Re-blogged: Mother India visits

Hey folks,

I wrote this post on the other blog for Blogadda’s weekend prompt, Write over the Weekend, ‘

It is the night of August 14th. You are sleeping peacefully until a lady, who identifies herself by the name of Mother India, wakes you up and starts talking. What does she talk to you?

For some reason or another, I couldn’t link it up to Blogadda’s prompt and guess, there was some technical glitches. Here’s reproducing the post here. Hope you enjoy reading.




Mother India visits

I am carrying the Indian tri-color in my hands at Red Fort in Delhi, running with pride as the mammoth crowd clap for me as I dash around the venue, running through the vast swathe of humans. Suddenly, I over hear AR Rahman voice, singing in my ears, ‘Maa Tujhe Saalam.’ It feels like a lullaby.

 I turn around and saw myself on the bed. Somebody caresses my forehead. I look up to see a beautiful and attractive lady in her late 60s, smiling to me. ‘How can anyone be so perfect and divine?” I ask myself.
I am astounded and look around the room. “Who are you? What are you doing in the house?” She sports an angelic smile and caresses my forehead, “Beta! I am Mother India.”

Mother? What? India! How can it be?

 Everything is possible, son. Haven’t you been calling and imploring for my presence? I know what my child wants. Listening to my songs on your computer, standing in deference to me, watching Jnana Gana Mana, Aye Mere Watan Ke Logon, Saare Jahan se Acha Hindustan Hamara, Aye Mere Watan Ke logon and Dil Diya hai Jaan bhi Denge Aye Watan Tere liye on You Tube. What do you think? I can see the tears rolling down your cheek when you think about me?

“You? Mother India. Do you know…..?”

 “I know everything, Beta. Your dedication and love for me. Some call me, Dharti Maa, some Mother India?”

I can’t control my tears. Mother India, you don’t know what these people are doing? Fighting and killing each other in the name of religion and caste, raping innocent girls, exploiting women, dirtying India. How can we be united? Why don’t you do something?”

Mother India makes me sit and hold my hand. “My son! What’s the point of standing in deference in front of my image and singing my anthem, Jnana Gana Mana with pride twice a year when they abuse me and break my heart? They don’t understand and think they can fool me. I know everything.”

 “What don’t you do anything?”, I ask.

“I am angry at every point when I see how they abuse me. They throw their filth in river Ganga and at holy places where I am present. For how long, I can sustain abuse? Sadly, so many people lost their lives in Uttarakhand last year and every monsoon, lives are lost. They don’t realize that they are the ones who took innocent lives. I feel so hapless. My heart cries when I see so many atrocities when people don’t respect their wives and daughters, destroying their souls.”

Mother India bears her heart out. “May be, they don’t realize it. When they jump on the ground like crazy, I feel the power of their legs on my soul. I am happy when I see them stomping their feet in joy but it hurts me when they use violence in their acts. When they kick someone, I feel the pain inside my body and soul.”

“Mother India, why don’t you do something?”

“Sometimes, people need to realize on their own, what they are doing. All of you must do something to make India a better place to live. It’s very easy to criticize me. I can be ruthless at times. I may be ugly but that doesn’t mean you should stop loving me. You speak of finding another attractive Mother, going to a new land but, if you don’t anything to make your mother loving, who will? Be the change. You will win my heart when all my children will teach each other love when stoking up communalism, casteism and sexism will be a thing of the past, respecting each other in a world filled with love and peace.”

“Son, I know what you are thinking? If you wish for something with your heart, you will get it. I know you really want to come to me. I know you will. I will always call you for a mother never stops loving her children.”

I smile. Mother India disappears.

Wordless Wednesday #48


I am linking the picture prompt to Wordless Wednesday #48 hosted by Ruchira (

The pictures were taken for the celebration of India’s 68th Independence Day at Indira Gandhi Centre for Indian Culture in Mauritius, last Friday. Here’s have a look and enjoy the pics.


