Seeds of Randomness

Aharit Ha-Yamim

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 07:53:00 +0000

Aharit Ha-Yamim refers to "End of Days" in Judaism. For me, it now refers to end of my blogging days, at least here. Harpreet and Alok got me into blogging. Today everything comes to an end. Not blaming it on anyone. Special thanks to all my readers for sticking it out so long with me and bearing my torturous poems. I can't blog without the freedom of speech. Presently I seem to be doing a good job at upsetting people with my not so wise words. Going somewhere else, where I can once again enjoy anonymity, wont tell you where. Khuda hafiz!

Thanks for everything people!

P.S:
1. Nothing, absolutely nothing is going to bring me back here. I just wont blog here anymore. Plz don't try talking me into it.
2. Harpreet ko samjha dia hai, Alok tu bhi samjh jana plz. You once said that blogging to you was about jo bhi mann mien aaye woh likhna. Somehow my blogging was an adaptation of what it was to you. And now that freedom of mind and speech seems lost here. Understand that, and plz don't criticize this.
3. Cuckoo & Neeraja, same would go for you both as well.
4. Please do not criticize my move and please do not post such suggestions here. If you want to comment, then please let it be about the fun time we had here and what and how you might have enjoyed my posts.
5. As of now, this blog is declared dead.

Sran di mutyaar

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Wed, 12 Dec 2007 21:11:00 +0000

I bet you people still remember one of my previous post in which I mention about how Harpreet keeps flirting with girls. The chap is totally addicted to all sorts of messengers. Pata nahi kaun kaun ci ladki se chatting karta hai. Kashmir se lae kar Kerala tak. Sorry for giving out this secret dude.

The Khapp continues late into night (0230 AM IST 13^th December 2007)�?�

Harpreet : yeah she specially did that for me...

Jiwateshwar : she did?

y did she do that

seems she falling in love with u

lolz

Harpreet : kash tuhadi gall sach ho jaavey ....

if she could love me ....

Jiwateshwar : haha

tusi taan shakl vi ni vekhi ohdi

ki fayda jae she loves u

wht if she turns out

to be a fat ugly bitch

Harpreet : bas g dil nu dil dee raah hundi hai

no probs dil saf hona chahidaa fat bitch bhee chalegi

main aap kehda bahut sohna haan jo enna nakhra karunga

Jiwateshwar : haha

nahi nahi

tusi smart handsome hunk ho

tusi taan the one and only punjabi jatt dude ho

u r the definition of gabru

you are the "K" of khalsa

Harpreet : subah subah mazaak kar leyo

Jiwateshwar : hahaha

Phiss phiss

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Wed, 12 Dec 2007 19:27:00 +0000

Me: Guess what! Whom did he forward the post to?
Him: Whom? Did he forward it to *.
Me: Na na, keep guessing.
Him: Na, I give up, you tell me.
Me: He sent it to her, the one he proposed to.
Him: Really?
Me: Yup.
Him: Hahaha, he still loves her. Hahaha.
Me: Ya, seems so.
Him: Yaar, kitna ajeeb praani hai woh. Haha, abhi bhi usko pyaar karta hai. Uff
Me: Lolz. Guess what, she even followed the link and visited the blog.
Him: Who came, X, H, or S.
Me: S
Him: Hahaha, Sadae dost nae bhejeya ci taan oh aayi hi honee. Hahaha
Me: Hahaha

Our dear friend. Four years in college. Totally neat. Har ladki ko har tarah ki nazr se dekha. But kabhi koi harqat nahi ki. Self respect and izzat ki baat thee. Last sem.

"Yaar jaane se pehlae kisi ko peet kar jana hai. Koi bhi panga lae lae bas. But sala koi panga hi nahi lae raha. Haan, ek ladki ko propose bhi karna hai. Koi bhi chalaegi. Bas dekhna hai propose kar ke. I dont care if she says yes or no. Bas kisi bhi ek random ladki ko propose karna hai."

Unluckily kisi nae panga nahi liya. So bhai saab ki kisi ko peetnae ki icha to adhooree reh gayee. Dalmia ko peeta tha first sem mien bas, ab ushi mien khush raho. Propose kia ek random ladki ko. But then, was she really just a random girl? I guess not! Did he really not care about her response? I think he did!

P.S:-

1. X and S are not the actual abbreviations.
2. Mera dost shayd ek seedha sadha aadmi hai.
3. Do sardar mil kar bahut zada khapp patae hain.
4. Is dunia mien kuch bhi khali nahi hai so yeh blog to choti si cheez hai.

Blog Test

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Wed, 12 Dec 2007 13:35:00 +0000

Thanks Harpreet for bringing this to me. I really love such tests. I would have loved to post it on the side bars, but then I think it makes the whole page cumbersome to load and I prefer to offer a simple reading frame to my readers. Thus not posting such content in the sidebars.

Cash Advance Loans

Bunch of Assholes

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Sun, 09 Dec 2007 19:52:00 +0000

Forgive me for the same and get used to it and stop whining.

NOTICES

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Fri, 07 Dec 2007 18:40:00 +0000

NOTICE-I

This is to let you all know that I, Jiwateshwar Singh, am a lousy reader. I apologize to all of you for not having visited you blogs off late. I'll blame it on my coming back to India and me loving it. Would try to be more frequent to your blogs from now on and also reply in time to your comments on my posts.

