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Mehek Raza Rizvi goes to Chandigarh and talks to the real Milkha Singh

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On my recent visit to India, I felt like everyone was talking about the same thing: the sports biopic ‘Bhaag Milkha Bhaag,’ starring Farhan Akhtar. The movie traces the life of former field and track sprinter Milkha Singh, also known as The Flying Sikh – a sobriquet given to him by former President of Pakistan, Ayub Khan. Famous for his vim and pizzazz, Milkha Singh is much talked-about in his small and beautiful hometown, Chandigarh. From incidents at the Chandigarh Golf Club to his fitness, almost everyone I met had something to say about him. Yet hardly anyone knew his real story until filmmaker Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra decided to make a movie about it. And what a movie it is.

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On my way to watch the movie, my hosts told me I wouldn’t register how quickly time would pass. They were right. The movie explores Singh’s rousing struggle to rebuild his life after his parents and siblings were butchered in front of his eyes in the carnage that preceded Partition. Traumatized and distraught, twelve-year-old Milkha Singh fled from his village, Govindpura (now Muzaffargarh District, Pakistan) and reached Delhi where he united with his sister. From the impoverished refugee camps, which were his home for a long time, Singh learned how to face all odds and take responsibility for his life.  In 1951, at his fourth attempt, he was recruited in the Indian Army at the Electrical Mechanical Engineering Centre. This was where his career as an athlete took off.

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Sonam Kapoor, Milkha Singh & Farhan Akhtar

After making it to the top 10-winners list in a race, he was selected for service commission and eventually sent for the selection of the Olympics team. Amusingly, Milkha’s motivation to win this race were the milk and eggs that were to be given as a reward to the winners.  He went on to break the 400- meter-race world record and represented India in the Summer Olympics in Melbourne (1956), Summer Olympics in Rome (1960), Asian Games in Tokyo and the Commonwealth Games in Cardiff.

Singh expressed his deep unhappiness at the fact that ‘Bhaag Milkha Bhaag’ was banned in Pakistan

He was also awarded the Padma Shri which is India’s fourth highest civilian order.  Out of the 80 races he has participated in, he has won 77 and owns numerous medals, trophies and awards. However, his ultimate brush with success and global recognition did not come effortlessly. He trained tirelessly to increase his stamina and skill. His coach Havildar Gurdev Singh guided him through a training regime so intense that sometimes the young athlete would vomit blood.  But mentioning his fatigue, bruises and injuries would be like detailing the everyday.

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Milkha Singh standing next to a poster of the film

After the movie ended I knew I had to meet this man in person.

Two days later, I found myself sitting in Milkha Singh’s drawing room for an interview arranged by a dear friend (who happens to be Singh’s neighbor).  Larger than life, gracious and genial, my host greeted me with a huge smile and offered refreshments. Around twelve journalists had just left his house and more kept calling throughout the course of our interview. After exchanging pleasantries I expressed my utter shock at how similar he looked to Farhan Akthar in the movie. “Yes, I get that a lot,” Singh laughed. “One of my daughters met Farhan while the movie was being shot and was just as stunned. Farhan is a wonderful actor and has worked very hard for this movie.

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Milkha Singh & Rajinder Chhibbar

He’s done a great job.” I couldn’t agree more.  Farhan Akhtar outdid himself. His performance was convincing and impassioned. I asked him how much of the movie is actually true and he told me it was complete truth. One of the most endearing parts of the movie was Milkha’s love affair with Biro, played by Sonam Kapoor. When asked about Biro, he smiled. “When you’re that young love is a very fascinating thing. She used to come to a tube well nearby to fetch water and I would follow her.” This romance however did not last as Biro got married to someone else and Singh got busy with his newfound love for running.

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Milkha Singh with family

Milkha Singh got married to Nirmal Kaur, former captain of the Indian Women’s Volleyball team in 1962. The couple first met in Ceylon in 1955. Together they have three daughters and a son, Jheev Milkha Singh. Jheev is a renowned professional golfer and the first Indian golfer to make it to the European Tour.  Clearly these athletes form a family of high achievers.

