Fellow travellers

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Handsome

Owwwww I wonder....if pain isn't a handsome carelessly talented painter with piercing eyes and strands of hair accentuating the intoxicating eyes, heartlessly dipping his brush in our hearts to find the colours with which to paint the most beautiful sketches in the skies of our hearts' eyes. Tempting us with the beauty of the sketches and the magnetism of his dark quietness to let him stay, let him keep painting from the colours of our heart.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

There she goes .........

There goes innocence.....
A pair of hawaii on her feet, strands of hair swaying with her gait from side to side, as carefree as her heart, as light, as free of burden.
Barring the ones held back by the plastic red band,
A gait that has taken its bounce from life or has inspired the bounce in life....... hard to figure,
Her skirt unsymmetrically tied to her waist, fluttering with the rythm of the wind,
The rythm her vibrant breath has taken from the wind or given to the wind..... its hard to tell.

A bag half open clung to her shoulders...from within peeped the riches, happiness, carefreeness, childhood, reassurance, security, bliss.... a heart of Gold.... sigh. I looked at my own and got embarrased at the amount of dust and soot it was covered in having burnt at the altar of wisdom, wealth, position, pride. How can it turn golden again.....?

I could not take my eyes off her, as I was about to cross her she looked back n smiled.

Alas.... if on some such cross road of life my innocence could smile back at me.....

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Life after winters .....is it ?

When I walk with you

The path seems shorter than I want it to be

Never thought of a girl, smiling at the mirror,

in an eternity

And to think that was to be me

Destiny has always played hide n seek

Is it not or is it meant to be?

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Look back once.. for me.....

Poetry where are you ?

There, right behind those soft eyelids that guard the little kid's dreams ?

Got you !

No ! He opened his eyes; I felt like I found you; I had you, but only for a second and then you vanished.


Where are you hiding?

Why are you sulking ?

I remember I promised you smiles; but that does not mean you would leave the moment I give place to pain in my heart.

I can only request you to come back into my heart, hold pain's hand and lead her out with you.

She seems to have lost her way in my heart.

Where are you ?

Have I by mistake left you among the pages of the long closed book of memories.

I opened the book; a dust of emotions rose. I thought I saw a flicker of you with it. But the dust choked my throat, my eyes blurred with tears.

Ah Poetry ! You were gone before I could hold your hand, sit beside you and colour you in my colours and get coloured in yours.


I know it is neither a poem nor an essay or a story... it is just a conversation, I am not even sure if it is worth sharing or not.. but then this place is mine... I'll be me here... whatever the me means... and today "me" said I have to come here and post something.

For past some days my place here has been like a house with a lock on the main gate but a window open giving a hint of who and what used to be inside and such houses scare me. I'll try and keep the doors open.. even if there is no party inside.. even if one comes just to sit and wander and wonder at the walls.. even if only to laugh at the stupidity or funniness or get confused at the complete lack of order and sense and sanity :)

You are welcome :)

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

She is adamant



The rain waits at my door, like a naughty child, stamping her feet, pursuing me to play with her. 





When I close the doors on her face, she brings along her stronger cousin the wind, and she beats my door ferociously.

I feign anger, with a straight face I go to the terrace, trying not to emote. She teases me, shouting loudly with the thunders. When I put a finger on my lips and ask her to keep quiet with an angry face, she tries to amuse with the fire works of lightning.


She keeps dancing form morn till noon. I decide the crazy kid needs some rest and ask her father, the Sun, to forbid her, but I find him hiding himself behind her mother, the cloud. The cloud argues for her child. When she has let her daughter leave her lap and go play at aunt earth for her vacation, who am I to interfere.

I give in.

I look at rain again, it's about to get dark, she dazzles me with a lightning again, laughs like a symphony and splashes me.

Disarmed I join her :)


Confession: I am obsessed by the rains :)

Monday, June 13, 2011

When was the last time I did something for the first time


I had been to Koudiyala 2 years back (Now 3.5 yrs), for camping with my colleagues. We did ab-sailing, river rafting, trekking in the Jungle at night,hunting for black ribbons tied to the bushes....we had beautiful crisp camp fires.... but the one thing that reverberates till date in my mind is the phrase our trainer (Destination Outdoors) asked us to take away from the whole experience.... it was "When was the last time I did something for the first time".

At that point of time we had been doing so many things for the first time during those 2 days at camp....that I hadn't actually grasped the true value of repeating this to myself at various points in life.

I came back all refreshed, bubbling with life from the camp, beaming with confidence and rejuvenated energy. The camp had made me discover yet some more things about myself.
But with the passage of time, the energy dissipated, those discovered traits remained with me, but I forgot how to bring back the energy levels......


But as always, God found the magic stick again for me....

I went to Bangalore, as my Brother and Sister-in-law both are working, I was left with the entire day all to myself..... I took up cooking for myself, I started making Rangolis (Designs of coloured powder) at the entrance.... I don't know how and when I started staying very happy throughout the day... I kept wondering what was the reason....

And then sumhow the phrase struck me , while discussing about my camp.
Yes, I was doing that cooking and Rangoli etc for the first time.... every time I made something good, I felt like a new trait was born in me.... then I made it a point that ... each day I would cook a recipe which I had never cooked before. And every day I would feel like I have accomplished something.

The point I am trying to drive home here is that we can do very simple things to rejuvenate ourselves each day.... things which we have never done before. So that we get to know our strengths and weaknesses, we get to explore ourselves in short we get to know ourselves.

Now when I look at what this has done to me... I could not stop myself from sharing this tip with all my friends.

Just try simple things.... even if it just getting off from the bus or car.... a little distance before your destination... and walking all the way.......

