Dhruvia Bandaron ki, 'Arabella'

(Kripiya aage padhne se pehle is gaane ka video dekhen : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-zkoK2kwxs )

Arabella's got some interstellar-gator skin boots
And a helter skelter 'round her little finger and I ride it endlessly
She's got a Barbarella silver swimsuit
And when she needs to shelter from reality she takes a dip in my daydreams

Kavi 'Dhruvia Bandars'(Arctic Monkeys) apne 'Arabella' ka vividh vivrana dete hue is gaane ki shuruat karte hain, jisme unki 'woh', antariksh ke magarmachon ke joote pehen kar, ungli kar rahi hain. Dusre pankti mein 'Arabella' ne 'Barbarella' ki chandi ki bani, tairaki vastra pehen kar, kavi ke geeli din sapnon mein dubki lagati hai.

Arabella's got a 70's head
But she's a modern lover
It's an exploration, she's made of outer space
And her lips are like the galaxy's edge
And her kiss the colour of a constellation falling into place

That's magic in a cheetah print coat
Just a slip underneath it I hope
Asking if I can have one of those
Organic cigarettes that she smokes
Wraps her lips round the Mexican coke
Makes you wish that you were the bottle
Takes a sip of your soul and it sounds like…

Kavi Dhruvia Bandar, 'Arabella' ke baare mein yeh bhi kehte hain, ki woh, 1970s ke vichaar dhara wale stree hain, jinke chummon se kavi ko din ke taare nazar aate hain. 'Arabella' ko Mexican coke bahut pasand, and woh 'Barberella' ke kapdon ke alava 'Cheetah' ki khaal mein bhi nazar aati hain. 'Dhruvia Bandaron' ka yeh gaana mujhe bahut pasand hai.

(picture section)

Arctic Monkeys

Arabella in Barbarella Silver Swimsuit

Isse kehte hain 'Langur ke haath mein Chasme Bad-dur'

Wandered-Lost-Crazy

Out of Body

I was speaking a language i couldn't understand. It was flowing out with unflinching accuracy. What i was saying sounded like some gospels of truths, and the inner mysteries of the universe. Yet i couldn't understand, however hard i was trying. I had my subconscious (or may be unconscious) talking to me, mysteries of previous generations, which seemed to have the answer in it to various unanswered questions. Are there other dimensions that we can tansport to? If yes, is death the way to leave a 3-dimensional world into higher dimensions?

I was in a classroom of the college that oversaw a section of a steel plant. The college was right next to the British Steel Conglomerate, apparently named British Steel. The world was rusting, the students uninterested. And the news of manmade and environmental disasters were commom those days. Out of the many exhausts and pipes that riddled the steel plant, like our circulatory system, a few of them could be seen coughing out black smoke in instances. It was unusual as i could sense that something was wrong. Yet i didn't warn the class, and waited for further signs. The smoke was now blowing out as puffs of a cigar from the pipe nearby and i knew it was time to evacuate. The students rushed out, only to see the entire campus rushing out into the ground in front, cautiously wishing it to be a mini scare. At the far end, of the ground, next to the steel plant complex, the manholes started erupting with white smoke. Students panicked and started rushing outwards to the gate. and away from the erupting manholes.

The news reported that the leakage of the steel plant had still not been identified. This had been the general mood of the city news service, as incidents like these have become frequent. I was sitting with a group of friends, who had gotten used to incidents like this and while they knew something was wrong, nobody wanted to point it out and spoil the mood. We had a mini robotic drone with us, which we decided to test and have a look around the city. The city was rotting, and we had come to point where there would be no way back, just a count of incidents and the body count. The drone was flown over a section of the steel plant, where people were still unable to escape the errant explosions out of the manholes. The sewers had long become the gas chambers of the Nazi era and the best, the authorities could do was to seal it at every corner. We were all living over a dormant volcano in our sewers. A man was suddenly seen running on to an open field covered with white smoke. Though he ran fast enough, but he couldn't last longer and tumbled down. The society was all about survival for some, while some wanted to continue trying to live their daily lives.

I wanted to have a better look at the city, so i took the drone with me and went around by walk, through the streets, checking it out. At one section i lowered the drone to have a better look at a little playground, only to see a kid, throwing stones at it. One hit the drone and it went off balance and on to the ground. The camera showed the little naughty fat kid running towards it so that he could get a piece of it. I quickly started the engines, but before it could lift off, the kid had held the tail of it. I had to buzz it with full power and unconventional manuevres, as the camera showed me the face of the kid in swerves and flashes who wanted to break it so badly. Luckily, i managed to free it up, and there it soared again, but it had a lost a small piece from the front of the propellers.

