Tribute to Vinod Khanna: Debonair star and unparalleled aura

Debonair star, memorable strike of acting, spiritual man and down-to-earth cum relatable demeanor gliding on-screen, superstar Vinod Khanna was all that in delivering stupendous performances that makes him ‘Amar’. It came as a rude shock and very saddening to hear that one of the most loved stars of the 70s and 80s, perhaps the only one that could match the Amitabh Bachchan mania and histrionics breathed his last today.

Veteran Actor Vinod Khanna Dies at 70 After Battle With Cancer

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I was introduced to the Vinod Khanna’s movies while growing in the late 80s and remembering watching his Jurm and Dayavaan that made me relate to the actor. He was the quintessential hero, effortless in his delivery of stupendous performances during the heydays and a charm that many would envy. It was bliss watching him serenading his love lady with a sensitive touch. Who can forget the song, Jab koi Baat Bighar Jaaye tab Koi mushkil Pad Jaaye? He belongs to an era that saw many of his pairs fading away and sad to see that after we lost Om Puri Saab, another light eclipsed today. He was Vinod Khanna. I loved his pairing with Amitabh Bachchan, be it in Naseeb, Amar Akbar Anthony or Parvarish. The aura and charm that he displayed was unparalleled and probably hard to emulate by the six packs and biceps flouting new millennial stars. He would wade his way effortlessly on-screen and calm composure in delivering lines made me in awe of this amazing star that rules the hearts of our parents and us.

Vinod Sir was quite the ladies man and his unique sex appeal vis-a-vis them made it his USP. A man who choose to leave Hindi cinema at the peak of his career to embrace spirituality. He was a follower of spiritual guru, Osho. It speaks a lot of his ability to disconnect, something very few could have done. A legacy that stays forever, beautifully captured in the acting histrionics on the big screen. I was so amazed by his portrayal of the gangster in Dayavan, making it sexier than ever that the film stayed with me forever. A huge risk taker, he didn’t shy in kissing the diva Madhuri Dixit in the film which was shot in an aesthetic manner. In the late 80s, kissing on-screen was still taboo. He was known to have a big heart and according to publications, film crew would work in chappals in those days and he bought 100 pairs of shoes for a film crew in the 90s.

There was a certain vulnerability behind that dashing look, a softness that wooed and won hearts. His sensitive portrayal of the romantic roles in Qurbani and Chandni, angry young man cum cop portrayal in AAA, Satyamev Jayate and Jurm, the teacher in Imtihan, army officer in Achanak, don in Dayavan and villain in Purab aur Pachim or bond of friendship in Muqaddar Ka Sikander, Hera Pheri and Khoon Pasina all with Bachchan. Both shared some crackling chemistry and were direct competitors and at the same time good friends who recited their dialogues together. It’s such a lesson to the current crop of actors when today arch rivals slug it out publicly in an ugly manner.

The charisma and magnetism in his personality spoke to the audience directly and one of the rare actors who had complete control over his character, dialogues, scene and audience alike. The aura is what makes Vinod Sir relatable to the hilt and watching his movies gives the feeling that your dreams are realized on screen. I could be one of the characters made so much believable by him and which he immortalized on the silver screen.

I remember a very elder cousin who was a huge Vinod Khanna fan and me being a die-hard Bachchanalia telling me how during the AAA, audience were split in opposite camps and in the fighting sequence, seethis and taalis were thrown when both superstars wriggled it out with fists. The fists and jabs were counted and fans cheered on who won the battle. It’s the iconic scene in AAA, helmed by Manmohan Desai when Bachchan and Khanna met for the first time.

Vinod Khanna was always a composed and gentle soul who believed no job is too big or small, abandoning everything to follow his Master Osho. It’s one thing that I have in common with Vinod Sir: Osho.  He is a man who made a comeback as an actor who lost every penny and started from scratch in the 90s. The magic of the silver screen is that it captures live the histrionics of an artist who ruled for decades in the heart of admirers and swearing by cinema. The legacy be it as an artist, spiritual man or politician-cum Minister from Gurdaspur lives forever in our heart.

Perhaps, this sensitive song from Imtihan which is one of my favorite sums up when words fail. Ruk Jana nahin tu kabhie har ke….O Rahi o Rahi! A huge void and loss to the entire industry to see this polished diamond taking a bow.

Forever alive and taking a bow Vinod Sir for decades of love and entertainment. You shall be missed forever.


Wild love in Maximum City

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Wild love, we made,

in the dark alleys of Maximum City

It ain’t dope

The addiction of lovelorn souls

Feeding on Jazz by the Bay

Who needs food?