We can try this tip every once in a while I am sure it is rewarding




Written 15th Dec 2009

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Shadows tell me there's light nearby :)



Have faith. All those who have thought of giving up hope.... just close your eyes, you will see somewhere little glow worms carrying your hopes. Darkness does not rule forever....

 

(Some shadows are visible;
There must be some light nearby
Some hands have come up to stifle a voice
Tells me; A voice has been raised somewhere
I won't write off myself as helpless yet
My heart has sensed some soothing breeze
A heart somewhere has sighed for me)



Kuch parchhaiyaan dikh rahi hain
Kahin shamma jali to hai
Kuch haath uthe awaaz dabane ko
Kahin awaaz uthi to hai
Itna bebas na samajh khud ko
Kuch thandak si mehsus hui hai dil ko
Kahin kisine thandi aahein bhari to hain






Written 31st Aug '09


Monday, June 6, 2011

Will you fulfill the unsaid....





Poetry is but a play of words and so is love. Only in love the ones unspoken are also counted and more so..... !




Will you fullfill the unsaid. Hoping against hope.....

Saturday, June 4, 2011

मोहब्बत



कभी माज़ी के फूलों की खुश्बू में गुम रहते हो
कभी बंद कलियों के रंग सोचने की कोशिश में
कभी महकती नज़रों से अपना गुलिस्ताँ भी आबाद कर लो
अभी ज़िन्दा  है ; कल मुरझा न जाये तुम्हारी एक निगाह पाने की कशिश में



बहुत खूबसूरत होता है इंतज़ार
शायर के लफ्ज़ उसे खुदा बना देते हैं
मोहब्बत की पहचान बना देते हैं
लेकिन इंतज़ार की एक शक्ल वो भी है
जो चुप्पी के बदनुमा रंग में रंगी होती है
मोहब्बत ख़त्म हो चुकी होती है
यार के कन्धों पर उसकी बदसूरत लाश टंगी होती है
इज्ज़त से दफनाया जाना भी नसीब नहीं होता
की उसे मुर्दा करार देने में भी यार की इज्ज़त हलकी होती है


लेकिन क्या कमाल है ज़िन्दगी
की वही लाश गर दिल की ज़मीन पे दफनायें
फिर मुस्कुराती है ज़िन्दगी
फिर आती है आँखों में चमक
फिर एक नया चाँद जवाँ होता है
दिल का हर ज़ख्म भर जाता है
प्यार कई शक्लों में झलकता है



कभी बूढी आँखों की चमक में
कभी नन्ही शक्ल की बड़ी निगाहों की शरारत में
कभी अपने हाथों से सींचे पौधे के सब्ज़ पत्तों में
कभी ओस से सजी नयी कलि की रंगत में
कभी पहली बारिश की गुन गुनाती बूंदों में
  


किसी इंसान की मिल्कियत नहीं मोहब्बत
किसी ख़ास तरह के रिश्ते की मोहताज नहीं मोहब्बत
यह तो तुम पे टूट के बरसती है
कभी माँ के आंसुओं में
कभी दोस्त के यकीन में
  


तुम यूँ ही माज़ी को सहलाते रहो 
आज को नहीं देखोगे तो माज़ी के ख़ज़ाने को कैसे बढ़ाओगे
तुम यूँ ही बंद कलियों के रंग कुरेदने की कोशिश करते रहो 
मुरझाये काले फूलों के अलावा कुछ न हासिल कर पाओगे 


अब भी वक़्त है
ज़िन्दगी दरवाज़े पे है; गले लगा लो
मोहब्बत जिस शक्ल में नसीब हो
किस्मत है; मोहब्बत है ; अपना लो







For friends not very conversant with the script

Mohabbat

Kabhi maazi ke phoolon ki khushboo me gum rehte ho
Kabhi band kaliyon ke rang sochne ki koshish me
kabhi mehakti nazron se apna gulistan bhi aabaad kar lo
Abhi zinda hai, kal murjha na jaye tumhari ek nigaah paane ki kashish me

Bahut Khoobsoorat hota hai intezaar
Shayar ke lafz use khuda bana dete hain
Mohabbat ki pehchaan bana dete hain
Lekin intezaar ki ek shakl wo bhi hai
Jo chuppi ke badnuma rang me rangi hoti hai
Mohabbat khatam ho chuki hoti hai
Yaar ke kandhon pe uski badsoorat lash tangi hoti hai
Izzat se dafnaya jaana bhi naseeb nahi hota
Ki use murda karar dene me bhi yaar ki izzat halki hoti hai

lekin kya kamaal hai zindagi
Ki wahi lash gar dil ki zameen pe dafnayein
Fir muskurati hai zindagi
Fir aati hai ankhon me chamak
Fir ek naya chand jawan hota hai
Dil ka har zakhma bhar jaata hai
Pyar kai shaklon me jhalakta hai

Kabhi boodhi ankhon ki chamak me
Kabhi nanhi shakal ki badi nigahon ke shararat me
Kabhi apne hathon se seenche poudhe ke sabz patton me
Kabhi os se saji nayi kali ki rangat me
Kabhi pahli barish ki gun gunati boondon me

Kisi insaan ki milkiyat nahi muhabbat
Kisi khaas tarah ke rishtey ki mohtaaz nahi mohabbat

Yeh to hum pe toot ke barasti hai
Kabhi ma ke ansuon me
Kabhi dost ke yakeen me

Tum yuhin maazi ko sehlate raho
Aaj ko na hi dekhoge to maazi ke khazane ko kaise badhaoge
Tum yuhin band kaliyon ke rang kuredne ki koshish karte raho
Murjhaye kaale phoolon ke alawa kuchh na hasil kar paaoge



Ab bhi waqt hai,
Zindagi darwaze pe hai gale laga lo
Mohabbat jis shakl me naseeb ho
Qismat hai, mohabbat hai apna lo



P.S. I had written it on 31st Aug'2009

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

What could have been....


