Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘Birthday’

Gulzar once said lyrics should “amaze or amuse”, or otherwise no one would care. In his six-decade career as a poet-lyricist, he certainly stuck to this principle.

His best work in the first half of his career was with R.D. Burman. After a lull following Burman’s death, with composers like A.R. Rahman, Vishal Bhardwaj and Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy entering his world, his lyrics gained a new ferocity, as filmmakers and their gradually evolving subject matters gave him room to experiment and push the envelope.

Here are only some of Gulzar’s best-written (not necessarily his most successful) songs.

‘Mora Gora Ang’, Bandini (1963)

A textbook example of how Gulzar turns a traditional love song into something ethereal: evoking “Shyam”, which means evening as well as the Hindu god of love Krishna. He writes: “Mora gora ang lai lemohey shyam rang dei de / Choop jaungi raat hi meinmohey pee ka sang dei de” (‘Take my fair body, colour me as dark as shyam / I will hide myself in the night, grant me the company of my beloved’).

‘Humne Dekhi Hai Un Aankhon Ki Mehakti Khusboo’, Khamoshi (1969)

Can you see the fragrance of the eyes? Gulzar can. This was among one of Gulzar’s earliest songs where a sensory experience is accorded to a body part to which it is foreign. But what makes this song work, after its unorthodox opening, are the graceful lines that follow.

‘Haal Chaal Theek Thaak Hai’, Mere Apne (1971)

Among one of Gulzar’s earliest political songs, the lines here are caustic and timeless. In one verse, he refers to the ruling class with “makaanon pe pagdi waale sasur khade” (‘Tough father-in-laws stand atop buildings’), which is rhymed with “koi in buzurghon se kaise lade?” (‘How do we fight these old men?’).

In another, he explains the food-and-money situation with the image of a roti rolling down the street followed by a silver coin, but a kite flies away with the roti and a crow escapes with the coin.

‘Musafir Hoon Yaaron’Parichay (1972)

Gulzar creates some really simple but evocative images in this song about a wanderer. He writes, ‘if one path didn’t work out, another came by, and sometimes the path followed me the way I turned’. Then he writes: ‘sometimes the day beckoned me there, the night called me there, I made friends with both dawn and dusk’.

‘O Majhi Re’Khushboo (1975)

Rivers, shores and boatmen are recurring images in Gulzar’s lyrics, and this is perhaps his most definitive song in that respect. Among the stand-out metaphors here is Gulzar’s description of lonely wanderers as eroded strips of land floating in search of a shore.

‘Dil Dhoondhta Hai’, Mausam (1975)

In contrast to the upbeat tune, Gulzar’s free verse about reminiscing an old love is rather poised and graceful.

The lyrics perhaps may be better appreciated if read as a poem. Some pleasant imagery here: “Jaadon ki narm dhoop aur aangan mein let kar, aankhon pe kheench kar tere daaman ke saaye ko / aundhe pade rahe kabhi karvat liye huye” (‘I lay prone in the courtyard under the soft shade of trees, drawing your shadow over my eyes, sometimes twisting and turning’).

‘Tere Bina Zindagi’, Aandhi (1975)

Once again with a romantic song, Gulzar’s powerful introduction sets up and defines the sort of love to be explored. This time, there’s affection, but between old souls: ‘Without you, I have no complaints with life, but life isn’t life without you’, he writes.

‘Masterji Ki Aa Gayi Chitthi’, Kitaab (1977)

Gulzar’s reputation for wacky, out-there lyrics is surely courtesy his work with the post-1990s composers, but some of his particularly eccentric work with R.D. Burman deserves credit for sending him down that road.

In this song, among other things, out of the masterji’s letter pops out a betel leaf-chewing cat wearing shades and a mosquito with a mountain-carrying moustache.

‘Ek Akela Iss Shahar Me’, Gharaonda (1977)

A terrific song about urban loneliness. Had Travis Bickle heard this, he may have calmed down and not attempted assassinations and gunfights. Among its most haunting lines about the indifferent city: “Din khali khali bartan hai aur raat hai jaise andha kuaan” (The days are like empty vessels, the nights are a bottomless well).

‘Aaj Kal Paon Zameen Par’Ghar (1978)

The lightness of touch in Gulzar’s lyrics complements the optimistic yet modest hopes of a young blooming romance. In a standout verse, Gulzar writes, ‘whenever I held your hand and looked, people said it’s only the lines on your palm, but I saw two destinies coming together’.