The growing number of Indian expats seem to be growing every Independence day.


Absolutely love the patriotic fervor and makes me so proud to be Indian.

IMAG0845Finally, me proudly holding the Indian Tricolor.

Jai Hind


Guest post and words

Hey folks, Eli of expat blog featured me on her space as a guest blogger. I’ve met Eli on the blogging space and she asked me to do a post for her. It didn’t take me long to figure out, ‘Mumbai’, owing to our fascination and passion for maximum city. Click on the link to know more about Eli, a blogger, whose works I totally love. I call her, the true blue Mumbai girl.

Have fun



Longing for the perfect life,

wondering when it’s gonna happen when I’ll be blown off my mind;

Fables narration about patience seems to belong to another age;

Anxious I am,

wondering why I am doing all this;

Have I lost the motivation and drive?

Makes me wonder when the next big opportunity will hit!

I can only go easy, with the tide that lifts all boats;

What one makes of life when it gives you lemons?

Milestones, of course;

I can’t wait to hit the sixer,

freeing myself from the chain of mechanical existence;

Following my passion,

I can’t wait for the magic to unfurl;

Till then, back to the grind.

Good Night


PM Modi strikes at Red Fort for a strong, united India

The speech of a new Prime Minister, sworn to power, in what many regard as one of the biggest majority in parliamentary democracy is awaited with anticipation at the Lal Qila in Delhi. The biggest democracy in the world, India, saw its new Prime Minister Mr Narendra Modi deliver his first speech during the 68th Independence Day which millions of Indians across the globe waited for. Narendra Modi has its fair share of admirers but also the staunchest opposition among the people in his country.

I am no Modi-Bhakt. But, I have to confess that the Prime Minister’s speech took me by surprise when he enumerated measures that he, Pradhan Sewak, believe would wake India up from its slumber. It is heart warming to see the PM speak like a statesman and in no unequivocal terms spoke on our need to maintain our secular fabric as a nation, financial inclusion, clean India, Model Villages and The Rape Shame. Credit goes to the PM who spoke to the nation as a commoner, read Pradhan Sewak, avoided to criticize the opposition or Pakistan. It is heart warming to see the sparkling difference between NaMo and the PM. Yesterday, at Red Fort, it was not NaMo speaking to his country folks but the Prime Minister of the greatest democracy in the world, Mr Narendra Modi. What didn’t change was the PM’s trade mark Churidhar and short sleeve Kurta, adding to it, a new sartorial style, his Bandhini

1. Rape Shame

As a country, we should be ashamed how rape is taking place in every nook-and-corner, be it prosperous cities and obscure villages. It is a fight few people with lofty thoughts and intentions are raising against the ugly patriarchy who blame a girl for every crime committed. Name it, you get it! Short skirts, venturing out at night or partying. It is a matter of disgrace when we see so-called saints or political leaders blaming a girl for being raped or the disgusting, ‘Ladke hai galati ho jati.’ PM Modi stand on rape took me by surprise and it’s heartening to the massive elected PM to speak on those terms, ‘Our heads hang in shame..Parents ask daughters hundred questions..have any parents ask their sons where he is going, why he is going..a rapist is also somebody’s son.’

It was the need of the hour.High time we stop blaming girls on what they wear and educate our sons to respect women in our conservative society that exploit women. I believe it starts from a very young age where we need to teach parents by spreading awareness about respecting women and including sex education and equality in school curriculum.

2. Clean India

The PM rightly pointed out that we need to make India a clean spot and filth free country. Just look how people have dirtied Ganga river, littering every where and throwing wrappers, tea cups and garbage on the streets, rivers and sea water. It’s our country and not a garbage spot. How can we claim to call ourselves a powerful country with rising economic growth and affluence when we can’t keep our country clean and spotless? Let’s pledge to make India a hygienic country. Avoid throwing stuffs from the top of our expensive sky-crapers and car windows.

