Yeh Tumhari Meri Baatein

Yeh Tumhari Meri Baatein...
Ye tumhari meri baatein
Hamesha yun hi chalti rahe
Ye humari mulakatein
Hamesha yun hi chalti rahe
Beetein yun hi apne saare, din raat
Baaton se nikalthi rahe, naye baat
Phir wahi baatein le ke
Geet koi hum likhe
Jo dil ko, han sab ke dil ko choolein
Baatein suro mein yun hi pigalthi rahein
Baatein geetho mein yun hi dhalthi rahein

Oooo…oooo…oooo…
Na na na na..nana na na.. oooo…
Geethon mein huh humko
Khushi on se hum sajaade
Jo sune kahe woh hum se, gaana

Ye tumhari meri baatein
Hamesha yun hi chalti rahe
Ye humari mulakatein
Hamesha yun hi chalti rahe
Beetein yun hi apne saare, din raat
Baaton se nikalthi rahe, naye baat
Phir wahi baatein le ke
Geet koi hum likhe
Jo dil ko, han sab ke dil ko choolein
Baatein suro mein yun hi pigalthi rahein
Baatein geetho mein yun hi dhalthi rahein

EDGE OF THE OCEAN- IVY

There's a place I dream about
Where the sun never goes out
And the sky is deep and blue.
Won't you take me there with you.

Ohhh, we can begin again.
Shed our skin, let the sun shine in.
By the edge of the ocean
We can start over again

There's a world I've always known
Somewhere far away from home
When I close my eyes I see
All the space and the mystery

Ohhh, we can begin again
Shed our skin, let the sun shine in
By the edge of the ocean
We can start over again

Oohhh, we can begin again
Shed our skin, let the sun shine in
By the edge of the ocean
We can start over again
By the edge of the ocean
we can start over again

sha nah nah nah nah nah nah
sha nah nah
sha nah nah
sha nah nah nah nah nah nah
sha nah nahsha nah nah

LOVE

Love is real, real is love,
Love is feeling, feeling love,
Love is wanting to be loved.
Love is touch, touch is love,
Love is reaching, reaching love,
Love is asking to be loved.
Love is you, You and me,
Love is knowing, We can be.
Love is free, free is love,
Love is living, living love,
Love is needing to be loved.
- John Lennon

SHE'S STILL A WOMAN TO ME

She can kill with a smile
She can wound with her eyes
She can ruin your faith with her casual lies
And she only reveals what she wants you to see
She hides like a child,
But she's always a woman to me

She can lead you to love
She can take you or leave you
She can ask for the truth
But she'll never believe
And she'll take what you give her, as long as it's free
Yeah, she steals like a thief
But she's always a woman to me

CHORUS:
Oh--she takes care of herself
She can wait if she wants
She's ahead of her time
Oh--and she never gives out
And she never gives in
She just changes her mind

And she'll promise you more
Than the Garden of Eden
Then she'll carelessly cut you
And laugh while you're bleedin'
But she'll bring out the best
And the worst you can be
Blame it all on yourself
Cause she's always a woman to me
--Mhmm--

Bridge

CHORUS:
Oh--she takes care of herself
She can wait if she wants
She's ahead of her time
Oh--and she never gives out
And she never gives in
She just changes her mind

She is frequently kind
And she's suddenly cruel
She can do as she pleases
She's nobody's fool
And she can't be convicted
She's earned her degree
And the most she will do
Is throw shadows at you
But she's always a woman to me
--Mhmm--
- Billy Joel

THESE WORDS

Threw some chords together
The combination D-E-FIs who I am, is what I do
And I was gonna lay it down for you
Try to focus my attention
But I feel so A-D-D
I need some help, some inspiration
(But it's not coming easily)
Whoah oh...

Trying to find the magic
Trying to write a classic
Don't you know, don't you know, don't you know?
Waste-bin full of paper
Clever rhymes, see you later

These words are my own
From my heart flow
I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you
There's no other way
To better sayI love you, I love you...

