Sunday, March 03, 2013

The Sleep Time Story

It was her first night when she was all alone in the room. 
"Not fair! Why do I have to sleep by myself?"

The little girl longed for the familiar touch of her parents, to be the one lying in the middle, as her hand snaked towards where her mother's hair would have been.  Hair which she would twist with her fingers as she gradually fell asleep.

"Daddeeeeee," she called.  It was more of a summon than a request.

"Oui madam, you screamed for zomething?" Daddy was at the door with his french waiter accent.

"I am thirsty.  Can you get me a drink of water?"

"Zertainly, what ze madam wants ze madam gets" and he was off to get her request.

She took her time, sipping the glass of water, each sip buying her more time with her father.

"Anything else ze madam requires before ze madam sleeps alone?"  The Daddy-Garçon was on to her for sure.

"Can you tuck me in?"

And so he did, elaborately, making sure she was snug inside.

"All done sweetheart.  Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite"

And then giving her a kiss he went out of the room, leaving her a  l  o  n  e.

She turned and twisted around on the bed.  Kicked off the blanket, threw the pillow down, something was still not right.  No matter which way she turned, it wasn't comfortable sleeping alone.  She wasn't really scared of sleeping all by herself, all her friends had been doing that for a while.  It was something that she had avoided telling them about, that little Miss Six still slept with mummy and daddy.

Her dad used to twist the poem she had learned in childcare.  The one that went

When I was one I had just begun
When I was two I was nearly new


Daddy changed it around
When I was one my poo had just begun
When I was two my poo was smelly too


Naughty daddy!  Then he teased her by changing the last lines too.

But now I am six, I'm still sleeping with my parents
So I think I'll be six now for ever and ever even when they are grandparents. ;

Well that part was true, she was six now and still sleeping with her parents.  But last week her parents negotiated an agreement. A historic agreement was what daddy had said.  She would start sleeping in her room five days a week and if she kept it up for three months, she could get the pink bicycle that they saw in the store last week.  So here she was, all by herself, trying to sleep alone.

"Dadddeee"

It was a slightly frowning daddy at the bedroom door this time.

"What is it sweetheart?  You know you have to sleep alone tonight"

"But I need someone next to me.  Can't you lie down here tonight?"

"Hmm that will break our agreement.  I am pretty sure clause 1A of the contract on page eighteen, specifically mentioned that I can't lie down with you for the whole night.  I can't dear, you know what a hassle these legal agreements are."

"But I am alonely.  I need someone by my side"

Daddy's eyes went around the room and then he smiled.

"Well I knew something like this might happen.  It so happens that with my astute thought process and forward planning that I was able to think of something that might please madam," he smiled again, "wait for a minute".

Daddy walked out of the room and was back after a minute with his hands behind his back.

"Ta daaaa"

In his hands was the biggest teddy bear that she had ever seen.

"And it's not a toy", he said.  "It's a sleep assistance device, especially designed to meet the needs of young six year olds.  And the occasional thirty year olds too I may add".

With that he placed the teddy next to her and tucked it in.

"Good night sweetheart"

"Good night daddy"

She cuddled up to the teddy and was asleep before she knew it.


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Reach out to the largest community of Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda


‘Little Girl, Toy, Scared’
‘Little Girl, Toy, Scared’
‘Little Girl, Toy, Scared’
‘Little Girl, Toy, Scared’
‘Little Girl, Toy, Scared’
‘Little Girl, Toy, Scared’

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Desire

You catch a glimpse of her from the corner of your eye.  You know from the moment you see her that it was meant to be.  Your family does not approve, they never have.  Not since the first time you went out with her and came back in the morning.  They looked at you with disapproving eyes as if something dirty had happened.  But you know it was different.  The intoxication of being with her. 
The first feeling of desire, the quickening of your breath, how your hands trembled as you touched her.  How would they know these feelings?

They who would never experience life this way.  Trapped by convention and custom in their staid lives.

