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By:

Quaid Najmi

4 January 2025 at 3:26:24 pm

‘Tiger’ backs ‘Cockroach’

Mumbai: The Shiv Sena (UBT) became the first political party to openly support the Cockroach Janta Party (CJP) launched by a Maharashtra youth Abhijeet Dipke who launched a huge protest in New Delhi on Saturday. In a strong statement, SS (UBT) President and ex-CM Uddhav Thackeray threw his weight behind the CJP as thousands of youngsters hit the streets of New Delhi in the scorching sun, not for politics but for their future. “Those whom we call the architects of the nation's future have come...

‘Tiger’ backs ‘Cockroach’

Mumbai: The Shiv Sena (UBT) became the first political party to openly support the Cockroach Janta Party (CJP) launched by a Maharashtra youth Abhijeet Dipke who launched a huge protest in New Delhi on Saturday. In a strong statement, SS (UBT) President and ex-CM Uddhav Thackeray threw his weight behind the CJP as thousands of youngsters hit the streets of New Delhi in the scorching sun, not for politics but for their future. “Those whom we call the architects of the nation's future have come out carrying their pain, frustration and anxiety about their future. It is wrong to ridicule them as ‘cockroaches’ and deny them justice,” said the SS (UBT) Tiger. Thackeray said the recent NEET paper leak scandal had shattered the dreams of lakhs of students and their families, raising questions in the minds of youngsters whether merit still matters – as the movement which started on social media has spilled onto the streets across the country. “All these aggrieved young men and women are now raising their voices by becoming ‘cockroaches’. The government must listen to their demands. Do not underestimate the ‘cockroaches’ – this is the warning given by the agitation (today) at Jantar Mantar,” said Thackeray sharply. The SS (UBT)’s supportive stance came against the backdrop of mounting anger among students over the alleged irregularities in major public examinations like NEET, CBSE, CUET, and recruitment processes, which has shaken confidence in the country's education system. The Protest Around dawn, Dipke, 30 – who launched the online movement three weeks ago from the USA – reached India as thousands of supporters waited patiently and peacefully near the Parliament Street Police Station. Many waved the National Tricolour, copies of the Constitution or books of Dr. B. R. Ambedkar, others carried flowers which they offered to the 1000-plus alert security personnel deployed there, and several sported symbolic cockroach masks. In a brief address, Dipke accused the government of focusing more on the CJP’s online presence than on the serious issues raised by the students. “You may be able to delete our posts, but you cannot erase us from this space,” he roared, amid loud cheers and thundering applause from the crowd. He said there must be accountability in the form of the resignation of Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan, failing which the CJP will continue its protests in New Delhi and also other parts of India. Anticipating detention after his homecoming, Dipke: “I was fully prepared to sacrifice my freedom for this cause.” In a warm gesture, environmental activist Sonam Wangchuk arrived from Ladakh to join the protest, declared himself as an ‘Honorary cockroach’ and expressed solidarity with Dipke. “People ask what is achieved through protests, sit-ins and marches. It proves that we are alive. The government may treat us like insects, but we are alive and capable of fighting for our rights,” mocked the CJP in a social media statement The CJP volunteers repeatedly urged the protestors to maintain decorum and make their impact in a democratic manner, which the crowds adhered to, but raised full-throated slogans intermittently, even as the protest ended without any untoward incidents. Incidentally, the Delhi Police granted permission for the demonstrations by allowing the crowds to gather directly at Jantar Mantar grounds as a ‘one-time exemption’. Demonstrations expressing solidarity to the cause were held in different parts of the country while tight security was deployed outside Dipke’s home in Chhatrapati Sambhajinar. Why are students forced to agitate?: Aaditya Thackeray Shiv Sena (UBT) leader Aditya Thackeray said why the students are being compelled to agitate when they should be planning out academic future and career options. “The young students exposed the NEET leak scam, or the CBSE marks scandal. The minister should have resigned or should have been sacked, some officials have been transferred but not suspended. The government should be ashamed of the situation,” said Aditya.

