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Moin Bhai Dilliwala, a tribute to Moin Akhter


As if the year passed in a stroke. It is hard to come to terms that one year has passed since Moin Akhter left us.

A stand up comedian who took the art to a level whose altitude is hard for any other actor  to surmount.

As a family friend there are countless small and big moments to cherish,  which are no less pleasant and hilarious, than his performances.

Actions speak louder than words, hence Moin in action, not words is the best way to pay tribute to him.

I pay homage to this monument of Comedy called Moin Akhter through my favourite piece.

The episode touched me, and related to me in more than one way.

First it was one of the million brilliant performances as a Dilliwala by Moin Bhai, who often chose to speak to me exclusively in a Dilli wali wisko, jisko dialect.
Being a Delhiite, what could be more pleasing, than see his genius turn into ‘mere sheher wala’ at a flicker, both on and off the screen.

Secondly, being an Indian-Pakistani, this Indo-Pak collaboration where Moin acts as a Dilliwala who migrated to Karachi,Pakistan, and the brilliant comedian Javed Jaffery representing a Dilliwala residing in Delhi, India, I found it so close to my own life.

Thirdly, it is a perfect example to showcase how the two Delhi cultures survive thousands of miles apart, and yet distorted  in their own ways.

Fourthly, the interaction between these two Dilliwalas also showcases the ground reality of how the two countries relate to each other in a love-hate relationship through cricket.

Last but certainly the most important reason, why  I emotionally fell for the episode, is the of Indo-Pak visa, and how the Indian Dilliwala,  used cricket as an easy way out to jump the grueling process of obtaining a visa to meet his near and dear ones on the other side of the border.

For those who have to go through this ordeal can very well relate to how the visa process acts as a heartless wall between the loved ones conjoined in heart, yet separated by the political border.

Friend or no friend of Moin Bhai, Dilliwala or no Dilliwala, cricket match new or old, I am sure everyone will be as thrilled to watch it as I am even after having viewed it over a dozen  times previously. (Many will  find it exaggerated, but perhaps comedy is always so  🙂 ).

P.S. My special apologies to my non-Urdu/ Hindi understanding Blog followers and friends.  I wish I could translate the episode, and could share with you the thrill of watching the pure genius, the king of stand up comedy in Pakistan, who was also a personal friend, mimic like a typical  resident of the walled city of Old-Delhi, my city.

Part-1

 

Part-2

ZMQ: Spreading Social Awareness via Gaming


http://economictimes.indiatimes.com/videoshow/7366009.cms

KYA ISI LIYE ?


Ye mera dil
Dhoni dhoni kyon
dharak raha hai
Uske batting dekhne ko
phir ek nazar
kyon tarap raha hai.

Kya aan thee
kya baan thee
kya uske khel
ki shaan thee
uske balley mein
kya jan thee

Sri Lanka ko tou
jaise tore diya
Match ka rukh
hee more diya
Miandad ko bhi
peeche chore diya

Kya uske chaukey
toofani they
Aur chakke kya
aasmani they
Dhoni ney tou
dhoon diya
Murali ki bowling
ko bhoon diya

Phir akhri ball ko
jo diya ghuma key
Rakh diya fans ko
bhi youn hilla key
Aur India ko Cup
sey diya mila key
Kya hansaa woh
Phir khil khila key.

Kya modest woh
Insaan tha
Captain tou nahin
Bhagwan tha
Apni team ki woh
Shaan tha
World Cup Final ki
bhi to Jaan tha.

Jab jab woh scene
Nazron mein ayega
Dil mein ek leher
Si utha de jayega
Ankhon mein chamak
Bhi jaga jayega
Dil ki dharkan ko
Tez kar jayega
Yaadon ke phool
Bikhair jayega.

Kya isi liye
Hee mera dil
Dhoni dhoni
Dharak raha hai?