Read some Byron, Shelly and Keats
Recited it over a Hip-Hop beat
I'm having trouble saying what I mean
With dead poets and drum machines
I know I had some studio time booked
But I couldn't find a killer hook
Now you've gone & raised the bar right up
Nothing I write is ever good enough

These words are my own
From my heart flowI love you, I love you, I love you, I love you
There's no other way
To better sayI love you, I love you...

I'm getting off my stage
The curtains pull away
No hyperbole to hide behind
My naked soul exposes
Whoah.. oh.. oh.. oh.. Whoah.. oh..

Trying to find the magic
Trying to write a classic
Waste-bin full of paper
Clever rhymes, see you later

These words are my own
From my heart flowI love you, I love you, I love you, I love you
That's all I got to say,
Can't think of a better way,
And that's all I've got to say,
I love you, is that okay?
- Natasha Bedingfield

UNBREAK MY HEART

Don't leave me in all this pain
Don't leave me out in the rain
Come back and bring back my smile
Come and take these tears away
I need your arms to hold me now
The nights are so unkind
Bring back those nights when I held you beside me

Un-break my heart
Say you'll love me again
Undo this hurt you caused
When you walked out the door
And walked out of my life
Un-cry these tears
I cried so many nights
Un-break my heart
My heart

Take back that sad word good-bye
Bring back the joy to my life
Don't leave me here with these tears
Come and kiss this pain away
I can't forget the day you left
Time is so unkind
And life is so cruel without you here beside me

Un-break my heart
Say you'll love me again

Undo this hurt you caused
When you walked out the door
And walked out of my life
Un-cry these tears
I cried so many nights
Un-break my heart
My heart

Don't leave me in all this pain
Don't leave me out in the rain
Bring back the nights when I held you beside me

Un-break my heart
Say you'll love me again
Undo this hurt you caused
When you walked out the door
And walked out of my life
Un-cry these tears
I cried so many, many nights
Un-break my heart

Un-break my heart oh baby
Come back and say you love me
Un-break my heart
Sweet darlin'
Without you
I just can't go on
Can't go on....

-toni braxton

KRISHNA AND HIS THREE WIVES

People call them the inseparable threesome. Shobha, Reena and Pinky Patel are sisters who not only look uncannily similar but have identical tastes. They love and hate the same things, be it food, fashion, or colours. And Shobha, who has an MA in sociology, insists that they often dream the same dreams.

So no one in the Karvy tehsil of Chitrakoot found it scandalous when two years ago, one after the other, the three sisters married the same man. Shobha, who is now 25, met Krishna Soni, the son of a bhajiwalla , at the local Kali temple. She was convinced that he was the man for her - meeting him in a temple was auspicious and he seemed like a good person. "He may be only chhatvi -pass (sixth standard), so what? He will keep me with izzat till I die," she says. Far better than marrying a " suit-boot pahenne wala jo phir bhi izzat nahin karta ". Reena married Krishna after a month, and Pinky a fortnight after Reena.

Chitrakoot is a backward, dacoit-infested district of Uttar Pradesh, where the women are illiterate and the men near-jobless. By these standards, the girls’ father Santosh Patel is a Croesus. He owns a six-room makan with fans, buffaloes, a jeep and a chuna agency. All these riches are further embellished by his prosperous household of seven children, six daughters and a son.

The marriages were kept a closely guarded secret till about four months ago when Pinky gave birth to a son, delivered by Shobha, who has also midwifed Reena’s baby. Shobha does not have children of her own. When the marriage became public, Karvy found itself with a new sensation that outclassed even the "dreaded dacoit Dadua". Sahara TV landed up and the villagers had to give sound bites. Everyone became an expert on "the lucky man and his three young wives".

Soon, all kinds of wild speculation was scudding through the village - the girls’ father had force-married them to Krishna because he believed this would make him wealthier; the girls believed their husband was a reincarnation of the god Krishna; and most bizarre of all, that the marriage was a blue-film racket. Little wonder that when this reporter showed up at the hut, the allegedly 108-year-old granny was furious. "Is this a nautanki ?" raved the spry old woman.

