Mental Excursions

Mirza Ghalib ka janmadin (Mirza Ghalib’s birthday) The 27 th of December came and went, and I did not read about any ‘cake-cutting’ ceremony to celebrate the birthday of one of the greatest Urdu poets, Mirza Ghalib, who was born in Agra this day in 1797. Yet, every few months, there comes a Whatsapp forward saying -it is Ghalib’s birthday today, so let us pay tributes to him by recalling some of his shers (Urdu couplets), and what follows is a collection of pedestrian level Urdu poetry. It happens a few times during the year. I guess people just forward these messages as and when they receive it. Doubtful about their authenticity, I check with a couple of learned people and every time, without fail, I hear a clear- no, Ghalib wouldn’t have written such substandard , run-of-the-mill verse. That tells us something about this Shakespeare of Urdu - if you are not forced to think or to find the interpretation, then it cannot be Ghalib’s writing. After all, when Mirza Asadullah Baig

  Football and a business plan! It has been a week now. The hullabaloo over the FIFA World Cup matches has died down and people have gone back to watching their usual unreal, repetitive dramas and stale news on television. But what fun that was till it lasted! Nearly the whole of football-watching India wanted Morocco to win in the semi-finals. In the finals, our prayers were with Argentina. As far as I know, none of us had any personal grudges against the French or France. Why, sil vous plait people not familiar with the game would not even recognise the Fransisi (French) team, “Eh, really! They French?” But then we all go by face value only. Anyway, the only person I met who had some vested interest in France winning the final, was a young entrepreneur who, his eyes bright with hope and fingers crossed, said his French raw material supplier had promised a discount if the latter’s country celebrated the victory.    Not only that, what to talk of the players of the Argentinian te

Smile please! A few people asked why I was quiet the last three weekends. The feeling of concern brought the same kind of warmth to my heart as when I hold a cup of steaming chai or coffee in my hands numb with cold. I was travelling and would share with you the snippets, but today I must express my gratitude to those who spare the time and effort to visit this corner and I know not of any other way than to try and bring a smile on their faces. And yes, the means to that today again, is signboards. Is the Indian society so male-dominated that even a tailor has the ability to woo his customers by    ‘altering ’  ladies to gents? Somebody tell me how is he going to do that? Only women’s bottoms? Live or dead? Are women like chickens that one can sell different parts of - drumsticks, feet,  breasts? And what would one do with a second bottom even if it comes for a discounted price?    Is it a new version of the story where the princess turns into a frog and only her dresses are left hangi