NOTICE-II

Some of you might have noticed it already, and others may have not. I have removed certain bar elements from my blog. These include the link to my profile, and the blogroll. It was all done in an attempt to simplify the blog and also as I don't relate myself with such things. This is also to let you know that you may remove me from your blogrolls, and that wont stop me from visiting your blogs in anyway. I shall not be offended if you do so as being blogrolled doesn't really mean anything to me. But that does not mean, that I'm not thankful to those who have blogrolled me. It is just that I don't really give it any importance. Sorry and Thanks!

Drop dead

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Wed, 05 Dec 2007 19:44:00 +0000

Gosh! and Ghost! It is 1 in the night and I'm attempting to watch Bhool Bhulaiya all alone by myself. Half way through and I must confess that it has me shit scared at the moment. Thought I was grown up enough to not be scared by horror movies. Shucks

Oh god, give me the courage to watch the rest of the thing. At the moment I'm wondering as to if such shock can give me a heart attack or not. See you lads tomorrow if I survive.

Seen the movie.

Bloody Priyadarshan son of a bitch. Towards the end I realized that I had seen this movie around more than 10 years back. What a rip off. By the way, the original movie (Manichitrathal) was far far better. Shobhna had done a much much better job than Vidyabalan.

Anywayz the first half of the movie was good and absolutely scary. Specially the part where they are trying to lock the door and you hear the ghost for the first time. Second half sucks badly. Would have preferred if the movie had a paranormal ending as well and maintained the theme from the first half.

Burn in hell Priyadarshan!

Break!

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Sun, 02 Dec 2007 18:50:00 +0000

Oh, god! Feeling good after coming back home. Had aaloo kae parathae as soon as I landed. At the airport, a small desi girl was pestering her dad for pandranh rupaye (15Rs), the dad gave her 20Rs ka note and told her that it is twenty rupees. The small thing started crying even louder. Puzzled, her dad asked her why she is crying, to which she replied, give me 15Rs.

I wont be blogging for sometime. I enjoying my time away from the computer for some time. So will be away for as long as possible. Jab dil karega, tab I'll join you people back. So, I wont be available on net, on messengers or even on my phone. I need some time alone now. :D

Over-rated

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Mon, 26 Nov 2007 12:28:00 +0000

Hugs, kisses, tears, and smiles. Broken dreams, joy and light. Trusting bonds, deception and lies.

I wonder how much of "you" is over-rated. Would you ever change? Guess not. They seem to like you just the way you are. I guess, someone did say that it is difficult to improve on perfection. So, how very perfect are you? Doesn't matter, they think you are.

Girl Like Whiskey's Bottle :D

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Sat, 24 Nov 2007 14:33:00 +0000

In my heart I have trapped a girl
That looks like a whiskeys bottle
The space in my heart was empty
So I have put her there

I open the cap when I feel like
And take a gulp
I drink as much
As required to keep me disillusioned

Hiding the matter from heartless people
I have hugged it to my heart
The space in my heart was empty
So I have put her there

Within it lies the
Juice of all materials
That is why I have placed it
In a very special place

Where none can lay their eyes
I have kept her there
The space in my heart was empty
So I have put her there

What ever the saints
Hated about this world
The same addiction to
Holy sound, Yamla has developed

I have made God
Write me a long life
The space in my heart was empty
So I have put her there

Lolz, Now that sucked aint it? Ya I know. Lolz. Anywayz it is the translation to a really beautiful poem by beloved Yamla Jatt Saab. Those of you from Punjab, would know about this legendary singer. Ok so why translation first? Well, I did it to reassert my belief that translating Punjabi poems into English or Hindi results in total loss of soul from the poetry. I loved the poem. Aaj kal isko sunae bina raat mien neend nahi aatee. I'm not posting up the video on my blog this time, coz I realized that it not only spoils the look of my blog, but is also not viewed by many of my readers. So here is the link, those of you willing, can click on the link and see the video. I love his performances. Yamla Jatt Rulz!

Whiskey di botal wargi
mien ik kudi fasalayee ae
mere dil da boja khalee si
ohdae vich pa layi ae

Jadd jee karda od jatt khol kae
haada la lenaa
jedae naal nazara aunda rae
onukee pa lainan

gall lako kae lok baedardan ton
mien senae la layee ae
mere dil da boja khalee si
ohde vich

ehdae vich har ik vastu da
rass bhareya hoya ae
is karke khaas tikaane tae
main thareya hoya ae

jithae nazr kisae de pahunchae na
os jagah takka laye ae
mere dil da bojha khalee si
ohde vich pa laye ae

eh dekho sant fikaran nae
jadd nafrat kitee ae
ohde vich jo naam khamaree si
o yamlae pitee ae

ho mast diwana rabb kolon
vadd umar lakha laye ae
mere dil da boja khalee si
ohdae vich pa layee ae

Dont know why

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Sat, 24 Nov 2007 13:59:00 +0000

Ok! This aint no decent post. Not at all. They say "Behind every neat table, there is a cluttered drawer", well I have my own adaptation of this, "behind every neat desktop, there is a cluttered folder". In an attempt to clean up the various such cluttered folders on my laptop, I ran into this poem that I had written sometime back. It all started when I made an attempt at writing poems. Ahh, it is a failed attempt but I'm putting it up anywayz. My condolences to the readers :D

surrounded by darkness
my mind sleeps
dislocated memories
and wandering dreams

a world full of chaos
sorrow and grief
for what i see
makes my eyes bleed
inhumanity takes it's toll on me

live i must
to fullfil a dream
pain and suffering
have no place there to be!

