“Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind." Bertrand Russel
छोटी छोटी चित्रायी आ गयीं, बिछी हुई है लम्हों की लौ में, नंगे पैर ऊपर चलते चलते इतनी दूर आ गए हैं कि भूल गए हम जूते कहाँ उतारे थे,एड़ी कोमल थी जब आये थे,थोड़ी सी नाज़ुक है अभी भी और नाज़ुक ही रहेगी इन खट्टी मीठी यादों की शरारत जब तक इन्हें गुदगुदाती रहे,सच भूल गए हैं जूते कहाँ उतारे थे पर लगता है अब इनकी जरूरत नहीं
"If I Were a Rich Man" is a song from the 1964 musical Fiddler on the Roof. The song is performed by Tevye, the main character in the musical, and reflects his dreams of glory.The song is broken into four verses.Through the first two verses, Tevye dreams of the material comforts that wealth would bring him. Sung comedically, Tevye first considers the enormous house he would buy and the needless luxuries he would fill it with, including a third staircase "leading nowhere, just for show," then the poultry he would buy to fill his yard.
Tevye switches his attention to the luxuries in which he would shower his wife, Golde, in the third verse. He talks of servants to alleviate her workload, fancy clothes for her pleasure, and mountains of food. The music and vocals intensify when Tevye starts lamenting his place in the community as a lowly milkman, and considers the esteem and importance that wealth would bring him.
In the final verse, Tevye softens as he further considers his devotion to God. He expresses his sorrow that the long working hours he keeps prevents him from spending as much time in the synagogue(It is the center of the Jewish religious community: a place of prayer, study and education)as he would like, and how wealth would allow him to spend less time working and more time praying and studying Torah(The books of Jewish scriptures and other sacred Jewish writings) A repeated phrase throughout the song, "all day long I'd bidi-bidi-bum," is often misunderstood to refer to Tevye's desire not to have to work. However, the phrase "bidi-bidi-bum" is a reference to the practice of Jewish prayer, in particular davening.
Here is the lyrics
"Dear God, you made many, many poor people. I realize, of course, that it's no shame to be poor. But it's no great honor either! So, what would have been so terrible if I had a small fortune?"
If I were a rich man, Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum. All day long I'd biddy biddy bum. If I were a wealthy man. I wouldn't have to work hard. Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum. If I were a biddy biddy rich, Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
I'd build a big tall house with rooms by the dozen, Right in the middle of the town. A fine tin roof with real wooden floors below. There would be one long staircase just going up, And one even longer coming down, And one more leading nowhere, just for show.
I'd fill my yard with chicks and turkeys and geese and ducks For the town to see and hear. (Insert)Squawking just as noisily as they can. (End Insert) With each loud "cheep" "swaqwk" "honk" "quack" Would land like a trumpet on the ear, As if to say "Here lives a wealthy man."
If I were a rich man, Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum. All day long I'd biddy biddy bum. If I were a wealthy man. I wouldn't have to work hard. Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum. If I were a biddy biddy rich, Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
I see my wife, my Golde, looking like a rich man's wife With a proper double-chin. Supervising meals to her heart's delight. I see her putting on airs and strutting like a peacock. Oy, what a happy mood she's in. Screaming at the servants, day and night.
The most important men in town would come to fawn on me! They would ask me to advise them, Like a Solomon the Wise. "If you please, Reb Tevye..." "Pardon me, Reb Tevye..." Posing problems that would cross a rabbi's eyes!
And it won't make one bit of difference if i answer right or wrong. When you're rich, they think you really know!
If I were rich, I'd have the time that I lack To sit in the synagogue and pray. And maybe have a seat by the Eastern wall. And I'd discuss the holy books with the learned men, several hours every day. That would be the sweetest thing of all.
If I were a rich man, Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum. All day long I'd biddy biddy bum. If I were a wealthy man. I wouldn't have to work hard. Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
Lord who mad the lion and the lamb, You decreed I should be what I am. Would it spoil some vast eternal plan? If I were a wealthy man.