3. Model Villages, Sanitation for women

Model villages is something I strongly believe in. ‘MP Model Village’ as announced by the PM, is something one must delve on and it’s a fact that MPs get a yearly allocation to spend in their respective constituencies. How many of them spend the allocated money for development purposes? Let’s make every single village in India a model of development with necessary amenities such as water, electricity, school, toilets and other state-of-the-art facilities.

It’s a matter of shame that women need to wait for dawn to relieve themselves in open fields. The tragedy is that lack of sanitation facilities and open defecation is unhealthy and trigger early death not just for young women but those expecting babies. Little do we realize that open defecation is so harmful to the health and spread diseases that claim lives. High time for corporates to step in and work in tandem with the Government to ensure that there is no difference between rural and urban India. There is only one India and hope words translate into action. We don’t want Bharat, on one side and India, on the other side.

4. Skewed Sex Ration, Communalism

India can become a super power in the long-term and for that to happen, we need to practice the politics of inclusion and shed communalism which is a blot to our constitution and democracy. Let’s ensure that no one is discriminated or violently murdered on account of their religious belonging or beliefs. We need laws that will put behind bars anyone who stir communal riots through inflammatory speech that leads to killing people of the country. United we stand, Divided we fall.

Skewed sex ratio is the biggest tragedy where a daughter is sacrificed for a son? Why? Our attitudes as human beings who take pride in the birth of a son and we cannot call ourselves a civilized society when we indulge in skewed sex ration. A developed state like Kerala has telling figures that cause us to worry how the girl-child is sacrificed and high time, we believe in our girls who can do as good as boys, if not better.

5. Made in India


Made in India has always been my life philosophy. Wherever I am, I make sure to buy Indian products in the super market. I am not saying that one shouldn’t buy good foreign products. The idea is promote local products and perhaps the slogan, Be Indian Buy Indian must be popularized again by adding a new twist and form. As the PM said, we must ensure that we make products meeting high standards and ensure that foreign businesses set plants in India, train local people for us to hit high path of growth. I highly believe in ‘Made in India’ and let’s overcome negative attitudes that local goods are inferior. They are not. Despite the fact that I am out of India right now, I always make sure that I buy my Britannia, Parle G biscuits, Basmati Rice, Appy Juice and Desi Masala, wherever I find them.

PM Narendra Modi came to Red Fort as commoner and it’s comforting to see, shedding bullet-proof shield, delivering a speech, enumerating the vision of his Government for Modern India. I’ve been a staunch opposition to Modi and perhaps I will in the future on ideological differences, but its heart warming to hear his speech and vision for a modern India. This is what India needs, a blend of modernity and traditional values such as Made in India and Model Villages. I really appreciate the fact that he spoke of being a Pradhan Sevak and all elected representatives are Sevak (servant) to this great nation. It augurs well for the future of India as a nation.

However, speeches are beautifully delivered. Hope the ideas will be swiftly translated into actions and if we manage to do so, nothing shall stop us from becoming a world super economic power. Let’s the Government restrict themselves in indulging in rhetoric at Red Fort every August 15 and January 26. We owe it to the nation. Or else, what the point of boasting of growth if the majority of the people cannot have access to education, nutrition, sanitation, respect for women or upholding our secular fabric as a nation?

I may disagree with some points made by the PM but let’s keep that for another day. Our Independence Day is a solemn moment for the nation to unite and look for a brilliant future. It’s the way ahead.

“Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free; Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action–
Into that heaven of freedom, my father, let my country awake.”