But inside the long, dark room without electricity, calm reigns. This room is a world apart from six-room makan that the Patel girls lived in. It is Friday afternoon. Fawned over by his wives, Krishna is playing with his new-born baby by Bibi No 2. The family is in a good mood. "I decided to marry him first," says Shobha, her serious, bespectacled look at odds with the flirtatious tone. "These two joined in later when they realised that I had walked off with the best bargain." Reena takes up where she left off. "Krishna is the living god of love," says the girl who has BA from the local college. "It is bliss to live with a man who has so much prem to give." Pinky, who was in her second year in college, and had to drop out, is the most cheesed off by the press stampede. She is at the back of the room nursing her baby and refuses to be photographed.

The room is full of things including a buffalo and a drum to store grain. In this space live Krisha, his wives and two children, his mother and a cousin. The only object bearing resemblance to modern comfort is a large bed. A rope running down the length of the room functions as the sisters’ wardrobe. It sags with the weight of saris. A gas stove and a few pots are the kitchen. Somewhere at the back is a lean-to which serves as a bathroom. One corner of the room is devoted to the main occupation of the clan, puja. “This is where we spend maximum time,’’ explains Reena.

Their father Santosh Patel is equally at ease with the set up. "I was a little hesitant especially when the other two girls wanted to marry Krishna, but the boy is God’s special creation...this is what thakurji had willed," he says. And what will the family live on? Patel says that god will take care of things, and in the meanwhile, he is planning a lime-packaging unit for the three.

Despite the oppressive little room and the lack of a proper income, the three Mrs Sonis seems perfectly content. The happiness is apparent to anyone who drops in and belies all sociological theories of the evils of polygamy. They certainly seem happier than many women married to rich husbands. "We have no complaints," they declare in unison. In the last 16 months all of them have been to Kashmir and Kolkata. "Otherwise sitting at home with Krishna and chatting is enough."

The object of their affection is a gawky young man of average height and build, who looks perpetually bemused. Krishna Soni knows his wives are better educated and from a richer background, but that doesn’t seem to come in the way. After a stint as a factory hand in Mumbai, he returned to the family trade of selling vegetables. He is indecisive about the future. "But I will manage," he says.

Sniggers Parmeshwar, a neighbour, "With a rich father-in-law he needn’t worry." But Parmeshwar concedes that the boy is otherwise respectable. "The man does not drink or beat up his wives, and the women get along like a jungle fire." Ramriksh, a tea-shop owner, swears by the "amar prem" between the sisters. "Some people see their squalor, others see their happiness," he says philosophically.

But the inspector in charge of Ranipur, Brjendra Rai, continues to be puzzled. When Santosh Patel’s brother leaked the news of the multi-marriages to the local press, the police had to, reluctantly, intervene. Rai made many rounds of the house but found nothing unseemly. "The foursome looks quite regular," he fumbles for the right word. "All the girls are balig (adult), they have married voluntarily, there is no force. Moreover, according to the law only the first wife can lodge a complaint if the husband remarries, and here the girl has welcomed home the other two." Rai has decided to keep his counsel and stay away.

Santosh is relieved to hear this. He complains about the rumour that he encouraged the girls to marry Krishna because a tantrik told him the match would bring him wealth. "Tell me, do I look so wicked?" he demands. "Anyway, useless social pressures don’t work on me. If my daughters fall ill, who will look after them? Krishna, the neighbours or the accursed society? When society cannot be counted on in bad times why should one give them bhaav while the going is good?"

Back in the mud house in Ranipur ka hata, it is time for the infants Surya and Nitya to have their feed. "Life teaches you new lessons every day," says Shobha softly. Like her two sisters, she speaks in the local dialect punctuated with English words like "jealous" and "phrustration". "In college I read about those high-sounding social theories. I had no idea that one day I would deliver my sisters’ babies."

Their one brother who is against the marriage and has a fractious relationship with the father has filed an FIR in the police station. His grouse, though, is not polygamy but that "Soni hid his caste and claimed to be a Patel." Patel is a forward backward caste, ahead of the Sonis in the pecking order. Santosh Patel brushes away these obstacles. "All my six daughters are alp santoshi (easily satisfied)," he says.

The three younger sisters are studying. What if they also turn up wanting to marry Krishna one fine morning? The chuna trader smiles meaningfully, " Pata nahin...jo hoga thakurji ki marzi se hi hoga ."