Big Desires and Little Side-dreams
After many years, I listened to ‘Chaand Taare’ from the film Yess Boss. As a Shah Rukh fan, I saw how this song aptly describes his ambition to be the biggest star and how he has achieved everything he wished for.
But the song itself felt like something I could live by. A melody and lyrics that’s laying bare all my 3 AM thoughts. A little something I’d like to borrow from SRK to say-#hardrelate.
The song begins with the lines:
“Jo bhi chahoon, woh main paoon
Zindagi mein jeet jaaoon”
Loosely translated, this means:
“Whatever I desire, may I achieve it, may I win in life.”
The song goes on to describe how he wants to be the biggest, richest, most famous person in the world. He would love ‘haseenaein’ (beautiful women) to lose their hearts to him, be showered with ‘heere-moti’, and live in a ‘mahal’. The whole song is this big, extravagant description of him wanting to be beautiful, rich, and powerful, with the world following at his heels.
But my favourite part is this cheeky line that appears at the end of every stanza:
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“Bas itna sa khwaab hai” (That’s just my little dream),
and “Main zyaada nahi maangta” (I’m not asking for a lot).
Not only was it nice to see a man sing a melodious tune about wanting all things material, but the tune, too, composed by Jatin-Lalit, is paced slowly and steadily. No raging guitars or aggressive singing, no adulatory chorus. Just the confident voice of Abhijeet and a steady drum beat. The best treat in this song is the little piano piece right at the beginning that draws you in instantly, as if saying, “Come here, sit, and listen to me.”
It felt like a great way to place desire out there into the world. Gentle, yet assertive. And for me, it felt like the nicest way to say– “I want all these things.” For someone who struggles to speak about needs, it feels like a reaffirmation, an anthem. Why should I not desire roti, kapda, aur makaan? Specifically, a fancy roti, latest kapda, and a big, big makaan.
Of course, my academic brain tells me this is the constructed aspiration of the newly emerging middle-class’s neoliberal dream of the 90s. It was a time when people were made to believe that working hard could bring them material success, at the cost of making everyone a consumer, and of the idea that everyone should aim for wealth.
But was it not also about expressed desire, love, anger, grief, empathy, and the entire spectrum of emotion, albeit in MTV studio style?
It is also the reason I love watching and listening to Rakhi Sawant. Her reels, interviews, and ‘airport looks’ are so much fun. Her unabashed air of confidence, her fun language, and just her desire to say exactly what she thinks are a breath of fresh air amidst the celebrities who are stuffy, play it politically safe, and often hide behind their carefully crafted PR. Even if this is Rakhi’s PR, I’d say it’s so much more watchable. And of course, she does it all in style.
I wish every day to be a little more like her. To gently place myself out there, in a way that I like. Not by building an exaggerated, aggressive professional persona, but simply by saying “This is my desire, I am like this, and I’m not asking for a lot.”
I recently read a report where women experimented with their LinkedIn posts. Their reach, perception, and response rate significantly changed when they used masculine or neutral names. Or basically, when people assumed they were men. Even though their content and messages remained the same, they received more responses, likes, and overall engagement. More people read their posts when they believed a man had posted them.
Not that any of this is a big surprise. Women have had to ‘man up’ to be taken seriously for decades, if not more. Women did and still do it to be seen and heard. But at various points in life, this becomes inevitable for survival. Or maybe through some miracle, we’ll be seen for who we are.
But this is where I want to resist. I don’t want to change my writing to seem like a man's, or change my name to a man’s, so people pay attention to me. At least, not yet. I just want to be seen, heard, (of course, read), and valued for who I am. Is that too much to ask?
Main zyaada nahi maangti! (I’m not asking for a lot)