Jai Hind

Proud to be Indian



Happy Independence Day: Munna’s world

A short story: Munna’s world

It was a hot and humid afternoon. Droplets of rain wafted in the air and the  parapet surrounding the Arabian Sea wore a deserted look. Munna walks clumsily towards the sea- rock, sweating profusely and drained of energy, to rest his legs. In the morning, he lifted heavy sacks to put in the truck as his  tiny ten-year-old hand suffered cuts and bruises.  His boss paid him an extra 25 rupees on the special day and was happy to pocket 50 bucks. He thought, “At least, my little doll sister, Gudiya, will not be deprived of milk. I will treat her with Parle G biscuit today.” Munna dotes on his three-year-old sister who smiles when she sees him reach their tiny hut. Gudiya always brings a glow on Munna’s face, no matter how tired he is.

Munna sits on the rock and enjoys flinging stones in the water, the spalsh sound makes him serene and peaceful. Suddenly, the air start blowing and his eyes gape on a school book someone has so careless left or forgotten beneath the heavy rocks. He pulls the book with his might, wondering how life would have been if he could go to school. The book was filled with dust. Munna gently wipes the book with his T-shirt.

The wind starts blowing furiously. The book slips from Munna’s hands as he tries to catch hold of his prized possession, running after it, stumbling on the dangerous, giant rocks. The book landed on the pavement, turned dusty again. Munna was panting, wearing a dejected look. He was thirsty and stood in front of the ice-cream walla uncle for five minutes. He thought of buying himself an ice-cream but thought of his sister. The ice-cream wallah shouted at Munna, “Just get out of here and don’t spoil my business.”

A small girl, accompanied by his Mom, run towards Munna, touching his shoulder. She smiles and offers him an ice-cream but Munna moves two steps backward. “Take beta,” her Mom gently says. He readily grabs the ice-cream as the little girl offers him a miniature national flag of India, wishing, “Happy Independence Day.” The mom hands  500 rupee note to Munna. She asks, “Pick your book. Do you go to school?”

Raju sadly says, “No! I work to feed my family.”

The mother hands her card to Munna, “Call me tomorrow. I will meet your parents and teach you once in a week. I am a teacher.”

Mother and daughter waves to Munna before driving away in their Silver-colored Maruti Swift car. Munna smiles to himself and scampers his way to catch a train for home. He waves to small children, proudly displaying their flags on the street. It’s Independence Day. His eyes stumble on the front page headline on Page 1 of Times of India, ‘President makes pledge on I Day that no child is deprived of education in a free India.’ Munna proudly waves his flag to everyone on the street.

Flag India

Happy Independence day, folks.

Freedom of the mind and soul,

celebrating the spirit of togetherness and inclusiveness.

Let’s believe in the power of One, let’s not deprive any child of education.

Free our mind from conservative mindset, racism and gender-based bias.

Our destiny is not far away.

We shall be free in our thinking,

nobody shall deter us from becoming the world’s super power.

Jai Hind.

I-love-my-India-Hd-Wallpapers-images-1 happy-68th-independence-day-15-august-2014-vande-matram

Today, 15 August India celebrates its 68th Independence Day.

Proud to be Indian.


PS: Click on the link to read President Pranab Mukherjee I-Day message to the nation



Dear S’

Count Santulan of ( is hosting the 30 Day Letter Challenge. Since I am not taking part in the daily challenge, the post is written on Day 11: A Deceased person you wish you could talk to. People! It’s no fiction. A letter to a friend, a soul mate, a guide, brother and one of the biggest rock star I’ve known in my life. The feeling is true and what is written is my personal experience, things that I do. Yeah! We speak when my friend S visits during his annual pilgrimage to this place called earth. I am grateful that S lives forever and lucky that I can speak to him. Believe is thy word. Believe in the beauty of existence beyond the realm of physics. So, I am not really speaking to a deceased person but someone living in a world, free from suffering and attachment.

A personal letter! I couldn’t believe that I came out with this one, barring the soul to the world. A humble request: If you cannot understand the soulful connection beyond life-and-death, refrain from making comments reeking of bad taste. As usual, criticisms and healthy discussions are welcomed. But, no hitting below the belt.

