Gaurav Sharma, Author of 

     RAPESCARS... They Never Heal, 
     
        in conversation with WriterStory....

EXCERPTS...

What is the greatest challenge in writing a book?

The greatest challenge in writing a book is developing the plot and organizing your story according to the plot. It is like driving in the lane. If you don’t stick to it, you surely, are in danger. Also, you must do a thorough research about your subject, about the dome of your characters and about the sphere in which you want your story to take place. And, as they say, learning the art of showing rather than telling, is also essential to make your story intriguing.

Read the complete interview here:

http://www.writerstory.com/gaurav-sharma-interview-rapescars-book/

JOHNNY WALKER

                                                 MEMORIES…..

Let’s recall a scene from the iconic Hrishikesk Mukherjee Film ‘Anand’.

Rajesh Khanna follows a stranger and addresses him as ‘Murari Lal’. Perplexed stranger Johnny Walker listens to him and replies his gag in equal fervour and calls him ‘JaiChand’, not contradicting him. When Amitabh Bachchan as lanky Dr Bannerjee, intervenes and corrects the stranger for calling Khanna as JaiChand, the stranger amusingly tells him that he too, is not ‘Murari Lal’, but ‘Isa Bhai’.

That remains the most poignant, soul-stirring and unforgettable cameo in the Bollywood history. That particular Johnny Walker’s performance is a perfect example that a true actor can make even a small character great in shortest of screen time. I have seen ‘Anand’ umpteen times, but every time this scene makes me laugh and the last line delivered from ‘Isa Bhai’ brings tears to my eyes.

‘Jaate jaate Chela Guru ko sikha gaya.’

A slender man with pencil-thin moustaches, squeaky, tad womanly voice and nothing extraordinary about his personality, earned himself the tag of the most loved comedian on the silver screen. Talent knows no hindrance. The witty actor has played roles that are immortal. I love Johnny Walker and can’t forget many of the characters that he lived.

Born as Badruddi Jamaluddin Kazi to a mill worker in Indore, British India on 11 November 1926, Johnny Walker acted in more than 300 films.

After his father was made redundant, the family moved to Bombay. There, he took various jobs as the sole breadwinner for the family. He became a bus conductor with B.E.S.T.

Actor Balraj Sahni spotted him at Dadar bus Depot. Badruddin Kazi used to work there and entertain the passengers with his antics. He had an amazing knack of inventing humour and sending people into frantic laughter. Balraj Sahni was writing ‘Baazi’ for the legendary actor Gurudatt at that time. Sahni introduced Kazi to Gurudatt. Impressed by Kazi’s act posing as a drunkard, Gurudatt took him in ‘Baazi’. That’s how Badruddin became an actor that would ever remain alive in the hearts of film lovers.

He christened himself after the famous Scotch whisky; Johnny Walker had the ability to draw the crowd to the theatres same as the leading men of the era had.

More than his comic acting, I liked the way he acted in songs. He made some ordinary songs unforgettable by the fine synchronicity of his funny facial expressions and lyrics. To me, Johnny Walker was unmatched in delivering a song. To me, this uncanny skill defined his and helped almost all the roles he played etched on the hearts of millions of us.

Here is my list of Johnny Walker songs that are still popular-

1          1.     Ai Dil Hai Mushkil Jeena Yahan.wmv  - CID (1956) 

         https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X7EjxI27aMc&nohtml5=False

 2.     Sar Jo Tera Chakraye -  Pyaasa (1957)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rJiohcg-gKo&nohtml5=False

      3.     Jaane Kahan Mera Jigar Gaya Ji - Mr. and Mrs. 55 (1955)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F5Tfd1EKtLI&nohtml5=False

      4.     Suno Suno Miss Chatterjee - Baharen Phir Bhi Aayengi (1966)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8Fd2zN2mRg&nohtml5=False

      5.     Maine Kahan Tha Aana Sunday Ko -  Ustaadon Ke Ustad (1963)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z75jYGC-8gQ&nohtml5=False

     6.     Mera Yaar Bana Hain Dulha - Chaudhavin Ka Chand (1960)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NHwEMEvwOWU&nohtml5=False

         7.     Yeh Duniya Gol Hain -  Chaudhavin Ka Chand (1960)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fqfSVQ5xiWg&nohtml5=False

        8.     Hum Tum Jise Kahta Hai -  Kaagaz Ke Phool  (1959)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ugWDrzDVq8Y&nohtml5=False

What are your favourite memories of this great comic artist?

There is more to becoming a        

 writer than just writing

 No matter how late you start writing, once you do, soon, you and others will realize that you were born to write. You become an inhabitant of the fantasy world.

Nature is your first love now, for it has the best metaphors. Everything that nature does is poetry. The clouds piercing through a mountain; the leaves wanting to run with the wind but the tree pulls them back like a mother forbidding her child from running after a kite; the conversation that ensues when the wind sighs and the water respond with a stir. Silence, too, now speaks to you. You watch the cooing and pampering pair of pigeons and try to decode their whispering and moans.

When alone, you talk to yourself and to your characters. They become your friends. You can see their expressions, their gestures, their actions. You instruct and guide them. You are never alone.

You become more observant. You see everything you come across keenly, everything that happens to you and everything that takes place around you as a potential plot for your story.

Loneliness stops haunting you. You seek solitude now.

Your perspective of others changes for good. You tend to understand and respect views of others. You may not agree but the writer in you has extended the horizon of your thoughts. As a storyteller, you give birth to characters of different moods, different temperaments, different ideologies and different opinions. They all exist in you. Thus, in a way, your mind accommodates several beings in it, but you are one. You are, now, a mixture of all distinct moods and opinions. You begin to accept more things than you refuse. 

You listen more, you observe more and you try to learn about new things.

 You do research for your write-ups. You travel. You meet people. These are not raw materials for your literary work. They are inputs to strengthen your thoughts and imagination. You may use them in a single story but that knowledge is not evanescent. More you write, more informed you become.

Quest of getting your work published is even more fruitful.

Your notion that God is indifferent or is the busiest will change when you will submit your work to a publisher. No harm, in the long run, it’s for your good. They skim out impatience from you. You will learn to cure and calm down anxiety. Also, you will learn to accept rejection. The manuscript which you think is an out of world thing is trash to them. Rejections are the antidote to the poisonous ego. Gradually, hearing rejection becomes the part of your life. That makes you practical, accommodating and realistic with peers and family.

After your work is published, another offering that your vocation of writing may bring to you is criticism. In the beginning, you won’t embrace it, but you’ve to learn to accept what your critics say. Critics are the truest readers and judges. Somebody pointing out your shortcomings is your well-wisher. They help you to improve. Your fans would never do that.

Okay, you may or may not accept the critique, but you have to learn to brook the criticism. And when you start doing that, you learn to control your anger, your tone, and your speech. You begin choosing your words wisely when you answer your critics; again, nothing to lose anything in the bargain.

You are a better person now.

THE POET

THE POET

When the dawn goes 

down to the Day

 Ascends the Sun to rinse

The earth's tray

Having survived a night

Mortals set to pray

Flora revives, buds smile

To muse they sway

In a lonely, forgotten

Gaunt cottage far away

A poet lost on his desk

As wreaths on a grave

On paper, his words lay

While the world

Picks morsel,

He shoves

Hunger at bay

Weaving verse

Keeps him gay

Dawn to the day

Then dusk, be it may

A poet remains a poet

Whatever you say.

REVIEW - SONGS OF A FLYING SPARROW

                                         

                                                       REVIEW

                          SONGS OF A FLYING SPARROW

                                              BY: DR RAJEEV PUNDIR

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

A doctor by profession and a writer by default. His passion for writing compels him to open his heart in his short stories and novels. He writes in Hindi and English both. 

he resides in Faridabad, Haryana, where he weaves the story and creates characters on the first floor of his house.

You can connect with him at - rajeevherbal@gmail.com

'Song Of A Flying Sparrow ' by Dr. Rajeev Pundir is the story of a young girl Chia who has been brought up in affluence. Her highly ambitious mother holds money above anything else. The concealed truth of Chia's birth is revealed to her and begins her struggle to find her biological father.

The story is well organized in terms of plot. It is crisp, an easy read and intriguing. All the characters are well drawn and seem to be real, though I felt Chia's character a little deficient and had more scope in terms of strength and determination. I would have liked her to be a little more ambitious with an urge to carve a niche for herself being the 'sparrow' of the story. The book gives a fascinating insight into Rini's character, the mother of the protagonist, as a money-minded woman who would not mind going to any length to fulfill her desires.

Metaphors are brilliant at few places and speaks highly of the author's writing prowess.

Taking nothing away from the author, the book is marred by poor editing and pathetic typesetting. At many places reporting clause is in one line and the discourse is in the next. Also, the smaller font was really testing for my eyesight.

To sum up, 'Song Of A Flying Sparrow ' is a good read, not unusual but different, and a mature story from a mature writer.
I wish him all the very best.

                                                                

                                             Dr. Rajeev Pundir

This book is available at: https://www.pustakmandi.com/songs-of-flying-sparrow

Let’s celebrate Pathankot Attack….

Let’s celebrate Pathankot Attack….

Let’s confess we’re a eunuch country…

So, five or six (oh, sorry, we are not clear about it yet) infiltrated in our country from a route used for 

similar intrusion and left unguarded for their convenience.

Hilarious.

And our hyperactive media and the common man wondering and asking why the army taking so long

to neutralize the remaining terrorists when they had managed to liquidate four of them within a few

hours.

We are aware and concerned citizens and we pay our taxes honestly and pay generously to our Army 

so that we can rightfully expect them to safeguard us.

Well, the army does what we expect from it.

But do the rest of the security agencies do their bit?

The five terrorists freaked about in Punjab for hours. Honour them and convey gratitude for not 

harming the civilians.

The Punjab Police SP goes to a distant shrine unguarded and weaponless but in a beaconed vehicle. 

He chooses a lonely and unusual route to return. The terrorists throw him out and abduct the useless 

jeweler accomplice oh his. He lets them go without any resistance. And shamelessly thanks to God 

for saving his life without having a pinch of regret that his irresponsible conduct played a part in 

imperiling the country and an important air base.

We have such eunuch police officers guarding us. Take my word; he will enter in politics after 

retiring from Police service.

They roam about in his beaconed SUV for hours and receive salutes at barriers and checkpoints.

Pathankot is not merely a terrorist attack. It is a memorandum handed in person by the inimical 

forces 

eyeing the sovereignty of our nation. It’s a tight slap on us.

We forgot the attack on Parliament.

We forgot Mumbai.

Now, we should forget Pathankot.

Should we keep forgetting and confess loud to the world that we are a eunuch country and five 

armed 

men are enough to scare us.

Once Again, the ghost of separation has come alive. Once again, an acrimonious neighbour with 

sluggish economy, a pathetic fraction in geography as compared to ours, a population not even half 

of us intrudes and troubles us with its scampish habits.

Every time the pervert neighbour feels instigated to act impish, some of our brave soldiers have to 

pour their lives on the feet of the motherland as a libation.

Our politicians spit out a few hard words and forget.

Life engages the common man and erases the hunch of vulnerability.

But the pain of absences is foisted upon the families of martyrs, the orphaned children, the old 

parents who lose impetus to live and bear the corpses of dead hopes for rest of their lives obliging an 

ungrateful nation.

One clear proof that we have hardened and have grown apathetic towards the attacks on our integrity 

as a country is that none of us can recount the last five terrorist attacks on us.

We wake up and feel the twitch when the attacks are sizeable in magnitude. After all, we are big-

hearted Indians.

We are not cowards. We are generous, amicable and peace-loving neighbour.

Thanks to our politicians for making us understand the difference between war and Proxy war.

We had accepted that.

We inflated our chest when they made us believe that Pakistan does that because it can’t defeat us in 

a war and it does all such crass and inglorious acts of inhumanity.

But isn’t attacking a strategically important air base is same as attacking India?

Should we utter some hard words, issue a puny ultimatum and leave it to our vexatious neighbour to 

deal with the miscreants who dwell on its land and forget everything in cold blood yet again?

Since 1947, Pakistan has not stopped troubling us and we have behaved like a pardoning big brother. 

We have answered it in wars started by it.

We didn’t encroach on an inch of its territory. We say we are mightier but we failed to bring back 

Kashmir to normalcy. We have failed to win the trust of Kashmiri’s beguiled by our troublesome 

neighbor.

Let’s confess we are cowards.

Let’s confess our Prime minister lies about his 56’ chest.

TIME

TIME

Would that time had no passion for pace

It too, felt jaded, it too, felt laze.

Mom's lap of luxury still be mine

Humming crooning lullabies

She is a mellifluous singer

Soft rhythmic taps, affectionate kisses

My childhood would linger.

Four-limbed hopping gosling

Yells and screams

Crawling, I would ramble over

To my dreams.