Sarfaroshi ki tamanna.....

सरफरोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है,
देखना है जोर कितना बाजुए कातिल में है ।

करता नहीं क्यों दुसरा कुछ बातचीत,
देखता हूँ मैं जिसे वो चुप तेरी महफिल मैं है ।

रहबर राहे मौहब्बत रह न जाना राह
मेंलज्जत-ऐ-सेहरा नवर्दी दूरिये-मंजिल में है ।

यों खड़ा मौकतल में कातिल कह रहा है बार-
बारक्या तमन्ना-ए-शहादत भी किसी के दिल में है ।

ऐ शहीदे-मुल्को-मिल्लत मैं तेरे ऊपर
निसारअब तेरी हिम्मत का चर्चा ग़ैर की महफिल में है ।

वक्त आने दे बता देंगे तुझे ऐ आसमां,
हम अभी से क्या बतायें क्या हमारे दिल में है ।

खींच कर लाई है सब को कत्ल होने की उम्मींद,
आशिकों का जमघट आज कूंचे-ऐ-कातिल में है ।

सरफरोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है,
देखना है जोर कितना बाजुए कातिल में है ।

The Fountainhead

Ellsworth Toohey: There's the building that should have been yours. There are buildings going up all over the city which are great chances refused and given to incompetent fools. You're walking the streets while they're doing the work that you love but cannot obtain. This city is closed to you. It is I who have done it! Don't you want to know my motive?

Howard Roark: No!

Ellsworth Toohey: I'm fighting you and shall fight you in every way I can.

Howard Roark: You're free to do what you please!

Ellsworth Toohey: Mr. Roark, we’re alone here. Why don't you tell me what you think of me in any words you wish.

Howard Roark: But I don't think of you!
[Roark walks away and Toohey's head slumps down

Imagine by John Lennon

Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the peopleLiving for today...

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the peopleLiving life in peace...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the peopleSharing all the world..

.You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

The Mending Wall

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun
, And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors'.
Spring is the mischief in me
, and I wonder If I could put a notion in his head:
'Why do they make good neighbors?
Isn't it Where there are cows?
But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,
But it's not elves exactly,
and I'd rather He said it for himself.
I see him there Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top In each hand,
like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me~
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, "Good fences make good neighbors."

Good Morning Sunshine - Aqua

When the sun is up,
on a clear blue sky,
you will act like a lover
When the sky is grey,
and the rain comes down,
you will run for cover

Feel the heat, come out of cold,
and your arm is touching me

Good morning sunshine,
you're my only light
lying with me by my side,
you keep me warm all day
Just stay with me

Good morning sunshine,
be with me all day
Just don't let the rain pass you by
When it's cloudy and windy
and the snowflakes arrive,
you somehow just make me,
make me feel I'm alive

When you leave my field
then you light the stars
Fading away in horizon
there's a million streets
leading off the night,
waiting for sun to be risen

Feel the heat, come out of cold,
and your arm is touching me
Good morning sunshine,
you're my only light,
lying with me by my side,
you keep me warm all day
Just stay with me

Good morning sunshine,
be with me all day
Just don't let the rain pass you by
When it's cloudy and windy
and the snowflakes arrive,
you somehow just make me,
make me feel I'm alive

Hold it right there,
let me take a minute of your time,
to explain how I feel through these rhymes
I do the best I can, and believe me if I could
I'll build you a paradise with these two hands
the touch of your skin, makes my body go numb,
I'm thinking to myself, if my dream come true,
or is it 'cause you never give me a chance to tell you
how I feel, the moments we had were too precious to kill.

When it is cloudy and windy,
please turn your face at me

Good morning sunshine,
you're my only light,
lying with me by my side,
you keep me warm all day
Just stay with me

Good morning sunshine,
be with me all day,
Just don't let the rain pass you by,
when it is cloudy and windy
and the snowflakes arrive,
you somhow just make me,
make me feel I'm alive
make me feel I'm alive...

Waltz by Pablo Neruda

I touch hatred like a covered breast;
I without stopping go from garment to garment,
sleeping at a distance.

I am not, I'm of no use, I do not know
anyone; I have no weapons of ocean or wood,
I do not live in this house.