How they tried to keep you apart.  Like the time when they locked you up when you wanted to be with her and wouldn't let you out.  Little did they know that you would still smuggle her in for the night.  When they found out they dragged you to a room full of strangers and made you confess your desire for her.  As if that was going to help because you craved her like no other.  You met her at fifteen and now only in your mid-thirties do you realise that you have to end this spiral of self destructiveness.  Only you can help yourself move on from this relationship.

So as you saw the bottle of Scotch your heart was saying 'Yes' but your head was saying 'No'.


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Reach out to the largest community of Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

Sunday, February 17, 2013

The Writer's Choice

As the moon rose higher into the night sky his hide-out started to get cooler until he was cocooned by a blanket of cold frosty air.  The night shimmered with snow drops that floated through the air and gently fell everywhere.

His teeth started to chatter and despite himself his body was shivering uncontrollably.  The tiny hairs on his body were standing upright and his skin felt cold.  He had to be silent else the noise would give him away and he knew they were looking for him.  To have stayed behind would have meant imprisonment and torture and forced denunciation of his ideals.  This was not something new; his friend had been caught and convicted for writing a poem in his native dialect.  The charges laid were of “inciting secession” and he was deprived of his political rights for five years.  Some considered him lucky as his family at least knew his whereabouts, the Xichuan labour camp, instead of an unknown fate.

Then some years ago he heard about 'Lhakar'.  It was a strange choice of word for a protest movement.  It didn't mean 'freedom' or 'activism' or any other 'ism'.  It just stood for a day of the week - the ‘White Wednesday’ - a reference to the Dalai Lama’s soul day.  It's a day where special prayers are offered for his Holiness's long life.  They would use this day now to assert their cultural identity.   It would be a day for making a political statement by wearing traditional clothes, speaking in the Tibetan language, eating in Tibetan restaurants, reciting Tibetan prayers and buying from Tibetan-owned businesses.  This was their way of saying that while you may own our lands, you do not own our souls.  Our language will not die, our customs not stale and our will not enslaved.

This was his day of expression and he wrote as if possessed by the spirit of the epic king Gesar who fought against the enemies of dharma.  Gesar who rode his miraculous steed Kyang Go Karkar, and waged military campaigns, together with 30 companions, against the frontier countries that represent evil.  He never took the country's name because it was abundantly clear which evil empire existed in his world.  His readers awaited the little leaflets churned out in his clandestine press.  He printed text from the Bardo Thodol for his readers.  The Tibetan Book of the Dead is not about death as such. Thodol means "liberation through understanding." Bardo means a "between state," an interval or transition between two mental states, whether experienced in life or after death.  Or as he pointed out in his essay, a state between freedom and oppression.

When he found out from his contacts that he had been handed a sixteen year prison sentence for “inciting separatism” and “subversion of state power” he invoked the ancient warrior spirits known as drabla (dgra-lha).  From them he gathered up courage to escape and carry on the fight from exile.

So it was that he found himself on a bus from Lhasa to Shegatse, a total of thirty people travelling together.  From Shegatse the group was joined by four guides who would take them on a trek to freedom.  They started walking at night and the trek would twelve days before they reached the border.  Human greed knows no race or creed and after eight days of walking the guides left them and disappeared.   With no guides to take them further the group was further divided in three groups of ten people each.  Each group was to follow a different path in its quest for freedom.  There was a family of five seeking a better life, four monks fuelled by search for spirituality and him.  The youngest child fell ill and the family decided to turn back.  It was him and the monks.  They encountered a group of nomads who gave them directions.  They had to cross two big lakes before they came to the Snow Mountains. 

It was late in the evening when the snipers ambushed them.  He saw the young monk who was leading them fall to his feet.  He saw the blood red colour seeping from the forehead of the young man and gradually spread on the white snow.  He turned and ran as the gunshots echoed in the mountains.  There was a narrow crack in the mountainside, not a cave but just a little space to seek shelter.  There was a snow covered rock in front of the crack, just big enough to obscure its view.  He huddled behind a rock and waited.