‘Phirse Aaiyo Badra Bidesi’, Namkeen (1982)

Splendid imagery abounds in this haunting song filled with longing. With mentions of clouds, a lake, a terrace, a peepal tree, a garden, a small bridge and so on, he magnificently creates a psycho-geography that gets engulfed in yearning with each passing line.

‘Mera Kuchh Samaan’, Ijaazat (1987)

Gulzar’s ultimate breakup/heartbreak song, but such a facetious description hardly does justice to the brilliance of ‘Mera Kuchh Samaan’. From the simple idea of wanting your stuff back from your ex-lover’s house, Gulzar creates a tapestry of the haunted memories of a relationship that once was.

‘Khamosh Sa Afsana’, Libaas (1988)

This feels like a song created out of ideas and metaphors Gulzar has turned to before in other songs, for example, ‘Humne Dekhi Hai In Aankhon Ki Mehakti Khushboo’, which is concerned with love that is best left unexpressed, and ‘O Majhi Re’, with its metaphors of river as life and shore as companion. It is the combination of these two ideas that lend the song its potency.

‘Chhod Aye Hum’, Maachis (1996)

A great song that documents the emotions and memories one has for their homeland and the endless gloom that follows when it is ravaged. The best line in the song goes, “Ek chota sa lamhaa haijo khatam nahi hota / Main laakh jalata hoonyeh bhasm nahi hota”. (‘A small moment in time that just doesn’t end / I keep setting it on fire, but it is never burned down’).

‘Dil Se Re’, Dil Se.. (1998)

An absolutely bombastic declaration of love, in contrast to the subdued grace of the earlier romantic songs in this list. Just a sigh of the heart causes the sun to shine, the mercury to melt and a storm to rise, Gulzar writes in the opening verse. Then he creates some extraordinary imagery about two stray leaves in another verse, which gets better the more you listen and contemplate the lines.

‘Goli Maar Bheje Mein’, Satya (1998)

Don’t think, just shoot, for if you think, you die – Gulzar spins a rollicking fun song out of this simple gangster’s code of living. Gulzar is writing from the perspective of absolute scoundrels, using their lingo, and despite the coarseness of the words (or because of it), the message is communicated sharply.

‘Ghapla Hai Bhai’, Hu Tu Tu (1999)

Everything is a scam, Gulzar writes, in this satirical song through which he takes potshots at the political class. Gulzar drops the mocking tone in the final verse and embraces the true sadness of the subject matter: “… ghiste ghiste fat jaate hai juton jaise log bechaare … pairon mein pehne jaate haijalse aur jalluso mein”. (‘People are like shoes, tattered from overuse, worn at celebrations and processions’).

‘Hum Bhul Gaye’, Aks (1999)

If we are to strip the song of the film’s context, Gulzar’s lyrics, which depict an experience of feeling disassociated from oneself, might just be about depression. He writes, “Umeed bhi ajnabee lagti hai aur dard paraya lagta hai / Aaine me jisko dekha tha bichda huwa saya lagta hai.” (‘Hope seems like a stranger and pain feels foreign, the one I see in the mirror seems like a shadow separated from me’).

‘Haath Choote’Pinjar (2003)

Gulzar’s lyrics are a 101 on how to deal with relationships that are about to or have completely run their course. He writes, ‘even if the holding of hands gets loose, do not end ties’. Then he writes, ‘if one has to indeed leave, don’t break your heart for them’.

‘Piya Tora Kaisa Abhimaan’, ‘Raincoat’ (2004)

In a song essentially about endlessly waiting for your beloved, the allusions to Hindu traditions and myths lend it a timeless folkish quality. Gulzar weaves the angst of pining with the images of Radha-Krishna’s romance under the kadam tree, kahars carrying a palanquin, bathing in the Jamuna for absolving one’s sins and wearing the “garal saman” or poison-like mark of sandalwood on the forehead to embrace a hermit’s life as one’s lover won’t ever return.

‘O Saathi Re’, Omkara (2006)

As much as choosing the best lyrics in Omkara is a toss-up between the ornate raunchiness of ‘Namak’ and the sublime beauty of ‘O Saathi Re’, the warmth in the latter’s description of mutual affection is more effective than the cleverness of the former’s innuendos. Gulzar draws some lovely images in O Saathi Re, particularly in a verse that follows a couple fishing on a riverbank on a red evening.

‘Ay Hairathe’, Guru (2007)

Like moments in ‘O Saathi Re’ and a bunch of other love songs, like the ones from Ghar and Ijaazat, Gulzar is a master at highlighting the particularities of a relationship, mentioning specific details and giving the relationship a lived-in quality. ‘Ay Hairathe’ is just one more example in which Gulzar brings grace to the intense cuteness of a marriage’s honeymoon years.