किसी ने कुछ बनाया था, किसी ने कुछ बनाया है, कहीं मंदिर की परछाई, कहीं मस्जिद का साया है, न तब पूछा था हमसे और न अब पूछने आए, हमेशा फैसले करके हमें यूं ही सुनाया है…
किसी ने कुछ बनाया था, किसी ने कुछ बनाया है…
हमें फुर्सत कहां रोटी की गोलाई के चक्कर से, न जाने किसका मंदिर है, न जाने किसकी मस्जिद है, न जाने कौन उलझाता है सीधे-सच्चे धागों को, न जाने किसकी साजिश है, न जाने किसकी यह जिद है अजब सा सिलसिला है यह, जाने किसने चलाया है।
किसी ने कुछ बनाया था, किसी ने कुछ बनाया है…
वो कहते हैं, तुम्हारा है, जरा तुम एक नजर डालो, वो कहते हैं, बढ़ो, मांगो, जरूरी है, न तुम टालो, मगर अपनी जरूरत तो है बिल्कुल ही अलग इससे, जरा ठहरो, जरा सोचो, हमें सांचों में मत ढालो, बताओ कौन यह शोला मेरे आंगन में लाया है।
किसी ने कुछ बनाया था, किसी ने कुछ बनाया है…
अगर हिंदू में आंधी है, अगर तूफान मुसलमां है, तो आओ आंधी-तूफां यार बनके कुछ नया कर लें, तो आओ इक नजर डालें अहम से कुछ सवालों पर, कई कोने अंधेरे हैं, मशालों को दिया कर लें, अब असली दर्द बोलेंगे जो दिलों में छुपाया है।
The photo is the “Pulitzer Prize” winning photo taken in 1994 during the Sudan Famine. The picture depicts stricken child crawling towards an United Nations food camp, located a kilometer away. The vulture is waiting for the child to die so that it can eat him. This picture shocked the whole world. No one knows what happened to the child, including the photographer Kevin Carter who left the place as soon as the photograph was taken. Three months later he committed suicide due to depression.
America, America, American War Paar Da
War, War, War, American War
American War Paar Da
America, America, American War Paar Da
War, War, War, American War
American War Paar Da
America so free I am dying to see
Disneyland and Statue Liberty
Choose between Coca-cola or Pepsi
Home made prison with colour TV
America so strong with nuclear bomb
Big one, small one and one long
Vietnam napalmed, Afghanistan bombed
America decide what is right what is wrong
America, America, American War Paar Da
War, War, War, American War
American War Paar Da
America never sad, only go mad
Blame someon say the world is bad
First communist, then terrorist
If not this maybe some other list
America friends all over the world
Fanatics dictators and murderers
America so sad for the world to see
Bin Laden is paid to be an enemy
America, America, American War Paar Da
War, War, War, American War
American War Paar Da
If you have might everything is right
While you bark, you also bite
Killing everyone, best way to manage
Then tell your friends collateral damage
Saddam you scoundrel where are the weapons
These inspectors instead of eyes have buttons
Now we'll show how everyone is wrong
Saddam your belly is actually a bomb
America, America, American War Paar Da
War, War, War, American War
American War Paar Da
America has a package for every country
First CIA, World Bank and MNC
If bribe don't work, destroy the whole place
Put puppet regime with UN First Aid
We can see thru American tactics and tricks
Armament deala and oil politics
World War III no need to worry
God save us from American peace and liberty
America, America, American War Paar Da
War, War, War, American War
American War Paar Da
I'm sorry, but I don't want to be an Emperor - that's not my business. I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone, if possible -- Jew, gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another; human beings are like that. We want to live by each other's happiness, not by each other's misery. We don't want to hate and despise one another. In this world there's room for everyone and the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone.
The way of life can be free and beautiful.
But we have lost the way.
Greed has poisoned men's souls, has barricaded the world with hate, has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical, our cleverness hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery, we need humanity. More than cleverness, we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost.
The aeroplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men, cries out for universal brotherhood for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women, and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people.