Btw, you can learn more about the challenge on:


Dear S,

I am finding it weird, pouring my heart with this letter on this public forum called blog. I’ve always been bad with expressing myself and the thing called emotion. I wonder whether this letter is real coz we converse  in real when you visit me in August. A brother-in-arms. You remember how we bonded big time in the 2006 Monsoon. Shit! It’s already eight years now. I just can’t fucking believe you are in another world, beyond the metaphysics that we human beings are made of.

Life can be a bitch, I know!  It was you who christened me, ‘Bachchan’. You asked me, who is my favorite hero? I said, AB. Everyone calls me, Bachchan and till now, I’m called Bachchan. Bonding over coffee, smoke and chatting endlessly about girls at Savera, in front of Fergusson College. I remember the first dash of Monsoon when you asked, “Bachchan, Daaru piyega.’ I dumbly said, “Baarish ho raha hai. You said, “Aise Mauke pe Daaru peena. We drunk to glory at Namaste. It is sending chill down my spine.

I still remember the scrap on Orkut in September sent by Koko, “You must have heard the bad news about S….He was swept by the water at Khadakwasla Dam.’ It was unbelievable. Till today, the conversations we had about movies and almost anything that matters seem like yesterday only. We’ve known each other for few months yet it seems like it’s been ages. There are certain relationships that makes for a life time memory. You are the ultimate rock star, a brother. You must be smiling reading this letter. I know, you must be rocking the scene with the Paari in your world. Yes! You introduced me to Osho and spirituality.

This letter doesn’t make sense to me. You know why? You always make me feel your presence every year when you visit at that time of the year. I can feel your presence when you sit around, the chill, reminding me of your presence. Why do you always come in August every year? Every time, we talk and yeah, may be, I am chatting to an ‘invisible’ you, your soul spreading the vibes in the atmosphere. I can’t help the feeling. I know you are here. It’s my personal experience. Some may call me delusional but I know it’s between us. You know it, better. Who cares what they think?

When the going gets tough, I always tell you, ‘Boss, kuch chakar chalao upar.’ It’s soothing and peaceful at the same time. It makes me serene as a person. I know you are here right now.  We are not chatting right now and let’s sit in silence. We shall speak very soon coz I know you will keep coming. The Orkut message we leave on your profile. By the way, I just joined a new place at work and I am looking back to be in Pune for good in few years. I know you can work wonder for me. What is the purpose of your visit?

So, you see, this letter is so redundant. We meet and talk at some point every year. I can feel the presence of your soul. I am not writing to the dead but a soul who lives forever. Dude! What do you do there?

Chal! Now the bloggers know about our real conversation now. Let them rack their brains. I always wanted to write this letter. I introduce you to count Santualan hosting the prompt and people, say Hi to S. He is clapping his hands. Dude! Do you still have this unkempt classic look beard and pony tail.

Cya soon during our conversation.

Never say good bye, Friends forever. We shall meet some day and party hard.



WoW: ‘Back in Time’

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. This week’s prompt is:

‘Back in Time’. Imagine, one fine day, you wake up as a 5-year-old child and not as a grown up! What will you do then?

My post is titled, ‘Life of a five-year-old..Back in Time’ and hope you folks will like it.


‘Life of a five-year-old..Back in Time’


I crawl on the floor, stretching my hand to pull off the fridge plug. Shoo! I can hear her Mom’s footsteps and see Dad reading the newspaper, watching news on NDTV. I smile to this cute, French cut hair lady who often smile to me and fight with loads of uncles and aunties. I think, I like her. I often hear people shouting, ‘Barkha! Barkha!’ I wanna be like her, reading news.

Now, why do parents need to shout their lung out and calling my name? Can’t they leave me in peace in the house. Dude! I am five and I need my space. And, those parents should go to jail, you know? They spank me on my bum for no reason and calling me naughty. Me and naughty. You must be kidding, dude. After, what do I do? Throw the remote on the floor. Now, tell me why the remote is not a tennis ball to play with? Now, I need to hide and pray when they will go out. I just found something and need to strain my neck..ouch it’s hurting. My eyes is fixed to this jar on the cup board on top. But, how to get there. Wait! There is a stool.