Yet another one

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 04:44:00 +0000

Arrey, I had to blog this up. I couldn't disrespect something like this. Anyways I'm sparing you the pain of going through my take on it. So not writing up much about it. Just that, Thank you god for everything.

Ok! Just download the file and go through it. Click here

Professional on the same page

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Sat, 17 Nov 2007 19:14:00 +0000

Metallica - Turn the page

On a long and lonesome highway,
east of Omaha
You can listen to the engines
moanin' out it's one old song
You can think about the woman,
or the girl you knew the night before
But your thoughts will soon be wanderin',
the way they always do
When you're ridin' 16 hours,
and there's nothin' much to do
And you don't feel much like ridin',
you just wish the trip was through

(chorus)

Here I am, on the road again,
there I am, up on the stage
There I go, playin' star again,
there I go, turn the page

So you walk into this restaurant,
uh strung out from the road
And you feel the eyes upon you,
as you're shakin' off the cold
You pretend it doesn't bother you,
but you just want to explode
Yeah, most times you can't hear 'em talk,
other times you can

All the same old cliché's,
is it woman, is it man
And you always seem outnumbered,
you don't dare make a stand
Make your stand

(chorus)
Ah But here I am, on the road again,
there I am, up on the stage
Here I go, ah playin' star again,
there I go, turn the page
Woah

Out there in the spotlight,
you're a million miles away
Every ounce of energy,
you try and give away
As the sweat pours out your body,
like the music that you play

Later in the evenin',
as you lie awake in bed
With the echoes of the amplifiers,
ringin' in your head
You smoke the day's last cigarette,
rememberin' what she said

What she said

Yeah, and here I am,
on the road again,
there I am, up on that stage
Here I go, playin' star again,
there I go, turn the page
And there I go, turn that page

There I go, yeah, Here I go, yeah, yeah
There I go, yeah, Here I go, yeah
Here I go-oh-o, There I go
And I'm gone

Professional

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Sat, 17 Nov 2007 14:05:00 +0000

The memories of my very first days keep taking me back to Kingscross. The hip crowd, party atmosphere and the pizza are the least Kingscross is known for. It is famous more so for its never ending array of sex shops and striptease joints. However, I strictly go there for pizza and pizza alone. It is the best so far that I have had in Sydney till date.

Something that often bothers me, a deep rooted fear; am I professional enough? I wonder if I would be able to survive in a professional atmosphere. Deal with all those back breaking tasks and live up to the demands of a professional atmosphere. I know of my intellectual capabilities and such similar stuff, yet I fear I would break under such pressure. Anyways, that is not what I am talking to you about today.

Like most desis, my friends get real excited when they see a hooker. It comes naturally to people of my sub-continent. Not being picky here, for I don�??t know about how the gora reacts, but desis sure do get pumped up. Prostitution is hardly seen as a worthy profession and for the mater, prostitutes are hardly considered as humans. Yup. We know it is something wrong, not worthy, and this often makes us overlook the human aspect of it. We think of them as lesser mortals, bitches you can say anything to, treat them however you wish. Treating them like animals, slandering them, and verbally/physically abusing them. We constantly fall short of looking into those eyes and feeling the pain and agony that lies beneath.

I had a vague discussion with John about this. My other flatmate desperately wanted me to accompany him to a striptease joint. I don�??t stand for such things and thus declined. Talking to John about it, he laughed and then narrated a story from his own life. His friend�??s birthday party. Striptease joint. The stripper came over. She seemed too innocent. He broke into a conversation with her while she stripped for his friends. What is your name? Where are you from? You have family? Why do you do this? Ohh! Which university do you go to? What course are you doing? So does this fetch you enough money for the fees? He asked her all this while she stripped for his friends. In the end his friend got bugged up and asked him to shut up. He complained, that John was making it hard for him to fantasize about her. For all this was bringing in a human touch to her and that is not allowed. Isn�??t it. She is allowed to be nothing, nothing more than an object of pure sexual fantasy.

After having had our pizza, we sat back into the car and started driving back. My eyes fell on one of the most beautiful girls I�??ve seen thus far in my life. She stood there in a red dress falling short of her knees. A brown leather purse that wasn�??t too big for the style, hanging over those fragile shoulders. The very crimson sunglasses resting in her blonde hair, and the constant puff of smoke coming out from those red lips. I looked in disbelief. So young, so beautiful, so very everything, and so why this? Coming back to realizing as to how very wrong this world is, the way it works around here, and how human a human really is. Where does such suffering fit in the picture of a world shown to us by our bibles? With my thoughts still wandering on an elusive plain, my friends caught me staring at her. And then the bastard honked the horn on her. Hers was a quick reaction, too quick for me to have turned my eyes away. She caught me gazing and I looked into those eyes. The discomfort evident. Ashamed of my friend, I cursed him and we sped away. Out of sight, but I still found those eyes gazing mine. Proud of the feat accomplished, my friends were having a good laugh. These were not the only assholes down there today. I wondered how many such cars would whizz past honking their horn on her. She clearly wasn�??t proud of what she was doing. She was nervous, she was scared, and she was aware of all the things the people crossing by are thinking of her. Yet she stands there, stands there waiting for a different �??him�?? tonight. Would I ever be as professional as this? God bless you darling!