‘Kaminey’, Kaminey (2009)

Gulzar writes, ‘everyone and everything is damned, including me, my hopes, my dreams, my friendships’, the list goes on. In a song where self-pity is the only conclusion of introspection, there are moments of cruel beauty, such as a verse where Gulzar writes, “Jiska bhi chehra cheelaandar se aur nika / Masoom sa kabootar / naacha to mor nika”. (‘I found someone else everytime I scratched a face’ / ‘An innocent pigeon danced, turned out to be a peacock’).

‘Dil To Bachcha Hai Ji’, Ishqiya (2010)

What’s great about the lyrics here is how from a definite premise – that of an old man feeling young again because of love – Gulzar draws out all kinds of specific images and ideas that feel extremely effortless. There are no complex metaphors at work, nothing that’s tired and overused, and it all comes together so neatly.

‘Bekaraan’, 7 Khoon Maaf (2011)

There are some lovely moments in this romantic paean. There’s the part where Gulzar writes, ‘please see beneath your feet if something’s stuck … it’s just time, please ask it to move along’.

But then written from the perspective of an abusive husband, the line “Kya laga honth talejaise koi chot chale” (‘What’s that under your lips, looks like a bruise’), gives the song a sinister edge.

‘Heer’, Jab Tak Hai Jaan (2012)

Yet another song about pining, but how to keep it fresh? Gulzar brilliantly blends two tragic romances: Heer-Ranjha and Mirza-Sahiban. He writes, ‘don’t call me Heer’ (who doesn’t get to build a home with her lover Ranjha, as she is married off, and both die before they can be united), ‘for I’ve become Sahibaan, and Mirza will bring a horse and take me away soon’. (Mirza escaped with Sahibaan on his horse the night right before her wedding ceremony).

‘Khul Kabhi Toh’, Haider (2014)

Like ‘Bekaraan’, again an intense love song written from the perspective of a guy who is not quite there in his head.

Beautiful lines like “saanssaans sek doon tujhe” (‘breath by breath, I will heat you up’), lead up to violent imagery: ‘when I was kissing your earrings, a gulmohar tree kept dancing’ … ‘in the heat, I felt ‘why don’t I throw you into the fire of the burning gulmohar’’.

‘Kill Dil’, Kill Dil (2014)

There are fantastic images and metaphors all throughout this song, which tells the story of two daredevil gunslingers. Gulzar himself recites their introduction: ‘Here come two bastard sons of darkness, walking down a coal-black road … they were raised drinking blood … they neither have skies overheard nor ground underneath … perhaps their life was crushed, this is their story’.

‘Patli Gali’, Talvar (2015)

A fun sardonic take on how torturous the legal system is for the common citizen, ‘Patli Gali’ is filled with delightful lines. For example, in the “patli gali” (narrow lane), Gulzar writes, ‘bald men sell combs, while lawmakers sell the ropes twisted round their [the people’s] necks’.

‘Aave Re Hichki’, Mirzya (2016)

Gulzar ties up the folk myth of hiccups occuring when one is remembered by their beloved with the widely held belief of their occuring due to a dry throat. But going past this conceit, Gulzar yet again evocatively describes the sorrow of longing, drawing in elements of the geography of the story, as he did with ‘Phirse Aaiyo Badra Bidesi’.

About the author:

Devarsi Ghosh loves to write on films, books and music when he is not working on his screenplays.

Notes:

  1. August 18 is Gulzar’s birthday.
  2. This article first appeared on The Wire: https://thewire.in/the-arts/gulzar-at-90-his-30-best-lyrics.
  3. The author’s permission to reproduce this article here is gratefully acknowledged.

Related Posts:

Read Full Post »

Often, my so-called well-wishers criticize me for reading and admiring Plum too much. However, the reasons which keep this craving of mine – to keep devouring his works – alive and kicking, are not too difficult to fathom.

A Chin-up Attitude

There are practical instances wherein I am persuaded to believe that too much of an association with this gentleman’s works will not suggest any solutions to the problems I face in day-to-day life. However, once the problem is over, I realize that the courage to sail through the peril was somehow provided by him. The outcome is that of maintaining a jaunty sang froid while facing the harsh slings and arrows of Fate.

