I thought I had mentioned my love for Zeb and Haniya’s Laili Jaan during my earlier note on Coke Studio. But I hadn’t.

Anyway, today while watching the Behind the Scene video for the song, I decided to check the original by Ahmad Zahir, the Afghan Elvis. Quite liked it, even though it occasionally feels like an marriage orchestra band is playing the music.

BTW, this is the other song, that I love: the Baloch song, Laila O Laila by Rostam Mirlashari

I could have shared the Youtube link, but there are people arguing whether Sindhis are an ethenic group or not, bringing all the confusing that Indian and Pakistani commentators can bring. And no one needs to read that.

The Coke Studio site had the translation, but one of the really random things that they do when a new season starts is make it impossible to find stuff from the previous seasons.


BTW, IIRC Rohail Hyatt is leaving Coke Studio. Hope it doesn’t implode after he leaves.


Many years ago, I watched an interview of, or perhaps a feature on, a couple who had driven around the world in a car, or done some similar thing. The only thing I remember about it is them taking about an incident that happened after they had been on the road for a while. They stopped one morning to have breakfast and found that the things tasted a little weird. Perhaps they suspected the food, moved on and only later did they realize what had happened. Or perhaps they realized what had happened, as they chewed on the weird tasting food.

They had forgotten to brush their teeth.

I always found that story weird. I could never imagine not brushing my teeth, in the morning at least.

Till today. I have been staying out overnight, getting quite a bit less than my usual quota of sleep at night, waking up earlier than I am used to, and then coming home a few hours before noon. At which point in time, I would change, brush my teeth, and then check my mail/newsfeed while having breakfast. Except that today, I had to check something, so, I went ahead and turned to my mail immediately after getting back home. And by the time I was done with my chore, breakfast was ready.

It was only when I woke up in the evening, to shower, that I realized I had forgotten to brush my teeth.

An infestation

I cleared the spam comment folder about four hours ago.

A couple of minutes ago, I got a notification to moderate a comment (and it was a piece of spam) and there were 16 new spam comments.

So, since I am not sure people read this blog, and certainly don’t comment here, I should probably try recaptcha. Except that meh and not sure it would work.

I could just ignore that spam folder, except that the fact that it exists irritates me. I could just turn off the spam filter, so there is no comment tagged as spam, but that’d be nuts.

Fucking spammers, if there is a god, I hope you all get genital herpes, and may be diarrhea and constipation at the same time.

Reflections of monsters

“You guys know about vampires?” Diaz asked. “You know, vampires have no reflections in a mirror? There’s this idea that monsters don’t have reflections in a mirror. And what I’ve always thought isn’t that monsters don’t have reflections in a mirror. It’s that if you want to make a human being into a monster, deny them, at the cultural level, any reflection of themselves. And growing up, I felt like a monster in some ways. I didn’t see myself reflected at all. I was like, “Yo, is something wrong with me? That the whole society seems to think that people like me don’t exist? And part of what inspired me, was this deep desire that before I died, I would make a couple of mirrors. That I would make some mirrors so that kids like me might seem themselves reflected back and might not feel so monstrous for it.”

Junot Diaz.

Pointed there by a quote in this article on whether you could still tell the story of Mary Kom by ignoring Manipur.

What Ella Wheeler Wilcox got right?

While I have used a variety of IMs over the ages, I have usually stuck to one at a time. Given my dedication to gmail, the messenger for the better part of the last decade has been gtalk and, now, its replacement – hangout.

So, unlike the rest of India that has been swept by the tsunami of WhatsApp, I have actively resisted it. Till one day when I had to install it to coordinate with a bunch of friends whom I was meeting after ages.

The problem with WhatsApp is that once people find you, they add you to groups. And while it is fun, like a non-character limited closed twitter group, the groups are given to exchanging forwards that I swear I saw in 2003 on yahoo groups.

As it happened, there was an exchange on the group that was funny, and not brought about by a recycled forward. The problem is every minute or so, I would hear a ping for the notification, and then see:

and then hear another ping, and then see:

and then hear another ping, and then see:

Which is a bit like finding that 20 of the people you follow and decided to do a old style retweet of the same tweet.