We are mind vagabonds

I read your lip

You taste my mind

Nectarine pleasure

A sensual adventure that blew our heads

sending electrifying sensation down the spine

It’s no fake orgasm

Spinning in our passion

Words speaking to quench the soul’s thirst

A journey that has no end

taking each other to an unknown destination

at the peak of envy

No power can douse the flame



Flash fiction: Once upon a time…

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess who stayed alone in the palace and made friends with the pigeons, dogs, and cats. She would often speak to the wall and express her anguish on not finding a sensitive heart that would love her for she is and not her money. She waited throughout the long days and nights that become months and years. One day, she listened to her heart and took a brave step by transgressing all limits. She would chuck the royalty. The princess gave a slip to the guards and stepped out of the city, removing the expensive jewels, traveled in the second class compartment of trains, visited the villages and cities in India. She became a commoner, wearing humble jeans and tee. She saw poverty in the slums and witnessed violence of vile men and women. One day, lady luck shone on her and she met a man, with whom she fell in love. One night, they made mad love to each other, tearing each other’s clothes and stood naked, admiring the human flesh that was bare open like their souls intertwined together. He may not be the man that she would spend the rest of her life. But, at least, she spoke the language of the heart to a human being, touching his flesh, unlike the palace where Kings, Queens, and consorts are mere commodities who have forgotten the art to be human. In the palace that she left forever, everything has a price that takes the form of jewels, crowns, and power. She has nurtured the art of living like a human being, facing adversaries and counting her blessings. She often faces disappointment and heart breaks but at least, she breathes fresh air, is not suffocated or consumed by illusion. The princess that she was knows what it feels to be alive.



Swach Baal Abhiyan and dharna against Lal Batti the Sonu Nigam way

The Aam Aadmi is becoming very Khaas Khaas in today’s time with the lal batti gone for a toss and Azaan becoming a mighty power that can deafen our ears…sorry Sonu Nigam’s ears.  Why just Azaan? You name it you get, Mandir ka Puja aur neta ka bhashan. Our Sonu Nigam, of course, got so disturbed that he decided to be very aam with the Lal Batti getting out of our lives and followed Kejriwal Dharna steps by getting his hair shaved. Baal Baal dekho…meri baal dooba. Tere lal batti na raha soniya balon mere na raha….tere Azaan purana mar gaya mere bal deewane.

Image credit: Google

Our Sonu Baba was sorely missing the Lal Batti that he shaved his head in a moment of weakness to hide the red light under the arm’s pit. So much anger, Sonu Baba that trolls weren’t sparing thinking that it’s Sood and not Nigam. Arre Baba! He’s our Sonu and not the real deal over Snapchat. No wonder, Sood got trolled instead of Nigam. ‘Bas naam ka confusion’ on Twitter.

Who wants Sonu’s hair? I bet no Maulvi will play booty booty over Ganja Sonu. Now, who will get a complex over shaved hair? If anyone threatens the tolerant and sickular you with hair shaving formula to adhere loyalty to Bharat Mata, just offer your head without hard feeling and tell them, ‘Make me like Sonu, Be like Sonu.” Better still, you can become a Ganja like our Master Sonu before the Bhakts come after you with threats after ranting against Modi-Ji or BJP on Twitter. It couldn’t be a better defense, I tell you.

The hair loss removal clinics who disturbs us at odd hours on the idiot box has been beaten to death with this simple Sonu formula. You can learn to strum a brand new composition on how to go ‘ganja’ in less than 24 hours and to stay relevant in the news.  All you wanna be celebrities, move over Rakhi Sawant’s Pankha act or the Poonam Pandey removing everything for Indian cricket team for the has-been and unemployed Sonu tells you how to make breaking news on national Television. It’s no longer about removing everything to go naked but go and get rid of your hair. Baal Baal dekho! Wanna play Baal baal and not booty shake without doing the Lungi dance? Worry not for Sonu’s tutorial is here to give you tips on how to become bald chutki mein.

It’s how creative you can get when disturbed by noises and the pigeons nagging you like a pesky wife boring you to death. Think again about doing the rehearsed and desperate act of standing at the window sills to shoo away the pigeons and letting the air flow in.  Simple! Apply some Zandu balm on your bald head and take the loud speaker to hum, ‘Sonu Badnaam hua dahling tere liye!’ That way, not just Azaan but even the pigeons will flock to a safer place knowing that our Nigam will make them badnaam with his bald head and voice.