To those who can hear me I say, "Do not despair." The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass and dictators die; and the power they took from the people will return to the people and so long as men die, liberty will never perish.
Soldiers: Don't give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you, enslave you, who regiment your lives, tell you what to do, what to think and what to feel; who drill you, diet you, treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men, machine men, with machine minds and machine hearts! You are not machines! You are not cattle! You are men! You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don't hate; only the unloved hate, the unloved and the unnatural.
Soldiers: Don't fight for slavery! Fight for liberty! In the seventeenth chapter of Saint Luke it is written, "the kingdom of God is within man" -- not one man, nor a group of men, but in all men, in you, you the people have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness. You the people have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure.
Then, in the name of democracy, let us use that power! Let us all unite!! Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work, that will give you the future and old age a security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power, but they lie! They do not fulfill their promise; they never will. Dictators free themselves, but they enslave the people!! Now, let us fight to fulfill that promise!! Let us fight to free the world, to do away with national barriers, to do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men's happiness.
Soldiers: In the name of democracy, let us all unite!!!
Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. And I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.
To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never, to forget.
Today when i met my friend Shamil he told me about rare correspndence between Marx and Ghalib.I found the letter on net.Although authanticity of the letter is disputed the letter really enlightened me.here is the passionate encounter.
"Sunday, April 21, 1867
London, England
Dear Ghalib,
Day before yesterday I received a letter from my friend, Angels. It ended with a couplet that impressed me very much. After much effort, I learnt that it was written by some Indian poet named Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib. Brother, it’s wonderful! I had never envisaged that revolutionary feelings for independence from slavery would ripen so early in a country like India! Yesterday, I got some more poetic works of yours from a Lord’s personal library. The couplet is highly appreciable!:
Hum ko maloom hai jannat ki haqeeqat lekin,
Dil ko behlane ko Ghalib ye khayal achha hai. (I know paradise does exist, But, Ghalib! It’s good to console your heart.)
In your next edition of poetry do write in detail addressing workers: "Landlords, administrators, and religious leaders sap your toil’s rewards by taking you to the fanciful world of paradise. Rather, it would be nicer if you write some lines on:
"Duniya bhar ke mazdooron, muttahid ho jao (World labourers, get united.)"
I am not well aware of the Indian style and poetic treatment. You are a poet, you write something substantive being under poetic restrictions. Whatever, the sole purpose is to invigorate the masses with its message. Moreover, I would advise you to quit composing leisure writings like ghazal or quatrain and move over to free verses so that in least time you can write more and the more you write the more the wretched people would have to read and mull over.
I am dispatching the Indian version of the Communist Manifesto along with the first volume whose translation is unfortunately not available. If you like it, next time I will send you some more literature. At present, India has been converted into a den of the English imperialists. And only the collective effort of the exploited and downtrodden masses or workers can liberate them from the clutches of the perpetrators.
You should study the modern philosophies of the West than the outmoded and unworkable thoughts of Asian scholars; and do not write the fables and praises of the Mughal kings and nawabs and create the literature that takes up the revolutionary cause of the masses. Revolution is imminent. No force in this world can restrain it. That time is coming soon when the tradition of guru and disciple will fade away.
I wish India a steady path toward revolution,
Yours,
Karl Marx
From Ghalib to Karl Marx
September 9, 1867
I received your letter along with the Communist Manifesto. How would I reply? First, it’s too difficult to understand what you talk. Second, I have grown too weak to write as well as speak. Today, I wrote a letter to a friend, so, I thought of writing to you too.
Your view about Farhaad (reference in Ghalib’s one poem) is mistaken. He is not any worker as you perceived him. Rather, he was a lover but his perception toward love did not impress me. He was lunatic in love and would think of committing suicide all the time for his beloved’s sake. And you talk of which inquilab (revolution)? That is a past, ended ten years ago! Now the Britishers roam broad-chested and everyone eulogises them here. The discipline of royalty and lavishness has become a thing of the past; and the tradition of guru and disciple is losing its charm.
