Random Expressions

Other than Taj Mahal, Fatehpur Sikri is another important historical place here. Situated around 33 kms from Agra, it is on the border of U.P., next to Bharatpur in Rajasthan. The site for Fatehpur was first discovered by Babar, but it was his descendant Akbar who built the fort here. At one point, he had contemplated to shift the capital here, but the water problem thwarted his plans. Folklore has it that Akbar was desperate for a son and had visited Ajmer dargah for blessings. There, he had a dream that he should visit Saleemuddin Chishti at Fatehpur, which he did (reportedly on foot). His queen, Jodhabai was blessed with a son, and Akbar named him after the saint - Saleem. Since then, the dargah is known for fulfilling all wishes and prayers.

The fort’s Bulund Darwaza is stated to be the biggest gate in Asia, and admittedly it is quite an awesome sight. The dargah, in white marble, is pure and serene. And yes, there is also the closed gate leading to a tunnel that supposedly links Agra with Red Fort in Delhi. Mughal-E-Azam was reportedly shot here, probably the last time the tunnel gates were ever opened.

Otherwise, there have been several films/songs shot on the premises, including Yateem, Lal Pathar and the most famous of all - Pardes (Do dil mil rahe and the climax qawaali).

Fatehpur is still the property of Saleemuddin Chishti’s descendants, and hence has free entrance. The neighboring (and more clean and well maintained) Sikri , however, is with ASI and there is a nominal entry charge of INR 20 (for Indian nationals).

(Clockwise, from top left) 1. Bulund Darwaza- It was tough fitting it on the camera phone’s miniscule lens. Still I think I managed well. 2. The ‘Mughal E Azam’ tunnel-as the local guides there will describe. Supposedly it links to Delhi’s Red Fort 3. The ‘Dargah’ at Fatehpur - Very serene!

Photographs: Deepak Jeswal, Kislay
Taken on : Nokia 3230
Dated : 28.01.07

More on Fatehpur : The Mughal Gallery , Fatehpur , Tourism-Fatehpur/Sikri

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O.P.Nayyar is no more.

And every person is jumping the bandwagon with cliched statements like ‘maestro par excellence’ and ’survivor from the golden era’, forgetting that he was virtually neglected in the autumn of his life, and that his valiant comeback in the nineties was received with a freezing shoulder and not-so-charitable remarks.


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Filmfare Power List is out! And Latadidi retains her fifth position this year too in the music makers section. Kudos to the lady to still be amongst the top five- that too, with virtually no musical album release last year! Whoa! That is surely an achievement. Many congratulations!

Wishing all Indians a very happy, prosperous and fantastic Republic Day. Keeping all cyncism aside, wishing India the very best, and hope it regains the glory and heights which is due to her.

Salaam-E-Ishq

Saw the film today - first day first show: a first in my life! Unfortunately, the film is a damp squib, and despite a fabulous star cast falls much short of expectations.


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Repeat of movie names is not a new phenomenon. And with the volume of our Hindi film industry’s output, it sometimes becomes a necessity as well.

In the age of FM, the announcers (or better known as RJ’s) hardly inform the film’s names of the song playing, let alone any other detail. But when I grew up listening to the ever dependable Vividh Bharti, the entire music credits were often mentioned including the always sidelined lyricists’ names. Then, it used to be disappointing to hear for example - the announcer speak out the name of Mahal, only to hear a song from the newer one (starring Dev Anand).

Blame it on my penchant for old songs, usually I prefer the older titled film’s numbers. Here is a list of films that have had similar names - again in no specific order:


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It was to be a routine trip to Etah through bumps, bambas and breakers -but it ended up with something very interesting and exciting.

Indeed, it started off in a routine manner. The journey began from National Highway No. 2 (NH2), from Agra towards Firozabad. Driving on that stretch of NH2 is bliss: the six-lane carriageway is sans traffic, well marked and extremely smooth, and much better than the sector between Delhi and Agra. Lest we forget that we are actually in east UP, the bliss had to end pretty soon. Leaving the butter-smooth NH-2 en route at Tundla, we turned left on the high-way towards Etah, and were immediately greeted by broken roads, impossibly rough jerks and a cloud of dust.

Mercifully, the narrow road to Etah is overall much better compared to other places I have visited, except for the grueling stretch at a place called Nagla Beech. No, there is no ocean here, though there is enough sand to give the ‘beach’ effect. Nagla, as we learnt later, is a local word for small or mini , equivalent to dera in Punjabi.

The scenery was pretty much the same also except that on Basant Panchmi, the sarson fields seemed to sway in full bright basanti color!