The Soul of Bharat on the Big Screen

Mumbai: April 4, 2025, my heart feels heavier than it ever has. The news hit me like a monsoon storm—Manoj Kumar, the towering legend of Bollywood, the man who painted patriotism across our screens, is no more. At 87, he slipped away at Mumbai’s Kokilaben Dhirubhai Ambani Hospital, leaving behind a reel of memories that flicker in my mind like a projector that won’t stop spinning. As a movie fan who grew up with his films, I’m not just mourning an actor—I’m grieving the loss of a piece of my soul, a piece of India itself. They called him "Bharat Kumar," and oh, how he earned that name.


I remember the first time I saw ‘Upkar’ (1967). I was a kid, sprawled on the living room floor, eyes glued to our old TV. Manoj ji played Bharat, the farmer who gave everything—his dreams, his love—for his country’s soil. That song, “Mere Desh Ki Dharti,” wasn’t just a tune; it was a heartbeat, pulsing with pride and sacrifice. I’d hum it walking to school, feeling like I, too, could be that noble, that selfless. He won a National Film Award for that one, and rightly so—it wasn’t acting; it was living.

Then there was ‘Shaheed’ (1965), where he brought Bhagat Singh back to life. I’d sit there, popcorn forgotten, as he roared defiance against the British, his eyes blazing with a fire that could’ve lit up the darkest colonial night. It wasn’t just a film—it was a revolution on celluloid, a call to remember the blood that bought our freedom. Manoj ji didn’t just play the martyr; he became him, and every time I watch it, I feel that lump in my throat, that sting in my eyes. It’s no wonder it snagged three National Awards—his passion was a gift to us all.


Oh, and ‘Purab Aur Paschim’ (1970)—how do I even begin? He directed and starred as Bharat again, this time wrestling with the clash of East and West, showing us the beauty of our roots while the world tried to pull us away. I’d laugh at Saira Banu’s antics, then choke up when Manoj ji stood tall, singing “Hai Preet Jahan Ki Reet Sada.” It was a blockbuster, sure, but it was more—it was a love letter to India, penned in his signature hand-over-face style. That move, mocked by some, was his shield, his quiet strength, and I adored it.

And who could forget ‘Roti Kapda Aur Makaan’ (1974)? He directed and starred as Bharat—again, because who else could?—tackling poverty, injustice, and the gut-wrenching struggle for the basics of life. I’d watch, fists clenched, as he fought for the everyman, his voice cracking with raw emotion. It wasn’t just a movie; it was a mirror to our society, a cry for change. Seven Filmfare Awards across his career, they say, but this one felt like it carried them all—his heart bled through every frame.


Then there’s ‘Kranti’ (1981), the epic that had me on the edge of my seat. Manoj ji as the freedom fighter, leading Dilip Kumar and Hema Malini through a storm of rebellion—it was grand, it was gritty, it was everything Bollywood could be. “Zindagi Ki Na Toote Ladi” still echoes in my ears, a reminder of the battles he fought on screen, battles that felt so real I’d dream of joining the fight. He didn’t just direct that film; he sculpted a monument to resilience, and I’d cheer like a fool every time he outsmarted the British.


As I sit here, flipping through these memories, I can’t help but feel cheated. Manoj Kumar wasn’t just an actor or director—he was family. Born Harikrishan Goswami in 1937, he carried the Partition’s scars from Abbottabad to Delhi, turning pain into purpose. He gave us over 50 films in a career spanning four decades, snagging the Padma Shri in 1992 and the Dadasaheb Phalke Award in 2015—honors that felt too small for a man who gave India its cinematic soul. His last role in ‘Jai Hind’ (1999) might’ve flopped, but it didn’t dim his light in my eyes.


I’d read how he met Bhagat Singh’s mother before ‘Shaheed’, seeking her blessing—can you imagine the weight of that? Or how PM Lal Bahadur Shastri urged him to make ‘Upkar’ after the 1965 war, handing him “Jai Jawan Jai Kisan” like a sacred torch? That’s who he was—a man who didn’t just entertain but carried a nation’s dreams.


Manoj ji, you weren’t just “Bharat Kumar” to me—you were the uncle who taught me pride, the friend who shared my anger, the poet who sang my hopes. Your films weren’t movies; they were my childhood, my rebellion, my tears. I’ll miss you like I miss the India you dreamed of—flawed, fierce, and forever ours. Rest in peace, sir. Om Shanti.

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