Parents! Oh! Parents! Why they always fight with each other, arguing that no one is having a look at me. I wanna break free from them. Mom is lying on bed and yeah, the cricket match starting which means the dude I call father will not look for me. Bless my lil heart. The stool has been placed, right in front of the shelf. I push my tiny body, catching hold of the shelf, trying to maintain my balance and reach for the jar containing Murraba. I hear Mom calling for me. She just frightened me. I freaked out and the glass jar crashed on the floor. I stand, unmoved on the stool like a statue and freezing with fear.

My mom start shouting and pulls me down, making me sit on the floor. She whines to Dad, “Now, you and your cricket. At least see what this lil demon is doing. I am so tired of him, touching and breaking everything. First the remote and now the jar.” Dad is amused. Mom brandishes her hand at me to slap me, “Listen, now you sit on the sofa. I don’t want to move. Is that clear?” I fake tears and turn my face away.

Oh! Lord! Now, I have to sit in front of the boring TV to watch some men in blue with something they call bat and ball. Now, I want to get this bat and the ball to play with. I am already plotting my revenge. I wanna get at them for scolding me and making me sit in front of stupid TV. I sneak out of the house. Oh! I curse destiny. Do they always do that to five-year-olds? Harassing us. The whole world is doing dharna, protesting on the streets. I guess, I need to find some guys in school and start a dharna against parents, sit in front of the parliament in Delhi. By the way, what those guys discuss in this thing call parliament? Can’t we five-year-olds sit and discuss our life in this thingy call parliament? But, yeah, I want to do dharna with my friends, telling how parents force us to gulp food, force us to sleep at 8 and make us go to stupid, boring school.

I wanna fly planes, sit in train, become actor like this dude in Taare Zameen Par. How I wish I had a teacher like Nikumbh Sir! I would keep drawing and school would be fun. I hate this stupid Ma’amn who keeps shouting in class. I want to be adult now and now. I can see Dad coming with a stick. What’s wrong with them? Cruelty to kids. Now, I gotta go back to this jail they call home. Five year old! Oh!!! I loove my age. At least, no tension, nothing. I will go to bed now. Before that, I’ll play in water, splashing myself in the bucket, throwing water inside the bathroom. Let them wash it. Yay! In the morning, I will throw away the milk they force me to gulp outside the window. I hate milk.

Happy Raksha Bandhan

Wishing all of you a very Happy Raksha Bandhan. To my Raakhee sisters in College, Aparna and Ritika. We are not in touch nowadays but I want you to know that I cherish the moments. You never made me feel that I don’t have a blood sister. To Pratibha, who tied Raakhi to my hand. My sister that I found on the blog and Facebook, Gauri Kekre (, I love you loads.

I didn’t tie Raakhee for the past two years. Over time, I am led to believe it is the thoughts that matters the most and I believe that a sister doesn’t need a protector (Rakshat) because she is so strong as a person. Unfortunately, patriarchy lead us to believe that the female form need a protector in the form of a male, read, brother.

I woven a poem to put on my Facebook for Rakhi and copy and pasting here for Raksha Bandhan:

A moment of pure and self less love;
Bonding between brothers and sisters,
we don’t need a day to show much our heart beat for each other.
Every year, our bond is cemented.
For many like me, who don’t have siblings,
we meet so many soulful brothers and sisters in this amazing journey of life.
Happy Raksha Bandhan.
It’s less about Raksha and more about love.
A woman doesn’t need a Rakshak  (protector) but a brother who will love her the way she is, let her grow in her quest for freedom and growth as human being.
This is my definition of Raksha Bandhan, liberating her from the shackles of patriarchy and tradition.
Keep the faith for a better society.