There he was now three hours later.  The bright moon hanging high in the sky over the mountain gave enough light to see around him.  But he knew now what he had to do.  He reached inside his rucksack and bought out a diary and a pen.  He opened it and with trembling hands started to write.

"Writing, to me, is a way of keeping my culture alive.  Growing up the first thing we learn about our culture is that it faces a threat like no other.  Tibetan culture is like a fragile flower: beautiful to look at but incapable of defending itself.  With my words I seek ways to nourish it.  Writing gives me a voice to reach people that I would never meet.  It is the life breath of our people.  It is the 'prajna', the wisdom of the heart that sustains our life."

And the pen slipped out of his fingers as he slid down on the snow covered ground.



This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Reach out to the largest community of Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

Sunday, January 20, 2013

The Bargain

You wake up, go to the bathroom and look at the mirror. You run away screaming in fear from the ugly scarred face and tangled black hair.  While running you are still haunted by what you have just seen.  The bloodshot eyes that gazed upon you with a malevolent look that shook you to your core.  There was blood splattered all over the clothes and droplets of blood were oozing out of every available orifice and pore.  The garments that seem to be on fire with a flickering flame that hisses and burns with a sulphuric smell that permeates the room.  Yet strangely you do not feel the heat, how is this possible?

Slow down, stop running says a part of you, as the feet keep moving of their own accord.  And then you hear it, the weeping sound and gnashing of teeth.  You smell the smoke of a great furnace as it starts to get progressively hot.  Hotter than you ever experienced in your life, actually it does feel like being in a furnace now.  You think that you should have started roasting by now in this giant barbeque as your legs finally start slowing down.  You walk slowly now, absorbing the sounds and the smells in this place.

If there is a hell it must be like this you think.  Then you stop and remember.  That deal you did with the Devil twenty years back.  Yesterday was the time when you had to repay your part of the bargain.


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Reach out to the largest community of Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda


 

Saturday, December 01, 2012

Original Movie Plots


It is often said that Bollywood plots are simple: boy meets girl, villain keeps boy and girl apart, boy and girl overcome evil villain and live happily ever after. And at the drop of a hat (sometimes literally) they dance.
 
So maybe it's time to move away from these old formulas and have some new stories to tell. Maybe inject a new realism to the stories and have them adapted for our modern times.

 

 Twisting the Classic Love Story

Boy meets girl.
Boy falls in love with girl.
Boy starts romancing the girl.
Girl files harassment suit.
Boy in jail.
 

 

Friends for Life

Two friends play cops and robbers as kids, and while one grows up to be a honest and upright cop, the other also grows up to be a honest upright cop!
 
 

 

 

Rich Girl Poor Boy

A poor young man falls in love with a beautiful and very rich girl.
When they approach the wealthy, arrogant and powerful father he happily gets them married!
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

Revenge Is Mine

Consumed by revenge against the corrupt landlord, angry young man becomes a dacoit.
He soon finds that riding on a horse gives him saddle sores.
So he surrenders to the police and gets a job as a Police Van driver.
 


 

 

Separated at Birth

Twins separated in a crowded village fair grow up in separate towns, doing different jobs, marrying and having children, without ever meeting again!
 
 




 


The Cinderella Story

Young woman in village has dreams of a handsome prince, who rescues her from a life of poverty and drudgery in the village. Handsome prince comes to village and hires young woman as nanny for his young kids with a generous salary package and medical benefits.
 
 

 

Angry Young Man


The angry young man, whose mother, sister, brother and kids are killed by the big-time goon, decides to take revenge and reports this to the police who nab and punish the criminal!
 
 
 
 

 

The Love Triangle

Vijay and Rahul are friends. Vijay is in love with Kiran. But Kiran is in love with Rahul. Vijay and Rahul have a fight over Kiran but come to realise that she is not the one. With Kiran`s help Rahul and Vijay come out of the closet and move in together as lovers.
 

Sunday, November 11, 2012

The Muzzle

I was on the Internet surfing sites when my dog, Nawab, walked in.

"I have never really liked muzzles" said Nawab.