I am that Hand…


I am the hand of a patriot that lifts for allegiance to its beloved homelands.
I am the hand of a faithful that spreads for prayer for a victory for its team.
I am the hand of Sachin that will bat with a class to complete its 100th century.
I am the hand of Dhoni that will lose no chance of dismissal behind the wicket
I am the hand of Zaheer whose reverse swing shall get wickets crashing down.
I am the hand of Yuvii whose flawless efficiency in the field spares no runouts.
I am the hand of the billion fans who shall cheer their team to a great victory
I am the hand of the 16 souls who shall so deservingly lift the World Cup 2011.
I am the hand that will wipe tears of joy for being granted the moment of success.
I am the hand that shall rise to thank for being blessed with great compatriots.
Also:
I am the hand that will cheer the opponent team when they’ll play good game.
I am the hand that goes ahead to shake other hand no matter who it belongs.
I am the hand that joins with other hands to make a human chain for peace.
I am the hand that holds the hands which strive to make this world a better place.

How Can a Mom and a Friend Rejoice…


It was probably the millionth time someone today asked me a question, my ears have gone wounded hearing ,
“Do you have fights at home when the India-Pakistan match is played?”

And I give back the same answer a millionth time, with the same words and the  same expression since the past two decades,

“I don’t side with any team. Both are mine. No more no less. “

Yes, my husband and kids are very passionate Pakistanis. They don’t spare a minute to support Pakistan or mock at India when they folly in the play. And they do it right under my nose. So what?

In fact, I am proud of their patriotism. They love passionately to where they belong. No regrets for I love passionately to where I belong.

And yes, unlike them, I belong to both the lands. Hence I love both India and Pakistan as much. No more, no less.

An acquaintance even had an audacity to question once on my mothering abilities for not having brought up kids favouring India or at least being neutral. She got a good bashing from a passionate mom in me, when I brought home the fact that I wanted my kids to be exactly the way they are—patriotic and passionate for their homeland. Yes they do love my birthplace too, but they know they don’t belong there. These are such intricate feelings one learns to appreciate when one lives it.

Talking of the match between India Pakistan played at Mohali today, my kids had literally counted down hours .

My girl had gone an extra mile to paint  a T shirt with a Pakistani Flag for herself, at the cost of her study time for the Term Exams right next week. And like a true sister she ran  from pillar to post, in whole of the city,  to find a Pakistani team  T shirt for her brother, buying it at double the normal price just a day before the match. They stayed up all night in the angst of not missing the first few moments of the toss even at 5 am in the morning.

I am so proud of their spirits. They did not even miss their schools and went wearing their Pakistan T shirts and a flag painted on the face. They chose to see the remaining match in School, as and when they could.

As they stepped out at 8 a.m,  they both made an expectant request ,
“Ammi pray for Pakistan.”

How could I say to them, “No I am Indian, I’ll pray for India.”

I felt , once again, proud of my decision to love both India and Pakistan as much . No more no less.

I watched the match like a daughter and like a mom changing roles as and when the two sides did some action worth applauding.

I was sad for Sachin not to have made the century but then I also felt enraged when Afridi got out too soon. I cheered for a brilliant low catch by Nehra but then got equally elated for Misbah when it was given in ‘not out’ by the third umpire.

I cheered both sides as much. No more no less.

The match got over. India won brilliantly. Pakistan lost miserably. The game was a treat to watch.

Many friends called and emailed me congratulating on Indian victory. I was pleased for India. No not because they are mine. But because they proved to be a better managed team.

The kids came back home, gloomy and defeated. My daughter with her eyes swollen, had cried  for having unable to bear the loss of her team and the fiery four letter words thrown at her by few fellow Indians. The son did not want to be hugged or talk about the match.

How could a mom rejoice for her victory with kids laden with sorrow ? Again the mom in me felt proud of having chosen to love both the lands as much. No more no less.

After hugs and cajoling they began to vent out their anger.

My girl blasts out her fury against India because of few nasty friends and shall support Sri Lanka in the Finals.

My boy is truly my boy, so he will side with India by “showing a big heart and sportsman spirit”, in his own words.

Time is the best healer. I know their bitterness shall vain but how I wish they had their prayers listened for today. As for me, sides did not matter. I would have been happy for Pakistan’s victory as much. No more no less.