On route we stopped at Awagarh, our first visit.

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Latadi has sung for a wide spectrum of heroines over several decades now - for some she sang in the first film itself. Others were not as lucky. In fact, many names that later became synonymous with Lataji’s voice didnt have her singing for them - for example, Rekha (Saawan Bhadon) and Jaya Bhaduri (though she got Lata’s voice in a back-door way, since she lipsync-ed Madhumati’s song Aaja re pardesi in Guddi). Even from the older lot - like Asha Parekh and Sharmila Tagore - didnt have Latadi singing for their adult/Hindi debuts!

Here is a brief list on some debuts which I recall (in no specific order) - these are mostly post-seventies as my film knowledge is a bit stronger from that era onwards.


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Due to an unexpectedly late ‘monthly meet’ at office, I was back in Delhi for a consecutive weekend - a first ever since I shifted to Agra. It kept parents happy, though my car and me were extremely grim when we heard of the trip. You don’t have ‘monthly review’ meets when the next month is just ten days away from its own closure! But admittedly, the bigger concern was to get my lazy bones moving towards the tyre shop to get the burst one replaced. I postponed and procrastrinated till the very end, and eventually trudged to a nearby shop on Friday late evening. Since I had no experience of buying a tyre - and neither did any of my colleagues - so listened half heartedly to the talk given by the shop-owner about ‘double rubber’, ‘ZVT’ as just another sales pitch. The third hurdle was that to reach Delhi on time, I would have had to wake up at 4 in the morning. Which I did.

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This post has no form or purpose, and should be taken as an idle chitter chatter -a conversation with my fellow readers. And like all good conversations, let’s start with the weather. The intolerable cold wave has passed away; like always, the mercurial downswings kept the fires of the press media burning as they kept informing us on the plummeting temperatures; the race for breaking records was on by the weather gods. Now if only our cricket team could emulate that swiftness - in reverse, that is, for they are already dipping where run rates are concerned!

The days are pretty warm now, but the evenings can be quite chilly.

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Today morning, I heard Yaara seeli seeli*** for the umpteenth time - a very satisfying and fulfilling number. As the song ended with its impossibly high and collosally breathtaking crescendo, I switched off the player - seeping in the reverberations of the voice that had once again shaken, stirred and stimulated the core of my soul; a thought struck my mind that I hadn’t done any post on Lata Mangeshkarji for a long long time now.

So here is one, a mosaic of memories from my lifetime. I am afraid the post has gone longer than intended, but I didnt have the heart to cut it out, or post it in parts.

For me, discovering songs sung by Latadidi (Lata Mangeshkar) is a passionate quest for a lifetime; and often, the results have been more often than not extremely satisfying.

As I wrote earlier, my love for Lata Mangeshkar’s voice began when I was too young to understand the feeling of love or being enthralled. I was too little to comprehend as to why I was selectively recording her songs when my dad got me a mini-diktaphone. I was too kiddish to grasp as to why my heart beat stopped when I heard her voice soar in the impossibly high-pitched Jahan pe sawera ho**! (Today, I heard the song again and I am convinced they must have invented laser beam hearing her unwavering-hitting-the-soul voice!)

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I live near a marriage hall. It is on the plot immediately next to the one which houses my apartment. It can be quite an irritant, considering Indian marriages are all about pomp, show and noise. Especially last month was terrible - when the Gods and their messengers had opened a small window to entangle as many willing couples as possible (so much so that as many as 30,000 couples tied the knot in just one single day!). Every evening I would come home to the din of speakers blaring out the latest hits. On the positive side, it helped me keep abreast of the latest in music. Often, the song selection was hilariously incongruous. For example, Mujhko pehchaan lo main hoon Don. I wonder what the bride’s family would think if the groom actually turned out to be one. Considering that I live in a belt known more for its crime than courtesy, you really never know!
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A Story By Deepak Jeswal

The serpentine road, with bumps and warts, wound its way through cornfields and stretched beyond the horizon. The car rode over the bumps and warts on the road that the government had forsaken as soon as it had built it. At places, it narrowed to a treacherous single lane, which was so constricted that in case two cars passed that stretch from opposing ends, a non-verbal tussle, fought with blinking dippers, ensued. Almost always the one who lost would let out his futile fury with a string of expletives, which in any case the opponent would not have heard, and even if he did, it hardly mattered.

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So, 2006 slipped into posterity and the New Year greets us with the same characteristic cheer and good-will as each new year does – till the time it settles into its own routine, beyond the flurry of congratulatory SMS’s, emails, phone-calls and messages.

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