Bant Singh can still sing!

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Sat, 10 Nov 2007 14:19:00 +0000

First of all let me apologize to my non-punjabi reader, but hey! it has sub-titles. This video is for all those people who think that India is through with caste system. Let me assure, it still exists very much. But that is not the point here. It isn't just about casteism. It is about all the wrong things that are done by the rich and powerful.

What is the video about? Seen in the video is Bant Singh. He is a labourer from some where in Punjab. His a story of constant suppression by the higher castes of his village. Some where in year 2000 his minor daughter was raped by seven members of the higher caste including the village Sarpanch's son. This brave son of the soil revolted and all kinds of pressure was applied to silence him. The police refused to register his FIR, and the village panchayat dismissed his case. He was exiled from the community and refused to be given work. But he didn't give up. In year 2002 he was able to secure conviction for the people who raped his daughter including a woman (bloody bitch) who helped them in their act. However, the story was not yet done. The fact that a dalit had risen against them and managed to secure conviction constantly irked the members of higher caste. One day while returning from work, he was attacked by them. They had a gun and he tried to flee. But he couldn't out run them; they had a car. Soon enough they started beating him up. They constantly hit him on the hands and legs with sticks and broke his bones. After being left for dead, some people came to his help later. He was taken to the local government hospital. The son-of-a-bitch doctor had already been bribed and he refused to treat him without being paid 1000rs first. After 3 hours, the doctor was paid money but Bant Singh was still not treated. Later he was moved to a bigger hospital in Chandigarh by his relatives. It had been 36 hours since he was attacked. Having failed to receive treatment for so long, gangerine had set into all his limbs. His both arms and one leg had to be amputated. He now has one leg which the doctors are still trying to save. This case has received much spotlight, because this is the first case from the region in which a dalit has been able to secure conviction for members of a higher caste.

My beloved India, why are you like this? Where do you fit such things amongst all the religious righteousness? It is not about casteism. No it is not. This happens everywhere. our society is not a society of equals. It never will be. We enjoy it the way it is, because we are in a favoured position right now. It is something that we can't let go off. We as a society have constantly exploited our poor. British did whatever they did. But today we Indians are doing it to our own fellow Indians. Would we ever be able to look above and beyond our hollow traditions and culture. the culture that we are so proud of, and yet fails to qualify on grounds of humanity. Some where along the line, everything got so materialized that we have forgotten what being human means.

And as for my dear Punjab, I still remember how you revolted against Ram Rahim Singh, the fellow who disguised himself as Guru Gobind Singh Ji. You labeled it as a disgrace to our gurus and our beliefs. Let me tell you, no one has disgraced our gurus more than you. Punjab is one of the leading states for caste based crimes. The very caste system which our Gurus fought hard to abolish. It was the very basis of Sikhism. The surname "Singh" was adopted so that no one could be differentiated based on their caste. The "Langar" was established so that people of all caste and religion sat together at the same level and ate food. No mater if it was a king, soldier or an untouchable, they all had to sit together for the langar. But now we are nothing more than a society of hypocrites. To make matters worse, the perpetrators of the very crime are none other than our own very proud "Jatt Sikh" community. Wake up Khalsa. Wake up!

Holy Scriptures

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Sat, 03 Nov 2007 13:35:00 +0000

Religion. I know how much it means to me. I have my own understanding of it all. And I love the way I understand it. So why the hell does someone think that I need to be told as to what I should or should not do. Today I ended up in a confrontation with my flatmate. Nasty one. I have never taken kindly to people trying to impose their way of life and principles upon me or others. I swear to god I hate such people.

Religion is not a set of rules. Please stop treating it like a Constitution. No one religion is complete in itself. None is. The thing breaks down into figuring out as to what is a religion? Isn't religion supposed to be a way of life that leads to attainment of god. How does one attain god? Isn't it all about doing good in life? What the hell does god have to do with anything else? If god does really exist, do you think he would be concerned about what you are wearing today? I don't think so. For me religion has always meant something which has brought peace within, especially at times when I needed it the most. At times when I could feel my self being consumed by my environment.

I have lived my life as a good man. Have done some bad things, but purely out of ignorance. Things I have apologized for. Never intentionally hurt someone, unless they deserved it. Have always come to the aid of those who needed it. Been an honest person and never cheated anyone. This is my religion. This and nothing more. I do not believe in anything more than doing good and being good. All the rest is crap to me. Beyond this, all religions are crap.

Masjid dha dey,
Mandir dha dey,
Dha dey jo kuch disda,
Par kisi da dil na dhavien,
Rabb dil vich vasda.

Destroy the Mosques,
Destroy the temples,
Destroy what ever you can see,
But do not break someones heart,
Coz that is where god lives.

So that is the truth of it all. God is in our heart. No pilgrimage, no rituals, no religious tantrums. I have lived a spiritual, religious life, if I am a good person. If I bring warmth to people around me. If I help the needy in whatever way I can. If my heart bleeds to the pain of others. And if don;t turn a deaf ear to someone else's grief. Is it still more important to do that pilgrimage, or read the holy scriptures everyday in the morning. Is it still necessary to go to the Gurdwara, Mandir or Mosque to be good in the eyes of the god?