The Utility of a Plummy Lens

Many a time, say during an extreme crisis, I have observed that I switch myself off and start thinking of the situation in the light of his works. For example, when someone shouts at me or at anyone else who may be the weaker party in that situation, the face of the shout-er (irrespective of gender) resembles that of Roderick Spode whereas that of the shout-ee looks like that of either Bertie or Bingo Little. Somehow, my anger evaporates. I start giggling internally, of course, while experiencing extreme difficulty in keeping myself serious externally. Likewise, many of his characters keep assisting me from time to time. When a senior starts ridiculing me, I stand before him, often shuffling my feet, like one of the guilty pupils of Rev. Aubrey Upjohn, as if I had tried to steal some cookies from the jar kept inside the desk in his office. When a colleague starts showering some undue favours upon me, I feel like Oofy Prosser and suspect the person to be planning to soon touch me for the proverbial tenner.

To me, someone throwing weight around sounds like Pop Basset. Those who view me critically and make me feel as if I could do with a heavy dose of intellectual upliftment look like Aunt Agatha or Rupert Baxter. Someone in whose company I become tongue-tied and gawky remind me of Bertie when he is with either Madeline Bassett or Corky Pirbright. When I fail to recollect some crucial information at a critical juncture, which happens rather frequently, I feel like Lord Emsworth. Whenever I participate in a karate event, I feel as if Pauline Stoker is cheering me from amongst the viewers. When I am with my better half, I believe myself to be like Bingo Little, ensuring that she gets her evening cup of tea for sure. The list is endless. I wish I could keep on adding here. But you get the drift. In different situations, I readily imagine having the traits of one of his characters. 

Does a Dependence on Plum Help?

To be in context (which many of my friends, and well-wishers, bless them, feel 90% of the time I am not), I often wonder if too much dependency on this man has made me a bit of a person who lives in a dream world. Well, the straightforward answer to which is a ‘yes.’ The question that readily follows, and is perhaps more contextual, is, does that help? Well, the answer to this is not that straightforward. To be specific, sometimes it is a ‘yes’ and sometimes it is a ‘no’ depending on the mood I am in at that time. However, the funny part is, if it is a ‘yes’ then fine, but if it is otherwise, I have found, I end up going through a book of his to ultimately nullify the apprehension of saying ‘yes!’

I thank all my friends, family members, and patrons who have introduced me to the beautiful world created by him. It may not be fashionable to say this, but I think I suffer from, for want of a better term, an addiction. It keeps provoking me to revisit the world, created by this gentleman, again and again, ignoring the words of caution from my so-called critics and well-wishers who keep trying to make my life better with their thoughts of ‘wisdom.’

The Perks of an Addiction

As to words of wisdom, given the age I am at, the incitement to impart knowledge to others increases. In a way, this satisfies my ego which gets a chance to brag. Like Thos, I can afford to view those around me with a supercilious gaze. The fact remains that all of us have a kid within ourselves. One of the many achievements of this gentleman is that he successfully keeps that child alive within us through his works. As they say, er, isn’t there a proverb that connects a child, father, and man? The brainy cove who came up with it was surely spot on. 

An Appeal to the Wodehouse Estate

Let me also take this opportunity to convey a humble request of mine to the Wodehouse Estate. I would suggest that like such other products as tobacco and alcohol, all books and stories of the Master Wordsmith of our times should mandatorily carry a clear warning to the effect that reading his narratives could lead to a severe state of addiction, and that they read his works only at their own risk and peril.

Happy Birth Anniversary!

Happy 141st, Sir. 141 years and still so very relevant. It makes me feel chuffed, satiated, and proud to realize that we continue to breathe, live, and enjoy the same world, drinking deep from the underground reservoirs of unalloyed bliss and joy he has left behind for us.

(A version of this write-up has also been posted by the author on the Fans of P G Wodehouse page of FB. His permission to republish this piece here is gratefully acknowledged.)

(Suryamouli Datta is a 42-year young fan of P G Wodehouse. He is a software professional, presently associated with Tata Consultancy Services. He is an amateurish author who is yet to knock at the publisher’s door. He is a black-brown belt in karate and occasionally dabbles in theatre. He also happens to be a movie buff.

He believes that Wodehouse, like golf, should be caught early and that his Guardian Angels have will-nilly ensured that this is what has happened to him! Thus, the ‘child’ in him is yet to grow up and he is pretty elated about it.)

(Related Post: https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/10/23/my-dear-clarence)

Read Full Post »

ashokbhatia's avatarashokbhatia

In order to celebrate the 137th birth anniversary of P G Wodehouse, the Pittsburgh Millionaires decided to meet up on the 14th of October, 2018. The meeting took place at one of the Panera Cafés in the Oakland area of Pittsburgh, USA.

