Through 100 pages of 'Poetry as Evidence', Outlook presents a selection of poems and verses that have moved us, and we feel these serve as evidence of our bleak times and lives. The poem below is the 37th from the series.
Ye kahani hai “Bihar” ke chote se ek gaon me janme “Aamir” ki, jisne mumbai me khudki ek alag pehchan banayi!
Shayad is kahani ke kuch panne kisi aur ki kahani se milti-julte hon.
Zindagi ke ache bure waqt me ham sabhi musafir hain, koi akela toh koi kafila bana chalta hai!
Is safar me kahin na kahin har mod tay kiye hue hain, toh chalta chal manzil ki fikr kiye bina .....
ye kainyat tere saath hai!
Verse 1
1988, “Bihar” me janma
Kahani shuru, pehla panna
Bade parivaar ka pehla baccha
Aamir naam, aage tha bhadna
Bachpan se pyar, mili maa ki mamta
Papa the door, unhe aur tha padhna
Godi se nikla, seekha kheton me chalna
3 saal baad, khula doosra panna
Bhai-behen khel paye saath nahi
Chota tha gaon, thi na aamdani
Schooling ko bheja use nana ke ghar
“Sabour”, Muslim tola -naya safar
Maa se janm, khala se milta niwala
Nani se kahani sunke so jata
Nana the doctor, likhte the naath bhi
5 waqt ke woh the Namazi,
Insaniyat sikhaya na jatiwadi
Ati jo yadein, cha jati udasi
Unki parchaiye par chalti hai sath hi!
Panno me risti, ruhani -siyahi
Aamir ne bachpan me dange dekhe
Insan janwar kaise bante dekhe
Logon ke chehre badalte dekhe
Uthte janaze aur kandhe dekhe
Gujre saal phir wo School me
Follow karno ko bas rules the
dhoodla dikhta usko door se
kitabe rata, laga bhoolne
Maa khat me puche tu thik hai na
Ane wali kal Eid hai na,
Tere bina feeka kheer hai na
Naye kapde par kharid lena!
Karta wo miss, na batata tha
Akele me rota, chupata tha
Darr use lagta tha Mama ka,
Choti galti, milta chata tha
Dabe ehsas, raha chup chap
Thoda alag, par thi kuch baat
Nana sa banana tha doctor
Toh Science me rehta wo topper
Ek din
Assembly me, mic hanth me,
Zuban ladkhaye, laga kapne
Sansein phooli, phir laga hanfne
andhera chaya, uski ankhon ke samne!
Hook-
Badla samay, badla safar
Ye karvan chalta raha
Ache-bure ki kashmokash
Wo khamakha badalta raha.
Badla samay, badla safar
Ye karvan chalta raha
Ache-bure ki kashmokash
Wo khamakha badalta raha.
Verse 2
Naya mod, saal 2007
First class, hua 10th pass
Shuru hui nayi ek journey
Pahucha wo sapno ki nagri
Papa ki Mumbai me naukri thi
Saath rehni wali ab family bhi
“Bhagalpur” se “Nalasopara”
Station badla, badla uska thikana
Naya sheher, thodi alag thi boli
Bhaag-daud karte logi ki toli
Building ke logon ne na tha pehchana
Phuche gaon wala kya karne wala?
College life shuru- 2008
Viva college, seedha pahucha virar
Unniswe Birthday pe mila use “Pulsar”
Wheelie mara, phir peeche the punter
Na sunna tha usko ab lecture
Proxy lagate back benchers
Bunk karke, jate sab beach pe
Mumbai ki lehrein ab kheeche
English gane sunta school se tha
“Mocking bird” loop pe, jabse suna
Rhyming karna bani uski hobby
Dost ne di ek cd ki copy
Usme the “Eazy”, aur “Snoop” ke gaane
Laga wo lahron me dubki lagane
Bheetar uske kahin tha sailaab
Dabi chingari, banni thi aag
Dopher pe me jata wo cyber cafe
“Call of duty” ke the fighter baithe
Orkut pe login wo writer mode me
Scrap pe rhymes, sniper loaded!
Phir suna usne “Tupac” ka “Changes”
“Brenda got a baby”, khade hue raungte
Inspired itna, banaya “Pac” ka tattoo
Muslim family, hona tha taboo
Maa ne pucha banaya ye kyu tu?
Namaz na hogi kabool, na wuju
Par meri dua ab hui hai kabool
Khuda ki rehmat, chupati ye ruh kyun?
Khush hai tu, mai bhi khush hoon
Par karna aur na karna ab kuch tu
Fiza me faile bas khusboo
Mai bhi chahu na dukh doon
Nayi rahein mai chun loon
Par kalam hanth, pair ghunghroo
Kalakari me gum hoon
Jo dil se sunaiyi de, wo dhun hoon
Ab har roz karta wo practice
Gangsta rap se seekha rap skills
Jana slangs, seekha hand signs
Baggy pant, pull up, Westside
Ulti topi aur “Thug Life”
Street smart, kare freestyle
Samjha har gane ke meaning
Ab hit kare use bas lyrics!
