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Follow us:WhatsappFacebookTwitterTelegram.cls-1{fill:#4d4d4d;}.cls-2{fill:#fff;}Google NewsThe title of this blog is actually borrowed from a poem by a Punjabi poet (Avtar Singh Sandhu, 'Paash' wrote 'Saadde Samaya Vich'). But it couldn't really some up the reflective, introspective mood that the last fortnight has put me in. A fortnight of a lot of events - more touching than enlightening. First, the passing away of an era of filmmaking with Hrishikesh Mukherjee's death - the man who taught me that you could indeed laugh and cry at the same time. In fact, I could never pin-point a single emotion when I saw Hrishida's films - whether it was Anupama, Satyakam, Mili, Guddi, Bawarchi - or my personal favourite, Abhimaan. There were just too many emotions that would choke me at a given moment. I sniffled when Sharmila Tagore's emotionally withdrawn father surmounts his long-festering resentment towards his daughter and comes to the railway station to secretly rejoice in her eloping with her lover in Anupama or when Jaya Bhaduri rejoins her supposedly egoistic singer husband for a performance on stage in Abhimaan. Mukherjee's movies could also make you laugh. I chuckled in the Wodehousian comedy of inconsequentialities, Chupke Chupke when Amitabh, posing as a professor of botany, grapples with the word 'corolla' or in Golmaal when a truant moustache leads to many merry muddles. His films always made me laugh even while I was blinking hard to part the film of tears covering my eyes. His films were the man on the street - like a song from an earlier film that Hrishida crafted went - "Rishta dil se dil ke aitbaar ka, zinda hai hami se naam pyaar ka.....kisi ki muskurahaton pe ho nissaar, kisi ka dard mil sake to le udhaar.....Jeena Isi Ka Naam Hai..."

And then the second incident - the furore over Vande Mataram. We certainly have run out of issues to cry hoarse over from podiums. As I reported from an event to 'celebrate' the song, it was an eye-opener. From politicians to filmstars - all piggyback riding on an issue - for personal mileage. Why do we need a day to celebrate icons that have led to our free existences - whether it is a song, our national flag, our constitution, or even our free existence? And to think of it, NONE of those present there - faces or masses - knew Vande Mataram, barring the first two words of the song, save a coolie - yes, a coolie, who to my amazement, envy and pride, sang the ENTIRE song - not just the first two stanzas. This man made me want to exult with joy and cry with pride at the same time. Hrishida, you would have found a protagonist for another one of your films - and as always, on the street.
About the AuthorAarti Singh author intro...Read Morefirst published:September 08, 2006, 21:13 ISTlast updated:September 08, 2006, 21:13 IST
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The title of this blog is actually borrowed from a poem by a Punjabi poet (Avtar Singh Sandhu, 'Paash' wrote 'Saadde Samaya Vich'). But it couldn't really some up the reflective, introspective mood that the last fortnight has put me in. A fortnight of a lot of events - more touching than enlightening. First, the passing away of an era of filmmaking with Hrishikesh Mukherjee's death - the man who taught me that you could indeed laugh and cry at the same time. In fact, I could never pin-point a single emotion when I saw Hrishida's films - whether it was Anupama, Satyakam, Mili, Guddi, Bawarchi - or my personal favourite, Abhimaan. There were just too many emotions that would choke me at a given moment. I sniffled when Sharmila Tagore's emotionally withdrawn father surmounts his long-festering resentment towards his daughter and comes to the railway station to secretly rejoice in her eloping with her lover in Anupama or when Jaya Bhaduri rejoins her supposedly egoistic singer husband for a performance on stage in Abhimaan. Mukherjee's movies could also make you laugh. I chuckled in the Wodehousian comedy of inconsequentialities, Chupke Chupke when Amitabh, posing as a professor of botany, grapples with the word 'corolla' or in Golmaal when a truant moustache leads to many merry muddles. His films always made me laugh even while I was blinking hard to part the film of tears covering my eyes. His films were the man on the street - like a song from an earlier film that Hrishida crafted went - "Rishta dil se dil ke aitbaar ka, zinda hai hami se naam pyaar ka.....kisi ki muskurahaton pe ho nissaar, kisi ka dard mil sake to le udhaar.....Jeena Isi Ka Naam Hai..."

And then the second incident - the furore over Vande Mataram. We certainly have run out of issues to cry hoarse over from podiums. As I reported from an event to 'celebrate' the song, it was an eye-opener. From politicians to filmstars - all piggyback riding on an issue - for personal mileage. Why do we need a day to celebrate icons that have led to our free existences - whether it is a song, our national flag, our constitution, or even our free existence? And to think of it, NONE of those present there - faces or masses - knew Vande Mataram, barring the first two words of the song, save a coolie - yes, a coolie, who to my amazement, envy and pride, sang the ENTIRE song - not just the first two stanzas. This man made me want to exult with joy and cry with pride at the same time. Hrishida, you would have found a protagonist for another one of your films - and as always, on the street.