I am just wondering how about the Modi Government making Sonu Nigam the brand new ambassador of ‘Bal Safai’ and once you get them removed, it can be recycled. Ab Banega Swach Balon ka recycle Sonu Nigam se puchiye isse phekna mat par sambhal ke rakhna kyunki kissi majboor ke kaam aa sakte. Swach Balon Abhiyan Sonu Nigam ke Saath. Don’t ever throw away your hair but keep it in a safe vault for Sonu to disguise himself as a baba and sing for you on the streets. After all, he will be the new brand ambassador of our hair gone for a toss in protest against the Lal Batti bowing out or Azaan making us go crazy.

Arre Baba, now what will happen to our desi Sapna Bhavnani cutting only the hair of celebrities? Obviously, Sapna joined Big Boss for she knew that with her friend Sonu, she would soon go out of job. Karmic call!









Sex with an ex (9)

Anita’s furtive eyes followed Ajay’s gaze as the BMW car they were in, waded on the busy street of Mumbai and he almost cursed at the yellow-and-black cabbie doing a U-turn in front of them. He avoided the taxi just in time and banged on his window. “Easy,” Anita said. “Bhenchod,” Ajay cursed.

He sweated as he steered the wheel with his right hand and fidgeted with the latest silver coated i-phone with his left hand. Anita was losing patience and lunged out at Ajay who didn’t say a single word, “Dude, do you realize how I escaped from there? I almost flirted with death to get out of there to meet you, the moment you called. At least, say something rather than driving in silence and pointlessly doing the round of Mumbai on New Year eve as if we are some fucking tourists. What’s the deal?”

Ajay slowed the car and removed a bottle of Black Label Johnny Walker whisky snuggled under the driver’s seat and gulped a drop down the throat.  His eyes were red and he looked like a weak, emasculated man who hasn’t slept for days. He tried to reassure her and touched her naked arm, “Roshni is my estranged wife and she is sleeping with your fiancee but not for long. He came as your fiance and the whole thing has been a set up by Roshni who brought him into your life since she was persuaded that you are the only one who could break the locks of the vault that would make them richest to rule the entire Mumbai. She has meticulously planned the whole thing and played the victim card to earn your trust. She knew about us from day one. Roshni is behind the biggest gang of corrupt business nexus with politicians involved in nuclear weapons who want to bring the city to its knee so that they rule us,  You have been part of their hatched conspiracy and she has exploited your emotional weakness at very instance. It’s either us or them. Two people have to die or else, the guilt will forever haunt us to our grave. You have given them the password to the biggest secret. It’s a scam, a terrorist attack to destroy the city today. We have to stop them. It’s their last act.”

Anita was flabbergasted and looked at Ajay with shock written all over her face. She lost her voice and felt dizzy. “Sh…” Anita couldn’t complete her sentence when they heard a sharp beep inside the metal silver coated roof inside the car. Ajay was seething with anger and was scared at the same time. His heart was racing ferociously. He knew that Roshni and her lover has put a device inside the car. He had no time to react but steered the car to maximum speed, almost flying over the pavement and leaped onto the JJ flyover. Ajay saw no possibility to stop the car and the black-and-yellow cab that was on their trail and reared the BMW.

Suddenly, a flurry of gunshots hit the high luxury car. It was Rohini and her lover who were following Ajay and Anita since a long time. A deadly device was planted inside the car. After doing the cat and mouse chase and firing were exchanged, Ajay lost control of the vehicle which hit a concrete wall, painted in yellow with the phone number of Vijay Coaching class.

Thud! A huge explosion deafened their ears and the glass windows splintered, hitting them on their faces. Ajay and Anita clutched to each other and their eyes slowly blinked. They fell unconscious. Rohini urged her lover, “Fast! We got them. The device is hidden in Anita’s handbag and both must be dead by now. Get it now.” As she rushed towards the car, the two lovers mysterious disappeared. “Where have they gone,” Rohini’s eyes which were sprouting fire suddenly became icy cold and her face went blank. “We don’t have time. It’s do or die. Jaldi, let’s find them,” she dragged her companion along.

Ajay and Anita’s face and clothes were soaked with blood and hid behind the abandoned and rusty railway track. Anita was shivering and almost shrieked in fear when Ajay pressed his hand on her mouth. He flung a red apple and crushed can that landed inside the BMW car which rolled and escalated to make the noise of humans struggling inside. Rohini and her lover were distracted and ran to look for their targets inside the car.

On the spur of the moment, Ajay pressed a button on his i-phone and bang the car exploded and the fire ravaged both Rohini and her lover. Anita was flabbergasted and hit Ajay on the chest, unsure whether she should cry or laugh. She held him tight.  Ajay whispered in her ears, “To the world, Ajay and Anita are dead. We will be born again in a new city and taking a new identity. Tomorrow is a new day with hopes and aspirations to start all over again.”

