The soul is restless, what is the torment of one heart If the heart itself is a flame, then what is the mere burning of love?
As Javed Akhtar and Shabana Azmi— poetry’s power couple—take the stage at the Jaipur Literature Festival, there is hushed silence. But one smile from them is enough to loosen loud whoops and claps from the audience. It is interesting to note that the crowd is mostly made up of college students and young professionals. Their rockstar status among the youth might perhaps indicate that India still has space for both the Jay-Zs and the Rumis of the world. Indian poetry is still alive and kicking, and men with lip piercings and arm tattoos are reciting ghazals to their girlfriends. Which begs the question, how romantic is Javed to his lady love?
“You know, women keep asking me that,” said Shabana. “They think I am so lucky to have a poet for a husband. But the truth is that there is not a single romantic bone in my husband’s body.”
To which, Javed replied, “Well, you don’t see a trapeze artist at a circus perform acrobatics at home, do you?”
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