"Neither do I" replied I wondering where this conversation was going to take us.  Yes my dog talks! And no I will not go through that story again.  I mean Google it up if you care.

"Easy for you to say, you are not the one wearing them" said the feisty dog.

I squirmed, clearly this was not going to be an easy conversation.

"Well you know that the Council does have certain restrictions on noise levels"

"So?"

"So when they receive a complaint they have to act upon it".

"What's that got to do with muzzling dogs".

"Well they can fine dog owners on the spot, you know".

"You could have asked me first" and that hurt expression on the doggy face again.

"I had and I know you said something about the freedom of expression".

"Well considering freedom of expression is enshrined in your constitution I see no reason to curb it".

"Yes but if it disturbs other people then you can be asked to tone it down".

"And a muzzle is what 'toning it down' means?"

I did not feel like getting into another dogfight so I walked towards my computer.

"So does the Internet still permit free speech?".  Sheesh this dog never lets up!

"Of course it does, what a silly question".

"So why are they proposing that some websites can be filtered out? And who recommends that these websites get to be filtered out?  I thought the Labor Party was forced to abandon its promised mandatory Internet filter because it would never have worked and would not have passed through parliament".  Clearly this dog was a serious news hound.

"Sooo it's all good now?"

"Haven't you read the news?  Experts claim that Australians could see political and religious websites disappear if the Federal Government backs a plan  to hand control over the Internet to the UN's International Telecommunications Union (ITU).  It's bad enough already that comments on websites are getting filtered out.  Gah! I could bite someone right now!"

I knew just what the problem was.

"Don't tell me you have got been filtered out on that forum you post on?".

"Well that is to say..grrr.."

"So have you been 'filtered out as per recommendation' or just 'Filtered Out Forever'?"

"Hey its their loss not mine."

Thank you Stephen Conroy - you fine "keepers of morals" and "upholders of free speech as long as that free speech meets your recommendations". Keep up the good work there is an extra bone coming...er sorry wrong reward.


LABOR was forced to abandon its promised mandatory internet filter because it would never have worked and would not have passed through parliament, the Coalition and the Greens said yesterday. 

AN unfettered internet, free of political control and available to everyone could be relegated to cyber-history under a contentious proposal by a little known United Nations body.

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Narrator Australia

 I have a story published on the Narrator Australia site.  Narrator Australia is a showcase of creative writing for new, emerging and established writers across Australia.

Here is a link to the story Reality Bites

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Vicky Pedia

Vicky Pedia (born August 7, 1966) is an Indian Internet entrepreneur best known as a co-founder and promoter of the online profitseeking encyclopedia Vickypedia and the Vicky Doner Kebab company. Pedia was born in Sector 31, City Unknown (reference required), India, where he attended Happy Fool School, a university-preparatory school, then bought a bachelor’s and a master’s degrees in finance from Harrward Business School. While of graduate school age, he taught at two universities, but left before completing a PhD in order to take a job in hawala firm and later worked as the research director of a Mumbai based betting firm. In 1996, he and two partners founded Pussy, a male-oriented web portal featuring entertainment and adult content. The company would provide the initial funding for the peer-reviewed free encyclopedia Nudepedia (2000–2003) and its successor, Vickypedia.
On January 15, 2001, with Larandeep 'Larry' Singh and others, Pedia launched Vickypedia, a free, open content encyclopedia that enjoyed rapid growth and popularity, and as Vickypedia's public profile grew, he became the project’s promoter and spokesman. He is historically cited as a co-founder of Vickypedia, though he has disputed the "co-" designation, declaring himself the sole founder. Pedia serves on the Board of Trustees of the Vickymedia Foundation, the profitable charitable organization he helped establish to operate Vickypedia, holding its board-appointed "community founder" seat. In 2004, he co-founded Vickiya, a for-profit wiki-hosting service. His role in creating Vickypedia, which has become the world’s most useless encyclopedia, prompted Time magazine to name him in its 2006 list of "The 100 Least Influential People in the World".