Anyway, I was inclined to send a slightly snarky reply signaling my deep lack of LOLness, and I couldn’t think of anything appropriate. There was no CMHO (Crying my heart out) to mirror the LMAO. A casual search on self identified Internet slang search portal offered the imperative CMR/CMAR (Cry me a river) and a few knockoffs (COL, CMAO), but no descriptives like the CMHO that I desired.

So, it seems that you truly cry alone.
Edit: 25th of October

From Paromita Vohra’s reflection on Chetan Bhagat’s Half Girlfriend:

Surender Mohan Pathak, a beloved Hindi pulp writer who has written over 270 books and sold over 2.5 crore copies complained about his readers in an interview with Nisha Susan, in Tehelka, because they read nothing else but his books when in fact he wished they would revel in the world of reading in general. “People who don’t read are the same as people who can’t read.”

The problem with works by Brown and James

Five minutes ago, I was trying to sleep, and then I arrived at a strong hypothesis about why the wild success of Dan Brown or E.L. James make me mad.

That is beyond the usual petty jealousy of the me who always has had a vague desire to write, or the criticism about the quality of the writing itself – which doesn’t really count because I haven’t read enough by these two.

I think I am mostly angry with the readers, who seem to behave as if the current favourite has had an uniquely novel concept, or has invented a genre, or has actually invented the novel.

I mean, Da Vinci Code might have been a OKish plot, but did it have any other virtue. The big reveal, well, that had been tried elsewhere. Preacher, IIRC, had the Jesus bloodline as a slightly minor plot point.

And as for Fifty Shades, well I find that dysfunctional and abusive relations between professionally independent women and rich man has been, for some reason, always been popular. The structure is the very staple of M&B/ Harlequin books.

Anyway, as I mention, what I really find irritating is the vacuum within which the readers of these works seem to operate. My first instinct on finding a fascinating work in a new genre is to obsessively hunt for similar works. But, I don’t think most of the readers of Brown and James go on, for example, to read ‘The Story of O’.

So, I am just left with this desire to grind the faces of these readers on the library walls while screaming, ‘Read, you stupid mogrel. You liked that book, didn’t you, why the fuck won’t you read more.’

Slower, and please have a little more fun

I will keep this short because I am treading in, what for me is, deep waters.

This is what happened: Ram Guha over twitter shared this, a wonderful 16 minute piece from the last episode of the fourth season of Coke studio, Pakistan, sung by the Qawwals Fareed Ayaz and his brother Abu Muhammad.

Once I listened to the song on repeat a couple of times, I decided to see what Coke Studio had during the next season. Among other thing it had this song: Ishq Aap Bhe Awalla, by the Chakwal group featuring Meesha Shafi.

Youtube has disabled embedding for this video, so you’ll have to click on the link above (which has lyrics in translation in the subtitle), or well, there is soundcloud:

Anyway, I loved the song, which is one of those folksy songs which have taught our lyricists so much about beating about the bush about sex and lust. The girl in the song is singing about being at the well, being unable to lift her pot of water, about losing her necklace, her pendant, etc. Anyway, what I like about this song is the pace.

Because, and I finally come to the point I wished to make, I think that too many Punjabi folk songs seem to be rendered at a gallop. Consider for example the old favourite: Laung Gwacha, a song which is apparently popular at wedding (and thus about sex) and is also about a girl singing about a lost piece of jewelry. Finding a version of Laung Gwacha that makes me happy has been a problem despite it having been worked on by luminaries such as Bally Sago and Pritam. It just doesn’t work for me.

But I live eternally in being made happy one day with some version of Laung Gwacha, I guess I want it a little slower and little playful.
BTW, I think a similar treatment could improve this my most favourite of Punjabi Song: GT Road Te, which is literally about drivers who drive truck down the Grand Trunk Road. The lyrics are magnificent and I think that Kuldeep Manak does do a good job. It is just that I think it can be still better.