No sweeter memories than those of sweet realities lived.

What bitter memories than those of the sweetest dreams dreamt, while those sweet moments were lived.

Sunday, May 29, 2011

Moments

Can there be a few moments...
when you would be you but not completely;
it would be some kind of reality but not entail all that it really entails.
In such a moment, to look into your eyes and whisper all that can't be said
if reality is real.
You would register all and remember all;
forever and forget that you remember it.
The way people hide jewels in the plasters of their walls;
the memory of the moments would remain hidden,
abandoned in the walls of your heart



P.S. Felt like reposting. Had posted it earlier on Sep 13 , 2010.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Awakening



I have just opened my eyes
the dawn welcomes me with a luminescent smile

Tell the wind I am to grow into a huge tree;
Let not the it uproot while am but a sapling

Let not the fear of the wily make my roots sulk
lest I'll keep trembling

Let not the brightness of truth ever be unfaceable for me;
lest my branches shy away from spreading




 
Let not the bitterness of moments gather in me
or my fruits will be embarrassed to serve

Let not the sweet fragrance of the earth be lost on me
Coz my flowers will be no good then plastic

Let me hold my ground and my words
That my trunk does not resemble the spineless

May my roots run deep
Just so winds of change donot sweep me astray

May my leaves not shy away from hard work
else I would be no better than the cuscuta

May I stay down to earth
or deprived of the humbling water I'll run rude,
dried to ashes, thrown to the winds of justice,
who'll take me to the land of loners

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

....would have been happier cheated



He thought that I trusted him but I did not.I discovered that he intended a mischief, and I tried and succeeded in letting him believe that I got played. Nevertheless oblivious of it all he was still puckering up to me his 20 teethed smile on the little balloon of a face with deep punctures on each side and two huge round mirrors fringed with black swept up feathers looking at me, completely trusting.

I hoped I had got played.Had I got played his smile would have been earned not short changed from him.I hated myself.
His achievement could have been real but for the intelligent, calculative me.
I would have been happier cheated. He trusted me to trust him the way he trusted me.



It is about my dearest Nephew. He is a 3 yr old pack of mischeives and my pace maker :)

Sunday, May 15, 2011

I choose in blacks n whites





I am not morose
Though I choose in blacks n whites
White or black be it what it may
But that what's within should be without
No indecisive, fence-sitting blots of Grey
No wannabe white, dwindling blacks
No wannabe black, grinning whites





They say it's hard to remain what you are within, if you have to keep up with the world.
As days turn into nights I see sparrows turning owls, and all the time playing the martyr.I see everything merging into all else.
You hold a rose and you see a cactus if you bat your eyelids twice, you think you caged a fierce beast, deprive it of the sun, the wind and the rain, and you shudder the next week, when you discover it was only an innocent deer. Not breathing anymore.... you committed the murder you never wanted to.. coz the evil blinded you with the deer skin, gore. 

I choose not to be blinded with tears of sympathy or anger or love. When the day of judging or being judged comes, I want to have my eyes open, without the coloured glasses of prejudice or perception, and the memories, I lean on, to be in blacks or whites...






________________________________


Just a thought.... to me..... 

I don't know what's in store , but I know me and that I'll always have me, this very me who is writing this, to face it with.....


Saturday, May 14, 2011

My 51st Post : What the heck? Who’s John Galt?




I never asked you to wait
I didn't know how long would it take
But when I turn back now
I see
The abode of memories shaken to the core
I had failed the love
But you failed yourself
You are not the you anymore
I could trust your unbelievable dreams
But not this practical, smiling, stable man that screams,
"I am so help less" and that's his plea to suffocate his dreams










I had seen an innocent seed
I deserved to see a promising bud
If at all
Not this wilted corpse of a flower
I see you but can't see through any more
You became just another one lost in the crowd and furore
I see John becoming James, my senses revolt
Oww!! What the heck? Who’s John Galt?


P.S. I have borrowed the phrase "who's John Galt?" and the names of the characters John Galt and James Taggart from Ayn Rand's novel Atlas Shrugged.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

उम्मीद

कहीं एक उम्मीद सी है
दिल के किसी झंरोखे से चुप चाप
चली आती है सांस बनकर
सिसकियाँ उभार लाती है
मरने नहीं देती


ज़िन्दगी जलाती है हर लम्हा
हर ख्वाब जलकर राख होने को है
कहीं से फिर आता है एक हवा का झोंका
काले शोलों को पीला कर जाता है
एक चिंगारी कहीं खोने नहीं पाती


कहीं एक सपना सा है
अचानक चौंका देता है
हरकत सी होती है
नीली पड़ती नसें, सफ़ेद हथेलियाँ
चल पड़ती हैं, सुर्ख़ी खोने नहीं पातीं


I had written and posted it somewhere else before in Oct'10.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

The Game Of Hide n Seek

One day I was asked to close my eyes
Let’s play hide and seek so you get worldly wise
Neither faith nor choice was mine
I closed my eyes coz I had no choice


“Count your days” I did
“Count your salary” I did
“Count your acquaintances, admirers and proposals” I did
“Count the parties, rewards and appraisals” I did


Counting twenty one, twenty two
I sneaked a glance or two
Was shocked to discover
I was wrong in judging the who's who


Closed my eyes again
Perhaps a punishment for cheating it was
When I count all it will be all right
I hope, in fact I was sure, as it was


