Sab kuchh luta ke सब कुछ लुटा के होश में आए तो क्या किया

Rajbir Deswal sings : Sab kuchh luta ke hosh main aayee to kya kiya

With Dev Anand

I am on right side of Dev Anand and touch him on the shoulder to invite attention. We were then talking about his Prem Pujari.

We love you, Dev Anand!

by Rajbir Deswal
DEV Anand never looked more pleasant to me than when receiving the Dada Sahib Phalke Award at the hands of President A.P.J. Abdul Kalam. Being an ardent fan of the Tragedy King, I have only been an admirer of Dev Anand despite some of the “flop-sides” of the man and his mannerisms. But it occurs to me that it was largely because of this deportment that many cinema lovers liked his screen presence — a fact that he cashed in on even in his flop films.
While the frontal gap in his denture, a la Mrs Slip Slop or, nearer home, Asha Parekh, enhanced the magnetic effect in romantic scenes, as some people believe, his protruding lower lip while executing emotions made him look intolerable. His rolling of the perfectly rounded eyeballs added confusion to his performance. Yet, he was liked.
His gait, employing a three-foot swing to the left and right, made him look the biggest drunkard on earth. Coupled with this zigzagging, the drooping shoulders made him a creature deserving sympathy. Still he was adored.
His dialogue delivery always ran in the fast forward mode. The notation and pitch falling and rising every now and then as if someone was writhing in pain made the audiences lend an extra ear attempting to decipher what he was saying. Even then he was admired.
Added to all this, his way of dressing and decking gave inferiority complex to those who boast of having a sartorial sense. His scarves, his headgear, his jackets, his chosen design or pattern in a particular cloth, black buttons with scoffed collars, black seams of his stitched apparel; everything had a Dev Anand mark on it. And he was rightly “impersonated”.
Old timers recall, although he denied it in a recent TV interview, that he was advised against wearing a red tie with a black suit since the combination could prove fatal to certain swooning onlookers of the opposite sex. His raised puff of hair, resembling perching of a sparrow, made people pirates of Dev Anand’s style of balon ki chiriya bithana! Obviously he was copied.
His finds, including Zeenat Aman, Tina Munim et al confirmed his exploration of freshness, ensured permanence of charm and an anticipated success of the “discoveries”. Above all his being the one whose one single glance on a “thing of beauty made joy for ever” made many a man envy him. Nevertheless, they adored him.
That Dev Anand refuses to age gives me a naughty flash of imagination. No wonder he had said, “They decorated me with the Dada Phalke Award whereas I deserved Chacha Phalke one because the latter has more youthful connotations.” We love you Dev Anand.

Nachhattar in New York: न्यू यार्क में नछत्तर सिंह

In Newjerk!

Rajbir Deswal : On a migrant Punjabi who took famously to Big Apple !
Nachhattar Singh is from Punjab and lives in New York. A school dropout, he had no other option but to pick up the bellboy’s job in a hotel after migrating to what he calls “Newjark”. We met him in his hotel. On noticing that we could speak Punjabi and that we were visitors from his own 'kontry', he took interest in us.
By no standards he appeared to be a man out of place. In his late-thirties and with a trimmed beard and pinkish-white complexion, he looked as if he was born and brought up in America. But the secret was out to the likes of us only when he opened his mouth to speak.
While in the lobby, we heard him interact with his customers. Sample this: “But tam flat?” “Phor tonty?” “Bill gat ban phrom hottal”. “Next” (He meant: “What time is your flight? At 4.20?) You will get a van from the hotel. Next please”).
Nachhattar Singh became quite friendly with us and he offered to double as our guide in New York. He would tell us, “Its going to be a bindy (windy) day, so better bear (wear) another jaa-kut (jacket),” and “Nyagra-Phaal beiwed from Kanada said looks marblous”. Hope you can make out what he said.
More than his ear-pleasing style (as enjoyed by us) of speaking English in an unadulterated Punjabi accent, his help rendered in saving some dollars was welcome. He would accompany us to his friendly vendors on the Time Square and get us cheaper stuff like phonecards or souvenirs. He even arranged a conference on phone to Delhi through the gadget at his residence.
He had a nephew Vimpy, whom he addressed as Bimpy, and who was employed as driver for the hotel van, courtesy Nachhattar’s connections. When we were to leave for the airport, he clubbed us with other customers in the van, which had four extra seats, saving us nearly $100.
Bidding goodbye to Nachhattar Singh with hugs, we thanked him for his services. As a last gesture of taking care of us, he called Vimpy and told him, “O’ Sambhaal Kay, Kaka! Raah-ch koi raff-ad na paa-een” (Take care boy. Avoid entering into trouble on the way).
Vimpy looked like his uncle and spoke after his fashion, but he needed to be groomed for living in New York since the boy did not have his “papers” in order.
As ill luck would have it, a car banged our van from the rear. The driver gave mouthfuls to Vimpy for no fault of his. Vimpy then alighted and charged menacingly at him and doled out choicest of Punjabi abuses which only we could understand.
Back in the van, Vimpy said, “Bladdy-phoolz! Eh sochday nay inha day pyo da kontry hai” (They think it is their father's(!) land). We recalled Nachhattar Singh’s cautionary and sagacious advice to Vimpy and wondered how bravely had he been putting up with hostilities in a land that is not his own Patiala or “Batala”.
While we made fun of Nachhattar’s language, the Americans made sense of it. This was precisely the lesson our friend wanted to give to his young nephew if the latter had to stay in Nachhattar’s “Newjark”.

Photo courtesy http://hindimoviesong.net/Blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/hindi-movie-singh-is-king.jpg

Ulta-Pulta in US --उल्टा पुल्टा इन अमरीका

उल्टा पुल्टा इन अमरीका

US customs and us
By: Rajbir Deswal
Yes, I will talk about both customs here in the US. The custom customs and also the custom customs. Customary musts of Wren and Martins are given a go by here. We in India are still the sticklers. Here we go, seriously.
Holidaying in Seattle this summer, I was surprised to watch the reaction of a local American on seeing an eagle. “Vow, did you hear the eagle squeak!” He asked me while strolling in Idylwood Park in Redmond.
I smiled back to reassure him since it is their national bird. But my mind took me on a flash back when in my village I used to dread the shriek of a kite of the eagle family, during the scorching heat of June. The yokels in my village likened the squeaking of the kite to the popping out of its eyes due to heat.
Many things here seem to claim the theme of Jaspal Bhatti’s copyright—Ulta-pulta! The lamp switches are on when turned up, and off when turned down. You tell your kids here to ‘always keep to the right’. There are no conductors and the drivers only give you tickets to your destination. The drivers flash the headlights of their vehicles to let you go first, unlike our desi variety who assert their right of way, being ‘Road Kings’.
Back at home, we receive gifts at the same time indulging in affectations like: “No, what was the need?” “No, it’s not done every time” “Why this formality?” But here when you receive gifts you are expected to open the packaging and appreciating the stuff, there and then, with many “Thank You!”s and “O so very thoughtful of you!”s.
Ofcourse when you are reading your fresh copy of the morning newspaper, then it is still the stale news of the previous evening here to catch up with. In India we invoke our Gods and Goddesses or even greatmen and women saying , “Hey” but here “Hey!” is to either express disgust or to address someone. “Hi” here is a greeting and backhome is exclamation of sorrow meaning—Alas! And lastly, you blow horns here only to invite frowns and not sound alarm to clear traffic as we do in India.