Monthly Archives: February 2007

Musthafa, Musthafa!!

Anyone in college after this movie (forgot the name) was released will remember this song. http://www.musicindiaonline.com/p/x/EUCm_saTVd.As1NMvHdW/

It was almost like an anthem to people in their last years in school, college, wherever. I remember the song too for different reasons. It used to be a lullaby for my little brother. There is enough age difference between me and the little twamp. I have another middle b(r)other. And the two of us were old enough that we could put the tweeniest one to sleep every night. The house we lived in had this big circular hall and the ritual was to carry the little pig, not on the shoulder but lying on the arms and rock him to sleep as we walked around the hall round and round and had to sing Musthafa. It is weird thinking of it now. I have no idea why he got fixated to that song, but he did. We used to scream ourselves hoarse and sing it again and again and again, and I used to pass him off to the middle pig and take a breather. It had to be that song. He used to wiggle, squirm, cry and holler if anything else came out. It was fun though. I would wait for that hour all day and would relish taking that sleepy, satisfied, burping little piglet in my hand, see his little dwimpled smile and his happy sigh as he settled into a world of Musthafa’s. I still wonder if we scarred him psychologically in anyway with our voices. I wasn’t the best of singers and since my brother’s voice was breaking he used to sing in multiple voices. I liked letting him sing the chorus. He could give voice to everyone in the chorus line, in one go.

I was listening to the song while driving home. The road twisted and turned and the song played on. Missed home a lot. The piglet has grown and it feels like I have missed a whole lot of growing up. I miss him being small, being able to smell Johnson’s powder, miss sneaking to eat lactogen, miss watching him cry so that I could pick him up and make his world awright again.. But I am enjoying these years too, in a different way. I talk to him about Enid Blyton, Famous Five and Secret Seven, about Dinosaraus and how the girl sitting next to him in class wouldn’t stop talking. Some things haven’t changed though. His eyes glaze over and he yawns when he listens to Musthafa and I start walking in circles.


If night were a woman

Mona’s word for the day “Hair”

If night were a woman, she would appear to be
Like the woman who sat in front of me,
Her face I have never seen, for who can but see
Beyond the raven tresses that ache to break and flow free

They sometimes are swept up in a bun high, giving me
a glance of her shoulders white and silky
I can see why those strands would be so happy
adorning her pretty head and watching me sigh and heave.

Then sometimes they are let loose and free
Like waves at night that up in the sky I see
They float, they laugh with their naughtiness they tease me
To watch them caress her cheek, feel her breath..Oh the agony.

If night were a woman, the sky her tresses,t hen let me be
The flowers that might adorn her head, like the sky bright and starry
So I can be by side, smell her loveliness see her smile so sweet
In little pleasures like these my life be full and my heart happy will be.