With Love to all brothers and sisters.

Leaving you all with some nice Raksha Bandhan songs.

Happy Raksha Bandhan




Week 2 Review: Yudh ranges from brilliant to dull and tried-and-tested formula

I am running late, catching up on Amitabh Bachchan’ TV magnum opus , Yudh on You Tube. I am lagging and done with ten episodes, owing to the fact that work is taking a toll on me. The time, I reach home, I crash on bed to wake up later during the night, reading blogs and making a strenuous effort to blog. Here’s my review of Week 2


Week 2 Review: Yudh

Genre: Psychological thriller

Rating: Three and a half

Creative Director: Anurag Kashyap

Cast: Amitabh Bachchan, Zakir Hussain, Sarika, Aahana Kumra and Mona Wasu

Director: Ribhu Dasgupta

There is the good and bad in this intelligently woven sit-com bearing the imprint of the explosive duo Amitabh Bachchan-Anurag Kahsyap. The best thing about Yudh is the tight script and screenplay weaved together coupled with brilliant performances that makes it a winner if you believe in intelligent television shows. However, what works against Yudh in Week 2 is that at times, it borrows from tried-and-tested formulas shown in movies which, somewhat, diminishes its credibility. Having said that, the stand out cum stellar performances of all the actors, brilliant execution of scenes and direction hold the audience in sway and manage to sustain the suspense-cum-heart pounding action.

Episode 7:

Certainly, Episode 7 is one of the best episodes showcased in Week 2. Amitabh Bachchan as Yudh is simply brilliant during his monologue at the press conference, his voice choking with emotion and body language going in sync with the character when he speaks about his illness. It shows that Bachchan is an institution of acting and the sheer brilliance as well as restrained performance is something one must sit and watch in awe. The intensity in his eyes expression cannot be matched by none as he delivers a power-packed performance on par with any Hollywood actor, if not better. I have always maintained that Indian actors are way ahead than their Hollywood counterparts and the areas where Hindi cinema is lacking are scripts, screenplay and technicalities.

The episode has the right emotional dose and the heart-wrenching scenes-cum-clash between Yudh and Taruni (Aahana Kumra) deserves applause. It remains one of the highlights and best scenes of the terrific episode 7. Aahana is simply brilliant as the doctor and the daughter torn between the love for her father and fiance. She matches the histrionics of the legend at every step and proves her mettle as an actor. Mona (Wasu) is another TV actor that is natural and at ease in front of the camera. Her body language is something to watch for and she looks like a fiercely independent and corporate person. I have a certain prejudice-rightly so-against the debiliating Saas-Bahu crap unfurled on the Idiot box but also against actors. I take back my words. There are actors like Mona Wasu and Aahana Kumra who have done a fine job on Yudh. It shows that, if given the right script, direction and sensible material, they can deliver wonder on screen. A pat on the back for Mona Wasu and Aahana Kumra whose work in Yudh will only up their stock as actors.

Episode 8:

Please somebody tell Anurag Kashyap to call the joker off. It’s getting irritating and boring now with the sadistic laugh which is so scary and quite a put off. In the start, it was somewhat appealing but looks like the makers are filling the gap which shows during the episodes. Episode 8 lost its freshness that was so successfully built during Episode 7 and it has gone a bit over-the-top with tried-and-tested formula. At times, the whole narration and sequences seem to have gone wrong. It lacks pace at times, not to say, sunking into dull moments and dreariness.

Episode 10:

Enter new villains, political conspiracy and the joker having a ball of  its time. Despite the minuses, Episode 10 comes across as a very interesting episode with tight narrative and Bachchan in superb form as the real estate magnate. The way he corners the corrupt minister is one of the forte of this episode which re-affirms his strength not just as an actor but brings us back to the Bachchan of the 70s and 80s where absolute nothing could conquer him. Simply superb. Mona and Aahana are not very far behind. Both actors got their moments to showcase their talent and shine through. Episode 10, I would say belong to Mona (Wasu) and Aahana Kumra who get things rolling up and call the shots, sustaining both drama and suspense. Brilliant.