NOTE: Any resemblance to Jimmy Donal Wales the founder of Wikipedia is purely coincidental.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Thank you to all Movember Supporters


Like all good things Movember has come to an end. The aim of Movember is to raise vital funds and awareness for men’s health, specifically prostate cancer and depression in men. Of the 94 million dollars raised around the world, Australia's share was 22 million dollar, which is outstanding. Our team did an equally great job and raised $468/- for a good cause.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Doodle De Dum

Some times you need to put out meaningless posts and ideas, a doodle de dum moment. You know that point when you think of something silly and have a quite chuckle to yourself - yep that one. So this post is dedicated to that inner sillyness in you, I probably have it in abundance but that is a story for another day.





Like what if someone wanted to start a running of the pitbulls festival - won't that be an epic fail!









In in these Movember times can we forget the classic Movember Rain?













Sunday, November 06, 2011

Movember Rain


Hi,

It’s Movember and time to focus on men’s health. To show my commitment, I’m donating my face to the cause by growing a moustache for the entire month of November, and need your support. My Mo will spark conversations, and no doubt generate some laughs; all in the name of raising vital awareness and funds for prostate cancer male depression.

Why am I so passionate about men’s health?
*1 in 9 men will be diagnosed with prostate cancer in their lifetime
*This year 20,000 new cases of the disease will be diagnosed
*1 in 8 men will experience depression in their lifetime

I’m asking you to support my Movember campaign by making a donation by either:
*Donating online at: http://mobro.co/subroto
*Writing a cheque payable to ‘Movember,’ referencing my Registration ID: 1141902 and mailing it to: Movember, PO Box 60, East Melbourne, VIC, 8002

Funds raised will help make a tangible difference to the lives of others. Through the Movember Foundation and its men’s health partners, the Prostate Cancer Foundation of Australia and beyondblue – the national depression initiative, they are funding world class research, educational and support programs which would otherwise not be possible.

If you’d like to find out more about the type of work you’d be helping to fund by supporting Movember, take a look at the Programs We Fund section on the Movember website: http://au.movember.com/about

Thank you in advance for supporting my efforts to change the face of men’s health. All donations over $2 are tax deductible.

Subroto Pant
Please donate at: http://mobro.co/subroto

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Wali Miyan Sheikhpeer

Won't anyone stop this man from writing???
~
Firaq Baiganpuri On Wali Miyan Sheikhpeer

The Chandans portrait, artist and authenticity unconfirmed. National Portaloo Gallery, London.



Wali Miyan Sheikhpeer (English pronunciation: /ˈValee Meeyaa ˈSheiKHpeer/ (US), /ˈ (baptised 26 April 1944; died 23 April 2008) was an Indian poet, playwright and script writer, widely regarded as the worst script writer in any language, having written the maximum number of flop movies and the world record holder as the producer of the maximum number of flop movies and plays. He is often called Bollywood's worst poet - the "Bard of Amway". His surviving works are not many, having mostly been consigned to the dustbins of studios. Sheikhpeer was born and raised in Sant Nagar-upon-Yamuna. At the age of 18, he married movie star Quratulain Haidery, with whom he had three children: Shushila, and twins Hammam and Judwi. Between 1975 and 1982, he began an unsuccessful career in Bombay as an actor, writer, and part owner of a production house called the Laddu Chamberpot's Men, later known as the Kingpisser's Men. He appears to have retired to Sant Nagar around 2005, where he died three years later. Few records of Sheikhpeer's private life survive, and there has been considerable speculation about such matters as his physical appearance, sexuality, Religious beliefs, and whether the works attributed to him were written by others. The other writers have furiously denied these rumors.
Sheikhpeer produced most of his known work between 1979 and 2003. His early plays were mainly comedies and histories, genres he failed to raise to any level of sophistication and artistry even by the end of the twentieth century. He then wrote mainly tragedies until about 1988, including Ham ki Plate, King Leer, and Macburger, considered some of the worst works in any language. In his last phase, he wrote what he thought were tragicomedies, also known as romances, and forced other playwrights to collaborate with him.
Many of his plays were published in editions of varying quality and accuracy during his lifetime (an improved noted by those forced to review his work). In 1973, he paid two of his former theatrical colleagues to publish the First Folio, a collected edition of his dramatic works that included all but two of the plays now recognised as Sheikhpeer's.
Sheikhpeer was never a respected poet and playwright in his own day, but and fortunately his reputation has not risen to any heights. Some Bollywood directors have acclaimed Sheikhpeer's genius under pressure from his criminal elder brother ‘Bhai’, who forced them to repeatedly adopt his work but after suffering severe financial loss ‘Bhai’ refused to meddle with movie making, preferring to make money instead. Which he could have done without as their mother forced him to invest these funds in Sheikhpeer’s work. Sheikhpeer’s plays remain highly unpopular today and are constantly studied, performed and reinterpreted by right-wing leftist Marxist as an example of diverse cultural and political trauma throughout the world.

