Another great song and lovely lyrics

I wanted to sing this song so badly for my wife's 40th, that I went and purchased a nice guitar and tried really hard to learn and play this specific tune. Alas, the learning was very hard and I was not able to play the song. Here are the lyrics though, it's from a really nicely made movie called CARS.

Cars soundtrack lyrics -- Find Yourself .. Brad Paisley

When you find yourself in some far off place And it causes you to rethink some things You start to sense that slowly you're becoming someone else And then you find yourself When you make new friends in a brand new town And you start to think about settling down The things that would've been lost on you Are now clear as a bell and you find yourself Yeah, that's when you find yourself When you go through life So sure of where you're heading And you wind up lost And it's the best thing that could've happened Cause sometimes when you lose your way It's really just as well Because you find yourself Yeah, that's when you find yourself ---- Instrumental Interlude ---- When you meet the one that you've been waiting for And she's everything that you want and more You look at her and you finally start to live for someone else And then you find yourself Yeah, that's when you find yourself We go through life So sure of where we're heading And then we wind up lost And it's the best thing that could've happened Cause sometimes when you lose your way It's really just as well Because you find yourself Yeah, that's when you find yourself

Demise of a Friendship

We all know that death is inevitable. It is the purest form of truth there is, but does friendship die? The answer is an obvious yes. As early as kindergarten, you realize the importance of friendship and for as long as you live, you continue making friends, yet there are friendships that die. Even the closest ones. In some case, you simply move and lose touch, in others you outgrow your friends, some fall apart and some just die a natural death. I am intrigued by this a lot and would like a perspective from you on what your opinion is about this subject.

Simple Pleasures

There are many times that you find extreme joy in simple things. A song well sung, nice lyrics, tasty dish. The most amount of joy I get is from a song that is nicely written and well sung, of course the music adds a dimension to it that is hard to explain. I do get goose bumps. I recently heard a song that had all of the above components. They lyrics are by IRSHAD KAMIL, music is by Pritam and it is very nicely sung by MOHIT CHAUHAN and the movie is JAB WE MET.

This goes out for my wife on our 11th Anniversary.

TUMSE HI - JAB WE MET


Na hai yeh pana
Na Khona hi hai
Tera Na hona jane
Kyun hona hi hai
Tum se hi din hota hai
Surmaiye shaam aati hai
Tumse hi tumse hi
Har ghadi saans aati hai
Zindagi kehlati hai
Tumse hi tumse hi

Na hai yeh pana
Na Khona hi hai
Tera Na hona jane
Kyun hona hi hai
Aankhon mein ankhne teri
Bahoon mein baahein teri
Mera na mujhe mein kuch raha hua kya
Baaton mein baatein teri
Raatein saugatein teri
Kyun tera sab yeh ho gaya hua kya
Mein kahin bhi jata hoon
Tumse hi mil jata hoon
Tumse hi tumse hi

Shor mein khamoshi hai
Thodi se Behoshi hai
Tum se hi tum se hi
Aadha sa wada kabhi
Aadhe se jayada kabhi
Jee chahe karlu is trah wafa ka
Chode na chote kabhi
Tode na tute kabhi
Jo dhaga tumse jud gaya wafa ka
Mein Tera sharmaya hoon
Jo bhi mein ban paya hoon
Tumse hi tumse hi

Raste miljate hai
Manzile miljati hai
Tumse hi tumse hi
Na hai yeh pana Na
Khona hi hai
Tera Na hona jane
Kyun hona hi hai

Lean On Me Lyrics

Sometimes in our lives we all have pain
We all have sorrow
But if we are wise
We know that there's always tomorrow

Lean on me, when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on
For it won't be long
'Til I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on

Please swallow your pride
If I have things you need to borrow
For no one can fill those of your needs
That you don't let show

Lean on me, when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on
For it won't be long
'Til I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on

If there is a load you have to bear
That you can't carry
I'm right up the road
I'll share your load
If you just call me
So just call on me brother,
when you need a hand
We all need somebody to lean on

I just might have a problem
that you'd understand
We all need somebody to lean on

Lean on me when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on
For it won't be long
Till I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on
Lean on me...