Final Words:

Despite the minuses and, of course, more editing needed to make the screenplay tight, Week 2 garners the audience interest with Bachchan’s brilliant monologue, Aahana and Mona’s natural performances coupled with suspense that marks the end. Certainly, Yudh is no master-piece but brings alone a dash of hope where makers should dabble with intelligent projects to make sit-com a brilliant affair. Let’s take the positives and hope Yudh goes a long way in changing the destiny of TV.



Dear ex-girl friend

The post is linked to Count Santulan’s blog challenge. It’s part of the prompt ‘Dear Ex-Girl Friend.’

PS: Santulan is hosting 30 Days, 30 Letters prompt. Since, I am not able to make it a daily challenge, I am linking it as part of the prompt on


Dear ex-girl friend,

Time heals everything. I wonder how everything disappears like dust out of thin air. They often say, time never stop for everyone. Who gave us the belief that things would remain standstill for both of us. I am finding it weird to write this letter to you and this time, it’s no love letter just a plain and impersonal one. The passionate sms-es and talks surely belongs to another era.

We met and fall in love. I remember how you walked to me, one Mumbai summer, at the Rajabhai Tower library at Fort, asking for sharpener. You are the most beautifully creature made by God. We became friends, fell in love and broke up. I will not reflect on by-gones, the time you nodded to the wish of your parents of getting hitched to a stranger. Yeah! It took me a long time to get out of this relationship. I cried and felt that my world came crashing down. But, it’s none of your business and you cannot take the blame of what I was doing. The meaningless direction my life was taking and getting drunk every single day, nursing break up. It was shit!

I want you to know that at some point in life, you meant the world to me. Even today, you mean a lot to me. You changed me as a person, offered me perspective in life and taught me the essence of a good human being. Our relationship was not just love, lust and intimacy but moved beyond the realm of physicality and chemistry of two human bodies. How I wish you knew that you came into my life as an angel that made me a better person!

The bright smile adorning your face is still vivid in my life and your cute voice saying Hi is still ringing in the backyard of my head and heart. It feels as if it was yesterday only. I’ve told you so many times how beautiful and divine you look in Black Salwar. You are the beautiful creation of your Almighty, Allah. It was a complex relationship, I know! We belong to two different religions. Yet, I thought we could make things work between us. But, I guess certain things are not meant to be. You are the first girl I loved like crazy. I made you the center of my life where the world didn’t matter at all. You meant the world to me. The few months we were together was a life time experience and made me feel that we knew each other for ages.

Do I have complaints against you? I mean, I should be ranting about so many things. But, then, I don’t feel the need to. After all, it’s been six years now and I feel very happy in my world. I don’t miss you and may be, you don’t mean anything to me, now. See, relationships are so complex and alters over time. There was a time, I felt that my world was so incomplete without you and that I can never be the same person. It doesn’t go without saying that you defined me as a person. Yeah! I loved and lost. But, I am happy to lose. Why? It doesn’t hurt my ego at all.

I felt that there are so many things that you would keep to yourself and your silence on things were killing me. You had two minds, confused and unclear what you wanted to do with your life. I wanted you to be my strength but you couldn’t do so. Why? It infuriated me as a person since I was ready to fight the world for both of us. Your silence and going totally blank was making me so angry. I mean, how can you be like that? Trying to play the selfless lover, not wanting me to be hurt. Come on! It’s not something that’s in your hands. Anyways, it doesn’t make a difference now.

Let me confess: Once, I gleaned through your FB profile and saw your picture, perched on a tree. I was wrong. The smile on your face didn’t disappear and I am glad to see you are happy in your new life.

Thanks for the moments spent together, the laughs and fight.

Stay beautiful, as always.