Counted twenty three, four and five
My good sense told me to be on guard
I brushed it aside intoxicated by success
"You are only a dampener, a spoil sport that I should discard"


My good sense never left me
In mother’s words and fathers comradeship there it was
Slowly, cautiously, doubting, I counted twenty six
To see or not to see was the fix in which I was


Now I open my eyes
Only to find me better ignorant than worldly wise
There was a time I was tempted to sneak a view
Now I wish never to open my eyes till I get a life new


"Brother ! Oh Brother !
I see you but you see me no more
You are there in front of my eyes
But the distance between us can’t be covered in miles"


"Mother! Oh mother!
I bought you a sari in which to shimmer
But I see on your heart scars
And in your eyes red tears that make me shudder"




"Father! Oh father
I hoped to find you prouder
But on your shoulders I find no invisible medallions
But burdens of alms of deserved duty and memories for companions"


"Love! Oh love!
You had promised to be the most colourful dream
Yes a dream is all you proved to be
When my life lost colour you are nowhere to see"


"When I opened my eyes, to fathom the depth of the experience enlightening
The brightness was blinding
Hide n seek was a game of childhood no more for me to play
I accept with bent knees, lowered eyes “Ignorance is bliss” when they say"



Re posting.... :)

Had written it in June last year

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

The Old Man

This is my first attempt at a short story. Please do share anything and everything that comes to your mind. This is completely new for me :)

“These coolies I tell you, it’s really a surprise that they don’t carry guns and ropes to tie you… such temper. I won’t be surprised if they think they own these trains and if we breathe on the railway station we owe it to them…”


Mr. Chattopadhyay was seemingly in a foul mood… he was given to fights with coolies, rickshaw wallas, poojaris at crowdy famous temples, vegetable vendors, tourist guides… in short anywhere and everywhere there was a possibility of a tussle or a bargain.

Mrs. Chattopadhyay had been expecting it; now that it was over she was relieved and could retire for the night on the berth, as dinner time was past, no more possible conversations with strangers were due that could fan her husband’s temper. The bed roll was already there on the berth, she spread it, arranged it to her comfort and lied down to try and get some sleep. “First thing after reaching there would be to make arrangements for the path* at the temple, and yes, in the morning she would have to give away the left out pooris to the first kid that comes to clean the compartment, would the gobi still be in good condition by then, she had wrapped it in aluminum foil though, at least the gulab jamuns would still be eatable… she still hadn’t gotten over the rotting of the kheer.. ow she keeps forgetting things… there was at least  a quarter of the huge bowl full of kheer. At least two people could have had it….. no no she must remember to give away the pooris, the gobi and the gulab jamun first thing in the morning….”

Hey what was that, isn’t that a familiar grumble, and a tone of anger about to burst forth, like the mild whistles of a pressure cooker just before it is about to go all out with the long whistle. Now what could possible have triggered it ?

Any which ways she got up, the thing that angered her husband further was no one taking notice of his anger. She did not say anything, she did not have to, she just had to sit up and that was a signal for Mr. Chattopadhyay to tell all. He began, ”… the systems are all rotten, what the hell are the TT’s doing except for milking the ‘without tickets’ for a berth at nite… I am sure some such arrangement is behind this… it’s ridiculous… I am going to take it up with him when I see him, what do they think, we have paid for our tickets, how can they let someone sleep just in front of the wash room door… “
She asked, “What? A man is sleeping in front of the wash room door? ... But it is cold…. The chilly wind must be seeping in through the joints of the bogies….”

“Let him freeze, it’s his fault, what does he think  ...sleeping like that blocking the wash room. What if someone has an emergency? “

“Okay have you tried waking him up … ask him to at least to move away from the door… then we’ll see when the TT comes… after all there are other passengers also… they would also object to this”

“The man wouldn’t budge, a vagabond, he’s stinking, there’s a stench I don’t know coming from what, it reminds me of the shortcut route at the back side of the hospital I used to take to go to office….. Can’t even say if he’s sleeping or awake”


Mrs. Chattopadhyay had a natural tendency to sympathize with people who seemed to have had no right to take the roads in life that demanded basic economic and social status. Here was this vagabond, who did not have a ticket to be able to have a berth or even may be a chair car…. Who would sleep in front of the washroom door of a train?

She thought of persuading the man to move aside, so as to save him from her husband’s wrath.

It was January in North India; the wind was cold enough to send spines through one’s very bones. She wrapped herself in a shawl? Though it was an AC bogie, the door was not closing properly and a cold stream was seeping in through the joints of the bogies.

There he lay… an old man. At least he looked old. His face, whatever little was visible of it, dust covered but serene; seemed to be the face of a man who had been self respecting. His hands were big, would have been healthy once, as his entire frame was big, bony. There was some calm about him, an aura of peace.

Could have been counted as one of the wise, balanced, knowledgeable man of his society, might not be formally educated and also might be unaware of the leaps of science and technology but wise nonetheless.

She tried waking him up, by calling out several addresses as she knew could be used to address elderly strangers. He did not budge. More than his jamming the washroom door, what troubled her was the behaviour she apprehended would be meted out to him when all the passengers discover him. Oh Lord! Have mercy on this poor old man, he seems to have been hit by situations already. Lord answered in the form of a pantry car staff. Pantry car was the bogie adjacent to theirs. The pantry car guy had heard her addresses to the old man and had come out to find the reason behind.

“Don’t worry Mataji, these vagabonds would not budge if the train was itself to run over them. You can wake up someone who is really asleep; not one who is faking sleep.

Hey, old man, get up, enough sleep you have had, better get your weight moving or else I would have to find some better treatment for your sleep. Parasites. Why don’t you stay put at one place if you can’t afford the money to move about? “

The man did not budge.