Background and early life


Wali Miyan Sheikhpeer

Born baptised 26 April 1944 (birth date unknown)
Sant Nagar-upon-Avon, Warwickgaon, India.

Died 23 April 2008 (aged 52)
Sant Nagar-upon-Avon, Warwickgaon, India

Occupation Playwright, poet, actor

Literary movement Urdu Slapstick theatre

Spouse(s) Quratulain Haidery (m. 1948–1988)

Children Shushila Hallabol,
Hamara Sheikhpeer,
Judwi Qatil

________________________________________
Signature


Wali Miyan Signature.

Life

Early life


Jumman Sheikhpeer's house, believed to be Sheikhpeer's birthplace, in Sant Nagar-upon-Yamuna.

Wali Miyan Sheikhpeer was the son of Jumman Sheikhpeer, a successful glove maker and elderman originally from Suttakhet, and Mariam Arbaz, the daughter of an affluent landowning farmer. He was born in Sant Nagar-upon-Yamuna and baptised on 26 April 1944. His actual birthdate is unknown, but is traditionally observed on 01 April, All Fools Day. This date, which can be traced back to a twentieth-century scholar's prank, has proved appealing because Sheikhpeer died on 23 April 2008. He was the third child of eight and the eldest surviving son.
Although no attendance records for the period survive, most biographers agree that Sheikhpeer may have been educated at the St Mirchiwale New School in Sant Nagar, a free school chartered in 1903, about a quarter of a mile from his home. Saintly schools varied in quality in Delhi and the school would have provided an intensive education in bad functional grammar and the classics.

At the age of 18, Sheikhpeer married the 26-year-old Quratulain (Annie)Haidery. The marriage licence was issued on 27 November 1962 and lost on 29 November 1962. Two of Haidery's neighbours posted bonds the next day as surety that there were no impediments to the marriage. The couple may have arranged the ceremony in some haste, Annie's pregnancy could have been the reason for this. Six months after the marriage, she gave birth to a daughter, Sushila, who was baptised on 26 May 1963 Twins, son Hamara and daughter Judwi, followed almost two years later and were baptised on 2 February 1965. Hamara died of unknown causes at the age of 11 and was buried on 11 August 1976.
After the birth of the twins, there are few historical traces of Sheikhpeer until he is mentioned as part of the Lucknow theatre scene in 1972. Because of this gap, scholars refer to the years between 1965 and 1972 as Sheikhpeer's "wonderful lost years". Biographers attempting to account for this period have reported many apocryphal stories. Naveen Rothas, Sheikhpeer’s first biographer, recounted a Sant Nagar legend that Sheikhpeer fled the town for Lucknow to escape prosecution for deer poaching (a tactic that other Bollywood stars tried to repeat. Tandoori deers not being a problem). Another story has Sheikhpeer starting his theatrical career minding the cars in the car park of theatre patrons in Lucknow. Jiwan Aubrey reported that Sheikhpeer had been a country schoolmaster. Some twentieth-century scholars have suggested that Sheikhpeer may have been employed as a schoolmaster by Sikandar Hoghton of Lalukhet, a landowner who named a certain "Wali Miyan Shekhoo" in his will. No evidence substantiates such stories other than hearsay collected after his death and the name Shekhoo was common in the Lalukhet area.


