Haddu Haddu Everywhere...

A Haddu next door and your life is hell. Believe it or not it`s actually happening. They hover all around shouting in their coded lingo and when you by any chance come in the vicinity, they shout even louder expressing how delightful they feel being the creators of this hell. They laugh at each others` 3rd class PJs encouraging them to produce more of such kinds. They find ‘the way the dhobi asks for his monthly pay’ hilarious. They find ‘the existence of SMS packs in mobile connections’ hilarious. They find ‘Jal forming live at a cultural fest’ even more hilarious.

One restful Sunday you wake up at around 11 in the morning, find out that you`ve got no exhaling work for the entire day and decide to spend the rest of your day the same way. To begin with your daily machinery you find your way to the common bathroom holding a toothbrush in one hand and a bottle of hand-wash in the other. Controlling yourself out of those two trembling legs and the chunks of slightly illusive hangovers at times, you find yourself in front of the wash-basin. Whole of your future finds itself in a black-hole when you see millions of small-medium-large-extra large pieces of pubic hair choking the basin-pipes, both of them! You rush to find a bathroom as nausea circles you and you need to over-flow. All you hear is different catchy numbers again in the encrypted forms each in a different tone from all the 4 bathrooms. They are all around you like Zombies! Hit your head against the wall if you have the slightest intention of survival.

You think of having lunch, but you forget that hell is all around you. You find the Zombies all around you, in front of you, both sides, walking by. Even a chicken has better dining manners. The following 20 minutes pass with your face finding a way to dip into the vegetable curry and chock yourself to death.

One chilly night of early December, end terms finished the day before. All you want to do is get you’re your cozy bed, get yourself fully covered with a warm blanket and enjoy a sound undisturbed sleep. It`s just before you can achieve the state of ‘The deep sleep’, you hear some radio-labeled voice followed by another and another just outside your door. One can`t think of a CIA operation in India and even when your clock in showing 2:30. You try to ignore that for a while. But that trial continues for some fifteen minutes before things start getting out of control. You pick up your last option and get yourself out of Heaven. You open the door and what you find is a dark figure covered up to his neck with an even darker shawl speaking, rather shouting over his beloved while the phone is in the ‘Speaker’ mode. You look around. All you can hear around is ‘Nothing’. All you can find around is ‘No one’. But this fellow keeps talking and suddenly he turns around, the contrasting color of his teeth reminding you that ghosts exist.

In your semi-conscious state, you look at him for a moment and how to react the next. The temperature outside and the chilled air efficiently doing its job makes you leave all aside and close the door behind you as quickly as possible. When life`s at stack, even a lazy fat dog can react faster than a squirrel. You enter back inside the bed carefully trying to remove the nasty noises but failing to do so, you try to stick your ears to them even more carefully. ’Neglecting your breaths while you listen can make you an undercover agent’. Such carrier opportunities often strike you when you have nothing else to do but compelled to listen to such noises while being inside a comfortable bed.

Carefully listen to the sound and guess what it is!! You should not be surprised this time. You really are in Hell. You look out for your watch every 5 minutes praying to God a million times between each of the interval before it is the moment when the battery goes down. Finally it`s your turn to thank God that he kept you alive all this time.

P.S. : No personal offences.

My mind changes with a blink of an eye. I cannot hold it anymore. Neither can I ask it to make me do what I want. I think of buying a toothpaste, I get inside the shop and start searching for some good wafers, buy a 3-in-1 pack of soap, displaying ‘save Rs3/-’ in catchy yellow and happily get out of the shop. I think of getting my hair done, the next moment I find myself with my folks deeply involved in some gaming zone. I think of devoting some time to the Newspaper that knocks my door every morning without any slip, and the gaming zone is there again. I decide to quit gaming, the next moment I am in front of the screen again, enjoying a classic Hollywood movie, when finished, I`m back to the zone with a bang. I decide to have my dinner in the mess, save myself some bucks, and I end up trying out different cuisines in restaurants I`ve never been before all seven days of the week. I talk to my mom, it takes me whole lot of time to answer to “Why were you not picking up the phone last night?” that to in my native tongue.

Do I need to start the ‘Baba Ramdev stuffs’ this early or is there any scope I can return into a normal state! Although he guarantees ‘Mann ki sthirta’ and ‘Aatma ki shaanti’ sort of things, is there any possibility I should be going through all those! One moment I think that every human being at this stage of life has to face this phage more or less, early or later and the next moment I start feeling blue, ‘Why the hell can`t I see others behaving like I do?’.

Two days before the exams, I swallow the books like I`m the biggest foodie ever. I decide to continue the spirit for the rest of my college, acquiring something useful, something worth that time, some knowledge, something that I can refer to as an achievement. In my living dream, I want to know everything. As the judgment day passes, I am done with all the vomiting over the answer sheets; I come back to where I actually belong. The books stare at me saying ‘Can`t you give me a look at least once a day, else keep me somewhere safe, away from the spiders and the lizards’.

I haven`t talked about it yet but I know what people will say. So I prefer to have a silent tongue. Though I felt it since a long time back but couldn`t think (though thinking is out of my league now) about it much. It actually slipped away with just with a blink of an eye each time I started. Baba Ramdev is one my last options. I like to search for answers but this is one of those rare mysteries where I don`t even know what the mystery is.