My mouth is full of night and water.
The abiding moon determines
what I do not have.

What I have is in the midst of the waves,
a ray of water, a day for myself,
an iron depth.

There is no cross-tide, there is no shield, no costume,
there is no special solution too deep to be sounded,
no vicious eyelid.

I live suddenly and other times I follow.
I touch a face suddenly and it murders me.
I have no time.

Do not look for me when drawing
the usual wild thread or the
bleeding net.

Do not call me: that is my occupation.
Do not ask my name or my condition.
Leave me in the middle of my own moon
in my wounded ground.

Sweet Torture by Alfonsina Storni

My melancholy was gold dust in your hands;
On your long hands I scattered my life;
My sweetnesses remained clutched in your hands;
Now I am a vial of perfume, emptied

How much sweet torture quietly suffered,
When, my soul wrested with shadowy sadness,
She who knows the tricks, I passed the days
kissing the two hands that stifled my life

Visit www.rashtrakavi.blogspot.com for epic poems from Dinkar,Dushyant and evergreen hindi poets !!!

Feelings by Spike Milligan

There must be a wound! No one can be this hurt                       and not bleed. How could she injure me so?                       No marks                       No bruises Worse! People say 'My, you're looking well' …..God help me!     She's mummified me -                                 ALIVE!

Himself by Alice Guerin Crist

Last night, when I was listenin’
Alone, to wind and rain,
He took the chair beside me,
Himself - come home again.

His kind blue eyes were smilin’
Beneath his thatch of grey,
He laid his hand on my hand,
The ould sweetheartin’ way.

I pressed my cheek upon it,
Remembering bitterly
The times he faced his daily toil
Without one smile from me.

And yet, his meals were always good,
His clothes well kept and clean,
The neighbours, sure, will tell you,
The splendid wife I’ve been.

But in Life’s stress and struggle,
We somehow, grew apart,
You know these Irish mothers,
'Tis “the childer” has their heart.

And he grew grim, and close-lipped,
And harder, day by day,
Poor man - too tired for laughter,
Too worried to be gay.

But - how his care enclosed us,
For all he was so grim,
The very rafters of our home
Were cut and laid by him.

And I, that might have cheered him,
The bitter words I said,
Oh! God, that we remember,
Only when they are dead.

But now - my arms were round him,
The room seemed full of flowers,
And Youth came back and sunshine,
That glorious time was ours.

The firelight flamed and flickered,
The embers fell apart,
I woke to empty silence,
With sorrow at my heart.

The wild winds brought the morning,
The dawn was red and chill,
And Himself was lyin’ sleepin’
In the graveyard on the hill!

"ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD"

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care:
No children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share,

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the Poor.

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Awaits alike th' inevitable hour:-
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Nor you, ye Proud, impute to these the fault
If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

Can storied urn or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death?

Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre:

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;
Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.

Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.

Th' applause of list'ning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
And read their history in a nation's eyes,

Their lot forbad: nor circumscribed alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,

The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;
Along the cool sequester'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.

Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.

For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?

On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.

For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If chance, by lonely contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, --

Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,
Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn;

'There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high.
His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.

'Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove;
Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,
Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.

'One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,
Along the heath, and near his favourite tree;
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;

'The next with dirges due in sad array
Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne,-
Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.'

The Epitaph

Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth
A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
And Melacholy marked him for her own.

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to Misery all he had, a tear,
He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.

No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode
(There they alike in trembling hope repose),
The bosom of his Father and his God.

By Thomas Gray (1716-71).

How ......

how could
(did?)
Don McLean
confine it
to one day?

in clumps
they die
but not all at once

nor was there one
day

and often
it was only
the music
not the musician

MDC
killed JL
so the Beatles
could never perform
on earth
again

but their music died
when they quit
making it

they are the ROCK

of Rock and Roll
and fit with Mozart and Einstein

and then there is the
endless list
of
other names

a plane crash
a bullet
drugs
or just
dead
before something was invented
to
kill
artists

poets,
on the other hand,
well,
some people
only wish
we'd stop
nobody is picky about
how

but if You
have given
any person
any gift

it behooves someone
to share it

or the music really will stop
and so
will everything else


--
Jonathan

Mughal-e-Azam :::My Fav Hindi movie #4

Plot :::

Everyone know the plot of this movie so why waste time,here is sum trivia bout the movie u may find interesting .enjoy !!! 