Hook-
Badla samay, badla safar
Ye karvan chalta raha
Ache-bure ki kashmokash
Wo khamakha badalta raha.
Badla samay, badla safar
Ye karvan chalta raha
Ache bure ki kashmokash
Wo khamakha badalta raha.
Verse 3
Umar jab hui thi bais
Badla tha uska bhi Time
Aamir ab padhta na sciene, uh!
Aamir ko karna bas rhyme, uh!
Rehta wo out all night, uh!
Karta wo puri har khwashish, uh!
Mile phir Mumbai me homies
Jab rapper na tha har koi
“Aamir” bana tab “Young A”,
Homies ke saath bite sunday
Tracks the kaan me bajte
Dekha tracks pe logo ko marte
Virar Local se Churchgate
Cypher chale 4 ghante.
Andheri raat jab hui barsaat
Kam marks par na khali dimag
Rap seekha ab street hi college
Hukkah bar me pehla performance
Iss bar mic pe wo confident tha
hanth kanpe na, wo dominant sa
Suna “Bone thugs”, bana “Skin-n-Bone”,
Booth me jata, jana khudka tone
Padhai ka man na, ab khwab alag the
Laga call center me kaam wo karne
Hiphop se mila naya knowledge
Game me kare wo ballin’
Hiphop hi bana ab saviour
Phir “Skin-n-Bone” se wo “Shaikhspeare”
Graduation, thi nayi shuruwat
Zimmedari, kiya 9 se 5
Choda na usne rap ka sath
Rap music tha pehla pyar
Na loose kiya usne focus
Inquilabi the vocals
Kuch karna tha saath ho ker
Toh Bombay me bana Lokal
Nsp se phir BBC
“Gullly Boy” se tv screen
Real life on a Magazine
Celebrate kare puri team
Par College ke the dost sath nahi,
30 se pehle unhe maut aa gayi,
Zindagi ne diya mauka nahi
Khoya unhe, par bharosa nahi
Ghar me jhagde the toh sota nahi
Kismat ko usko, kabhi kosa nahi
Rap me khoya, jyada socha nahi
Jo sikka chale woh khota nahi
Anjane me hui galtiyan
Har galti se usne sabak liya
Jo rakhte pass galat fehmiyan
Woh doori rakhta unke darmiyan
Goan se sheher, wo asli Hustler
Jahan bhoole sab, dhonda maksad
Rap music se karta channel
Halaton se ladta battle rapper
Sangeet hai sansein toh kaise wo chod de
Kaiyenat sath deti har mod pe,
Acha ya bura waqt, ruka nahi,
Har raat ke baad honi subeh nayi
Khehta wo khud apni zubani
Jo seekha wo baatein thi batani
Sab ki kahaniya likhi hui
par wo likhta khud apni kahani !
Shaikhspeare, Bihar
****
This is the story of “Aamir”- born in a small village in Bihar…
Who then made a name for himself in Mumbai!
A few pages of this story may echo that of someone else’s!
Through the many good and bad times of life, we are all but travelers, Some of us walk alone, some as part of a convoy.
Every little turn on the way is somehow predestined, so let us keep walking without a sense of worry!
This universe is by your side!
Verse 1-
1988, Born in Bihar
The story begins, on the first page-
Eldest child of a big family
Named Aamir, had to step up!
Love from the beginning, found mother’s utmost care
Father was away, still completing his studies
Left the lap, and learned to walk the fields
3 years later, the second page opened up
Brother-Sister couldn’t even play together
The village was small with no source of income
He was sent to Grandpa’s home for schooling
“Sabour”- Muslim Colony – New Journey!
Birthed by mother, fed by Khala/Aunt
Would sleep listening to stories from grandma
Grandpa was a doctor, who wrote praises for The Prophet (PBUH)
and offered namaz five times a day
Taught humanity not casteism
Whenever remembered him, felt saddened
His shadow still walks beside me
Seeping through the pages, soulful-ink!
Aamir saw riots as a child
How humans turned into animals
Saw people’s faces change
Countless funerals and carrying on shoulders
Then a year passed and he was in school
To follow, just a set of rules
He saw it all hazy from a distance
Began memorizing books and quickly forgot them.
Mother would ask in letters if he was alright
That Eid was due tomorrow
And without him, the kheer tasted bland
Would ask to buy new clothes!
He’d too miss it all but not say a word
Would sob alone and hide from everyone
He was afraid of his mama/uncle
Who would hit him at the littlest mistakes!
Suppressed feelings, he’d stay very quietly
A little different but something about him!
He wanted to become a doctor like his grandpa
So he’d be a topper in science!
One day
In the assembly, there was a mic in his hand
He stammered, his legs shivered
and it got dark in front of his eyes and he fainted.
