Brown pride and dark underbelly

I've often heard hip-hop is best left to the blacks. Apparently, the whole genre loses its sheen when Indians try to imitate the art form. Which is also why Mumbaiya rappers get derided for their unflattering attempts. I counted myself as one of the critics not very long ago. I found Bombay-based hip-hop artists way too wannabe to be taken seriously. This was before i stumbled upon Divine and Naezy. These young artists are brilliant not just in their expression but also with their substance. There is an undeniable volume of honesty in their work. They speak about the place (read: chawls) they come from and that too in a language their neighbours understand. They don't seem to be putting on a cape to look cooler than they already are. 

For instance, check these lyrics from Divine's Jungli Sher:

Chhota sa main ladka

Chhoti cheezon pe main bhadka

Mere daal mein nahi tha tadka

Ghar mein baap ke roz ka lafda

Dafna mushkilon ko

Meri maa ki kamaai ne

Baap wala role nibhaya mere bhai ne

Tairna sikha khaai mein

Isiliye shabdon mein gehraai hai

Zindagi toh ek ladaai hai

Jo paiso mein samaayi hai...

And here are some from Naezy's Haq Hai: 

Mumbai ka mai chokra

Ye nagri hai ayyaasho ki, ameero ki

Sitaaro ki, funkaaro ki, ghumkhaaro ki

Gareebko ki, fakeero ki

Bas daal roti ki bhi kadki hai, majboori hai

Maal daaro ki tadki hui tandoori hai

Bhadki hui maa ro ri hai

Khaa k maa ki lori wo

Ladki bhooki so rahi hai

Wo tarsi hui si thodi hai

Khaane ko bhi wo ro rahi hai...

Both of them seem to draw inspiration from their surroundings. They observe and they feel and they write about stuff that really matters to them. Poverty and illiteracy are some of the two recurring subjects addressed without any resort to self-pity. There is anger in their voice but it's tempered by their inward looking attitude. It's remarkable how the words chosen somehow maintain the balance between the problems exhibited and the solutions proposed. 

They collaborated for a song titled Meri Gully Mein and you don't even need to have a past in the slums (like i do) to get attached to these engaging lyrics:

Tere shooterooo ka khaas

Meri gully mein

Poore shehar ki awaaz

Mere gully mein

Pray aarti ya namaz

Meri gully mein

Maa pe gaali tho chamaat

Mere gully mein

Police aayi lagi waat

Mere gully mein

Ek number saari baat

Mere gully mein...

I'm a copywriter by profession and i basically write for the graphic designers. So far, i've made it a point to NOT pretend to understand design. Similarly, i stay focused on lyrics and pretend not to understand music. To me, words matter. The sincerity behind them matters more. And in the above mentioned cases, that's evident in abundance. It'd be great to see many more such rappers emerge from the darkest of underbellies that are left unsung. They shall be brown and they will be noted hopefully. The way a white guy named Eminem was 20 years ago. 

Pretty little thing

My adorable niece seems to be wondering, "Why the heck are you people always pointing that thing at my face all the time? Am I that cute?"

The brighter side of darkness

What will happen if there's no power; complete blackout in a country? For starters, the answer depends on which part of the world we're talking about. Yes, there will be darkness after sunset. Industries will come to a halt and the whole paradigm on which our modern world balances today will be shaken. Economy, as we know it, will also pose newer existential questions. It's impossible to imagine a world without electricity but what's harder to imagine is a world which (finally) realizes how much it depends on electricity. However, that's still not the worst thing to foresee. As George Carlin once pointed out in one of his many outstanding stand-ups, once the power goes off, all the prisoners will be out of the prison as the locks are power-controlled. Within hours, all the criminals—hardened or otherwise—shall be running amok on our streets. No force would be able to stop them. Yes, prisons are mostly located on the outskirts but how long can it possibly take for them to storm into civilization? Not a lot perhaps. Which brings us to an even more interesting axiom: for the kind of population India has, the number of prisons are relatively low. Also, if an eternal power outage takes place in our country, it will only affect those who are used to 24-hour power supply. And we all know how enlightened pan-India is. 

Biryani for thought

It's that day of the year (other being Bakra-Id) when the word Biryani gets tossed a lot. The stereotype is so strong in our country that you'll hear and read Muslims being addressed in conjunction with the aforementioned dish. "Biryani kab khila raha hai?" becomes a common refrain amongst non-Muslims. Of course, it's a harmless assumption because, let's face it, Biryani is associated with Muslims in India, be it Hyderabadi or Malabari or Lucknowi or Awadhi. But is it factually correct to call Biryani a Muslim dish like people usually do in their careless conversations? Especially when it has Persian roots, which predates even Islam? But then again, on a social scale, this stereotype doesn't hurt anyone as whoever consumes Biryani once becomes a lifelong fan. (No, there's no place for vegetarians here as there's no such a thing as veg Biryani; it's called Pulao, which again has Persian roots.) But the point here is purely etymological: we use words and analogies without paying too much attention to details and before we realize it, a stereotype is built. It's convenient to claim that we shouldn't mix religion with food but if you think about it, the very cornerstone of our so-called faith is based on what we choose to eat or don't. The only respite one can gather from this holy mix of food and religion is there's nothing called Hindu dish. For example, Idli-Sambar or Chole Bhature are Indian dishes, not Hindu dishes. Can Biryani be called an Indian dish without ruffling some feathers on the West front? 

Stolen

The year was 1993 and the entire house got robbed within the silence of one fine night. The following morning wasn't that quiet though. There was chaos in the air and all the family members appeared to be in state of shell shock. 

"How could this happen?" 

"Why didn't we hear anything?" 

"I'm not even a sound sleeper." 

"They took away all the gold."

"My phoren watch is missing."

"The rascals took away everything!"

....so on the postmortem report read; apparent symptoms of helplessness.

Outside, the neighbours were murmuring as the news spread. The police were on their way too. Inside, little Raghu had just discovered that the green 5-rupee note he had safely hidden in his geometry box was missing as well. Turns out the thieves didn't even spare him. Although he didn't utter a word, nobody else there could have matched the seven-year-old's agony. 

Backburner

This shot from Eastern Promises (2007) best explains my relationship with weekends. Just as i'm about to enter it, i'm interrupted by something from the weekdays. Something scary that refuses to leave me unless Monday dawns on. The burden of responsibilities, if you may. I guess i'm not alone in this club. 

Tip: Choose words carefully

Have you seen the movie The Departed (2006)? If not, you should. Anyway, there is a gorgeous scene in there where Jack Nicholson and Leo DiCaprio are talking about something. No, wait, it was Nicholson who was doing the talking. DiCaprio was trying hard to pay attention. And then, after a while, unable to comprehend the situation, he looks at Nicholson and asks, "What the fuck are we talking about here?" 

Turns out Nicholson doesn't have an answer. 

I hope you do.