Perfectly powerless

In Hyderabad, we save our choicest gaalis for the electricity board in summers. We the general public and those few enthu-cutlets who write letters to the editors, all have well worked out theories and schemes to avenge ourselves on the wretched department. They in turn have specialised the art of tormenting us by giving us detailed lists of planned power-cuts for the day in our morning papers and then going right ahead and having a triple-dozen unscheduled ones as well. The ponging of the UPS is vying for top slot right up there with the alarm clock for a place on ‘Irritating Noises’.

But what I actually set out to say was that power cuts are not all bad. In the manner of- Daag acche hein, you get? I especially don’t mind it if they cut us out after dusk. I quite like the idea of a forced time out. It gives you time to do things you wouldn’t in general be able to slot without feeling guilty or silly or self-conscious. They are like train journeys, which are also, I think, perfectly delicious. Sometimes I have thought that if I could behave and feel in general, exactly as I do on journeys, I could live a perfectly Zen life.

The recent three-hour power-cut was enormous fun. I managed to record another half hour of my voice on tape. It’s surprising that nobody but me is able to discern any improvement in tonal quality or sur or anything, the few times I manage to pin them down and have them listen. Weird! Anyway…
While searching for material to put to tune, I laid my hands on Deewan-e-Ghalib. It’s fun to search for all sorts of tucked away things with a candle in your hand. Very medieval heroine-y. It inspires you to look for stuff you have been too lazy to find in broad daylight.

Ghalib was a delight as usual. But this time the atmosphere really got to me. A high moon and candle light…..ooooooh! So got out my Kagaz-kalam-dawaat… well, my note book and gel pen in any case and crouched down under the stars with a shamma in front of me to consign my heart to the paper!
I find myself obliged to warn anybody with deep appreciation for behar that you are not to look for such things here-

Us dar pe hajari jo meri laakh lagegi
Tab ho ke mujh pe uski nazar paak lagegi

Kyon kar na karoon arz-e- tamanna mein bar bar
Ek benaseeb ko jug ki nazar khaakh lagegi

Jo keh sako tho kar do bayan hal-e-dil use
Is bezubaan ki tumko duaa laakh lagegi

Vehashat mein jo kar bhi doon izhaar-e-tamanna
Ye dar hai ke usko bas mazaak lagegi

Asvi teri mushtaaq bathein kuch ajeeb hain
Chilla bhi do tho unko khabar khaakh lagegi


I wonder really if it’s not a good idea to hunt for a nice old escritoire, a quill and an ink pot on my next outing at the Charminar auctions? It would add just the right touch… hmmm