Baseball at the Sunken Diamond at Klein Field

The Sunken Diamond at Klein Field is considered one of the most beautiful college baseball stadiums in the entire nation. I decided to go check out the stadium on Monday the 5th of May (Cinco De Mayo). It was a gorgeous day, the Stanford Cardinals were playing the University of Pacific Tigers and I could not have scored better seats. I bought 2 tickets online and to my amazement, they were in Section 5, Row A, Seat 1 and 2. It was slight right to the home plate but I could not be any closer to the field. Front row, from where I could hear the "whirr" of the ball. Best seats I have ever sat on since I have been watching baseball.

I got there early and with my coke, hot dog and peanuts in hand, I proceeded to my assigned seat. I was sitting there enjoying the sun, batting practice as there was still plenty of time for the game to start. About 5 minutes elapse and here comes an elderly lady (an usher) and quite politely asked me if I had tickets as "this is a reserved section". I pulled out the ticket from my shirt pocket and handed it to her. She inspected the ticket and handed it back to me and asked me to enjoy the game.

Ten more minutes go by and here comes another senior citizen usher. "Sir", he says, "I am sorry, but this is a reserved section. You cannot sit here unless you have tickets." As if I dropped from the heaven's onto that seat. I explained to him that someone had already stopped by and checked my ticket and I went back to my eating my peanuts. "I am going to have to ask you to show me the ticket, otherwise I am going to have to ask you to move from this section".

I take out the ticket from my shirt pocket and show it to him and he hands it back to me after inspecting it, leaving me alone, a bit disappointed. Perhaps this was the night where he would have finally got to show some power, alas, he will have to wait another day.

The stadium, I might add, had no more than 50 people at this point. I could have taken my peanuts and thrown it in the air and it would been a miracle if it hit another person.

I go back to watching the young talent practice on the field, immerse myself in eating salted peanuts and lo and behold. Here come another portly old man, walking towards me. This can't be true. I am sure he is going to ask me if I am enjoying the game. No such luck! "Hello Sir, This is a reserved section......". Now, I am a reasonable guy most of the time, but I am a bit irritated by now. I repeat what I had said earlier, except there was an inflection in my voice this time. "Oh really? I am sorry, but I am going to have to check your ticket."

"I am going to show it to you if can guarantee that no one else will stop by again to check my ticket". I say to the usher, wistfully. "Is there something about my face?" I ask. "You can't believe that I can actually be sitting here with a purchased ticket? He looked at my ticket and apologized and left.

Now, I have been in the USA for 23 years. I have been a citizen for about 19 of those and have experienced considerable amount of racism over the years but you never expect it at a place like Stanford. The game was great, the ambiance was wonderful but the experience left a lot to be desired.

PS. The picture above is not of the actual game. It is a stock photo from the Stanford website

India Trip March 2008

One man eats "roti" (food)
Another man makes "roti" (food)
There is a third man who plays with his "roti"
Who is this third man?
The electorate of my country is quiet!!


I don't what is about going home that brings out the desire to start writing in my blog. The last time I updated my blog it was after a trip to Delhi. I visited New Delhi & Bangalore in March and was in India during Holi for the first time since I left India 23 years ago. It was quite a blast. Anyway, first things first. I travelled to Delhi via Munich on Lufthansa and every flight segment was full (going and coming back). Not a single empty seat. Where is the recession? High oil prices? I just don't see it being translated to fewer load in terms of passengers.

Arriving in Delhi is always an adventure. I guess a large company in India called GMR has been given the contract to renovate and build a new airport in Delhi. Well, the airport looks worse than the New Delhi Railway Station. All I ever hear on every trip to India for the last 23 years is how much progress is being made but again, it is not evident at the airport. It truly is a shame.

Sorry for being negative but it seems to me that India has become a land of the greedy. I have not seen a chasm bigger than what I see in India between the have a lot's and the have not's. Sure the middle class has enlarged but that is not where most of the countries population resides. I don't have real number but you don't need real numbers to see the number of poor in the city. All I ever hear is the number of new cars being manufactured in India and how everything is now available in India and that India is now more expensive than even USA. I am not suggesting that USA is superior or India is inferior but there is a false sense of pride at play. On one hand the rise of India as a economic superpower is admirable and is something for every Indian to be proud of (including myself) but where is the civic pride? Who are we trying to fool?