The pantry guy would not have hesitated to use any foul language, but for the presence of Mrs. Chattopadhyay. He was about to give vent to his frustration of not being able to abuse by kicking the old man, just then another pantry guy called out. “Hey Kishan! What happened? This second guy seemed older and a bit more sober. He saw the old man. His face softened. He bent down, stroked his cheeks affectionately and with respect and almost motherly affection implored him to move aside, in some language unknown to both the onlookers.

The old man got up, looked at the second pantry guy with watery eyes, helpless, red, as if the blood in them is going to push them to burst out. He pointed towards the wash room, probably asking for some help. The good guy obliged, reassured him that it was safe enough to move aside. When the old man moved aside, the good guy got out a bundle wrapped in rags and handed it over to the old man. The train slowed down and halted with a screech. It was a dully lighted obscure station outside. Hardly anyone was there except the railway’s indispensable staff and a single on-boarder. The old man, walked out, holding the rag close to his bosom, trembling, and his walk weak but hurried, and after a while disappeared into the darkness.


The pantry guy explained. This guy was Venkateshwar, he had been a much respected person in his village, had a position equivalent to a panch in the village. He was not literate but very knowledgeable and knew everything that he could learn from his forefathers and by observing the nature around. And people respected and sought his opinion in all matters and looked forward to his advice. He wanted to continue this tradition further. He made all arrangements for his only son to study well and pass the medical entrance. His only son was to him like a piece of his heart. A year back, he was taking his son for admission into the medical college in town, by a train. At night, when the train stopped at a non discreet station, his son went out to have water, while Venkateshwar, kept lying in sweet dreams, envisioning his son as a doctor, his son’s certificates, of which he was so proud, and the money for the admission in a bag, worked as a pillow for him. There was a sudden sound like that of Diwali crackers, no it could not be crackers at this place and this hour. It was the naxalites, come to attack the train. Venkateshwar’s heard was pounding. His son wasn’t back in his berth yet, though he had seen him coming towards their bogey through the window. Naxalites were talking among themselves. We must kill, only then will they notice us. They heard the noise of a bottle falling against the floor, they moved in the direction of the sound, it was the washroom; they opened it and unleashed fire from their rifles. There was a scream of a young voice; a voice that Venkateshwar knew too well, the second and subsequent shots were welcomed by whimpers, muffled whimpers gradually becoming less discreet, till there was no noise.

Everyone lay breathless till the naxalites got down at the next station, not before taking more lives. In that moment, Venkateshwar stopped being anything but a walking corpse. Only one thing he kept repeating over and over again. If I could have stood guard against my son, if that was the only thing I could do till I die, God if I could stand guard against my son. And he kept repeating this till he could. Now he doesn’t say anything. Just gets into a train whenever he can, grabbing his Son’s certificates in the rag (the money has long been talked out by disgusting creeps that live by name of men), and guards the washroom doors.

When the good guy left, Mrs. Chattopadhyay went back to her berth, to narrate everything to his husband and get the satisfaction of seeing him soften. That she did. Mr. Chattopadhyay said to her, you should have given him the pooris, the gulab jamuns and the gobi. Poor old man must be hungry. This brought an instant smile on Mrs. Chattopadhyays face, and she was back in her own world, making herself remember to give away the left overs the next morning. The night had been longer than she expected.


* path : Religious ceremony




Friday, April 29, 2011

I want ! !

Again re posting. I had written it before I was in 10th standard. Then lost it in an unfortunate incident. Had the theme and majority of the 1st, 2nd and 4th stanza in memory. Recreated in 2005; lost again; then recreated in 2009 and then added the 3rd stanza; as the memory of my parent's reactions to this poem, in my school days, had become a beautiful childhood memory in itself by then :) :). Here it goes :)



I want..... ! !


In the hours of the cool night
When there is nothing to fright
When stars twinkle and heavenly bodies glow
I want something even more
I want a cool breeze to flow


In the hours of the dusk
The cattle trample the path back home
On their way,waking up dust,painting the horizon gore
No one would ask for anything more
But I liked the morning song and I want the birds to encore


In the hours of the noon
when there is the sweet melody of silence
accompanied by the silken rustling symphony of the leaves
Eyes slowly closing in to capture in dreams the childhood forgone
Can any one ask for anything more
But I still want a smooth drizzle to pour


Why is it so ?
Is it because I am human
Always wanting more than the neighbour and the foe
My desires growing as I get more
Does not the sea of greed possess a shore…….



Wednesday, April 27, 2011

जन्नत


जन्नत के मायने दूसरों के लिए कुछ और हों शायद
मेरे लिए कुछ और ही हैं
जहाँ चाँद की नहीं चांदनी की चाहत हो
फूल की नहीं खुशबू की एहमियत हो
कोरी बातों की नहीं सच्चे एहसास की तलब हो
मेरे लिए वही जन्नत है
लोग कहते हैं की हकीक़त में न सही पर दिल में जन्नत हो
पता नहीं कितना समझते हैं वो दिल, जन्नत और हकीक़त को
मेरे लिए तो मेरे दिल की जन्नत ही एक हकीक़त है
जो वो हैं इस ज़मीं पर तो ये ज़मीं ही जन्नत है
जो वो आँखें देखतीं उस चाँद को तो वो चाँद ही जन्नत है
जो वो हाथ उठते उस ख़ुदा की तरफ
तो उस ख़ुदा की रहमत ये सारी खुदाई ही जन्नत है
रह रह कर हर सांस के साथ उभरता जो वो नाम
तो मेरी हर सांस ही जन्नत है
  