I finally found the blue conical dome on the frontside of propellers after a lot of scans through the playground. The kid had gone home after his mom had lashed out from the window of their apartment. Things as tiny as these aren't usually found, but i had the knack of picking out a needle in the hay. It was dark already, and my drone was soaring up again. I saw lights flashing in the sky overhead. It must have been a plane, i thought but the lights were not moving in the trajectory they should, but instead, they were swirling and circling on me. It was a crash for sure, and it was heading for me. I kept on gazing, and i couldn't have been any less convinced that i would be dead for sure if i end up exactly below it. I left it on something i couldn't define, luck may be, and stood there perplexed, and there it was, i faced it eyes open as it dug me into the ground. I was lying there, as people came crowding the place. They noticed my badge, and the broken wing of the cargo ship, and with some unflinching emotions they came up to a conclusion that i was dead.

I was dead, but i could still see. I could still hear them. And i wasn't shocked as well. I tried to get up, and it was so easy as i felt lighter than a bird. I sat up and turned, only to notice that my body was still lying there. My body, in an orange and blue striped tshirt, and a navy blue jeans. Something had set me free. I didn't feel the gravity, or time running, but i was existing in a limbo. There was much to explore and thus i set off, finding those like me. I wanted to know where and how and what sort of forms we were in. One from the crowd said,"It's lucky that the plane didn't blow up after it crash landed on this guy. I wonder how many casualties would we have had if it crashed and burned. This guy seems to have some sort of positive cosmic energy". Lumps of energy, yes, changing from one form to the other. Lumps of energy, which exists beyond the boundaries of time. Lumps of energy, in the form of something as big as the stars, to something as small as a tiny bacterium. Lumps of energy, that is all we are!

Out-of-my-mind
Wandered-Lost-Crazy

I am Malala

Who is Malala Yousafzai?

"On October 9, 2012, a 15-year-old girl was shot in the face, while she was in a bus, on her way back home from school."

At 07:00, the alarm rings and we wake up to a beautiful morning sun. A cup of tea, newspaper, and a tidy healthy breakfast. We worry about a few bills, traffic, our bank balance, an outcome of a football match and choosing a dress from the wardrobe, and set off for work. Pretty smooth and simple. Now let me change a few things in a our morning schedule. Instead of bird chipings, what if you wake up to bomb explosions and 'rat-ta-tat' of gun fire. You go to your kitchen where all the cans are empty. You can see the sun, not through the window, but the holes left in the walls through shellings. You peek outside, timidly, to enjoy a morning breeze but all you breathe in is smoke and ashes. You quickly cross the road to get water, only to see, everything turned to rubbles. That's what a morning is like in a Zone of Conflict.

A young man, Ziauddin Yousafzai, had opened a school in the town of Mingora, Swat Valley, Pakistan, which is described as the Switzerland of the East. Swatis, had lacked a proper school for the young kids. Malala Yousafzai, the daughter of Ziauddin, in the Pashtun tribes of the hills, was one determined girl, who loved school. But Swat was suffering from the Taliban insurgency. And soon, it was one of the strongholds of the new Taliban regime. Shariat Law was established, public schools were shelled, girls were pushed back into their homes, and basic rights of the people were curbed. If one didn't accept their rules, they would end up at the square of the 'punished' that ranged from lashing to beheading.

Ziauddin challenged the clergy, raising his voice for the basic rights of education, and Malala his then 10 year old daughter was his comrade. Malala, was relentless, for she defied all the threatenings and waged on a war with Taliban. Before she was even 12, she was participating in talk shows, documentaries, interviews, and writing blogs on channels like BBC, Geo TV, CNN, New York Times, grabbing headlines everywhere, appealing to the world, showing the true face of Taliban. She was shot at point blank, and yet she lived, she recovered. Youngest nominee for the Nobel Prize for peace, she has admirers in UN Secretary General, Ban Ki-Moon, ex- British PM, Gordon Brown, US President Barack Obama, Madonna, Angelina Jolie (i can't list the numerous awards and numerous admirers she has won).

On 12 July 2013, Yousafzai's 16th birthday, she spoke at the UN to call for worldwide access to education. The UN dubbed the event "Malala Day". But she doesn't want to be known as the Malala who was shot, but as her father said, "Malala was born to be free".

"What terrifies religious extremists like the Taliban, the most is not guns or tanks...but a girl with a book".
'I am Malala', is her story.

Wandered-Lost-Crazy