My kids’ Pakistani buddies and my own Pakistani friends in real life or on Face Book are all enveloped in gloom and disbelief. It makes me sad too.

How could a mom or a friend rejoice when so many of her near and dear ones are gloomy? Again it made me realize  how right I was for having decided to call both the lands my own. No more no less.

Victory ceases to thrill when there is defeat and sadness all around.

The heart in me which feels and throbs with  the feelings of every disheartened  Pakistani, how can it rejoice?

Most of all it is the heart of a mom who’s babies aren’t happy today. So how can that mom rejoice? She joins them in their sorrow as much. No more no less.

l love you my Pakistani kids, my Pakistani spouse and my Pakistani friends, and hence I love you too, PAKISTAN !

So how can that heart rejoice?

Just wished to add a beautiful poetry  sent by a cousin , who is also an Indian mom of Pakistani kids like me:

Hari dharti ha wahan to neela aasmaaan ha yahan

Wahan janam data hain yehan janmon ka nata ha

Jo seekh waha se pae ha wahi to yehan lotae ha

Aasha hi abilasha ha yehi jeet ki paribhasha

(P.S. Am an Indian married to a Pakistani man and two passionately Pakistani kids. And I love both INDIA- PAKISTAN as much. No more no less.)

I am in Mohali


I am in Mohali
I am the gentle breeze blowing in Mohali
I am the the cool environ from the overcast skies in Mohali
I am the security ensured by the law enforcing forces in Mohali
I am the welcome hugs from the cricket loving residents in Mohali
I am the hospitality of the open hearted shopkeepers in Mohali
I am the smiles exchanged between the host and the guests in Mohali
I am the goodwill carried by the two Prime Ministers present in Mohali.
I am the square shoulders of the big wigs rubbing each other in Mohali
I am the excitement of the common man seated in the stands in Mohali.
I am the dignified calmness of the uber cool captain Dhoni in Mohali
I am the roars of the passionate and explosive skipper Afridi in Mohali
I am the cheers and acclamations of every good shot played in Mohali.
I am the screams and appeals aimed at the umpire for every out in Mohali.
I am the racing heartbeats of the spectators and the players in Mohali
I am the fear and killing suspense of the outcome of final overs in Mohali
I am the sportsman spirit coming alive, loud and visible in Mohali
I am the the beginning of the end of hate-each-other wave in Mohali
I am the spirit of love-thy-neighbour picking up once gain in Mohali.
I am the feeling of a bonding between the two neighbors so visible in Mohali
Yes I am everywhere in Mohali.

Desi Cricketers and Desi Cuisine


Sachin jab banayega century,
Pakistan ki puk jayegi nihari.

Shoaib ki bowling barsayegi golay,
India ka ho jayega poori-choley.

Sewag jab ghuma ke dega chaukey,
Pakistan ke lag jayenge tikkey.

Afridi jab wickets ki line lagayega,
Indian rasgulla pheeka ho jayega.

Yuvii jab urayega chakka asmani,
Pakistan ki phir dum hogi biryani.

Shafiq jab ghumayega chauke chakkey,
Indians ke ban jayenge gol gappey.

Dhoni jab na dega lene leg bye,
Pakistan ke gal jayenge siri-paye.

Akmal jab stump karke dega ball ko bosa,
India ka ban jayega crispy masala dosa.

Bhajji jo urayega batsman ki dhajji,
Pakistan ki roast hogi baluchi sajji.

Gul ki ball jab clean bold karayegi,
India ki to phir kulfi jam jayegi

Afridi XI jab Dhoni XI ke dant khatte karayega
India ko phir imli ka mazaa aa jayega
OR
Team India jab Team Green ko har chakhayegi,
Pakistan ke halaq mein Rohu ka kanta  atkayegi.

Kya chashnee bhara match khela jayega,
Har ball pe gulab jamun ka maza ayega

NOTE: Both the countries  live in my heart and both the peoples too dear to me to take sides with any team. So I decided to enjoy this match with our ‘desi’ flavours and delicacies.

LOVE YOU BOTH INDIA & PAKISTAN– NO MORE NO LESS