After exchanging pleasantries I expressed my utter shock at how similar he looked to Farhan Akthar

Singh expressed his deep unhappiness at the fact that Bhaag Milkha Bhaag was banned in Pakistan. “If you watch the movie rationally you will realize that in no way does it put Pakistan down. I was left scarred after my family was butchered right in front of my eyes, isn’t that natural? The movie depicts my sentiments at that time truthfully. This doesn’t mean I think of Pakistan as an enemy. I’m sure a lot Pakistanis my age went through the same trauma during partition, so they would understand this best.  That was just not a good time.”

A young Milkha Singh
A young Milkha Singh
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Farhan Akhtar as Milkha Singh

Talking about Abdul Khaliq, the Pakistani sprinter he beat in 1960, Singh shared that during the 1971 war when Khaliq was imprisoned, he went to meet him and made sure he was treated well.

 “When you return to Pakistan please give my message to everyone back home. I am very fond of Pakistan,” he said. “I was born in Pakistan and it is where I got the title ‘the Flying Sikh.’ After my race in Pakistan against Abdul Khaliq, President Ayub Khan told me that I did not run, I flew, and gave me this appellation.”

Milkha Singh has lived an inspirational life from which both Indians and Pakistanis can learn a thing or two. His discipline and passion are admirable and perhaps the key to his success and youthfulness. But most importantly, his story testifies to the fact that hard work and dedication go a long way.

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Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra, Milkha Singh, Prasoon Joshi, Sonam Kapoor & Farhan Akhtar at the screening of Bhaag Milkha Bhaag in London

Frieha Altaf, in her last GT diary, reminisces about Manhattan

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I’m back from my swanky vacation, and back into the swing of things. After a ten-day stint in Italy, I retired in good old Surrey for some much-needed R n R. How much can a girl party after all? Well, I flew to New York for the weekend to spend time with my buddies. Going to the US is a feat. I mean, isn’t everyone paranoid about Immigration in the US? The horror stories of people being interrogated for hours, some having to completely strip at arrival were made only too familiar by movies like “The Reluctant Fundamentalist” and “My Name is Khan.” After watching the “Welcome” video on American Airlines, I noticed that the same video ran at immigration. The Americans are really trying to ease tensions by presenting their “soft” image.

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Frieha Altaf

The video features a variety of Americans smiling and welcoming everyone to the US. It even has a hijab lady in it! Yours truly was equally nervous but I guess the Canadian passport worked magic. What did upset me was how my hand-carry bag was opened and a desi immigration officer randomly picked me just before boarding the aircraft. (Have you noticed that most immigration officers in London are desis?) She gave me a lecture on smoking but was most interested in my attire and shopping!

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Parishe

Now, there is no city like the Big Apple and one can’t do New York without a visit to the Metropolitan museum. I had been waiting to see the roof painting by Pakistan’s very own Imran Qureshi, and finally I got to see it. After lying down and posing on his painting I proceeded to see the “Chaos to Couture” exhibition. A low-key lunch at Bryant Park followed, after which I ran to dinner with Saqib Malik, Annie Ali Khan, and Mehreen Jabbar, downtown at the Bowery.

Syma Iqbal, Saqib Malik,  Frieha Altaf & Deepak Perwani
Syma Iqbal, Saqib Malik, Frieha Altaf & Deepak Perwani

The next day I decided I had gone too long without detoxing. I took to the gym and decided to take advantage of the gorgeous view of the New York Palace hotel (made famous by the Gossip Girl episodes where it was used as their high school) and its view of the St Patrick’s church. More museum visits to the Guggenheim and Moma followed, after which I headed for rooftop drinks with Omar Rahim, my Guatemalan friend Douglas, Julia, and Saqib. I also squeezed in a play. “Sleep no More” was a treat. Set in a warehouse, it was one of those modern, interactive plays: one followed the actors and dancers through a series of rooms and halls!

The horror stories of people being interrogated for hours, some having to completely strip in arrival were made only too familiar by movies like “The Reluctant Fundamentalist” and “My Name is Khan”

Sunday was spent at Saks Fifth Avenue where I purchased my first Prada and Stella McCartney dress along with six other things. Maxing my credit cards, I took a flight to Toronto.