Jannat

Jannat ke mayne doosron ke liye kuch aur hon shayad
mere liye kuch aur hi hain
Jahan chand ki nahi chandni ki chahat ho
Phool ki nahi khushboo ki ehmiyat ho
Kori baaton ki nahi sachche ehsas ki talab ho
Mere liye wahi jannat hai
Log kehte hain ki haqiqat me na sahi par dil me jannat ho
Pata nahi kya samajhte hain woh dil, jannat aur haqiqat ko
mere liye toh mere dil ki jannat hi ek haqiqat hai
Jo woh hain is zameen par toh yeh zameen hi jannat hai
Jo woh sanse hain is fiza me toh yahin jannat hai
Jo woh aankhen dekhti us chaand ko to woh chand hi jannat hai
Jo woh haath uthte us khuda ki taraf ,
to us khuda ki rehmat yeh saari khudai hi jannat hai
Reh reh ke har sans ke saath ke saath ubharta jo wo naam,
To meri har sans hi jannat hai


Note: Had written this for Shahid Afridi :)  :) in 2005, when I was in Mangalore....

P.S. That place is itself heaven during the rains

And I have labelled this as Treasury of courage and confidence coz this is what he had been for me for 8 yrs... till I came to the real world

Sunday, April 24, 2011

God Loves Me



When I was in school, may be it was class 6th or 7th (1995/96), our science teacher was teaching us about meristematic tissues in plants that help them regrow their broken branches. I thought about it for sometime and then as if I had found a key to some very expensive treasure no body had noticed.

I suddenly became very happy and excited.I waited impatiently for the class to end. My science teacher moved out of the class and I followed him as there was sometime before the next teacher could come in.
I asked him with a lot of excitement, "sir, what if we take out those meristematic tissues from plants and place some on the amputated portion of people who have lost their body parts in accidents. Then we could, artificially, create the environment required for the tissues to stay alive and grow out the flesh of the limbs from there. We can give finishing touches with artificial bones,blood, nerve fibers and some cosmetic surgery"

As I said this I had a lot of pride in my voice, as if I had thought of something nobody had been able to imagine. I was expecting a pat on my back and a look of pride on my science teacher's face. But just the opposite happened. He simply said naah....! that is too far fetched and not possible. He simply dismissed my idea and that too without granting me any emotion not even of anger. The response was too cold.


I was shattered....true.. but I did not let go of the idea.

I came home and shared the idea with my family. They were not aware of the technicalities of the idea and without thinking of the feasibility of my proposal looked at me with a lot of pride and encouraged me to pursue it when I grow up.

They were too proud that such a great idea could strike their child's brain which could be of such great value to society. My mother told me -you are born for some great cause.always remember that in all your actions.

This changed the way I looked at myself and the way I was growing.

Though, I could never actually try my idea.But years after, I felt like God had not let me down after all. My idea was not all rubbish. I read about cloning for the first time. I looked at the pictures of
Dolly and felt in some corner of the world I had some one else thinking on the same lines as me and had worked on a way around. Instead of taking the tissues which can help regrow, from plants, we have now found similar tissues within our own body. We can grow skin, nerve cells and a complete new being also as per the designs and measurements our creator had created us with.

I was ecstatic. I felt God loves me.......


Note: Re posting.  This is first article I had written when I started writing again after 4 years in 2009

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Manzil

Manzil kya hai ?
Manzil wahi jahan le jaye raasta
Manzil fir wahi jahan tak jaye raasta
Yeh manzil kisne banayi ?
na maine na tumne
To yeh raaste kisne banaye ?
na maine na tumne
ret ke tilon se baar baar bane bigde
fir kisi se takrakar swayam kendrit hue
Manzil kya banayega koi manuj
kya uske atrupt netra kabhi trupt hue hain
Manuj me adhiakadhik ki garaj
tabhi to kai manzilein kai raaste bane fir lupt hue hain
tabhi to sabki mazil alag alag
sabki tushti alag alag
ek dharti pe rehkar bhi anya ke prati hai sab ki drishti alag alag
manzil satya bhi hai
manzil mrigtrishna bhi
yeh manuj ke nikat hi hai
par manuj ki paristhiti bhi vikat hai
Yeh samajh ke le gaya koi aur
naak ke neeche manzil rakhkar dhoondhe charon or


Note : Reposting. Had written it while in school, 10th or 11th can't remember anymore

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Would he be as mad.... ?



Would he really stop his galloping white horse at my sight against the black clouds ?
Would he love the rains as much as I do ? 
Would he spend hours gazing at the floating clouds, with the moon playing hide-n-seek ?
Would he let the wet breeze caress his hair for eternity and still want for more ?
Would he stop by on his way just to smell the wet earth ?
Would he be as mad as to run to the terrace in the middle of the night just to welcome the untimely rain ?
Would he take welcoming it every time it starts as his religion ?
If you call it madness, pray would he be as mad as me ?