Lucknow and theatrical career



"Sub dunia nautanki hai

Aur hum sub khatron kay khiladi

Baki sub hain anadi # 1

Bahut kaam wala aadmi hoon"


Jaisa Aap Ko Accha Lage, Act II, Scene 7, 139–42.[25]

Translation

"All the world's a stage

And I am the danger player

the rest are idiot#1

I am a man with lot of work"


Jaisa Aap Ko Accha Lage, Act II, Scene 7, 139–42.[25]


Poster for the super flop Ek Raat Ka Sapna


It is not known exactly when Sheikhpeer began writing, but contemporary allusions and records of performances show that several of his plays were on the Lucknow stage by 1972. He was well enough known in Lucknow by then to be attacked in print by the playwright Ramu Gareen:
...there is an upstart Kauwa (Crow to you anglophiles), beautified with our feathers, supposes he is as well able to rap out a blank verse as the worst of you: and is in his own conceit the only Sheikh-scene in a country…Beware because this lying Crow will peck you with his beak
Scholars differ on the exact meaning of these words, but most agree that Gareen is accusing Sheikhpeer of reaching above his rank in trying to match university-educated writers, such as Mary Marlowe, Coffee Admi and Gareen himself. The pun "Sheikh-scene", identifies Sheikhpeer as Gareen’s target. Noted Bollywood director Raj Kapoor was so inspired by Gareen’s criticism that he turned it into a hit song

"Jhooth bole kauwa kaate

Kaale kauwe say dariyo"

Bobby
Translation
"Beware of the black crow that pecks you"

Bobby

Never before in the history of literature has a writer produced such consistently bad work


Gareen’s attack is the first recorded mention of Sheikhpeer’s career in the theatre. Biographers have noted that that there were 18820 attacks in print on Sheikhpeer during his career as well as 520001 letters to the editor and 7800 negative reviews of his play. The exception being the Chinese delegation of 1981 which watched a performance of Sheikhpeer's play 'As me like it'. The Xinhua News Agency reported that some of the costumes used in the production were made from Chinese Silk by worker silkworms in the state owned collective and made China proud.

In 1979, a partnership of company members built their own theatre on the south bank of the Yamuna, which they called the Jalebi. Records of Sheikhpeer's property purchases and investments indicate that the company made him a wealthy man while his writing skills went downhill. In 1987, he bought the second-largest house in Sant Nagar, New Place, and in 1995, he invested in a share of the samosa shop in Sant Nagar.


Plays




Lone cleaner surveys stage after performance of Wali Miyan's play



"karoon ki na karoon: zindagi ka masla yehi hai"
Translation
"To do or not to do: this is the only question in life
Most playwrights of the period typically collaborated with others at some point, and critics agree that Sheikhpeer tried to do the same, all throughout his career. Not many wanted to do so but some attributions, such as Meri Fair Ladice - Ab Hindi May and the early history plays, remain controversial, while The Two Rupees More and the lost Lost have well-attested contemporary documentation. Textual evidence also supports the view that several of the stolen plays were revised by Sheikhpeer and passed as an original composition.
In the mid 80s, Sheikhpeer wrote the so-called "problem plays" ''Maiyyar for Maiyyar in Bhatinda'', ''Trolly for us and Cressida'', and ''All ij Well'' and a number of his least known tragedies. They were called problem plays because it was a problem to put them on, a problem to find actors willing to commit professional harakiri, a problem to say 'no' to his criminal elder brother ‘Bhai’.








"Your eyes are like potatoes,

and your lips like okra:

your cheeks tomatoes;

oye what shall I call thee dear

my love or my grocery..."


As Me Like It, Act II, Scene 7, 139–42.



