Madhubala

A random thought, off topic but I just realized so many actresses names begin with M – Madhubala, Mumtaz, Meena Kumari, Madhuri Dixit, Meenakshi Sheshahdri, Madhu, Mamta Kulkari, Mahima Chaudhary, Merly Streep, Marilyn Monroe, Michelle Pfeiffer… Anyway, one of my most favorite actresses of all time, the eternal beauty Madhubala was rightly called the Venus of Bollywood. Should one talk about her interesting professional and love life, her acting talent or beauty? In fact her beauty was a blessing and also a bit counterproductive in the sense that as one would be so caught up in that mesmerizing screen presence, the fact that there is a terrific actress in there would be overshadowed. 

Indeed her magical, almost celestial beauty dulled and overshadowed everything else in the frame. A beauty, made for the purpose of gracing the silver screen, that would inspire poets and artists alike. Those innocent, deep, expressive eyes that could kill with just a gaze. And yet a very mischievous, lopsided smile, always up to something. She had sharp features, a defined bone structure yet a porcelain, radiant skin. Glowing from within, make up and studio lights notwithstanding. Her smile could light up the whole room, it certainly did set the screen on fire. She was childlike yet a sensuous woman, she was cute yet a seductress. She was spontaneous and glided across the screen so naturally as fish takes to water. And that speaks about her effortless acting skills to shuttle from one character to another with ease and elegance.

She carried herself with such poise, a dignified manner no matter whichever role she essayed. She could also move you with her poignant, deep performances that gave a glimpse of an intense person behind all that chirpy, childlike demeanor. She had a sense of mystery. And her giggles, uncontrolled, full of life. Her smile reached her eyes, her twinkling expressive eyes. Black and white or color, nothing could properly do justice to Madhubala’s beauty, her immense and untapped talent, her vivacious persona. She truly was one and only.

-          S. Chaudhary

Images courtesy Google Images

Her

In her heart there is love. In her mind there is devotion. In her walk there is pride, in her eyes hopes and a hidden sadness. In her smile there is both mischief and masked pain. In her thoughts there are desires, underneath her skin a crawling fear. Her hands she raises to protect and care. Then lowers and folds them in humble prayers. And all her prayers carry your name. She may tuck away the dark clouds of her sadness, and become the sunshine that warms up your day. The strength of her character is her signature scent. She is powerful and independent. Yet very ordinary and simple. She is the girl next door, she is a goddess in her own right. With you not out of necessity but her choice. Do the wise thing and never let her go away.

- S. Chaudhary

Broken

He wondered what he did wrong. Why she walked all over his heart. But since she was the one who broke it in the first place, the pieces would cut her deep and first.

- S. Chaudhary

Your ghosts

You are alive but now just a memory for me. Decades of countless memories, of a life spent with you, piled up like rotting corpses at the back of my mind. Wherever I go I carry your ghosts with me. I ran as far away from you as my feet would take me. Yet at the far end of the world, I found you living inside of me.

- S. Chaudhary

With You. And lonely

Her voice was trembling, her hands were shaking and her knees were weak. It was difficult for her to open up and speak. Her heart beat so fast she thought it would stop, the pit of her stomach quivering. With a lump in her throat she managed to speak her deepest fears, her darkest memories. Never had she dared to bring down her walls but she thought he had an empathic ear, an understanding heart. Worried she might lose her voice and not finish her sentences but somehow they were complete. She waited with bated breath wondering what his response would be. He turned around and smiled reassuringly. Then said it’s no big deal! Let’s go grab something to eat. That is the painful moment that it finally dawned upon her, she is not lonely because of lack of company.

- S. Chaudhary

Tears

All of the unshared resentments, all of the broken dreams, all the lost hopes and love, the unspoken pain and disappointments, found a voice, a release. Transparent and pure like the emotions that caused them, flooding the eyes, they silently fell and screamed, a story that words could never reveal.

- S. Chaudhary

You don't deserve her

The tragedy of a beautiful, smart woman is that she is desired by countless men, hopelessly fantasizing if she was their girl whereas she belongs to an idiot who doesn't realize her true value...till she leaves him.

- S. Chaudhary

Happy Birthday Sachin Tendulkar

I am not a cricket fan. Nor do I follow the sport. Yet I sing along the infectious, “Sachiiiin Sachin” (clap, clap, clap) even today when the camera momentarily pans and zooms in on the retired legendary sportsman chilling at the dug out during IPL matches. Who can escape the magic of Sachin? What a life! What a magnificent body of work! What high standards and glorious achievements. What a man, what a character! He is a living legend, always smiling, always humble, larger than life yet oddly relatable and extremely lovable. A thorough gentleman yet a beast with a bat on field. The day he announced retirement with that gooseflesh inducing epic speech, even I, who doesn’t follow cricket was heart-broken. It felt like an era had ended. So many popular culture references, parodies and mimicries in Bollywood or tv shows (after all imitation is the sincerest form of flattery!), countless fun and memorable advertisments, Wow. Sachin is such an important part of almost everyone’s life. How many yeas of his life has he poured into his passion! How many injuries has he sustained, how much pain he endured and kept us entertained. How fervently was he idolized and then with equal zeal was his every move dissected or criticized under the microscopic eyes of millions. He gave us his sweat, blood, tears, his all. He has been a powerful yet good influence on so many people, especially aspiring sportsmen and youngsters. Indeed a special soul. Happy Birthday Sachin. And thank you for being You.

-          S. Chaudhary

Images courtesy Google Images

No big deal – Just an everyday miracle!

A child is born at roughly 4 pounds and grows to eventually become a 150 pounds and 6 feet tall. All the raw material he puts into this “fantastic factory” called the human body are the leaves and plants available in nature. A perfect system/ filter in place to firstly take in oxygen from the air, a complex channel to then carry oxygenated blood from the heart to the rest of the organs (arteries) and another extensive network to carry de-oxygenated blood from the organs back to the heart (veins), all in a moment whilst throughout automatically pumping the heart even when you are asleep, unaware. This largely self-sustaining mechanism not just grows every day, in almost every 7 years more or less it regenerates to have a completely new body of cells. When you are sick it has an internal defense mechanism. Cells that are willing to die for you in a second, to nurse you back to health. A mind that generates ideas, creates emotions, stores and processes complex data, innovates and what not. A system of reproduction to create another and many more like you, from within yourself. There is a miracle happening inside you and around you every day, every moment. But are you aware? Are you fascinated? Do you truly realize the immense “value”? And are you thankful?

Images Courtesy Google Images                                                                                       -S.Chaudhary

No Idea

She woke up, filled a coffee mug and turned her computer on. Strange! Not a single idea today, what do I write? She stared at the blank page and the blank page stared back at her. Intimidating, like threatening to swallow her into a white nothingness. She stared back with equal determination, sipping hot coffee from her mug. With each sip she tried to birth an idea internally but the idea Gods were just not with her today. Gripped with horror, what if I cannot write anymore? What if I have no ideas? She gulped the coffee, mixed with terror and looked for answers on the empty page in front of her. This is a blank canvas and now what picture do I paint here she thought? Should I build an entire exotic city here or a crazy character? Should I write about imaginary ghosts, fierce beasts or just the story of a sweet child? The coffee was getting over but she hadn’t even started. And sip after sip till her mug ran empty she suddenly realized that she was indeed full of ideas. The exotic city, the ghosts, the beasts, the crazy, the child – not one but many ideas! Armed with the keyboard she started creating the many worlds. Out of a blank page. Out of nothing. Out of no idea.

-          S. Chaudhary

 Images courtesy Google Images