If you don’t believe, pay a visit to Delhi and see all in flesh and blood..... And that’s not confined to Delhi only, Lucknow’s essence too is disappearing...where have those mannerisms gone...where are those gentlemen! Now, you predict of which revolution?
And in the middle of your letter I also learnt you talk of changing the mode of poetry writing. Mind you, poetry cannot be created but it comes to you naturally. And my case is distinct. When ideas flow in, they just merge into any forms, ghazal or quatrains.
I believe, Ghalib’s style is unmatched in the world of poetry, and because of that, the kings have already gone and you want me to be deprived of the nawabs and patrons who take care of me... !? What goes wrong if I say a few lines in their praise!
What is philosophy and what it has to do with life, who knows better than me? My dear, which modern thinking you talk about? If you are interested in it, you better read Vedanta and Wahdat-ul-Wajood. And stop just harping on thought after thought, if you can, do some work in this direction...you are an Englishman, do me a favour. Please convey a recommendation letter to the viceroy, requesting for reissue of my pension....
Now I am feeling very tired. So, I am putting an end to it,
From Cairo we flew directly into India, a country of 390 million inhabitants, with an area of more than three million square kilometres.
The drama of the land is not felt here as much as in Egypt, given that the conditions of the soil are far more superior than those that obtain in that desert country, but social injustice has resulted in an arbitrary distribution of land where a few have a lot and many have nothing.
India was “colonised” by England between the end of the 18th century and the beginning of the 19th. This did not, of course, happen without great struggles for independence, but the military effectiveness of the English proved decisive. The flourishing handicrafts industry suffered from the impact of a colonial structure that was interested in destroying the economic independence of the Indians and making them eternally indebted to the Empire. These conditions prevailed throughout the 19th century and during part of the present one [the 20th century, with] the country sporadically convulsed by rebellions that drowned in the innocent blood of the people.
English colonial power came out of the last Great War with clear indications of disintegration, and India, its passive resistance led by the mystic figure of Mahatma Gandhi, at last achieved the long-desired independence. After Gandhi’s death, [Jawaharlal] Nehru had to carry the responsibility of public office on his shoulders. He took over a country whose spirit was ill from infinite years of domination and whose economy had been directed to supply at low cost to London metropolitan markets. Land had to be distributed and the country had to be industrialised as a base for future economic development. The leaders of the Congress party dedicated themselves to this task with enthusiasm.
This enormous and extraordinary country has a series of institutions and customs that do not respond to any concept that we may form about the social problems of the times we live in.
We have the same political and economic system, a similar past of opprobrium and colonisation, the same direction in our line of progress; yet, the solutions – very similar and geared towards the same objective – differ like day from night; while the hurricane of agrarian reform sweeps away the big land holdings of Camaguey in one grand wave and advances unstoppable through the entire country giving free land to the farmers, the great Indian nation treads cautiously with oriental parsimony, convincing the big landlords of the justice of giving the land to the tiller and the farmers of paying a price for this land, thus making almost imperceptible the transition of one of the most noble, sensible and pauperised masses of entire humanity from misery to poverty.
We visited an agricultural cooperative in a place close to the capital, New Delhi. After about 40 km of passage through arid landscapes, in which greenery and trees stood out through their absence, while cows and buffaloes demonstrated their almost singular presence in the plains, we reached a small hutment with mud walls and desperate poverty. The school, a pride for the cooperative, was being run on the extraordinary effort of two teachers who looked after the five classes which it consisted of. Emaciated children with frequent signs of illnesses, sitting on the floor on their haunches, heard the explanations of the teacher.
