if you are a Javed Akhtar fan.. - Page 2

Bhopal city...the characters: a lot of my kind friends and I. My father dropped me at Bhopal on his way to Bombay or should I say he left me half way.. I stay at my step mother's house for a few days and then I leave that place too...I study in Saifia College and I live off the kindness of friends. If I were to make a list of the names of those friends it would turn out to be bulkier than a telephone directory...

These days I am in my second year of B.A. ...I stay with my friends Riyaz...He pays the rent...I just reside there...he studies and takes tuitions to make the ends meet...everybody calls him master

I have fought with master for some reason....we are not talking to each other...I don't ask him for money...just take it out of the pocket of his trousers hanging off a peg on the wall...or sometimes he simply keeps a few rupees at my pillow without a word and leaves

I am in BA final year now...it is my fourth year in college...have never paid the college fees...the college never asked for it....this can happen only in Bhopal..

In fact a vacant room in the college compound has been given to me for free...when the classes are over I pull out a couple of benches from any classroom, put it into this room and make it my bed...life is comfortable except for the fact that the benches are full of bed bugs...the hotel where I used to eat has closed down because of feeding people like me for free...a shoe shop has opened in its place there...what should I eat now?

I am ill, alone, the fever is high but the hunger is even more...two college boys whom I don't really know that well bring food in a Tiffin box... they are not my friends but still are doing this...this is dumb....but I am not...I don't let them know that I am going to start crying the moment they leave!

I am feeling better now...the duo are my pals now...I have developed an interest in debating... for the last 3 years I have won the Bhopal Rotary award for the best debater...have won many prizes in inter collegiate competitions too...have represented the University in the youth festival at Delhi

There are two student parties in the college...at election time both of them invite me to speak...I am not interested in the election but I like to speak so I do that on behalf of both of them...

I no longer have the college room...I stay with Mushtaq Singh now...Mushtaq Singh works and he studies...he is the president of the college Urdu society...I know very good Urdu...but he knows it better...I can recite countless sheyrs (couplets)...he can recite even more...I am away from my family...he doesn't have one...So as you can see he is one up on me in every respect....

A friend in need is a friend indeed...he has been paying for all my needs for a over a year now...my clothes and the food ... he is a true Sikh but has taken the responsibility of buying me my cigarettes too..

I have started drinking occasionally...tonight both of us are sitting and drinking...he is recounting the days of the partition and riots...how a couple of Muslim girls were thrown into a burning coal tar drum in Karol bagh at Delhi ...and how a Muslim boy was....I interrupt him...Mushtaq Singh...are you trying to make me a right winger by narrating these anecdotes for the past one hour...every story has the other side...tell me a gory tale from the other side too....

@TallyHo: You are the best. Thank you so so much. I am really enjoying reading your translation of Javed Sir's life. I would have never known anything about him, had it not been for you. Thank you again so much. =)

Tally Ho: It is extremely sweet of you to provide us this translation. Javed Akhtar has such a way with words, I wish I was able to read in Hindi to get the true essence of words. But your translation seems so true to the core. I have always respected Javed Akhtar's wisdom, immense knowledge, and ample sincerity. His biography is so wonderful, I wish I had a hard copy to read at night in bed. Its so true when they say that every man has a story to tell.

Here's some more...I am glad u are enjoying it...

Mushtaq Singh laughs aloud?What should I narrate?my own story or a general one?Your own, I tell him?We were a family of eleven, and ten of those were murdered right before me?

Mushtaq Singh knows a lot of Urdu couplets?I have been staying with him for the past 1 year?I just cannot understand one thing Mushtaq Singh?how did they spare you?your breed of people irrespective of their caste or religion are the ones who are hanged?how come you escaped?

He is in Glasgow these days?when we were parting I took his ?kada?( metal bangle) and wore it?I still have it on my arm till date?whenever I think of him I feel he is sitting right in front of me saying?

?You are so proud of your shortcomings, aren?t you...?

But have ever paid attention to mine??

The place?Bombay city?the characters the film industry, friends, foes and I?

4th October, 1964?I alight at the Bombay Central?.It is like Judgment day?the court will pronounce its verdict on my life?After six days of arriving in Bombay I have to leave my father?s house?I have 27 new paise in my pocket?I am happy?if I am able to get 28 paise some day I will be in profit and the world at a loss?

It has been 2 years in Bombay?nor regular means of income?no permanent place to stay?have already written dialogues for a small film by the way?Sometimes I assist someone?or do a small job here and there?sometimes even those don?t come by and I am completely unemployed?