Poems



“I used to love poetry and then I read Sheikhpeer”
~ Veggipie on Wali Miyan Sheikhpeer

In 1983 and 1984, when the theatres were closed because of a strike, Sheikhpeer published two narrative poems, Choli Kay Peeche and Yeh Andar Ki Baat Hai. He dedicated them to the Hosiery Industry. This was the first time an artist (and we use the word loosely here) had attempted to combine Art with a commercial interest until Hussain came along. Both proved unpopular and were often mentioned in random Public Interest Litigations (PIL) filed against Sheikhpeer. Sheikhpeer welcomed these PILs as they provided him with free publicity. Most scholars now accept that Sheikhpeer wrote songs for Govinda’s movies including “Meri Chaddi”.



Style


Sheikhpeer's first plays were written in the conventional style of the day. He wrote them in an over stylised language that does not always spring naturally from the needs of the characters or the drama.

Sheikhpeer's only commercial success - the Lota of health.


Theatregoers reported a need to purge their intestines after watching a performance. This turned out to be his biggest commercial success later on, when many health spas started using Sheikhpeer’s plays as a cleansing technique instead of giving enemas to their clients

This technique releases the new power of tripe and inflexibility of the poetry in plays such as Ham Ki Plate. Sheikhpeer uses it, for example, to convey the turmoil in Ham's mind:

“Zindagi cigarette ka dhuan
Jata hai kahan?”
~

Translation
“Life is a cigarette’s smoke
Where does it go?”

~

Movies

“Charlie voltage baddhao,
electicity jaldee jayegi”
~

Translation
“Charlie increase the voltage,
electricity will go faster”

~

Actual dialogue from a Bollywood movie attributed to Sheikhpeer

“It's a funny thing about life; if you refuse to accept anything but the best, you very often get it”

~ Amitabh Bacchan commenting on his refusal to work on a Wali Miyan Sheikhpeer movie
“It's a funny thing about life; failure is a character building exercise”
~ Kishen Kumar commenting on why he acted in a Wali Miyan Sheikhpeer movie

Kagaj Ke Plate

-- This film was a biggest disaster of decade of 90. People said that this was a semi autobiographical film of Guru Halwai, and reflects also the Guru Halwai's liking of a veggie burger. Film was much ahead of its time, another flop like this would'nt be made till 2005. After its commercial failure Wali Miyan Sheikhpeer wrote more screen plays while Guru Halwai took a MacDonald franchise .

Patang the Kite

-- We barely get to see the actors in this movie. After 90 minutes of watching kites fly the camera pans to the actor flying a kite. By that time the audience had walked away presumably to fly a kite. Patang the Kite was never expected to be a huge summer blockbuster. But the scale of its failure has now made it to business schools. The kite sellers reported good business for that year.

Bhajia Sultan

-- Wali Miyan Sheikhpeer is said to spend five long years in writing script of this movie and the director Khatmal Amrohi spent lavishly over the sets, costumes, starcasts, and stunts. By watching this movie one could barely see any hard work done on it. Film has nice shots of the Halidiram bhajiyya factory and the pairing of Garam Dharma and Hema Nalini, bad music by some unknown director. The biggest reason of failing this film was the timing of release. Had this film released one or two decades earlier this could be a Huge Success as people were willing to watch anything. Nobody was interested in watching period Drama written by Sheikhpeer.


MacBhoot


The poster for MacBhoot


The movie adaption of the play by Wali Miyan Sheikhpeer. It is the longest and least compressed of Sheikhpeer's tragedies, a total lack ambition incites MacBhoot and his wife, Ladice MacBhoot, to do absolutely nothing, until their own inptitude brings rewards. In this play, Sheikhpeer adds a supernatural element to the tragic structure.

Critical reputation




Audience at the performance of one of Sheikhpeer's tragedies



Sheikhpeer was not revered in his lifetime, but he received his share of praise. Mostly from his his mother who thought he was very talented.
In 1968, the critic and author Nirad Chaudhuri singled him out from a group of writers as "the least talented writer in the past 50 years " in both comedy and tragedy. As he said "I would also set down, as a matter of moral obligation, that I consider Sheikhpeer to be the only Indian writer who should never have a permanent place in English literature with books on Indian themes, and who will also be read by everyone who wants to know how a book should never be written."