Raana Khan, Maheen Karim, Frieha Altaf & Sanam Agha
Raana Khan, Maheen Karim, Frieha Altaf & Sanam Agha

There is nothing like family. Seeing my brother, mother, niece, and daughter was a delight. My son had decided to spend his month in Scotland training for athletics. My poor brother was keeping 18-hour fasts and I found my mother addicted to “Wheel of fortune” and “The price is right.”  The weekend saw me check into Trump Towers. The annual Caribbean parade was spectacular and the evening was spent with friends Anu and Omar at the Prava club. The purely RED Russian-inspired club had pictures of Lenin and Stalin, they played the Russian national anthem and sang on top of the bar and tables. But, unlike New York, Toronto shuts its doors at 2am! The Louboutin Exhibition the next day, however, made up for Toronto’s general anemia compared to Manhattan.

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Frieha’s friends

Heading to London I changed Parishes’ flight and took her to my friend’s place in Surrey. We dined at Ping Pong and spent the next day with my old friend Beena and her daughter. Finally, arriving in Pakistan I found my cell phone blocked! It appears the idea to put my cell-phone on roaming, from Europe to the US, took its toll. Deepak and Syma took me across to my friend Sadaf ‘s 40th birthday, which was done in style. I then ran to Feeha Jamshed’s wedding party and back to Sadaf’s for nashta: New York may never close down at night but neither does Karachi. After that, the jet lag kicked in and there was little sleep. But Feeha’s mehndi was fantastic. I dished out a 22-year-old Faiza Samee sari, and gauging from the complements, it looked as good that night as it did more than two decades ago.

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I dished out a 22-year-old Faiza Samee sari, and gauging from the complements, it looked as good that night as it did more than two decades ago

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Frieha at the Caribbean parade

This has to be the season of birthdays. I spent a lovely afternoon with Maria Wasti’s at Café Flo. I can’t get over how handsome Sikander, Florence’s son, is. Methinks I could produce a show like “the Bachelor” and put all the handsome guys of Pakistan in it!

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Bilal, Ayesha & Sikander

GT friends, my tenure at the social diary is over for now. I hope you’ve enjoyed my rants, raves, flights of fancy, and of course, updates on the lifestyles of the rich and famous. You will still see me in GT as I intend to keep being photographed and event-planning. Adios for now and remember to live it up!

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Frieha Altaf, Raana Khan & Shehrnaz

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Sanam Agha & Frieha Altaf

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Sayeeda Leghari, Pinky Durrani & Neshmia with a friend
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Noor & Frieha
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Jamal Mir & Afroze Javeri

Nadira Amir on her great escape to Italy

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Even when our surprisingly-packed flight from Dubai touched down at Rome’s Fiumicino airport, I couldn’t fathom that Rema and I were actually in Italy. It had seemed just yesterday that this plan was a complete khyali palao — a plan for some unknown future time that we were not likely to reach.

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But after the persistent and never-ending harangues of a friend, the greatest advocate for Italy there is, we were electrified into action. A few flurried days of calls to travel agents, and visa offices, as well as a couple of dozen visits to booking.com and lonelyplanet.com, and we were ready for our Great Escape from a load-shedding-inundated, politically-frustrating, nothing-seems-to-go-right and altogether exasperating Lahori summer.

We were ready for our Great Escape from a load-shedding-inundated, politically-frustrating, nothing-seems-to-go-right and altogether exasperating Lahori summer

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From the outset, we were comfortable in Italy. Italians seem very much like Pakistanis in their love of life and of food, and especially in their concept of la dolce far niente — the sweetness of doing nothing. An alluring, relaxing aura was palpable as soon as we stepped into Rome’s city centre. We were further comforted by our incredible housekeeper Maria at our Bed & Breakfast — she left no stone unturned in making us feel truly at home at Urbana 33, a B&B we chose for its proximity to the train station, but in which we absolutely lucked out: it was lovely, as well as clean and modern.

e11We set off for food almost as soon as we arrived, walking around the pleasant piazzas (squares) and streets nearby. That night I enjoyed the most incredible funghi (mushroom) pizza I’ve ever had. Throughout the rest of my trip I tried every pizza I came across, and none matched my first taste of Italy. After picking up a requisite gelato cone at a neighborhood gelateria (I had planned on trying the chocolate gelato in every city I visited), Rema and I walked to the colosseum — the colosseo — a mere 10 minutes from where we were staying. It was terrifically grand, especially at night, all lit up. And yet, ironically I suppose, it was also peaceful.