I am in the office of a producer at Dadar?have come to take my payment for writing the comedy scenes of his movie?the scenes of course will be attributed to the famous writer who is writing the whole film?the office is closed?have to go back to Bandra which is quite far away?I have just enough money to either buy a bus ticket or to get something to eat?I buy some channe ( roasted grams), fill my pockets with them and start walking towards Bandra?As I pass the Kohinoor Mills gate, I think?things will change but this gate might still be there?one day I will go past it?in my own car?

I have got the job of writing the dialogues for a film?have written a few scenes so I decide to take them to the director?s house?he is having pineapple for his breakfast?he reads the scenes and throws the sheets of paper at my face?he throws me out of the film saying that I would never be a writer?

I am walking on the road in the scorching heat?I wipe a tear from the corner of an eye and vow that I will prove the director wrong?and then I wonder if he really has pineapple for breakfast everyday?

It is probably 2 am?the famous Bombay rains?the ocean pours from the skies?I am sitting in the portico of the Khar station ?In the weak , dim light ?I can see a couple of men sleeping on the floor totally unaware and unaffected by the torrential rain?In a far corner I can see a dog ?drenched and shivering ?the rain will never end it seems?till as far as one can see the rain comes down in sheets on the empty streets of Bombay?the lights have been turned off in the silent buildings a long time ago?people are sleeping peacefully in their houses?My father also stays in this city?Bombay is huge?and I am tiny and insignificant?A man may try his best to keep up the courage but at times it does get very lonely and scary?

For a year now I have been at the Kamaal Studios (now Natraj) ?I sleep in the compound- on a bench, under a tree, in a corridor?anywhere?Many other unemployed, homeless people like me stay here?Jagdish is one of them?we become friends?Everyday he thinks of a plan?how can we get food?who will buy us a drink?he has made survival an art?

@ TallyHo: Thank you so much for the translation. Your latest translation made me cry. Javed Sir is certainly very gifted. he manages to insert humor in the saddest moments of his life.

Jagdish has another plan....till an alternate arrangement can be made we will stay at the Mahakali caves (Mahakali is an area of Bombay just ahead of Andheri....it is now densely populated and has the famous Kamalistan studios...but back then it was just forest surrounded by a few hillocks and just one narrow road....the hillocks had old caves built by Buddhist monks...they still exist today...those days the caves were occupied by the charas- ganja smoking sadhus)

The mosquitoes in the Mahakali caves were so huge that you didn't have to be bitten by them to be woken....just their landing onto your body was enough to rouse you..Just one night was sufficient to make one realize why smoking charas was mandatory if you planned to stay on in the caves...I spend 3 days there somehow...A friend from Bandra is kind enough to invite me to stay at his place...I am off to Bandra...

Jagdish says he will join me there in a couple of days... (This was the last time I saw Jagdish.... In the coming years life changed for me but those eleven years Jagdish stayed on and even met his end in the same caves...he died of smoking charas and drinking illicit liquor ...the sadhus living there and the people inhabiting the slums nearby collected some money for his final rites...the end of a story...My friends and I got know of his demise much later..I often wonder what about me was so special or what about him was so bad...it could have also happened this was that this friend would have invited Jagdish to stay with him at Bandra and I would be left behind in those caves....it all seems like a coincidence in hind sight....why do we feel so proud and infallible sometimes...)

My Bandra friend is a professional gambler... two of his friends and he are experts at "fixing" the cards...they teach me...so for some days I too live off the gambling...then all of them leave Bombay and I am still stuck there...who will pay the rent for the coming month..

Days, weeks, months, years go by..I have been in Bombay for five years...A livelihood is like a moon and the circumstances like the clouds...the moon is visible sometimes and sometimes not...these five years were tough but they didn't quite break my spirit...I still have hope...I am sure..positive in fact that something right will happen..it has to..I was not born to die in obscurity..and finally in the November of 1969 I get my first real chance..."a break" in the Bollywood lingo

Success is like Aladdin's lamp...the world seems beautiful..the people very nice...In a year and a half I have achieved a lot...I still have to go a long way...whatever I touch it turns into gold it seems and I am seeing my first house....my first car...

All my wishes seem to be coming true but the loneliness is still there...On the sets of "Seeta aur Geeta" I meet Honey Irani...she is a very open, cheerful and happy natured girl...Four months later we are married..I have invited a lot of my father's friend for the occasion but not my father...( some wounds cannot be healed by the genie of the lamp...they get healed only with time)....In the next two years my daughter Zoya and son Farhan are born...

In the next six years-12 hit films in a row, awards, acclaim, interviews to newspapers and magazines, photographs, parties, money, world travels...the days are bright, the night s brighter...life is a Technicolor dream...but like all dreams this one ends too...first time a film flops..many successes and failures followed but that first thrill of success and the innocent rejoicing...that never returned...

