hands with his close friend Guru Dutt and made Baazi, 1951 which became a runaway hit. Dev Anand became an overnight sensation, Guru Dutt a sought after director and Geeta Bali a popular star. Dev Anand never looked back. He became the only 'ever green' star of Hindi cinema. He married his co-star Kalpana Karthik in 1954. Though he admitted that he married on rebound and made no secrets of his extra-marital affairs, the couple did manage to live under a roof till his death.
Suraiya on the other hand slowly lost the grip on her career. Her voice did not quite find the same sweetness and she turned down many offers. By early 60's she said good bye to the industry. She turned down all her suitors as well. She never got married.
While the 'broken heart' became his driving force for success, it completely ruined her. I think it was because she was the one to give up on love. Somehow it hurts me to think that Dev Anand never really forgave her, in an interview much after her death he says that there is always a difference between a girl who says 'I love you and to hell with the world, I am going to marry you' and a girl who says ' I love you but, my religion, my parents, your religion, ...'.. Sadly Suraiya could not be the first kind.
I always imagine how her lonely life would have been like. I hope in the world above they did settle their differences. For he did admit that she was his one great love and passion.
Last week I called my cousin to wish her a happy new year. She was a bit depressed that day. (Aren't we all sometimes). She told me that life is a joy only for fake people with fake smiles and fake tears; real people only get hurt. I didn't know how to argue with that. Life is often confusing.
My cousin is a cynic, a skeptic who questions the very existence of God. We have been sisters, best friends all our lives and we always argue. When something go out of place, unplanned I turn to God. I desperately ask the supreme power to show me a way. I often follow signs and seek answers. To her everything is scientific and random. When I say ' that was a sign' she says 'just coincidence'.
Off late when things don't go right she is sinking into some kind of infinite sadness. And she doesn't have faith to fall back on. She asks me where is God when innocents gets raped and killed. I cannot always answer. It breaks my heart when someone I care about is depressed and I cannot make them feel better. I feel like I failed the purpose of my life.
Innocents do get raped and killed. The country is waking up to the plight of its daughters.
Sometimes when I find myself overwhelmed I try to focus on a memory. When I was 11 I started a new school in a new city and on my first day I lost my way home. My mother had left me at school and told me to take the school bus route no 3 in the evening. But in a school like Cotton hill where there are 1000 students and four school buses, buses often run second trips. Actually I had to take the bus no 3, but the second trip which goes to a different route. My mother did not know that and neither did I. No other girl I talked to on the first day was taking that bus so I went alone. I was not scared I just had to get off at the last stop. So I waited and I got off at the last stop. By the time I realized something was wrong the bus had left. ( I am often slow, I don't know why). Apparently it was some outskirt of the city and no soul was in sight. I didn't know what to do. I walked for a long time.I don't know if my memory is playing a trick but I think crossed some kind of farm. Then I reached a small junction. I dismissed the thought of taking a bus, ksrtc buses were too confusing for me. I decided to take an auto instead and got in to the first one. I told the driver the name of the place where my house was and he did not have a clue. This was a local auto and I had traveled the wrong direction to the other end of the city. He asked me what I was doing there and I told him I took the wrong bus. ( Yea I did :-) ) I also told him I was new to the city. My northern dialect would have given me away anyway. That good man asked someone how to get to the place and drove me home safe and sound. ( Of course my worried mother paid him a fortune.)
Will it be too bad of me if I want to hold my faith in the world where not all strangers are kidnappers, not all men are rapists and not all smile is fake.
I went to see the Colosseum once. ( when in Rome...). The Colosseum is a one of the seven wonders of the world, an example of the ancient Roman architectural genius. To me it is a monument of cruelty where many brave men fought for life and some were even eaten alive by wild beasts while the whole stadium cheered. Cruelty did not just start yesterday , history of human civilization is a history of cruelty as well. May be that is why all those ancient civilizations fell. But what is amazing is that when the city of Vatican was being built they used some parts of the Colosseum and other old roman buildings as a quarry. So the holly city is partly built on the raw materials from this monument of cruelty. Isn't that something to think about?
My cousin is a doctor, a radiologist and she takes her frustrations in life to a very demanding job. She sometimes detects tumors and internal injuries and confirms that somebody's worst fear is true.But mostly everyday she detects the first heartbeats of unborn babies and looks at their tiny faces, legs and arms. She then asks the expectant parents if they want to see the fetus. The anxious young mothers and proud fathers eagerly look at the screen and smiles even if they cannot understand anything. My cousin doesn't know this but she is bringing a lot of happiness into the world.
I am a believer. I pray when I am confused, scared and terrified. I don't know what skeptics do. So I pray for all the skeptics in my life too.
This just came into my mind, this silly song or poem . I am kind of like that. I can be serious but I am mostly extremely silly. (Roll your eyes if you want to)
Another day, Another dawn
Another start for you and me.
Another year, Another spark,
Another song for you and me.