Buy movie and related stuff here!!!

Trivia :::

• It took over 10 years for the movie to be complete.
  
  
• The first full feature-length movie to be revived/colorized for a theatrical re-release in the history of world cinema. It has been done for some Hollywood movies but only for re-release on home video.
  
  
• With the advent of Jhansi Ki Rani in 1951, colour films became a revolution. K. Asif wanted to remake the whole film in colour, but when the distributors lost patience settled for having two songs and the film's 30-minute climax shot in Technicolor, with the rest of the film (85%) black-and-white. However, in November 2004, the whole movie was restored and colorized in a year-long process by the IAAA (Indian Academy of Arts and Animation) and re-released.
  
  
• This was one of only two films K. Asif completed. When he died in 1971, he left behind two unfinished films, Sasta Khoon Mahenga Paani and Love and God, the latter released by K.C. Bokadia in 1986.
  
  
• This was (counting Sanjay Leela Bhansali's Devdas) the most expensive film ever made in Indian history. Tailors were brought from Delhi to stitch the costumes, specialists from Surat-Khambayat were employed for the embroidery, Hyderabad goldsmiths made the jewellery, Kohalpur craftsmen designed the crowns, Rajasthan ironsmiths crafted the weapons, and the elaborate footwear was ordered from Agra. For the battle sequence, 2000 camels, 4000 horses and 8000 troops were used, many of them soldiers on loan from the Indian Army. Altogether the film cost Rs. 1.5 crores (38.29 crores in present terms).
  
  
• The song "Ae Mohabbat Zindabad" had singer Mohammed Rafi with a chorus of 100 singers.
  
  
• The song "Pyar Kiya To Darna Kiya" has an unusual history to it: it cost Rs. 10 million at a time when a film would be made for less than a million; it was written and re-written 105 times by the lyricist, Shakeel Badayuni, before the music director, Naushad, could approve of it; it was shot in the renowned Sheesh Mahal (Palace of Mirrors); and in those days of sound recording, editing and mixing, as there was no way to provide the reverberation of sound, Naushad had Lata Mangeshkar sing the song in a studio bathroom.
  
  
• For the battle sequence, 2,000 camels, 4,000 horses and 8,000 troops were used, many of them soldiers on loan from the Indian Army. This was arranged through special permission through the Indian Ministry of Defence-a rare occurrence today. The soldiers came from the Jaipur regiment of the Indian army.
  
  
• The statue of Lord Krishna used in the film is made of pure gold.
  
  
• The heavy chains Madhubala wore in the film were authentic, not the lightweight models worn in those days. It was her greatest ordeal in the film and she was bedridden for days nursing the bruises caused by wearing those chains.
  
  

Buy movie and related stuff here!!!

Buy movie and related stuff here!!!

Buy movie and related stuff here!!!

 

Pavitra Papi ::: My Fav Hindi movie #3

Plot :::
Kedarnath is employed with a local clock/watch repair shop, owned by a parsimonious Adarshan Lala. Kedarnath goes out of his way to help a destitute woman, Maya, who husband is missing, with two daughters, Veena and Vidya. Kedarnath rents a room with them, writes letters to her on behalf of her husband, Pannalal, and even arranges the marriage of Veena with the son of Daulatram. When Maya tells him that she has no money to pay for the marriage expenses, he steals cash from his employer, and tells Maya that the money is from Pannalal. And all along telling Maya that he is a close friend of Pannalal, even though he has never met Pannalal, leave alone know him, making one think as to what devious secret Kedarnath is hiding, and what is the reason behind Pannalal's disappearance.

Cast :::: 

	Balraj Sahni	...	Pannalal
	Tanuja	...	Veena
	Parikshat Sahni	...	Kedarnath (as Ajay Sahni)
	Achala Sachdev	...	Maya (as Achla Sachdev)

The most disgusting thing is this is a classic movie and still avaiting 5 votes on imdb to have a rating !!!