We were escorted to the train-station the next morning by our efficient housekeeper who made sure we were safely on our way before we said our regretful goodbyes!

Florence: Firenze. I cannot overstress the splendor and magnificence of this veritable open-air museum. At every turn, at every corner, all one sees is beauty, history, the Renaissance, art. And of course, tourists! Everywhere there are people, families with children on leashes and dogs in prams (yes!) and group tours, but it is not unpleasantly crowded, not by a long shot. August, apparently, is when peak season slows down.

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Since we arrived on a Monday, and the museums were closed, we had the entire day to explore. Our hotel, Residenza Gambrinus, was right on Piazza della Repubblica, dead centre of the city and a five-minute walk from just about any of the main museums or sites.

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Florence is truly a city to get lost in; there are treasures at every bend. The il Duomo; the Piazza della Signoria with its open-air sculpture gallery, Ammanati’s Fountain of Neptune, and Palazzo Vecchio (the ancient seat of Florentine government). One can go on and on. Florence is a tangible masterpiece.

Italians seem very much like Pakistanis in their love of life and of food, and especially in their concept of ‘la dolce far niente’ — the sweetness of doing nothing

Another of Italy’s masterpieces, of course, is its cuisine: the mouthwateringly-baked bread, dough and pasta; newly-picked basil and moist, juicy, tangy tomatoes. There are no adjectives to describe how tasty the tomatoes in Italy are. Florence is no exception to this.

Untitled-1In the evening we asked our concierge to direct to us to a place with a more “local” feel of Florence. He sent us to Negroni, across the Arno River and about a 20-minute walk from our hotel. This was by far one of my favorite food experiences in Italy. Unbelievable spaghetti. We spent hours on the outer terrace, taking in the ambiance. After dinner, we walked up the many steps to Piazza Michelangelo, and were treated to a panoramic night-view of Florence.

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The next day we were off again for a day-trip to the coast. We caught a train and a few short hours later found ourselves in a wonderland patch of blue and green. We had arrived at Monterosso al Mare. This picturesque village on the Italian Riviera embraces its rugged terrain and cool water. We spent some time losing ourselves in its charm, including the winding streets and tiny stalls. This is definitely where the Italians escape to beat the summer heat. Eventually it was time to eat again! By sheer luck we sat down at Enoteca Internazionale. Again, I cannot overstate how good the food was.  The seafood, particularly the antipasti al mare was utterly fresh as was our usual fare of spaghetti and pizza. Finally, it was time to hit the water, which was cold, but perfect to beat the heat of the simmering August day.

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By the time we got back to Florence, it was time for dinner. Steak is a specialty here, and we ventured out to get some Bistecca di fiorentina. Rema and I were pleasantly surprised that even on a Tuesday night, people were out and about till quite late.

We came out of the museums a bit stunned: did we really just see works by Titian, Raphael, Da Vinci, and Michelangelo? Did ‘Art History’ just come to life?

The next day we finally decided to take on the museums —the Uffizi and the Galleria dell’Accademia. Although Rema and I were prepared for long queues and a crowd-filled day, it took us all of two minutes to get our tickets and enter. If you have the energy and the concentration span, I definitely recommend a tour. We came out of the museums a bit stunned: did we really just see works by Titian, Raphael, Da Vinci, and Michelangelo? Did ‘Art History’ just come to life?

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After Florence, we were off to Siena. The convenient SITA bus deposited us in Siena a short while later and immediately, I was blown away. The town oozes charm. While not as extravagantly beautiful as Florence, Siena, in its delightful and unassuming way, was even lovelier. Everyone here was more relaxed, strolling through the cobblestone streets, just breathing in the magical medieval air.  For the third time in a row, we were blessed with a great hotel (Hotel Duomo) and an energetic concierge.