Lest some of you get an impression that the millionaires foregathered to discuss some trustworthy sources from where one could secure either a cow creamer or a scarab, you would be sadly mistaken. If your ambitions lead you to believe that you could have run into an arts dealer offering The Girl in Blue, the famous Gainsborough miniature, to one of the millionaires present at the gathering, you would be even more off the mark.

Had you been able to make it to the gig, you would have discovered the Pittsburgh Millionaires to be a group of strong and adventurous folks, well endowed and successful…

View original post 461 more words

Read Full Post »

ashokbhatia's avatarashokbhatia

Allow us to welcome you belatedly to this wonderful world on a special day,

When you turn one and fans in different continents are celebrating Plum;

For this is the day he decided to hand in his dinner pail,

Leaving a rich legacy of joy, should we ever become glum.

Unbeknown to you, you have brought happiness in many lives,

Not only to that of your parents and immediate family members;

But also to the lives of fans suffering from Corona-induced blues,

You brought hope to a sick planet and kept aglow joyful embers.

You dispelled our manner of death-where-is-thy-sting-fullness,

Keeping us safe indoors, devouring the works of the Master;

Reveling in the antics of those who lived almost a century back,

Keeping our sanity intact, building immunity, recovering faster.

In Plumsville, Death is surely not a dreaded phenomenon,

On the contrary, it confers wealth, castles and titles upon heirs;

View original post 701 more words

Read Full Post »

 

Allow us to welcome you belatedly to this wonderful world on a special day,

When you turn one and fans in different continents are celebrating Plum;

For this is the day he decided to hand in his dinner pail,

Leaving a rich legacy of joy, should we ever become glum.

 

Unbeknown to you, you have brought happiness in many lives,

Not only to that of your parents and immediate family members;

But also to the lives of fans suffering from Corona-induced blues,

You brought hope to a sick planet and kept aglow joyful embers.

 

You dispelled our manner of death-where-is-thy-sting-fullness,

Keeping us safe indoors, devouring the works of the Master;

Reveling in the antics of those who lived almost a century back,

Keeping our sanity intact, building immunity, recovering faster.

 

In Plumsville, Death is surely not a dreaded phenomenon,

On the contrary, it confers wealth, castles and titles upon heirs;

Hiring Jeeves or Anatole, buying white jackets with brass buttons,

But not behaving like an American millionaire, putting on airs.

 

Your first year on this planet was a tough year indeed,

When many of us lost our clear vision of 20:20;

Plum’s works kept us afloat, giving us hope of a brighter future,

We have survived to the day and can read these lines aplenty.

 

A stern look from you and the virus would have gone into hiding,

Like a rhino retreating upon seeing a White hunter with a shotgun;

Enthused, we also took it head on, savouring our enforced isolation,

Relishing opportunities for introspection and having fun.

 

Like Bertie Wooster, you may approve of our chin up attitude,

Deploying nerves of chilled steel, surviving a sudden lockdown;

Oh, how we craved renting a cottage in the countryside,

Free of the fear of an Edwin the Scout who may burn it down.

 

Lest we may contract the dreaded virus,

We had to let go of Anatole, God’s gift to our gastric juices;

A Laura Pyke type diet regime we had to follow,

Partaking immunity boosting foods, sans any dietary excuses.

 

Many unopened books adorning our shelves we could go through,

Improving our intellect with tomes dished out by brainy coves;

Curled up in a corner with a tissue restorative by our side,

While affianced couples connected over internet, cooing like turtle doves.

 

Never in our lives did we imagine watching so many flicks,

Many inane, some average and few so very well made;

Homemakers turned creative and tried myriad recipes,

Prompting many of us to don a figurative skirt and chip in with due aid.

 

The pleasures of offline shopping sprees had to be given up,

Instead, online shopping alone saved the day for many of us;

With the giant wheels of commerce temporarily shut down,

A revival of the environment turned out to be a big plus.

 

Some rarely seen birds trooped in, giant butterflies fluttering,

The bees were active, flora and fauna flourished, sky was azure;

Flowers bloomed with gaiety, greener trees swayed gently,

Nature was bountiful; the air one breathed was pure.

 

Those in metros were severely hit, spinsters all alone and forlorn,

Musicals like ‘Hamilton’ and ‘Pretty Woman’ were sorely missing;

Engagements and nuptials had to be postponed, wedding plans trimmed,

Couples had a tougher time, unsure of even an act like kissing.

 

You have brought great joy into the lives of your parents,

As you grow, you shall surely return their nurturing ways;

They are bringing you up with lots of love and care,

Your innocent smiles and hugs brightening their days.