PLZ log on to imdb and vote for it and if u are a movie lover then its a must watch !!!

Robert Frost`s Acquainted With The Night

I have been one acquainted with the night.

I have walked out in rain — and back in rain.

I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.

I have passed by the watchman on his beat

And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet

When far away an interrupted cry

Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;

And further still at an unearthly height,

A luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.

I have been one acquainted with the night.

Buy Best Fiction books

Robert Frost`s Out, Out

The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood, Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it. And from there those that lifted eyes could count Five mountain ranges one behind the other Under the sunset far into Vermont. And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled, As it ran light, or had to bear a load. And nothing happened: day was all but done. Call it a day, I wish they might have said To please the boy by giving him the half hour That a boy counts so much when saved from work. His sister stood beside them in her apron To tell them "Supper." At the word, the saw, As if to prove saws knew what supper meant, Leaped out at the boy's hand, or seemed to leap— He must have given the hand. However it was, Neither refused the meeting. But the hand! The boy's first outcry was a rueful laugh, As he swung toward them holding up the hand Half in appeal, but half as if to keep The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all— Since he was old enough to know, big boy Doing a man's work, though a child at heart— He saw all spoiled. "Don't let him cut my hand off— The doctor, when he comes. Don't let him, sister!" So. But the hand was gone already. The doctor put him in the dark of ether. He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath. And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright. No one believed. They listened at his heart. Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it. No more to build on there. And they, since they Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.

John Keats ::::Ode On A Grecian Urn

1.

Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,

Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,

Sylvan historian, who canst thus express

A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:

What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape

Of deities or mortals, or of both,

In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?

What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?

What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?

What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

2.

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard

Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;

Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,

Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:

Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave

Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;

Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,

Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;

She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,

For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

3.

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed

Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;

And, happy melodist, unwearied,

For ever piping songs for ever new;

More happy love! more happy, happy love!

For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,

For ever panting, and for ever young;

All breathing human passion far above,

That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,

A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

4.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?

To what green altar, O mysterious priest,

Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,

And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?

What little town by river or sea shore,

Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,

Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?

And, little town, thy streets for evermore

Will silent be; and not a soul to tell

Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.

5.

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede

Of marble men and maidens overwrought,

With forest branches and the trodden weed;

Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought

As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!

When old age shall this generation waste,

Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe

Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,

"Beauty is truth, truth beauty,--that is all

Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."

Guide:::::: My Fav Hindi movie # 2

Plot

Raju makes a living by acting as a guide for tourists on one hand, and a con-man on another. He meets with Rosie Marco during one of his tours, and is attracted to her. He finds out that Rosie is unhappily married, would like to separate from her spouse, and take up acting and dancing. With Raju's encouragement, Rosie succeeds and both become rich beyond their imagination. Raju's lifestyle becomes easy, and he succumbs to gambling, and drinking in a big way. He forges a signature, is caught, arrested, tried in court, found guilty and imprisoned. Rosie will now have nothing to do with him. After Raju completes his prison sentence, he is released and travels far and wide in an attempt to meet Rosie and also to try and avoid returning to the city. He is mistaken for a Saint, and asked to preside over a temple in a region that is stricken by severe drought. Raju must offer prayers for rain and appease the people, or else they will expose him for fooling them. The question remains will he succeed in conning devotees that have come far and wide to watch him perform a miracle?

Trivia

This movie was made in two versions - an English version in collaboration with Pearl S. Buck and directed by Ted Danielewski to introduce Dev Anand to western audiences and of course the Hindi version directed by Dev Anand's younger brother Vijay Anand.

The film is based on the book "The Guide" by R. K. Narayan, India's best known author in the English language.

Vijay Anand was horrified when he read the script and thought it would ruin the image of the country abroad. He refused twice to direct the film. It was only on the third attempt by Dev Anand that he agreed.

Cast

Dev Anand ... Raju

Waheeda Rehman ... Rosie Marco / Miss Nalini
Leela Chitnis ... Raju's Mother
Kishore Sahu ... Marco
Gajanan Jagirdar ... Bhola
Anwar Hussain ... Gaffoor
Ulhas ... Raju's Maternal Uncle
Krishan Dhawan ... Inspector Girdhari