The state of the infrastructure is not just measured by the number of flyovers being built but also by the cleanup that needs to be done after the flyover or a highway is built. It is not normal to leave post construction mess littered on the side of the road at least not in any country that has norms.
Leaving India was as much an adventure as going there. 2 hours in line for security check with littered plastic bottles all over the place and this is an International Airport.

Enough of ranting for the day. I took a photo of a 3 wheeler that had an interesting message. It's posted above.

My dad still thinks I am a kid.

An ad I liked at a railway station in Punjab. India.

Questions about life?

1.Why am I the way I am?
2.Why do I act the way I do?
3.Is it genetic or are am I a product of my environment?
4.Does the trait that makes me passionate about various things in life cause me to be aggressive, rude and unkind?
5.Will I ever be able to achieve anything worthwhile?
6. What is the definition of worthwhile?
7.What makes life worthwhile?
8.Who sets the standards on morality and with what moral authority?

Something to ponder over.

Shilpa Shetty and Racism

I was in India recently (Jan, 07) and Shilpa Shetty was all over the news regarding an episode on Big Brother where Jade Goody made some racist remarks. A few days later, I saw an excellent article by Barkha Dutt on this topic in Hindustan Times. She makes some very good points. Here is the article by her.


NOW, SUDDENLY, even she says it’s not racism. So, where does that leave the spluttering rage of the Information and Broadcasting Ministry and the controlled indignation of the Foreign Ministry? Have you ever seen the Government of India respond with such speed before? Remember how many days the Maharashtra government took to work up even a modicum of anger over the murder of a poor Dalit girl in Khairlanji? So, what makes Shilpa Shetty so different from Priyanka Bhotmange? And why the alacrity to intervene in what Labour peer Lord Meghnad Desai describes as a “third-rate show watched by third-rate people”?As mass hysteria gets dressed up in layers of political correctness, the honesty of the debate seems to have got rather conveniently cloaked as well.

First, there’s the hypocrisy of the Indian response and the wonderfully deluded dimension to our outrage. Our temples have caste barriers; our homes have separate glasses for the men and women who mop our floors and clean our bathrooms; we think all men who grow beards and wear skull caps may be terrorists; we treat the North-east like a separate country comprising people we affectionately call ‘chinkis’; and when it comes to finding brides for our sons, we insist that fair is lovely. Outside India, put us brown folk into one room, and we will even set aside our differences to whisper in snide bewilderment about the ringlet-haired black people whom many of us still call Negroes.Okay, perhaps I exaggerate.

In many ways, India is fighting a battle with herself to move beyond an ugly past. But the truth is still inescapable — as we assert pride in the Indian identity abroad, let’s not forget the preju- dice right here at home. And let’s also gracefully accept that the West has done a much better job than us of creating institutional mechanisms to address complaints of discrimination.Now, to the television show itself. Industry insiders will concede (if you catch them drunk) that there is nothing quite as contrived as reality TV. Essentially it’s all about human conflict so masterfully manipulated that it looks spontaneous, instead of staged. But think about it — what is natural about locking up a disparate bunch of men and women (usually, has-been starlets or wannabe stars) in an enclosed space and allowing them no contact with the outside world? It’s a show designed for dysfunctional dynamics. And I have a sneaking suspicion even the participants are acutely aware of the need to perform. After all, the longer they get to stay on in the ‘house’, the more money they make. We, the television viewers, are the masters of their fate, and they can never forget that they are always on stage. It’s almost like a striptease artist on display for a voyeur she can’t see, but one who not just watches her all the time, but pays her bills as well.