 

May your intellect be always one up on that of Jeeves,

Your investigative skills as sharp as those of Baxter the efficient;

In culinary skills, may you surpass Anatole, in smartness, Psmith,

A heart that bleeds for its pals may also be sufficient.

 

 

When it comes to heartily gorging on your daily nourishment,

The Empress could already learn a few things from you;

As to keeping the enthusiasm of a big sister under check,

Clarence could imbibe you, proving worthy in his ancestors’ view.

 

Your crawling skills would soon evolve into brisk walking ones,

If ever you get besotted with a Hollywood diva in your pre-teen days,

Like Thos, you may walk six miles to fetch the Sporting Times for Bertie,

Aspiring to win the Good Conduct competition, winning Greta Garbo’s praise.

 

You shall grow to be like a Hercules with nerves of chilled steel,

With abundant milk of human kindness coursing through your veins;

Following the Code of the Woosters with alacrity and aplomb,

Handling overbearing aunts, using Esmond Haddock’s tact and brains.

 

You chose to be born on a very special day,

Resurrecting the spirit of Plum, of whom your grandmother is a fan;

May your own life be full of light, sweetness and joy,

As long as a benevolent and humorous sun keeps cheering up man.

 

 

(Master John Jasper happens to be the grandson of Lucy Smink, a fan of P G Wodehouse Down Under. This impromptu composition is addressed to him. Permission of the family to publish it here is gratefully acknowledged.)

(Related Posts: 

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2019/06/08/lord-emsworth-and-the-girl-friend-a-visual-version

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/10/23/my-dear-clarence

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2015/07/05/the-gallery-of-rogue-kids-in-plumsville

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2015/04/01/when-masters-thos-bonzo-and-moon-rise-in-love)

Read Full Post »

ashokbhatia's avatarashokbhatia

Denizens of the Republic of Plumsville are cordially invited to attend the swearing-in ceremony of the new cabinet of its Federal Government.Blandings castle-enHon’ble President, Lord Emsworth (Clarence Threepwood, 9th Earl of Emsworth), would preside over the function. The Vice President, Mr. Chichester Clam, shall also grace the occasion.

The ceremony shall begin with the Hon’ble President raising the National Flag, to the accompaniment of a rendering of the National Anthem ‘Sonny Boy’ by Ms. Cora Bellinger.

The Hon’ble President, the Vice President and the incumbent Prime Minister shall thereafter garland the statue of Sir Pelham Grenville Wodehouse, KBE, the Father of the Nation.

Oaths shall be administered by the Chief Justice of Plumsville, Sir Watkyn Bassett. Oaths shall be in the name of the Constitution of Plumsville, viz., The Code of the Woosters.

Here are the respective portfolios and the incumbents:

Prime Minister:

View original post 532 more words

Read Full Post »

Some residents of Plumsville might be interested in this news release from the Nordic branch of PBC, the Plum Broadcasting Corporation.

Quote

It is a well documented fact that the epidemic of Wodehousitis peaks at two times in a year. One, around the 15th of October, the day on which P G Wodehouse was born. Two, around the 14th of February, the day he decided to start regaling his Guardian Angels instead.

This is not to say that the epidemic is dormant during the rest of the year. It merely subsides a wee bit, popping up here and there, irrespective of caste, creed, religion, sex or ethnicity.

The medical fraternity continues to be clueless as to how to contain the dreaded epidemic. Researchers of all hues continue to be baffled at the unique kind of drug resistance displayed by those who suffer from Wodehousitis – they exhibit no desire to be rid of the affliction.

It is learnt from reliable sources that residents of Plumsville, a euphimistic term deployed to identify those suffering from acute Wodehousitis, could go to any lengths to celebrate their shared suffering from the dreaded affliction. To them, cultural, linguistic and continental barriers do not count. Man-made boundaries do not matter.

Take the case of one Morten Anersen from Norway and one Ashok Bhatia from India. On the 15th of October, 2016, the two decided to put their nose bags together and meet up at the Little England Tea Rooms (LETR) at Vollen in Norway.

img_20161015_164536909_hdr

It is understood that wide-ranging talks were held between the two on the occasion. The atmosphere was said to have been highly cordial and congenial. The couple running the show at LETR, Henning Edin Lyche and Liv Kjersti Lyche, when forewarned about the specific occasion being celebrated, revived the best of Drones Club traditions. British high tea was served with much enthusiasm and attention to detail.

img_20161015_164029830

The talks are said to have covered the following topics:

