Talking Shop: Country once beautiful

Kasme vaade pyaar vafa bus;

baatein hain, baaton ka kya?

– Upkaar, circa 1967, Manna De

Teri duniya se hoke majboor

chala, main bahut door,

bahut door, bahut door chala

– Pavittar Paapi, circa 1970, Kishore Kumar

The two fine examples listed above are just a couple in a list of uncelebrated gems from the past, a rich legacy that is being forgetting rather quickly. Those were fleeting but powerful moments that made up our daily lives most plentiful just a few decades ago, mostly on radio's Vividh Bharti and the post-6.30 pm telly, when a deplorable yet loveable Doordarshan finally kicked into life with Krishi Darshan regaling us. Entertainment may have been few and far between, but it was divine, snaring us away for a bit from gilli danda, kanchas, gulels and patangs. In those earthen days, our parents would come back from their offices in DTC buses, sans mobile phones but armed with pastries, moongphali, revadi and gajak for our collective partaking.

Life was fun and the music esoteric and divine. There was all but no telly, only Anurodh Sangeet and Aaradhanas in the morning. But our people, our very own, would happily sing for us. One moment, Kishore would regale us with 'Chala jaata hoon kisi ki dhun mein', while the next would have Manna De bring us back to reality with 'Kasme vaade pyaar vafa bus, baatein hain, baaton ka kya...' Yes, life was slow, but it was rife with pulsating thoughts, quite boisterous and rambunctious, with all but no strife. Today, that tune is gone, the melodies have changed. I fondly recall a muggy afternoon at an auntie's place that changed my perspective on life, for I first heard Hemant Kumar croon 'Naa maangoo main sona chaandi, mangoon darshan tere, tere dwaar khada ek jogi'. What bliss it was...

What of today, then?

Well, a nation of Pradeep, Rafi, Mukesh, Manna De and Kishore has turned into a garbled parody of funk, remixes and things similarly sordid. An era has died. Long live the new era. Don't get me wrong, please. I love Honey Singh, Baadshaah, Gippy Garewal and all their histrionics and rap-zap. Hell, I am still young enough to turn up ante and volume at midnight whilst cooking, moving happily to their thump and beat as I wield my ladle in the kadaahi, rousing up some scrumptious dishes for my missus, our canines and felines. And if God be my troth, our quartet of four-legged wonders even join me in the act. It is a happy life still, till I turn on the telly of today.

That brings me to a new reality. Let me take a leap of literary faith and mention René Goscinny and Albert Uderzo, who created the inimitable Asterix, Obelix and the unforgettable Cacofonix. These three characters, along with their counterpart caricatures in the legendary comic series, are enshrined in literary history, but I shall focus on Cacofonix today, since this column hinges on things musical, or utterly lacking thereof.

Much as I love the original character, I deeply frown at the army of Cacofonixes (un)manning our political and economic stratosphere today; 'stratosphere' because these gents are so caught up in their personal scheme of things that they have already attained their targeted zenith, full of smite and vilification. In the process, they have all but broken the very pedestal on which some very steep predecessors have stood and led the country. Unfortunately, our new gliteratti are stooping to levels that are malignant for the nation, and I am being mild here.

Raving and ranting

I took rather long to get to the point, you say? Yes, but this build-up was necessary, if only to drive home just how deep and devious the rot has gotten and to remind us all where we come from. In Bollywood terms, a nation of Bharat Bhushans and Manoj Kumars is fast turning into the ruthlessness and confused bewilderment of Prem Chopras and Amrish Puris. I love all four of them, by the way, and am only making a literal (mis)interpretation by purposely naming these stalwarts that I grew up with and chomped my popcorn on.

I say this because many of our today's chumps and chimps are chomping on us from their high and mighty official pedestals in a manner very malignant, deadly if not beastly. They claim a moral high path, yet openly crash to historical levels of indecency and a vilified bestiality. The speeches they make and the words they use are inflammatory and despicable, but they carry on unenforced. As per their dedicated brief, they create boundaries and borders, exhorting and beseeching us to maim the 'others'. Who are these others, I wonder. Well, they are the folks that I grew up with, those that fed me 'sevaiyyan' and 'rabri' when they were rejoicing, while I shared with them 'paayasam' and 'pongal' on my good days.

Thumbing my nose, I watch some more telly. And in these Coronavirus times, I unwittingly see serious players licking their thumbs while dishing out pamphlets and election manifestos. I don't get scared, I get disgusted. Why? No masks, no etiquettes and no sensibility. Where did we go oh-so wrong? We now even claim fights between Subhash Chandra Bose, Jawaharlal Nehru and Mahatma Gandhi. These said people made us who we are and gave all of their lives for us. Who, if any, will we spare in our fest for magnificence?

Tremulous times

I understand economics – too well for my own liking. We are at an all-time nadir. India has been in a recession for years, well before the coming of this blooming virus. But we continue to ignore the signals, pretending that all is well. As a nation, we are borrowing way beyond our means, Rs 11 lakh crore to boot this year, celebrating the fest that is today. The problem is that the feast shall not continue for long, as longevity will take its toll, as it always does.

Unemployment in India is at historical levels, and that has oft been the basis of civil unrest in times of siege, though right about now, we are pretending it does not exist. Farmers have been denied and may man our borders again, for the promises made to them by the authorities have been defiled. Doctors, railway employees and small traders are on strike. We are in a K-shaped economic recovery, we are told, where the rich are getting richer and the poor poorer.

I am so tired of all that I see around me. Therefore, let me get back to the music that I began with in this writeup – if for no other reason, but that it may give us some peace and solace.

'Jo bheji thi dua, wo jaake

aasma se yoon takra gayi,

toh aa gai, laut ke sada...'

Shanghai, circa 2015,

Shekhar Ravjiani & Nandini

'Abhi mujhme kahin baaki

hai thodi zindagi...'

Agneepath, circa 2012, Sonu Nigam

The writer is a clinical analyst and a communications specialist. Views expressed are personal. [email protected]