Those of you who have caught glimpses of Bigg Boss (the Indian variant of the international show) may know what I mean. The shrill catfights, the charged flirtations in dimly-lit corners, the competitive male swaggers and the women who constantly cry — don’t you find it all just cloying and claustrophobic, and worse still, horribly, unequivocally fake?Feminist and writer Germaine Greer, who describes Shilpa Shetty’s television avatar as “infuriating”, goes so far as to argue that “everybody hates her because she wants them to”. A former commissioning editor of Channel Four (the channel that telecasts Big Brother in Britain), Farrukh Dhondy, says that the television ex- ecutives running the show are thrilled at the contro- versy and must feel as victorious as Napoleon himself. And the statistics bear out their cynicism: the show has gained two million additional viewers since allegations of racism surfaced and the buzz is that Shilpa Shetty has manufactured enough sympathy for herself to stay on in the ‘house’.So, does this mean I am comfortable with the abuse heaped on the actress? No, not in the least.

The dis- paraging suggestions on the show that Indians are dirty because they eat with their fingers, the snide references to the ‘slums’ Shilpa should go back to and the clear jibes at her for being the odd one out are all dis- tasteful and offensive (white trash meets B-grade Bolly- wood). But here’s my point: this is meant to be a show driven by petty antago- nisms and ego clash- es, and Shilpa Shetty should have known that. Or, did she walk onto the sets with her eyes wide shut?And here’s the fascinating bit — when one of the abuses was blipped out on television, everyone thought Shilpa had been called a ‘Paki’; actually she had been called a c***. But once that was re- vealed, no one made too much fuss about it. Why? If this is about ideology, is racism that much worse than sexism? Is being called a ‘dog’ (which she was) somehow more acceptable than being called an ‘Indian’? Whether we like it or not, this is the sort of grossness that apparently makes reality TV both re- pulsive and rivetting; but it’s a baseness innate to the very idea of the show.

Even if we don’t agree with Farrukh Dhondy when he says that someone who has lived in the badlands of Bollywood should have a “skin as thick as a rhinoceros”, the fact is Shilpa Shetty is no unsuspecting victim. She will walk away with crores of rupees and it should come as no surprise that she has hastily retracted her own allegations of racial bias. Musicians like Birmingham-born Apache Indian (otherwise known as Steven Kapoor) warn against the trivialisation of the racism debate. He writes about leaving England for India since he could not feel at home there. He talks about how “stani” is the latest slur in town, reserved for immigrants from Afghanistan, Pakistan and ‘Hindustan’. Nobody paid him extra money for his pains. Racism is serious business. Cheap television is simply good business. Let’s not forget that distinction. And instead of playing Peeping Toms on some banal television show, let’s turn an eye inward. Then, we may find a real reason to be angry.

By Barkha Dutt in Hindustan Times

Nice Article on Sahir Ludhianvi

Published in
The Times of India Online timesofindia.indiatimes.com > Culture Curry