Saturday, April 16, 2011

वो अधूरा आईना




कल समुन्दर किनारे रेत पर चलते चलते निहार रही थी रेत के माथे पर बनती बिगड़ती लकीरों को ;
लकीरें जो समुन्दर हर पल के पलक झपकते बना रहा था 
पैरों में ठोकर सी लगी ; नीचे देखा आँखें चौंधिया गयीं ;
खूबसूरत सुनेहरा चमकता एक तिकोना झाँक रहा था रेत के सीने से; रेत समय की 
जैसे ज़िन्दगी के सुनहरे अरबी के पत्ते पर चमकता जीवनदायी अमृत बिंदु; 
किसी भी पल परिस्थितियों की मिट्टी पर गिरे और खो जाए 
हठी आशा के हाथों वास्तविकता की रौशनी को ढका तो उसमे अपनी दो आँखें दिखाई दीं
कभी इतनी सुन्दर न लगी थीं जो सपनों का काजल लगाये उस क्षण उस तिकोने में दिखाई दीं 
मन में सोच लिया सुनहरी सपनों के ढाँचे में सजाऊँगी वो आईना अपने घर के सबसे अँधेरे कोने में 
खिल जायेगा वो कोना; जब तब रूप निहारुँगी उसमे 
आईना वादा सा कर रहा था हमेशा मेरा दमकता चेहरा ही दिखाएगा 
जीवन सुन्दर लगने लगा; खुद को उस आईने में न जाने किस किस रूप में न देखा 
बस सब्र न हुआ; अभी उठाकर अपना बना लूँ इस आईने को 
हाथ बढाया; ये क्या !?!  जितना तिकोना उभरा था उतना ही हाथ में आ गया
न वज़न था, न गहरायी 
आईना था नहीं अलबत्ता हुआ करता था; फ़क़त कांच का टुकड़ा था !!
हाय री क़िस्मत सपने दिखाकर तोड़ने की आदत न छूटी कभी तुझसे 
जब पाँव ज़मीन पे वापस आए, नख से शिख तक दर्द कौंध गया;
देखा तो सूर्ख थे; सूर्ख बूंदों के मोती टपक रहे थे, एडियों पे लाल लकीर बनाए
आँखों में सपनों का काजल , होठों पर हंसी की सुर्खी, नज़रों में शोखी न सही
यादगार एक सूर्ख दाग तो दे ही गया वो काँच का टुकड़ा... वो अधूरा आईना


Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Nigahein






Nigahon nigahon me wo haal kar gaye
Bas guzre aur nihaal kar gaye
Unhe khabar bhi nahi hamari sheh ki
Aur hum apne dil se sabse ahem sawal kar gaye











Monday, April 4, 2011

बस अपनी कही और उठ कर चल दिए.



बस अपनी कही और उठ कर चल दिए
मैंने कहा था," बादलों से निकल कर आउंगी किसी शाम;
कुछ हिसाब चुकाने हैं;
तुम्हारी मोहब्बत सिर्फ पानी नहीं कमानी है;
अगर भरोसा है तो रुकना
अपने अलफ़ाज़ निभाने आउंगी किसी शाम"
दो पल की देर
और वो शमा सरे शाम बुझाकर चल दिए 
बस अपनी कही और उठ कर चल दिए
 

Sunday, April 3, 2011

The reflection



The reflection in the mirror answers the same description
But the address does not bring out the same person
She gropes in the chaos, the dust of insecurity closes her eyes
She holds on to what she can, and all that she holds gives up
She tries to stand, quite firm looking ground
It's sliding away, it's just quick sand; she looks around
 She speaks the same words over again to herself loud enough
What echoes back from within is a sarcastic cough
She tries saying something else; it's no use anymore
The same sarcastic cough from within is all she can hear
The cough that blows up her claims of knowledge
Knowledge of her own self, knowledge of within
Can't say masks have come up or masks have come off
Can't say pain has numbed love or reality got it written off 
But if this is real, that was a dream, a beautiful one
If she was asleep then, why does she now want to doze off and be gone ?

Saturday, March 19, 2011

If I could....


There never was a promise that there would be no dark tunnels in your life.
Neither was there a promise to walk together forever.

But I promised to hold your hand and walk with you till the end of the darkest tunnel of your life.

Wish I had stayed till I could say, " the words have been kept. Light is showing. Darkness is just about to fade"

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

This is all I can say ....

From where I am looking at it now, I don't know where to look to be able to see something. May be my life's going to be like a dream come true. May be my life's going to be miserable; but who can stop me from making it less miserable. I am not going to give up. I am fighting.

I hear and I listen too, but yes I want only to be heard not listened, so I talk and not speak.
I am going to fight with myself and the coward, the hypocrite in me, to earn every single penny that will help me earn, what people presume that I deserve, but I know within that I don't. Not yet.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Moments that make life


I had been pondering over the accounts chapter and had probably read the same paragraph more than 20 times on the loop without being aware of it. When I realised it, I realised it's time for a break as my mind had already taken a break and sneaked out of the book into it's favorite game of "chasing the mouse within".

Time to discipline it. My new found enthusiasm to train my mind to obey my command, thanks to "The Monk who sold his Ferrari". (Hope it stays with me)

I looked up, in the hope of finding something that would refresh me. There was this bluish shimmer on gray, some hint of crimson, the glow, a smooth outline, a calm, tranquil, innocent, fearless, exploring body language, on a back ground of blue, blue as water but matte not shiny.

It was a pigeon sitting on the nearby asbestos sheet that covered the stairs. It looked beautiful to me now. It had always been just a fellow creature that shared the terrace with me, hardly worth a second look. I realised it was just the way I looked at it, I looked only at it, with it being the focus, and no thoughts playing a back ground cacophony.

I learnt, if we really do only one thing at a time with all our focus, that one thing will give us something.

Satisfaction and a little packet of energy to keep us going till another such moment when we look at life and love it, just love it and be happy about it; and we smile. Such a smile that while at it, when we close our eyes, the curves on our cheeks spread like ripples or waves that reach within, and touch our heart with warmth and leaves us content

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Child labour ....... what we can do ?


There are a lot of thoughts knocking at my mind right now
What can we do for these children…. We may talk about getting free education implemented for each of them…. honest distribution of mid day meals, NGO’s etc etc.