Hook-
Times changed, journeys changed
And the caravan kept on moving
The tussles of good and bad
He kept changing nonetheless!
Times changed, journeys changed
And the caravan kept on moving
The tussles of good and bad
He kept changing nonetheless!
Verse 2-
New turn, year 2007
Passed 10th, first class
A new journey began
He reached the city of dreams
Father had a job in Mumbai
A family to live together!
From “Bhagalpur” to “Nalasopara”
Stations changed and so did his abode
New city, A new different tongue
A bunch of people, running here and there
Peeps from the buildings wouldn’t recognize
Would ask, what a villager is going to do around here!
College life started – 2008
Viva College, straight to Virar
On his 19th birthday, he got a bike “Pulsar”
Did wheelies with his mischevious friends on the pillion seat
He didn’t want to listen to lectures
Proxy marking backbenchers-
Would bunk and go to the beach
The tides of Mumbai were swaying each
Would listen to English songs right at school
“Mockingbird” on loop ever since he first heard!
Rhyming became his hobby
A friend gave him a CD copy
It had songs of “Snoop” and “Eazy”
He started diving into their tides
There was an immensity inside of him
A suppressed spark had to turn into fire
In the afternoon, he’d go to the cyber café
Fighters from “Call of Duty” game- sitting and playing there
He’d log into Orkut in writer mode
He posted rhymes on the scraps like a loaded sniper!
Then he heard “Tupac’s” “Changes”
Got shivers listening to “Brenda got a baby” by him
Got so inspired, inked “Pac’s” tattoo!
Muslim family! Had to be taboo-ed!
Mom asked why would you ink!
Neither your namaz nor Wudu would be accepted
But my duas have now been accepted!
Khuda’s blessing, why must the soul hide?
If you are happy, So am I!
Doing or without it
A fragrance in the air
I also want not to hurt anyone!
New paths I must choose
And hand as pen and feet as ghunghroo!
Lost in artistry
Whatever can be heard from the heart,
I take that tune!
Now every day he’d practice
Learned rap skills from gangsta rap
Learned slang and hand signs
Baggy pants, pull up, Westside
Reversed cap and “Thug Life”
Street Smart does freestyle
Understood the meaning of every song
And now only the lyrics would “hit” him!
Hook-
Times changed, journeys changed
And the caravan kept on moving
The tussles of good and bad
He kept changing nonetheless!
Times changed, journeys changed
And the caravan kept on moving
The tussles of good and bad
He kept changing nonetheless!
Verse 3-
When he turned 22
His times too changed
Aamir wasn’t studying science anymore, uh!
Aamir just had to rhyme, uh!
He'd stay out all night, uh!
He’d fulfil all his might, uh!
When not everyone was a rapper-
Then he found in Mumbai- his homies!
“Aamir” then became “Young A”
Attening Cyphers on Sundays with his homies
Tracks would play in his ears
And he ‘d also see people fall and die over the railway tracks of Mumbai.
From Virar Local to Churchgate
Cypher would go on for four or more hours
Night darkened and then it rained
Low acedemic marks didn’t mean an empty brain
Learned rap and streets were now his college
First performance lined up in a Hukkah Bar
On the mic, this time he was confident
His hands wouldn’t shiver, he was dominant
Heard “Bone Thugs” and became “Skin-n-Bone”.
Would go to recording booths, to find his tone
He didn’t want to study anymore,
now his dreams were different
He started to work in a call centre to keep up with his music expenditures
Hip-hop brought new knowledge
He’d be balling in a game
Hip-hop was the only savior
And then he became –
from “Skin-n-Bone” to “Shaikhspeare”
Graduation was a new beginning
Responsibility, doing shifts 9 to 5
But he still never left rap
Rap music was his first love
He didn’t lose focus!
Revolutionary his vocals!
Wanted to create something together
So in Bombay, became (Local) Lokal!
From NSP to then BBC
From “Gully Boy” to Tv Screen
Real life in a magazine
Celebrating with his whole team!
But friends from college weren’t together anymore
They lost their lives before 30
Life gave no choices
Lost them but didn’t lose faith
Quarrels at home so he wouldn’t sleep
but he never cursed his fate
lost in rap, never thought much
the coin that runs, couldn’t be counterfeit
Mistakes unknowingly
He learned from each of them
Those who nourish misconceptions
Would keep his distance from them!
From the village to the city, he is a real hustler
wherever everyone forgot, he found purpose
channelling through rap
fighting battles with circumstances- this battle rapper
When breathing is music, then how could he leave it?
The universe stands by every corner so
good times or not, he didn’t stop
There’s a new morning after every dark night
He’d say it in his own words
What he’d learnt, had to recount those things
Everyone’s stories are written
But he writes his story – himself!
Shaikhspeare, Bihar
(“Shaikhspeare” aka “Shaikh The Don”, born as Aamir Shaikh, is an Indian rapper and songwriter. He hails from northern suburbs of Mumbai, and has established himself as one of the most influential and skilled rappers of his generation.)