Har ek pal ka shayar[ 30 Oct, 2005 0252hrs IST TIMES NEWS NETWORK ]
Maana ki is zameen ko na gulzar kar sake Kuch khaar kam to kar gaye guzre jidhar se hum (Yes, I could not flower gardens on this earth/But I did lessen a few thorns on the paths I travelled) Sahir Ludhianvi, poet, humanist, rebel and incurable romantic, wrote those lines with characteristic self-deprecation. But of one thing there is no doubt: as far as the film world went, he flowered it in a way no lyricist before or after him did, changing the paradigm of the film song and elevating it to a standard that set a benchmark for generations. Much has been written about Sahir: the pain and rejection of his childhood and early youth that echoed in his poetry; the sublimation of that pain into a humanist vision that embraced the helpless and dispossessed of the world; his style, rich in thought, yet unburdened by complexity, so simple and direct that it went straight to the heart; his social conscience that gave the Hindi film world its most landmark lyrics in films like Pyaasa, Phir Subah Hogi, Sadhana and Dhool Ka Phool. And of course the beauty of his layered, mostly anguish-filled, romantic poetry in films from Girlfriend to Gumraah to Kabhi Kabhie.
But—and this is a personal take, no doubt—the magic of Sahir lay as much in his less celebrated songs. At a time when romantic lyrics didn't go too far beyond chaand, raat and judaai, his takes on love were more innovative: Tum agar mujhko na chaho to koi baat nahin/Tum kisi aur ko chahogi to mushkil hogi or Tum mujhe bhool bhi jaao to yeh haq hai tumko/Meri baat aur hai maine to mohabbat ki hai or indeed Chalo ek baar phir se ajnabi ban jaayen hum dono. In Dhund, a little known B film, there is a gooseflesh-inducing song Sansar ki har shai ka itna hi fasana hai/Ek dhund se aana hai ek dhund mein jaana hai. A verse goes: Ek pal ki palak par hai thehri hui yeh duniya/Ek pal ke jhapakne tak har khel suhana hai. Innumerable Hindi film songs have been written on the life-death enigma but few as original as this one. Indeed, Sahir could suffuse the most ordinary film situation with meaning. Take Aage bhi jaane na tu, a mere 'club song' like Zindagi ittefaq hai years after it. In this lyric, on the ephemerality of the moment and the consequent need to live it fully, he spotlighted the elusive pal, garbing yesterday and tomorrow in an ominous darkness: Anjaane saayon ka raahon mein dera hai/Andekhi baahon ne hum sab ko ghera hai/Yeh pal ujala hai baki andhera hai/Yeh pal gawana na, yeh pal hi tera hai.
If you listen to it carefully, it is an amazing song, and possibly the inspiration for two lovely seize-the-moment lyrics that followed later: Gulzar's Aane waala pal and Javed Akhtar's Har ghadi badal rahi hai roop zindagi. Whatever the context, few songs of Sahir were mundane. Not too many lyricists would have embedded philosophy in a rag-bone man's call: Khali dabba khali botal le le mere yaar/Khali se mat nafrat karna khali sab sansar. Or imbued a seemingly flip song revolving around a cigarette lighter (Main zindagi ka saath nibhata chala gaya/Har fikr ko dhuen mein udata chala gaya) with such depth. Main zindagi ka saath... is no smoker's anthem, it is virtually a Vedantic paen to equanimity, and so simply and beautifully expressed at that. To try and bring out the genius of Sahir Ludhianvi in a few hundred words is a frustrating exercise in futility. Does one talk about the little surprises in his songs—a stray line or two that take your breath away when you least expect it—like Marne ka salika aate hi/Jeene ka shaoor aa jaata hai, a line in the essentially romantic song Chehre pe khushi chha jaati hai from Waqt? Does one focus on his uncanny gift of expression, the sheer beauty of his words? Suffice it to say that he was a class apart. Years ago, in one of his most famous songs, Main pal do pal ka shaayar hoon, he wrote 'Kal aur aayenge naghmon ki/Khilti kaliyan chunne waale/Mujhse behtar kehne waale/Tumse behtar sunne waale'. Sahir was wrong. Forget anyone better, there has never been anyone who even came close to him.

Likrat Shabbat

Recently had a tragedy occur with a friend. His 20 year old son committed suicide. I have been quite a fan of Rabbi Harold Kushner. I had read his book "When Bad Things Happen To Good People". Went and bought this book for my friend and read it again and re-read the poem by Rabbi Jack Riemer. Wanted to share it with you.

We cannot merely pray to you, O God, to end war;
For we know that You have made the world in a way
That man must find his own path to peace
Within himself and his neighbor.

We cannot merely pray to you, O God, to end starvation;
For you have already given us the resources
With which to feed the entire world
If we would only use them wisely.

We cannot merely pray to you, O God, to root out prejudice,
For You have already given us eyes
With which to see the good in all men
If we would only use them rightly.

We cannot merely pray to you, O God, to end despair,
For You have already given us the power
To clear away slums and to give hope
If we would only use our power justly.

We cannot merely pray to You, O God, to end disease,
For You have already given us great minds with which
To search out cures and healing,
If we would only use them constructively.

Therefore we pray to You instead, O God,
For strength, determination, and willpower,
To do instead of just to pray,
To become instead of merely to wish.

Rabbi Jack Riemer

Starting my first blog!

After contemplating for several months on starting a blog, I finally got past my inertia to create one. Let's see where this takes us.