As shadows of the night grew long,
We gathered round the radio new;
Our breaths held for the latest song,
And then your soulful notes came through! /1 #Latājī
The voice, O! lovely lilting voice!
We swayed our heads and closed our eyes;
The dulcet tones, what simple joys,
In that moment we touched the skies. /2
In some place else, a different time,
A time of youth, table for two;
The empty chair, a wistful rhyme,
And cold became the cup of brew. /3
"Sorry," she said, "O sorry, dear!"
A song then played like magic fair;
Your mellow voice for hearts to hear,
A poetic answer to my prayer! /4
The longing turned to longer sighs,
As days and nights the cassette rolled;
The dreams were mine in wistful eyes,
The voice was yours, a friend of old. /5
And then the day of life arrived,
Of song and dance and theft of shoes;
At times we laughed, at times we cried,
Your songs then turned from mirth to blues. /6
In ups and downs that life had thrown,
The tiffs amidst the daily chores;
And moments that we made our own,
Your voice remained a constant force. /7
A little one with lovely eyes,
Our life revolved around her deep;
Until we hummed your lullabies,
She stubbornly refused to sleep. /8
In festive nights and days we prayed,
And wafted high your voice refined;
A bhajan, kīrtan, ārtī, made
A prasād, so to speak, divine. /9
Up high in mountains snowy cold,
The bravery of our soldiers shone;
Your voice brought us those tales untold,
We prayed for daring souls unknown! /A
From gramophones to streaming apps,
Your voice remains the soul of time;
Years and decades will elapse,
Yet will remain, the voice sublime. /B
As shadows of the night grow long,
We gather round with headphones new;
Our breaths held for that charming song,
And then your soulful notes come through! /C//
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People involved in this movie from the most mature film industry in the known and the unknown Universe: Gokulam Gopalan, Murali Gopi, Suresh Balake, Deepak Dev, Prithviraj Sukumaran, and of course, Mohanlal.
Please, hoist them up some more on imaginary pedestals.
The more you rely on celebs, especially from tinsel town, to take up causes which only you have in your mind but do not exist for them, the more you will be disappointed.
Here, we are talking about a movie clique which thinks beef is as mandatory as a story. Who is the idiot?
The movie world, like most businesses, runs on money. If there is money to be made (and found), then that becomes the cause. It is true for movies like this one, and it is true for movies on the other side of the spectrum.
It would be supremely juvenile to think otherwise.
The Commissioner of Police invited Shashi Tharoor to a comfortable room for interrogation. Some of his officials were also present.
"Good morning, Sir," he started.
"The effulgent yet pristine solar radiation does prognosticate a benevolent ante meridiem," coruscated Tharoor.
The people in the room were taken aback. They had particularly looked forward to interrogating a political celebrity like Tharoor, but this came out of the blue.
Tharoor looked at them, flicked his silken hair with a jerk, and smirked to show them that he was in full control.
The Commissioner regained his composure and tried again with a straight face.
"Where were you on that fateful night?" he asked.
"The oriental framework of temporal evolution," said Tharoor while crossing his legs, "is in contrast with the occidental notion of absolute time."
White Beard and Black Beard were seated in large, plush chairs in a dimly lit hall, their faces plastered with a smile as fake as a bride's when greeted by relatives from the other side, their eyes vacant and tired like a reserved passenger's whose seat is taken over by others.
"We have got sondesh for you both," said someone whose name they had forgotten.
White Beard waited for a message, and instead, all he got was a box of just desserts.
"Why is it so red?" asked Black Beard after opening it.
There was only a strained silence from the other side.
Black Beard ignored him anyway. "What have you got?" he asked someone who he had never met.
White Beard, fearing a sondesh repeat, turned his face to ignore the broken windows.
"Chak-hao kheer."
Black Beard opened it and said, "I thought it was made with black rice, not red."