Religious scriptures are no doubt extremely important. But the fact is, that each one of us understands them differently. The language of the saints is beyond what our normal minds can comprehend. Everything they say, can be interpreted in a way that suits what you seek. In the end, what you get, is what you had sought for. If you seek peace, they offer you peace. If you seek aggression, they offer you aggression. And if you seek god, they offer you the path to him. So, it is all about what you seek. The frame of mind with which you read them. I know what I seek, and without doubt it is different than what he sought. I got what I wanted and believe he did as well. What the fuck gives you the right to impose your beliefs on me. My religion is my personal property. I understand it in a way that is much different than you do. And I have every right to believe that I am right. At least god has given me the choice, and it is mine to make.

Thankfully, my vision has not been corrupted by blind faith. How can blind faith lead to enlightenment? No, it can't. I do not agree with rituals, customs or traditions. If you could attain god by shouting for him in the mosque, going to Vaishno Devi, or taking a dip in the sarovar at Golden Temple, then wouldn't we all have attained him.? Why do we still search for him? If it was so simple to attain him, then the world would have been rid of all the evil. Next time you are taking a pilgrimage, or a dip in holy water, look to your left and right. The person next to you, might be a serial killer, thug, or purely a son-of-a-bitch. And despite all the holy shit they do, still it doesn't seem to put an end to all the adultery in this world.

Haaji Lok Mecce Nu Jaande
Asaan Jaan Takht Hazaare
Jitt Vall Yaar Usse Vall Qaaba
Bhavein Phol Kitabaan Chare

People take pilgrimage to Mecca
But I desire to go to my lords court
My Qaaba is wherever my beloved (god) is
Even if all the religious scriptures tell me otherwise

Pi sharaab tey kha kabab, heth baal haddaan di ag,

Bulleha bhan ghar rab da, ais thuggan de thug noo thug.

Drench yourself in wine and feast on roasted flesh, roasting in the fires flaming out of the bones. O Bulleha, break into the house of God and swindle the cheat of cheats.

Mulla tay mashaalchi dohaan ikko chit
Loukan karday chananan, aap anhairae vich

The priest and the torch-bearer are both very similar
They give light to others, but are themselves in dark

Hum mailae, tu ujjwal karat
Hum nirgun, tu daata
Hum moorakh, tum chattar sayanae
Tu sarab kala da gyata

We are in the dark, you enlighten us
We are worthless, you are our lord
We are idiots, and you are clever
You are master of all tricks

I believe that this post might not go down well with all my readers. I know, that like me, even you don't like being imposed with someone else's beliefs. However, my sincere and unconditional apology to those who might have felt hurt. All of the above verses or others cited in this post are by my beloved Baba Bulleh Shah. Only the last one is from Guru Granth Sahib. Unfortunately Bulleh Shah mostly referred to things from Islam as he himself was once a Muslim. But in my post, I am not targeting any specific religion. For those who have been able to understand the post, it was targeted at those people, that try to impose their beliefs at others. Religion is for me to follow at my own terms. I need not confirm with someone else's take at things or how they understand it. It is none of their business as to how and what I follow. Religion is path for you to follow. It is not about making others follow it.

Topics such as these always incite aggressive responses. However, I shall not reply to any such aggressive or inappropriate comments made here. Those if any, that are hurt, I didn't intend it. Sorry! But I'm not targeting any religion at all.

Mirza Saihbaan

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Thu, 01 Nov 2007 14:18:00 +0000

Why is it that India's most famous love stories, they all happened in one small region of Punjab? I mean, was rest of India sleeping or what? What kept love from happening? Heer Ranjha, Sohni Mahiwal, & Sassi Punnu. No, I haven't forgotten the most important one. But hey! Do you really know about it?

Mirza Sehban, is the most beloved of all the love fables from my dear land Punjab. The shear tragedy touches my heart. Every single time I come across a song with references to the story, I feel their pain as my own. However, I have discovered that most people still do not know of this most beautiful love lorn tale. The story goes as follows...

Mirza and Saihbaan were both in love with each other. Saihbaan was being forced by her parents to marry someone else. So she sends out a message through the kaazi to Mirza, "You must come and decorate Sahiban�??s hand with the marriage henna". Mirza could not control his young blood, and set out to bring her home. He rode to her village and brought her back on his horse. On the way back, they decided to take rest under the a tree before continuing further. It was summers and they were both tired, and thus easily fell asleep under the tree. Somewhile later Saihbaan woke up and she spotted her brothers coming at a distance. Mirza was known for his archery and Saihbaan didn't want him to kill her brothers. So she breaks his arrows, and then wakes him up. She had thought that once her brothers were closer and they see the two of them together; they would cool down and hug her. However, they attacked Mirza upon reaching closer. Mirza fought with his sword but he was no match for 4 people and was eventually slayed. Saihbaan's brothers left her with his dead body, and in the end she kills herself with a sword. (Ref: Wikipedia)

Most Punjabi literature talks about what all Mirza's soul would have said to Saihbaan's soul in heaven. It all gets too touchy. Bellow is a song by Harbhajan Mann based on the same story,

(Ref: Youtube)

Jadd teer tod tae Saihbaan nae
Marda hoya mirza kee kainda
Vaidyaan ch rondeean manva nu
Tauleyaan chon pajiyaan banwaan nu
Saihbaan tain madee kitee nee

