Vintage Bollywood - Blog Posts

Man Kyun Behka Re Behka Aadhi Raat Ko

She lay on the bed with the man dancing away to the rhythms of his own pleasure. Yes, he was just a man....She couldn't remember his name. It didn't even matter. She didn't care anymore. Her mind had danced away into the humble room filled with the scent of the jasmines adorning her hair. Is this how Krishna's flute sounded to Radha?....The way her quiet giggles sound to her?......The way she has stolen her sleep just like Krishna stole Radha's heart. The entire day seemed like a dream. But the night was ethereal. Their hearts spoke after years. She felt like she was not alone after so long. Their joy was drunk in moonlight and their laughter heralded the moonrise.

Why did her heart feel so restless that midnight?

She wanted to keep hearing the sounds of her anklets. For one night that music was only for her. She had said that her anklets were singing differently that night. They had laughed and then she had looked at her...Into her eyes, her soul...Not just her body. She had smiled and looked away. Is that the shyness her mother used to tell her about? The one which was supposed to come swooping down like a veil whenever her husband looked at her but never did? Why did the sindoor feel so different when she put it on her forehead? It hadn't felt like that in the ten years of her marriage. They had talked that night....Talked of life, of sorrows that had so long been confined within the four walls of their hearts. Nights had always been quiet....But that night rang with the words that had been buried under the shadows of loneliness.

Why did her heart feel so restless that midnight?

तू जहाँ जहाँ चलेगा मेरा साया साथ होगा मेरा साया साथ होगा…

कभी मुझको याद करके, जो बहेंगे तेरे आँसू तो वहीं पे रोक लेंगे, उन्हें आ के मेरे आँसू

मैं अगर बिछड़ भी जाऊँ, कभी मेरा ग़म न करना मेरा प्यार याद करके, कभी आँख नम न करना

तू कोई जनम भी लेगा मेरा साया साथ होगा…

I would have opened this letter with a ‘dear’, however I wondered for a long time if it would indeed be a correct way for me to address you, after all this time. A lifetime seems to have passed between that evening of 1952 and now, sometimes even making me feel that I have slept through the last 30 years. I would often look at faces of my children and grandchildren, wondering if I am stuck in some never ending dream from which I might wake up any minute now. My hair has greyed in the fringes of my temple and forehead, my smile is showing signs of wrinkle and my fingers feel heavy. It’s not a terrible feeling, I enjoy my experiences most of the time, but sometimes my body feels like it is living the life of someone else. And that in a different timeline I am still there playing with you behind that tree.  Is it still there? I was so sure I will forget everything, you, those lanes, that house and all else. Are you also there? Do you also, like me, go to sleep in the expectation of reliving our lives till 16 years of age again and again, like listening to a record on loop or going to see one particular cinema multiple times? If you are coming back from there, can you accompany me back to myself as well please?

This night seems to be taking all away from me again. The moon is cruel.