18^th August, 1976...my father passes away (exactly nine days ago he gave me an autographed copy of his last book on the leaf of which was written- "you will miss me when I am gone".. and he was right) Till now I was the wronged son and the rebel.... but who am I now... I see myself and what surrounds me in new light...Is this what I wanted out of life....the other people do not realize it yet but all the things that were a source of joy till now appear meaningless and artificial..I find myself more attracted to things that the world considers worthless...Poetry is in my blood and I have always been fond of it...I know since I was a child that I can be a poet but I never tried being one....this was also a facet of my anger and rebellion

In 1979 I write my first sheyr....and with that I have buried the hatchet and reconciled with my father and my inheritance...

It is during then that I meet Shabana...Kaifi Azmi's daughter Shabana is also finding her roots..She is also troubled by a thousand questions about things that she hasn't though about before...its not surprising then that we start getting closer...Slowly but surely something inside me is changing forever...My partnership in the film world breaks...The people around me are surprised by the transformation in me...In 1983 Honey and I separate..

( My marriage with Honey broke but the divorce could not harm our friendship one bit...and if the kids were not bitter after this separation...all credit for this goes to Honey and not me..Honey is a successful film writer today...and a very good friend ..I don't respect too many people as much as I respect Honey..)

I took this step but leaving home meant that I had a very nomadic existence for the next few years....I used to drink a lot before but I began drinking even more....this is one phase of my life that I am actually ashamed of...those few years if people just about tolerated me it was like a favor they did to me...It was quite possible that I would have drunk myself to death but one morning something touched me so much that I never touched alcohol after that. And I never will...

Today when I look back at my life after all these years...I feel as if a wild river, falling down the hill slopes...crashing against the rocks, finding its way through the stones, ebbing, rising....creating whirlpools... flowing fast...cutting its own banks has now reached the plains and is all calm and deep

My children Farhan and Zoya are all grown up and ready to step out into the world....their bright eyes hold magical dreams for the future...Salman, my younger brother is a famous psychoanalyst in the USA, writer of many books, a great poet, husband to a very loving wife and father of two very bright kids...the journey wasn't easy for him too....but his relentless hard work and his passion saw him through and he still journeys on...I am happy and so is Shabana who is not just my wife but my soul mate too.. also a beautiful heart and a brilliant mind...

Life is good but sometimes I do still remember that fateful day ... 18^th January 1953....the place Lucknow...my sobbing aunt holds my six and half year old brother Salman's hand and mine and takes us to the room where several women are sitting on the floor...My mother lies there in a white shroud with her mouth slightly open...my grandmother sits beside her...looking very tired and weeping silently....Two ladies are trying to console her....My aunt takes us near my mother and says....look at her for the last time....I turned eight just yesterday...I know what it means to die....I stare hard at my mother's face so that I can keep her in my memory forever...My aunt is saying....Promise her that you will do something good with your life...promise her....I am unable to say anything....and then a woman covers her face with the white sheet....

Its not as if I haven't done something good with my life but still a thought bothers me....I haven't done even half of what I could have....the restlessness that this thought brings will probably never go away..

~ the end~

I have really enjoyed doing this...learnt a thing or two myself...for those who have been reading it regularly ...THANK U

Thanks TallyHo for wonderful translation.......I had read the original hindi writeup by Javed saab,which was very moving, but still I couln't stop myself from reading the translation done by you........you were able to capture the essence of the Javed akthar's writing ....simply fantastic!!!!! 👏👏

TallyHo, you've done a wonderful job with this translation. Reading the end of his biography truly brought tears in my eyes. As I said before, Javed Akhtar truly has a way with words. And every man's truly does have a story to tell. I wish I had a hardcopy of his biography.

Thank you so much once again, you have no idea how many times I've come on IF to check if you've updated this post, and you've never disappointed.

Umm ... I just went on the website you provided and the website actually gives the biography in all three languages: English, Hindi, Urdu. I believe it is the English version that you have provided for us as a translation. Silly me, I thought you were actually translating the whole biography for us.😆😆

Here's the link for anyone else who's interested: http://www.javedakhtar.com/apneeng.htm

Originally posted by: *Woh Ajnabee*

Umm ... I just went on the website you provided and the website actually gives the biography in all three languages: English, Hindi, Urdu. I believe it is the English version that you have provided for us as a translation. Silly me, I thought you were actually translating the whole biography for us.😆😆

Here's the link for anyone else who's interested: http://www.javedakhtar.com/apneeng.htm