Saihbaan tain madee kitee nee
Jae pata hunda tain inj karnee
Nee main lyonda naal bhrawaan nu

Ek pasae todae teer kurae
Ek pasae tere veer kurae
Jatt kalam kalae Mirzae nu
Nee tokha dae gayee taqdeer kudae

Jae teer salamat hundae taan
Ni mien tinda bind hawawa nu
Marda hoya mirza bol peya

Jatt kalam kala reh geya nee
Kalae nu ghera pae geya ni
Jhall da reya vaar gandeseyan dae ni
Ni mere siron malasa lae geya ni
Ni mere gall vich paindi chanj kurae

Koi na mirza dae sang kudae
Jae hundae bhai bhand kudae
Ni mere laindae dukhade vand kurae

Koi Mirza jag tae ni jamna
Putt jamdae rain gae maanvaan nu
Marda hoya Mirza bol pyea
Saihbaan tae madee kitee ni
Jae pata hunda tain inj karnee
Ni main lyonda naal bharava nu

Mere bhen vastae paundi rayee
Mainu mintaan naal manundi rahee
Syalan dian nara buree yae na ni
Oh kunj waang kar laundi rahee
Naa pae Syalan dae raah vera
Khodi to kaathi la vera
Na ja vera na ja vera
Ni mera aaj di raat nikah vira
Kadd veer mera karr aayega
Mere bhain udaeke raawa nu
Saihbaan tain madee kitee ni

Jae pata hunda tain inj karnee
Ni mien lyonda naal bharawa nu

Well now a feeble attempt at trying to translate the above...

Upon finding his arrows broken by Saihbaan
What did the dying Mirza say
Of the mothers crying in the corridors
Of the arms that had run to hug him
Saihbaan you have deceived me

Saihbaan you have deceived me
Had I known that you would do this
I would have brought my brothers with me

On one side you have broken my arrows, girl
And on the other side are you brothers, girl
The lonely Jatt Mirza has
Been deceived by his destiny

Had my arrows been alright
I would have shattered the winds
The dying Mirza uttered

I have been left alone and abandoned
I'm alone and I have been surrounded
I kept on taking blows from their axes
My turban has fallen from my head
There is uneasiness in my throat

There is no one with Mirza, oh girl
Had my brothers been here
They would have distributed by grief amongst themselves

Another Mirza shall never take birth in this world
Though mothers will keep giving birth to sons
The dying Mirza uttered
Saihbaan you have deceived me
Had I known you would do this
I would have brought my brothers with me

My sister kept on insisting
She kept pleading me
The women of Sial are bad
She kept insisting
Don't go on the path to Sial

Please remove the saddle from the horse brother
Please dont go brother, please dont
It is my marriage tonite
When will my brother return
My sister awaits on my path
Saihbaan you have deceived me

Had I known you would do this
I would have brought my brother with me

Touchy touchy. Ya I know the translation sucked, but I'm a bit busy with things these days. Couldn't give it anymore time, but it did deserve more time. Anywayz, there is much reasoning behind what ever Saihbaan did. You have to read the whole story for that. Do read the story on the link provided in the references.

For the amazing part! In all such love stories from punjab, we always take the name of the girl first. Sassi Punnu, Heer Ranjha, Sohni Mahiwal. See, the name of the girl is always taken first. However, this is the only one in which the name of the male is taken first. Mirza Saihbaan. That is so, because what ever the reason might have been, she did deceive her lover. So we take Mirza's name first. Sad part is, Mirza is seen as the greatest lover of all times, while Saihbaan is looked down upon. Hope I have brought you people something new this time. Just see it as my tribute to the couple. What made me write it? Well I remembered this one party I had once. There was this guy who didn't understand a word of Punjabi. He was Chinki. I showed him this video and told him about the story. Damn, he got glued to this thing. For the rest of the party, he kept on listening to it again and again. In the end, he wept. Anywayz, my translation sucked, and at last I found some words in Punjabi that I might not have understood, or failed to translate into English. Kindly forgive me for such mistakes if any, and do let me know if so. And in the end, last but not the least, Dunia ch vasdae nae log batharae, Punjabian dee shaan vakhree, Buraaaaah

Bibliography:
1. Mirza Sahiba. (2007, October 21). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 14:00, November 2, 2007, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Mirza_Sahiba&oldid=166023335

2. Mirza Sahiba (2006, June 11). In Youtube, Broadcast Yourself. Retrieved 14:00, November 2, 2007, from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rtn7BK7L7p4

Somthin better!

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Sat, 27 Oct 2007 15:47:00 +0000

Much of what comes up here on this blog, is derived from my day to day life. Small things that lead to significantly important thoughts. I just can't thank god enough for what ever he has given to me. Each and everything in life has been beautiful in it's own kind of way. Today as usual he narrated to me his hollow memories of the past. Of things he did with his friends, and I listened helplessly. The amount of time he spent at the various five starred pubs and the things he did there. I can't help but think, that it is all so hollow. His stories lack everything that me and my friends stood for. My memories of my friends have little or nothing to do with places. My memories are not of the Hukka at a Barista, or the Vodka at some pub. My memories are of my friends and the fun time we had together irrespective of the place. The kind of things we did, and how we would all blend together.