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He directed us to a great place for dinner, where we tried Siena’s specialty — Picci pasta — a kind of thick spaghetti. Again, it was one of the top contenders for my favorite meal, although it’s so hard to choose. Afterwards, we walked up to the astounding gothic Duomo, and then down to the Piazza del Campo, the main square, where the furiously-contended horse-race, the Palio, is held twice a year. On this night, however, with mandatory gelato in hand, the Piazza was just peace: people lying on the ground, looking up at the moon.

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The next day cemented Siena as one my favorite European cities thus far. We roamed around, taking in the architecture, and after an hour or two we realized we had covered the length and breadth of the city a few times. We walked into a shop where a lady sat painting spectacular porcelain plates by hand. I glanced at the plates with intricate Italian names painted on them. I laughed and pointed one out to Rema. It said Nadia. Rema is the only person in the world who (for reasons known only to her) calls me Nadia. Suddenly she points to one nearby. “Remo” it says. And I am the only one of Rema’s friends and family who calls her Remo. We were stunned and delighted. To us, this was a sign from Siena: this was exactly where the two of us were supposed to be at that moment.

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Pages-from-FinalPaar Chanaa De by Arif Lohar and Saleema Jawaad: An ingenious reworking of the popular folk song. It’s pulse is the comforting lilt of the earthen ghharha. First-time recording artiste Saleema Jawaad’s vocals are like a wonderful cawing — think of a younger, more soulful Ila Arun — and give this song its emotional undertow. Arif Lohar is surprisingly tender; and the flute at the end is absolutely devastating. The crowning glory of ZB’s soundtrack.

Rating: 5 stars

Pataa Yaar Da by Rahat Fateh Ali Khan: Composer Sahir Ali Bagga has called this an experimental qawwali. It is certainly unusual in its choice of beat-cycle, which gives it an interesting, lopsided feel. Otherwise it’s laden with curvy tabla, a wailing harmonium and lush, creamy vocals — all of which makes it a standard Rahat Fateh Ali Khan number. Hummable and unremarkable.

Rating: 3 .5 stars

Paani da Bulbula by Abrar ul Haq: Playful, capricious, fun-poking, happily facetious. The endless-ridiculous rhyming (“Peeli batti wala paan, Coca Cola te Shezan, Rab tera nigehbaan”) give it the feel of a children’s limerick. Charming, clever and winsome, with Abrar at his wonky best.

Rating: 4 stars

Saari Saari Raat by Sahir Ali Bagga and Farah Anwar: This earnestly tragic song is the least interesting on the score. Sahir Ali Bagga’s vocals are muffled by their own emotional strivings; Farah Anwar’s are too high, and make her sound like a cartoon character.

Rating: 2.5 stars

Kurri Yes Ai by Amanat Ali and Iqra Ali: Confident, triumphant, sexy. Amanat Ali’s nasal croaking is edgy and lustful, though they make him sound suspiciously like Bollywood singer Mika Singh. The female vocalist, Iqra Ali, gives as good as she gets, and with twice as much attitude. The dhol and trumpet combination works wonders. Destined to blare from the woofers of fast cars everywhere.

Rating: 4 stars

Dekhein Gay by Jaabar Abbas: Nobody can believe that the voice on this track belongs to Jaabar Abbas from Geo TV’s ‘Hum Sab Ummeed Se Hein‘, and not to Bollywood crooner Sukhwinder Singh. Is that a good thing? I’m not sure; all I can say is I was waiting for Abbas to trip — to let in a quiver of distinctiveness — but he remained freakishly faithful to Sukhwinder until the end. Otherwise: this is a satirical song, written by novelist Mohammad Hanif, who evidently does dialogue with Faiz Ahmed Faiz’s nazm of the same name, though in a decidedly less polished register. A grittier ‘Chhaiyya Chhaiyya‘, if you will.

Rating: 3.5 stars

Taariyaan by Sahir Ali Bagga: With clean beats and a jumpy, festive vibe, this is the perfect club anthem, seamlessly combining the warmth of Punjabi revelry with the anonymous carnality of a discotheque. Simple and additive, this song will keep you dancing through the night.

Rating: 4 stars

 

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