The great advance had been the inauguration of two wells with a cement parapet for community use, but there were other innovations of extraordinary social importance which give one an idea of the poverty that reigns: the technicians of the agrarian reform are teaching the Indian farmer to change their fuel from cow dung to kerosene. Sacred animal
This small, almost funny change, however allows the freeing of enormous quantities of dried cow excrement, ill-used as fuel, to be used instead as fertilizer. With a loving effort, children and women knead the bovine excreta, putting it to dry under the sun and later forming enormous pyramids of several metres high, quite like huge anthills. Thanks to the efforts of the Indian government, they shall now have their own little kerosene stoves and will fertilize their soil with that important product. One can quite understand that the cow was a sacred animal for the ancient ones: it worked in the fields, gave milk, and even its excreta had the enormous importance of replacing natural fuel, which does not exist here; this explains why their religious precepts prohibited the farmer from killing this precious animal and, for that, the only way out was to consider it sacred; to have such a determining force as religion impose respect for the most efficient element of production which the community counted on.
Years, however, went passing by and turned into centuries, and now, in the age of mechanical plough and liquid fuels, the sacred animal continues to be venerated with the same fervour, and it multiplies freely with hardly anyone committing the sacrilege of eating its meat. One hundred and eighty million cows is what India has, almost 100 million more than the United States, which is the second producer in the world, and Indian leaders apply themselves to the terrible problem of making a people, religious and obedient to cultural commandments, cease their veneration of the sacred animal. In Calcutta [now Kolkata], a premier city of India, six million human beings live crammed with an incredible number of cows that pullulate the streets, interrupting the traffic each time they feel like reclining right in the middle of the street.
In this city we saw a strange example of the complexity of the Indian panorama: alongside the most abject misery, the signs of an industrial development which is capable of creating products of heavy industry that we will take a long time in producing, such as locomotives; and the signs of a technical development in all the fields of research for which Indian scientists are regarded highly all over the world.
We had the opportunity to meet the wise Krishna, one of the most distinguished physicists of contemporary world, who with the simplicity and humility characteristic of his people conversed with us for a long time, emphasising the need to employ all the technical force and capacity of the world to ensure the use of nuclear energy for peaceful purposes and condemning the absurd policy of those who dedicate themselves to amassing hydrogen weapons as an argument of international discussion
In India, the word War is so distant from the spirit of people that they did not use it even in the tensest moments of their struggle for independence. The huge concentrations of peaceful discontent forced English colonialism to leave forever the land that they had ruled for 150 years.
It is interesting to note that in this country of contrasts, where misery coexists with the highest refinements of civilised life and state-of-the-art technical know-how, women occupy a preponderant role in social relations and even in politics. The graceful and sweet Indian woman occupies positions such as those of the Congress president and the Vice-Minister of External Affairs, to cite just a few examples.
During the course of our visit, we had interviews with all the important personalities of Indian political life. Nehru received us with the amiable familiarity of a grandfather but with a noble interest in the pains and struggles of the Cuban people, giving us extraordinarily valuable suggestions and assurances of unconditional sympathy towards our cause. I can say the same of [V.K.] Krishna Menon, the Defence Minister and Chief of Delegation to the United Nations, who arranged for us to meet all the military chiefs for an interchange of impressions on the problems of our respective countries.
We had a cordial interview with the Commerce Minister, preparing the ground for future commercial negotiations, which can be of great importance. Among the products that we can supply could be copper, cocoa, rayon fibres for tyres and, perhaps in the near future, our sugar; India can sell us coal, cotton, textiles, jute articles, edible oils, nuts, films, rail material and training aircraft. But the list does not stop here; experience shows us that two countries in the process of industrialisation can go on increasing, in the measure they industrialise, exchange of their manufactured goods. As the level of the 390 millions of Indians advances, their need for our sugar will increase and we can acquire a new and valuable market.
We learnt valuable lessons from our visit, but the most important was the demonstration that the basis of economic development of a country is conditioned by the technological advance it has made, and institutions of scientific research have to be created primarily in the areas of medicine, chemistry, physics and agriculture. All these technical bodies and the general state of these disciplines should be coordinated and directed by a national statistical centre, in which the Indians are masters. When we were leaving the cooperative that I described above, the children bade us goodbye with a litany whose translation was: “Cuba and India are brothers.” Undoubtedly, Cuba and India are brothers, as all people of the world should be in these times of nuclear disintegration and interplanetary missiles.