You don't have to analyze it much in depth. It becomes evident, that their friendship developed around the place. For him, friends were people who had the same kind of money as him, and could afford to be sharing the same Scottish matured spirits as him at the pub. It had nothing to do with the kind of people they were, and what they might have stood for. What mattered to him, was the fact that his friends were able to move in his class of environment. They bought there own drinks, paid their bills separately, and bought there individual stocks of hash.

Me and my pals were definitely very different. Very very. Sometimes we were all filthy rich, and then at another moment we were paupers. But then we took care of each other. Who ever had the money,had to buy the drinks. No questions asked, and no records of expenditure. No matter who spent it, and how much he spent, we never owed each other anything. Money never exchanged hands between us. Never. The best part? We used to fight over getting to pay the bill. Each one trying to snatch the bill away from the other.

It was always about getting to sit together and have fun time. The place seldom mattered. Hamare glass har jagah takraye hain. The five star pub in Atta market and the Desi Theka at Mammura village. We did it all. And I swear to god, I cherish each and everyone of them equally. It wasn't the place, it was the company.

The best thing? I didn't make my friends sitting at the bar or sucking on the Hukka at some Barista. It was much deeper than that. Today, I take pride in the kind of friends I have. For things they stand for and what they are made of. No wonder his stories seem so hollow to me, coz I know I had something better! Jaan dete thae ek dusare pe!

Bullet / Patang

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Tue, 23 Oct 2007 12:41:00 +0000

Zindagi kae is mod par
Ek naya chorr nazr aane laga hai
Dhadkte dil kae dard ko
Sehnae mien ab maza aana laga hai

Kaafila jo aagey badh geya thaa
Mud kar wapis aane laga hai
Tanha zindagi kae shorr ko
Sunane mien maza aane laga hai

Pal pal ke asmanjas mien
Ek nazaria kho jaane laga hai
Ghultee huee is hava mien
Saans lene ka maza aane laga hai

Harr din ik naya khawaab
Ye dil dikhane laga hai
Mushkil se jo dhoondhee thee yaad
Usae fir bhulane mien maza aane laga hai

Jaan mere tu jaanta hai
Phir bhi anjaane mien kho jaane laga hai
Apni galtiaan bhool kae
Ilzzam us pae lagane ka maza aane laga hai

Hypocrite me

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Sun, 07 Oct 2007 03:17:00 +0000

Shakespeare once said something about life being a stage and all of us being actors, each actor playing their role and carrying on. Not a definition I like but can't disagree with. It does sort of feel right, just another way of looking at things. A lot happens in one's lifetime, we meet new people through out. Constantly developing new relations, trying to read people, living up to expectations, and the constant effort we put into stabilizing any relationship. No relationship is stable, as a mater of fact even Earth ain't stable. Every relationship has it's ups and downs. Each and every move you make in a relationship can strengthen it or cause damage beyond repair. So what truly defines a successful relationship? and, can a relationship be strengthened enough to be immune to any sort of damage?

Oh! I'm not going to be able to answer those questions and if you are reading further in a hope to find some answer ... bye bye. Lolz. Back in my days at Delhi, I enjoyed huge networks. Probably everyone on campus fell into my network someway or the other. I knew more people than I could probably remember names of. So every other day, I was building a new relationship, friendly or hostile. Every time a relationship came into existence, new expectations were placed on me. At times, I imposed expectations of my own on them. Expectations are an important part of any relationship. Without expectations there can be no relationship. Such relationship can only exist under ideal conditions. But then would such a expectation-less relationship be strong enough to last long?

Each relationship built, required a new role to be full filed by me. I think that is what happens to everyone. The role of a considerate friend, obedient student, honest employee, compassionate lover, a godfather and what not. Some roles were easy to play, and yet there were those that I wasn't ready for. I had no clue about them and wondered as to how I fit in. And still I choose to play them, making the other person more so dependent on myself. Things I didn't associate myself with and still trying my level best to be, just because they needed it. It wasn't me, it was what they sought of me. I tried and tried not to let them down, until I could do it no more. How much of a hypocrite does that make me?

Bloody Bastards

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Thu, 27 Sep 2007 19:02:00 +0000

The world I live in definitely ain't worth it. If ever I get my hands on bastards like these, I swear to god I would kill them with my own bare hands. Such people don't deserve to live, they really don't. I wonder why they want to put an end to Death Sentence. These people don't deserve nothing better. Should roast these sons of bitches alive.

Precious child

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Wed, 19 Sep 2007 15:53:00 +0000

Today, something touched my heart after a long time. I have always been aware of this weak side to myself. It just doesn't help. Leaves me feeling worthless. Shouldn't my life mean more than just me. It is easy to be lost in one's own pain and suffering and not realize what others are going through. Many holy men talk about looking at others pain before crying about your own. It does help you feel better, doesn't it? Someone else is more miserable than yourself. So you thank god, that you are at least better off than them. I have done that at times. At times when life doesn't seem to be headed the right way. But today, again I feel sorry for them. So much going wrong around me while I just sit back and watch it happen. What is life about? Is it about living moments and cherishing them? Facing problems as they come? Doing something for your country? Dedicating oneself to the religion? To be a successful man and earn loads of money? They all seem quite right and there. Or maybe it depends on the person. Life can mean all this and maybe more and yet not mean anything at all.