 
When we talk of such things, do these children have to work because their parents don’t have money to teach them… if that had been the case free education would help….  But the issue is their parents don’t have money enough to feed them and in some cases there are no parents at all. So, free education is not the complete solution. We need to ensure that there families can have enough to food so that the children can come and really concentrate and enjoy while they get this free education.

 
Just think of all the arrangements and restrictions on TV, ambiance for study, etc, that we indulge in when we have to study or there is someone in the family who has an exam to appear.

 
How can the poor child come to school everyday (even if free, with a meal for him), when his younger infant brother is wailing with hunger and he knows he could help him if he went to work instead of going to school? What would you have done had you been in his place?

 
I am all for free education, but there is one more shackle that binds them. The burden of responsibilities needs to be taken of their shoulders then we can stop child labour. We have to provide them with an alternative before snatching that meal they are now earning for themselves through “Child Labour”.

A mid-day meal is not going to help… that is only for one person but these young “Men of the family”are feeding their families

 
However till that time we must discourage Child labour in places like chemical factories, jewelery work shops, etc, where they are deprived of even things like day light and normal breathable air. 

I am not saying only children should be protected from these hazards, but looking at the pace of the things that happen around here, we can work towards creating a better world, one step at a time, without waking up the so called “thekedaars” of society who raise slogans for everything, mess up everything, and do not let any one else do anything.

 
Till that time what each one of us can do is provide at least one thing to these children which is there born right….. love.  Speak tenderly to the working child, he is a child after all, do not speak to his profile or profession … speak to him, to the child within him and he will respond…. Let him have his moments of innocence …. His moments of childhood……

 
Speak more humanely to the child who is nagging you or tugging at the ice cream that you have given to your child…. Give him something to eat but not in the manner of alms but as you would give to any child of your friend…. May not be as expensive but it would certainly make him feel good. Do not have the look of sympathy in your eyes while giving it to him… try and have the look of happiness and pride that you have when you see your own child happy. That would be a one first small step towards making him feel that he is also meant to grow up and be like you and buy things instead of begging for them……........


Wednesday, February 23, 2011

I'll walk again...


It's like the worm trying to walk up a slippery pole... or the drunkard..... we had as our Physical numerical subjects. The worm that climbed 5 inches and slipped 3, how long would it take the worm to reach the top of the pole? .... or the drunkard who walks 6steps and moves back 4, how long would it take the drunkard to fall in the drainage pit some feet away.

This is happening to me. I am trying to get to being the person I want to be. There goes half a day when I am all happy and pumped up but then there goes a whole week when I think that I've lost it. I can't do it. I can't be what I had dreamed to be, since the time I had started understanding, since the first time I had had the taste of being an asset and not a liability to the society. Somewhere down the line I lost the touch. It's like dim cinders... the life in me... it glows with a whiff of goodness, positivity, some good words, a good movie, but then it gets buried in the ashes of negativity.

Sounds like I have given up... but no I haven't.

I saw a person today. A person who meant the world to me for 8 yrs...I don't know I lost the person with all other good things. Yes the person was the goodness in me. I saw the person again a while ago... The person was the goodness in me.... I was but a kid then. I thought to myself... I have grown bigger and my heart has grown too small, complicated and compact for that sort of goodness to work for me any more. But to my relief the person has grown too. The person still stands tall and has created more reasons to be looked upto. If I am lucky, I would move ahead this time. As a kid I tried to be upto that person, now too I can try to be upto that person, and that's more than good enough for me.

God sure does show us light in mysterious ways.

Thanks. You love me as you always have loved me and been with me.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

जब देखा सपनों की नदी का दूसरा किनारा


जब देखा सपनों की नदी का दूसरा किनारा


कितनी ख़ूबसूरत सपनों की नदी 
रोज़ बदलते रंग
एक महकते उजाले का वादा
ख़ूबसूरत चेहरे

सपनों का घर
सपनों का नगर
महकती रसोई
खनकते कंगन

नींद में पार की सपनों की नदी
ज़िन्दगी की नाव पर बैठकर
कोई रंग नहीं है
धुंध छटी देखा कोई संग नहीं है

सूनी ज़मीन
सुनसान नगर
अकेली रसोई
कोई सुनने वाला नहीं सो सूने कंगन

मोहब्बत का नाम लिया
और आँखें भर आयीं
बचपन में देखे सपने याद किये
बस जली हुई ख़ाक हाथ आयी
 
 

Friday, February 18, 2011

LOVE - YOU

When I think the word "LOVE"

I think the word "YOU"

Tears, smiles, a warmth beneath the eyelids,
the desire to look at the sky, the desire to drench in the rain,

the desire to sit with folded hands, gazing at God's eyes and praying for every one I know, who has a problem,

looking at the mirror and smiling when the mirror looks beautiful....

All this is "YOU"


Note: It is a comment on "Oh My Darling, You Look Wonderful Tonight...":

She inspired me to write this :). Thanks Beyond Horizon

Thursday, February 17, 2011

A Prayer


Dear God,

Please walk down a few steps;
For the smog of chaos is choking us down here;
There are a lot many who are not yet able to see the light,
Your light,
The glaze of your shining blade of justice
and the sparkle of Your golden shield of forgiveness

Amen




God,

A comforting stroke on the forehead,
comforting words to the heart may not reach;
nevertheless the comfort must reach my love.

Amen

Friday, February 11, 2011

Me

Now when I look at the mirror, I want to see me... the "me" I always wanted to be

Saturday, February 5, 2011

The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want.






The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want. 

He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters.

He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness For His name's sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for ...You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You have anointed my head with oil; My cup overflows.

Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life, And I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever. 

- Psalm 23

This is not my creation, but something that has always given me strength. I just wanted to share