  • BREXIT: Whether Wodehouse, had he been around these days, would have approved of Brexit. The conjecture of the duo was in the negative.
  • The Technological Twist: Would he have continued churning out juicy narratives, with his trademark old world charm, replete with eccentric lords, super-intelligent butlers, domineering aunts, goofy females, woolly-headed bachelors, romantic cops and kids who could motivate even vicars to aspire to higher levels of spiritual upliftment? Especially, in this age of technology and the Internet of Things? The guess was in the affirmative. Probably, at best, telegrams might have got replaced by WhatsApp messages and phone calls by Skype or Viber calls.
  • Of dyspepsia, class distinctions and scarabs: Some ever fresh lessons from ‘Something Fresh‘ came up for discussion. Larsen Exercises, brisk walks and cold baths and the need to have a digestive system which keeps firing at all twelve cylinders, were mentioned with much enthusiasm. The socio-economic divide between Aline Peters and Joan Valentine, inter alia, came under the duo’s lens. The correlation between being a millionaire and being a collector of scarabs was discussed.
  • Real People and Real Books: Many facets of Wodehouse’s personality were discussed. The fact that he modelled his characters based on real life people was mentioned. So was the fact that books like ‘Types of Ethical Theory‘, once used by Florence Craye to attempt to uplift the intellectual leanings of Bertie Wooster, really did exist.
  • The Nietzsche Taboo: Surprise was expressed at the fact that Friedrich Nietzsche, held to be basically unsound by a person no less than Jeeves, was also born on the 15th of October, though the year of his birth was 1844. There were mutual confessions that Jeeves’ word was taken rather seriously. Hence, no attempts were likely to be made to read up any of Nietzsche’s works.
  • No darts, please: Out of respect for the excellent interior design of LETR, as well as for several other customers present, plans to throw some darts were deferred.
  • Potential members: It was noted with much regret that such eminent members as Geir Hasnes, Jo Ingebrigt Spalder, Jens Magne Andreassen, Oystein Moe and others could not join in the festivities.
  • Of 2017: It was hoped that a meeting planned some time in either April or May 2017 would attract better attention of Plum fans based in various parts of Norway. A strong need was felt for a local Jeeves who would be able to spare some time and coordinate the affair.

img_20161015_163944166

It is reliably learnt that Liv Kjersti Lyche, the delicately nurtured better-half of the owner of the place, a charming lady in the mould of Mrs Spottsworth, had spent some time during her teens in India, learning the art of dishing out piping hot samosas and chicken tikka sandwiches.

She also turned out to be a Plum fan, thereby adding some more sparkle and warmth to the proceedings. Another round of animated discussion is said to have followed, wherein ‘Laughing Gas‘ was merely one of the several works of Wodehouse which had popped up.

img_20161015_145917939

The meeting is said to have generated much laughter and camaraderie and reconfirmed the presence of Wodehousitis in the Nordic country which already boasts of more than 40 works of Plum translated into Norwegian. It also set a precedent of sorts in terms of achieving Gender Diversity for the Drones Club.

Unquote

Vikings are believed to have had a stiff-upper-lip approach to life in the distant past. Gallows Humour is said to be a typical Scandinavian offering.

Folklore has it that the sense of humour of Indians also leaves much to be desired. If it has been there, perhaps it has been more of the loud and overt kind.

But goofy gatherings of the kind reported herein above indicate that those inhabiting Nordic and Asian regions of the world these days perhaps relish not only a chuckle or two but also a loud guffaw once in a while. Subtle humour of the Wodehousean kind appears to have gained currency in these regions.

One wonders if the Humour Quotient of Homo Sapiens tends to improve in tandem with their gradual evolution over a period of time. If so, sunnier days are ahead. Further research by anthropologists and historians is strongly recommended to validate this hypothesis.

The global per capita density of the epidemic of Wodehousitis also needs to be studied further.

(Related Posts:

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2015/07/30/the-epidemic-of-wodehousitis

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/01/30/a-drones-club-meet-at-asker-in-norway

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/10/18/what-ho-what-ho)

Read Full Post »

P G Wodehouse was born on the 15th of October, 1881. Every year, his fans celebrate his birth anniversary with traditional fervour and gaiety. This year was no exception.

Some went out and rummaged through book stores, virtual or otherwise, to buy yet another book of his. The idea was to try to fill in the gaping holes in their priceless collections. In keeping with the current trends, shelfies got clicked and shared over social media. Others simply curled up in bed and re-read for the n-th time a work of his, a tissue restorative on their side.

Some burrowed deep into his works and came up with some lesser known compositions of his. Some paid rich tributes by sharing other details about the author and his life. Yet others came up with juicy posts on the occasion.

