18/04/2026
Pankaj Upadhayay of Euphony Films- this one is for you! By Suman Mathur (18 April 2026)
AN ODE TO A CREATIVE
He never just goes somewhere simple and plain,
he goes with a camera, a shot list, a brain.
A picnic for others is snacks and blue sky,
for him it’s a reel and a close-up of chai.
Clouds are not clouds when they drift overhead,
they’re texture and lighting — or so it is said.
A temple bell rings, a pigeon takes flight,
and suddenly he’s framing it all just right.
Even chai in his hands becomes part of the art,
with steam like a signal and soul at the start.
One sip, one pause, one thoughtful glance —
and somehow the ordinary starts to dance.
By day he’s in Compliance: precise and aware,
solving each problem with logic and care.
But under that order, as all of us know,
is an artist whose ideas stay constantly aglow.
He makes short films, he writes, he creates,
he catches small magic before it escapes.
For music he fashions the scenes that belong,
giving motion and mood to a pre-recorded song.
And somehow, with warmth and a wink or two,
he pulls half the world into whatever he’ll shoot.
A passerby pauses, a friend comes to stay,
someone drops off a cast mate — gets drafted that day.
He’s cherished by people who do good as they go,
a generous circle who clearly all know
that kindness knows kindness, and heart knows its kind —
and he leaves that warm feeling wherever he shines.
But his art is not fluff, not surface, not show;
he wants it to matter, to comfort, to grow.
He speaks for the hurting through story and frame,
and gives quiet courage a voice and a name.
He cares for the women who’ve suffered in pain,
who’ve lived under silence, under fear, under strain.
But his heart is as open to men bearing weight,
to the hurts they hide early, the grief carried late.
And just when you think he is gentle and mild,
he brings in the horror and grins like a child.
A creak in a hallway, a shadow, a stare —
he knows how to make you look twice at the air.
Then, just as the tension is building just right,
he’ll take the mickey from Bollywood auditions outright.
With swagger and sighing and overblown cries,
he’ll have everyone helpless with tears in their eyes.
And then there’s that voice — deep, resonant, rare,
the kind that can quiet the noise in the air.
In prayer or recitation, in poems he’s penned,
it reaches the heart with a hush it can send.
He writes as he speaks, with a lingering grace,
with rhythm that settles and feeling gives place.
A line softly offered, a verse gently true,
can echo for hours in all who hear through.
His family overseas stay close to his heart,
for distance and oceans can’t keep them apart.
Through prayer and through worry, through messages sent,
he carries them near with a steady intent.
He has a soft corner for elders as well,
for stories they carry and all they don’t tell.
Perhaps because sorrow once knocked early through,
he learned how to listen where quiet feelings grew.
So here’s an ode with a toast to a creative through and through,
with a camera, a conscience, and comic timing too.
With chai in one hand and a bright, watchful view,
he turns life into stories — and somehow makes us new.