Somehow, I never really got it right. It was never a fixed thing for me. At one point life meant riding my tobu cycle. Sometime later it was religion, then parents and on and on. My parents active social life did expose me to a lot. I still remember the fortnightly visits that we made to "Precious child" foundation. On one side I stood holding my old shoes which I no longer used and still unwilling to part with, and on the other side his hands stretching out and the smile on his disturbed face. The rough skin, unkempt hair turning muddy brown, a shirt that must have been passed for at least a decade, and chappals that had been stitched up together. The mind went blank and I watched as I let go of the shoes and he galloped away with them. Sat there in a corner trying to push his feet into them. It was unique. For a moment I wished I had more shoes to part with and bring a smile on all the other faces that stood there watching him try them on.

What touched me bad today, was a detective serial. The detective has his car stolen by a teenage kid. He puts his best into tracing the kid and his car. In the end he runs into the kids house which is more of a stable than a house. In the corner he sat there with his two much younger siblings. All abandoned and freezing in the cold. In front of them is a very small Christmas tree with no decorations on it. The detective was heart broken at the sight and so was I.

I wish life continues to mean more than just me, and that I'm able to live upto the dreams that I see of meaning something to someone. Life is not about living it, but helping others live it. I wonder if my shoes are still being passed on. I wonder if they are still bringing a smile to an unknown precious child's face. I hope they are.

Queer Tharunka 2

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Wed, 19 Sep 2007 14:11:00 +0000

Frontcover

Backcover

Innercover

Editorial

My post

As per Cuckoo's request, I have posted the pics of the magazine.

The front cover is ok nothing very gay about it until you look at the minute text and the symbols used. The backcover has a drawing of men lying butt naked. Those who know what gay men do would get the idea. The innercover features the picture of a trans-sexual (a man dressed as a woman). The editorial talks about the magazine and what queer means. Then you see my article. The editorial staff most probably thought that I'm a woman and thus lesbian. So they think that in the post I'm talking about my feelings for a woman as a lesbian. Oh god!

P.S: The text in the images is readable. Give it some time to load completely. Those that dug deep into the thing; Ya i know it is not spelt right but still it is hardly a condolence for my soul.

Queer Tharunka

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Tue, 18 Sep 2007 09:51:00 +0000

I don't know what to say today. Seriously confused! When I came here, it was strange. The way people were all so normal about the gay/lesbian thing. Definitely was something strange and different. It was something "Queer". Sometime back, when I started writing this blog, I wanted to get published in university magazine or something like it. Didn't know what to do, whom to approach. so one day, while going through my university's website I ran into this advertisement asking for articles to be published. I was happy and forwarded two of my posts from this blog. A few days later I received a response. They didn't think my articles were in line with the magazine. I was confused as to what they meant. However, a few days later I received an email from the female editor of the magazine telling me how she loved reading my article and that she wants to publish it. I was delighted ofcos. My posts titled "It rained" was going to be published in the annual edition. Then I received an email asking me if I was okay with the article being published under my real name. Hell yes. Why not? Ofcos I wanted it to be published under my real name.

Lesbians are cute. Oh yes. Always excited me. But gay? Oh no. I just can't imagine myself on top of another man. Eeeew! I guess you have to be a man to understand how disgusting the whole concept is. Few days back I was watching this series called "Six feet under". Apart from the other things in the series, one of the characters was gay. Oh I felt so sympathetic. The way society treated him, how hard he found it to adjust and to conceal. The way his family reacted when they found out. Etc etc. In the end, the way I saw things and the way I reacted had changed. It was no more alright to make fun of gay men. I stopped cracking gay jokes. I learned to respect the freedom of choice, the choice to be different.

So why all this? Today the magazine got published. I was happy to see my article featured in it. Very happy, though for a short while! What is Queer? To me it meant being strange or out of ordinary. The dictionary defines it as "strange or odd from a conventional viewpoint; unusually different; singular: a queer notion of justice". I was oblivious to the fact that gay men are often referred to as queer. The magazine is called "Queer Tharunka". It is full of articles relating to homosexuality. Hey, I'm no homosexual. Now I understand as to why they asked me if it was ok to publish it under my real name. Oh no, all the people that must be reading my article now. Gosh. The post gets a whole new meaning. They probably think that Jiwateshwar Singh is a lesbian or probably a trans-sexual. Don't want to hurt anyone's sentiments here but hey, I have officially been labeled as the latest homosexual on the block. Damn! Why do such things always happen to me? Bloody hell! Life just ain't fair is it?

So many

noreply@blogger.com (bEAST) — Sun, 16 Sep 2007 15:26:00 +0000

So many things gone unsaid,
So many emotions not expressed,
So many people don't know that I love them yet,
So many of you are not yet dead,
So many set my heart aflutter,
So many yet make it suffer,
So many desires and so many dreams,
So many moments yet not lived,
So many comments yet not made,
So many comments not going to make,
So many nights for me to turn and toss,
So many days I'm going to walk,
So many things I still have to learn,
So many things I'm being forced to learn,
So many why,
So many what,
So many So manys,
So many ends,
So many yuks at this poem,
So many eew,
So many I know,
So many I don't,
So many reasons,
So many poems I will write anyways,
So many don't try to stop me.
So many smilys :)

I know I suck, but hey! Just felt like doin this. Give this man some room aye!