Here are some of the posts the residents of Plumsville may relish, arranged in an alphabetic manner, as per their names.

Arunabha Sengupta
http://www.cricketcountry.com/articles/wodehouse-at-the-wicket-the-cricketing-connections-of-the-legendary-writer-18805

Honoria Glossop
https://honoriaplum.wordpress.com/2016/10/11/the-birth-of-p-g-wodehouse-and-sherlock-holmes

Morten Arnesen
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DbiwROt0yL8

Ragini Sgh
BELATED BIRTHDAY WISHES, DEAR PGW

Ancestors,forefathers, the whole clan
Woven into an exquisite web with élan,

Romantic exploits or schemes absurd
Beautifully penned, enriched by each word,

Mundane chatter or complicated plots
Skillfully tied in bouquets of forget me nots,

Whether it’s Gussie or Lord Emsworth
Their anecdotes bring warmth like a crackling hearth,

Aunt Dahlia’s exuberance or Uncle Tom’s generosity
Can be matched by Gally’s wit or Jeeves’s spontaneity,

The maudlin soppy Madeline often a pain
Her tear drops beautifully knitted in God’s Daisy chain,

Bertie’s simplicity and sheer goofiness
Always landing him in an inextricable mess,

But the master wields his pen with panache and ease
Sailing along like a will O wisp in the breeze,

A belated Happy Birthday to the inimitable P.G.W !

Shiva Kumar
I HAD A PLUM TO-DAY

I got a book, it came as a gift,
It picked me up, gave me a lift.

I’ll immerse myself in every page,
Go back in time, to a happier age.

I find myself a cosy nook,
Sit back, open my book.

Page one produces a broad smile,
I move on to two, and ponder awhile;

Page three draws from me a snort,
Someone’s already plotting a plot!

They are scheming like the dickens;
As I turn the pages, the plot thickens.

This devious planning is making me laugh,
I shake in my chair and almost fall off.

There’s a chap and there’s his butler,
There’s a planner and a plan scuttler.

Aunts pop in, here and there
Embellishing the story, as it were.

Telegrams fly, to and fro, thick and fast
I am thinking this is too good, will it last?

Page fifty, and I’m wiping the tears,
I haven’t laughed so much in years.

Is it me, rumbling with mirth,
Or just a tremor in the earth?

The book’s a riot, too funny to handle,
It’s become dark, I will need a candle

Night has fallen; I too fell, many times
Picked myself up, ignored the chimes

I’ll finish the book, come what may
I’ll try not to fall off again, I’ll stay.

I’m chuckling away into the night
When I finish the book it’s first light

Ah! I can happily get back to the old grind
After all I had a Plum to elevate the mind!

As a part of the global celebrations, two Wodehousean fans, hailing from two different continents, decided to meet up for a cosy chat over high tea in a British style quaint little restaurant in Norway. But more about that later.

(Related Posts:

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2015/02/16/fondly-remembering-plum

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/10/20/a-drones-club-meeting-at-vollen-in-Norway)

Read Full Post »

What ho!

PGWodehouse

ashokbhatia's avatarashokbhatia

Just a week to go for the birthday celebrations,

Some of you must be concluding your Plummy deliberations;

Whipping up some juicy anecdotes and posts,

Which can be read with much glee by the party hosts.

With doors shut, the brain firing on all twelve cylinders,

Time perhaps to pen down the life’s goofy blunders;

Creative juices sloshing about, a tissue restorative by your side,

Between us bosom pals, there is never a thing to hide.

There are no contests to be entered into, nor any prizes to be won,

Either with your brain or with your heart, just pen down a juicy one;

The soft inner glow of happiness is all that you would require,

A rainbow of adulation around your shoulders you will surely acquire.

(Relates post: https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2014/10/15/an-invitation-for-the-residents-of-plumsville)

View original post

Read Full Post »

first-birthday-cake

The Earth has turned for 365 days,

My kid brother has meanwhile grown in many ways;

He has experienced all the seasons,

To smile together we have many reasons!

 

His lungs are full of fresh Arctic air,

Yet to walk, he crawls with a flair;

Single words he only speaks now,

To take care of him, I am always in tow!

 

His eyes sparkle like a pair of twin stars,

His laughter is infectious, it never jars;

Playing tabla with a flourish he is learning fast,

The range of biscuits he eats is really vast!

 

In his life, the moon and the stars shall forever shine,

We shall travel together long, I and this brother of mine!

(Composed on behalf of a girl of seven years)

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »