Sunday no more a Sunday

bikhre toote tukde, saare jud rahe hain dheere dheere haule haule..
betuke se sur wo saare mil rahe hain, dheere dheere haule haule..aaine ka dhundhla chehra khel raha dheere dheere haule haule..

nanhi si ek jaan ne apna bachpan khoya
khauf ki maili chaadar odh ke soya
bebas akela bezubaan chupchap roya
barson se ye behte aansoo tham rahe hain dheere dheere haule haule
khul rahi aankhein jo ab tak nam rahi hain, dheere dheere haule haule
aaine ka dhundhla chehra khel raha dheere dheere haule haule..


If I may say so, yes, I am an admirer and a supporter. I don't want to see the rolling millions and the commercial brilliance, of this show. All I want to see, discuss and debate over are the issues that remain, tragically, stagnant. Think about it. Female foeticide, dowry, child abuse. We've been reading, watching, hearing and witnessing them for aeons. But when we watch a re-run of the same old issues once again,  the weight of the reality comes crashing down on us like an iron ball. Here, there is no blaming or pointing fingers and naming. Here, they talk of solutions and facts. I like that. I like that, once again, Sunday mornings have become important days that get a family together, to watch and learn, of what is hidden behind the everyday hub-a-dub.

I remember, as a kid, every weekend was spent in the matchbox flats of the Saket DDA colony, where my grandparents stayed. I was welcomed by the religious curry rice cooking of my dadi and the smell of a freshly opened pack of cigars, that my grandad inaugurated, to signal that the weekend had begun. Sunday mornings, my brother and I were woken up early, and sent for a shower, because we had to get ready to watch 'Aap ki adalat', with the entire family. We would crouch beside my granddad on the floor mattress, with our cereal bowls in hand, and watch wide-eyed and confused, a pseudo court room session on TV. A half-bald-bispectacled man would, in short, be royally taking someone’s ass, and that someone, would generally be a known-household name. My granddad and dad would share a smirk and my mom and dad would 'tut-tut' with worried expressions. My brother, perhaps pretended to understand what was going on and would accompany the studio audience when they got the cue to laugh. I would just be confused, wondering why I wasn't allowed to play outside. However, even then, at that young age, in my state of absolute cluelessness, I still knew, Sundays' were important. The half-bald-bispectacled man was doing the right thing by asking cheeky questions and making people sweat. Everyone would would be pleased watching when the accused going to pieces. But in the end, for some strange reason, the judge would clear the person of all charges and end the show.

Not exactly, but I kind of get a strange nostalgia, as I wait for Satyamev Jayate, every Sunday at 11 AM, and think of my late grandfather. He would definitely watch this programme too, religiously, wearing his trademark white kurta-pajama, and watch the programme intently without a word, slowly smoking his freshly opened pack of cigars and make no comment before or after the show.

I've put up a link of a song sung on the second episode of the show. It has the most beautiful and simple melody and soulful lyrics.

I know this show could be one of those, that come, make an impact and go, and along with it, goes the ignited spirits and motivated actions. But for now, what I see, what I hear and what I learn is more than I thought was possible through a commercially designed social-awareness show.

Kudos to Aamir Khan and a salute to all the survivors who talk about their lives. I know this sounds cheesy, but what the heck. Satyamev Jayate!