Ajay cupped her lip with his hand, kissing every layer and she pushed her lip inside his mouth and their tongues pressing and biting each other, swirled passionately as they embraced a new life. It was the kiss made in paradise.

(To be continued)



What is love?

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What is love?

A shot of adrenaline pumping

Pint of restlessness and breathlessness

A heart lost in no time to an invisible scent

Her fragrance and cosmic pull

Fragmented in pieces

The divine touch

Flutter of roses

Electrifying touch

sending rippling waves

Churning emotions like the glacier

Filling seamless ocean

Quenching the thirst

Sensation and touches that cut deep

The emptiness of a heart,

breaking all rules to conquer the unconquered

A painful and bruised heart

It derives joy in a heart shattered into pieces

Call it what you may,

love find its identity in different forms,

making a pale shadow of itself

It’s called love.







The King of Good Times and Her Majesty’s Mehmaan

Who says he is no longer the King of Good Times? A perfectly scripted story that would send Modi-Ji’s demonetisation move in the cupboard as it would have been the perfect steal to bring Vijay Mallya back home. Another master stroke in the making! Wrong signal it seems as Mallya was arrested and got bail in no time.

Ever wondered what the British cops and courts were lured with? The promise of an exotic free trip in the now dead KingFisher airlines with calendar girls for company and the rare sight of sexy and bold air hostesses in skimpy red KF uniform. Gimme Red! In true Mallya style, a promise of Kingfisher Beer Strong ultra mild. Is it the biggest illusion? Not to the now secretly public owners of our Kohinoor, dearest British friends but to us, Indians, who thought the Indian Government would be credited for this ingenuity of bringing Mallya home. It’s the Don moment, Mallya ko pakadna mushkil hi nahin namunkin hai. Koi bhi chance nahin as The King of Good Times remain well…the Baadshah that beats SRK to death. Those Pappus thinking he would become a pauper overnight! Keep dreaming, the Mallya dude must be laughing at us.

After all, Waqt waqt ki baat hai and what one can do in a matter of three hours? Getting bail and partying with his damsels in Raja style and tweeting to the world he thinks we runk are sinking in our illusion that he is our apna and no paraya. He is the Raja and we are the runk whose plans has gone Kaput. Poor, Praja, us who thought that the Raja of Good Times would adorn our new and glamorous Kingfisher calendar posing in different avatars with handcuffs for the rest of the year replacing our old calendars with the bevy of beauties striking a pose in the cold waters of Goa. Now, where is the sword of Tippu Sultan? Obviously cutting his white beard and selling them for 9,000 crores. Who will enter this 9,000 crores club made of daari and Tippu Sultan sword? Ask Salman, Rohit Shetty and SRK for 100 crores is passe now.


The King of Good Times is epic as he secured bail faster than the Rahul Baba and Akhilesh Bhaiya lost UP upar neeche and no, Mallya Sir is not giving our Sarkar an orgasm of sort. Maan na Maan, Mallya is the Mehmaan of her majesty, United Kingdom. See, he not Brexited! Ask Theresa for the month of May will not be ours to rejoice. As it is, it’s making our Sarkar nibbling fingers and racking brains on how to make the King lose his mojo and crave for his Bad Times.  The angrez brexited avatar is legion and our Mallya is not extradited. It’s all about the power like the netas will tell us. A game of cat and mouse Mallya played with the cops and for now, we have to abandon our dream of singing a duet with him, Pehla aap welcoming him in jail. How he gave us the slip and it feels like apna Mallya who once sung, Jaa jaldi bhag bhaaag jaa imagining himself to be the hero of Priyadarshan’s remake Bhagam Bhaag.

Image credit: Google

No wonder, the Raja of Good Times gave as freebies an extra mild and poisonous concoction to Angrez authorities so that he could sip his liquor in peace. King Fisher beer me milawat hai, bhai! It’s a truly United Spirit tale of Raja aur Rancho who needs to make a comeback on the small screen to tell the tale of the King of Good Times. It’s a Royal Challenge (ers) to get this Mallya dude.

Our man knows for sure how to stump the laws and deliver a sixer in the land that once ruled us. He is our asli Kohinoor and trust our Angrez friends to get him back. Wait! Maybe Prince William and Kate will bring this Kohinoor in their luggage the next time they pose for a selfie in front of Taj Mahal. Till then, the King of Good Times will be busy dancing to the tune of Kala Chasma with William and Kate. Who knows?

Now, time for all of us, Sarkar, media and mango people to call it a day, do some chest thumping and Kingfisher extra mild pee ke talli ho jao. Let’s stop the hype for the Raja is the only hype. Now, where is my Kingfisher premium beer? Time to cool my heels?

Cheerz to the King of Good Times