The swallowing time is back. The judgment day is near i.e. tomorrow. As far as I remember, I was in bed a moment ago. I seriously don`t have a bit of idea how I ended with this crap at this hour of time! That’s my mind.

Someone told me once...

“How can people say that they would be awarded with heaven or executed to hell based on the acts they do during their lives or past lives. They can worship a piece of stone, a tree, some animals, the sun or a river but can`t think anything beyond that. They are happy with what is going on now. No matter how big their troubles are, they seek help or ask for some extra strength from those random things. They try every bit of their lives making their way to a hypothetical heaven.

There are screams, there are fights. We see innocent people suffer. We see the criminals roaming freely among public. We show our pity towards the female who`d been raped. We intend to hang out the person(s) who did this to her. We intend to burn him alive. We are the ones who decide how to punish the ones who did it.

But none of us had ever thought of some other possibilities. May be the people who are suffering are suffering cause of the acts they`d done in their pasts, in their previous lives. May be the ones who are making them suffer have done nothing. May be they are the messengers of the ultimate Almighty. May be they are the ones who are here to give the results to the former ones. May be the later ones have done enough now to get into the positions of the former ones. May be there are more messengers forming.

This chain happens to have no ending at all. As long as people would pretend this to be a real world, there is no ending. It is difficult to understand but what if we all are living in a common dream. What if it happens to be true that none of us is going to wake up ever? What if we all are already dead? What if we already are in HELL?”

I don`t want to sleep

I can see the stars shining, up high in the clear sky,

but I don`t want to sleep.

Felling the cold breeze on my cheeks,

I can see the leaves dancing on the empty streets.

Through my open window,

I like to talk to talk insanely to the dark shadow.

I like to fly indefinitely with my dreams,

but I don`t want to sleep.

I recall our days together back then,

Find them more valuable than merely hypothetical dreams.

Truly, those days can`t be attached back to life,

Neither my cries would help nor my screams.

I`m tired enough to fall unconsciously anytime.

but I don`t want to sleep.

Hadn`t I be so blind to see your tears,

Hadn`t I be so daring to have some fears,

Hadn`t it then be such a loss to me,

You`d have been near, for me to see.

The pleasant moon light is forcing me though,

but I don`t want to sleep.

As I`m missing you, I am loosing the light from my life,

Each thought of yours is creating another hole in my heart,

Though I felt my decision too arrogant back then,

Today I feel myself breaking down into pieces, being apart.

I can`t figure out the reason,

But I don`t want to sleep tonight.

It wasn`t a dream

It wasn`t a dream cause I was not asleep.
In the middle of the road, I felt like a sheep.
All my life ahead and my way behind,
I`d decided not to cross the line.

We shared the room, we shared the food
We shared the time in the heart of foggy woods.
It was the time when he spoke a lot
And he finished all just in a single shot.

I t was a mistake to lose my soul,
It was a mistake to see him as my ultimate goal,
It was he, for who I got into my first fight,
I t was he who left me aside.

It wasn`t a dream cause I was not asleep,
In the middle of the road, I felt like a sheep.
I broke my promise and I crossed the line,
Now I am all by myself, in my hands there lies a new life.

One more day

The sun has set now; one more day is dead now.
Turn back to see what have you gained;
Don`t count the lost, `cause
You never take back the drained.

The sun has set now; one more day is dead now.
Sit amongst your loved ones, get expressed,
You never know you`d lose someone so special
Someday, keeping yourself suppressed.

The sun has set now; one more day is dead now.
Give a call to the one you had a conflict with that day,
Don`t let an ego be the reason,
Get it over by the same evening, anyway.

The sun has set now; one more day is dead now.
Think over the bonds you made today,
Bring over the faces that make you smile;
Sacrifice for love, whether it is January or May.

The sun has set now; one more day is dead now.
Evaluate the safe distances for each individual,
Don`t get too close that some relations end up
With someone getting hurt what-so-ever might be the ritual.

The sun has set now; one more day is dead now.
Close your eyes and let your mind see the world.
Move your soul towards God, a step more closer
Think future but don`t get curled.

The sun has set now; one more day is dead now.
You might have forgotten a lot from the lot;
There are things you think are dead now,
But the next day you have to give them one more shot.

When he was gone

28th Sep, 2009.

Have you ever heard about the phrase-‘hole in life’? I`d only heard about it in movies and some poems from some abnormally sentimental artists till the present day…

It was very similar like the daily routine. I was sitting in front of my desktop enjoying some random online games, simultaneously chatting with all different kinds of strange humans, receiving good wishes for the ceremony. I`m amongst the only few exceptions who were staying back even during a 10 days` break.

Suddenly my phone rang. Its screen flashed ‘Dad’.

“Hello”.
“Eldest ‘dadu’ is no more” said the voice from the other side. “I came here directly and all the rituals have been done” the words that followed meant no more to me.

In my hostel room sitting, I felt like screaming the hell out of me. I felt something missing in life. I couldn`t see it but I could feel a black spot in front of my eyes.

(1) Never fear ‘The wrong’ and ‘Death’.
(2) Never waste your tears for no reason.
(3) Always feel free to write on a piece of paper what you don`t want to share with anyone else. It will always be your best friend.

These are some of the words he`d said to me once when I was little. Without thinking any further, a thin streak of water rolled down my cheeks.

मैंने कहा था निशा से

मैंने कहा था निशा से रुक जाओ
चंद लम्हे और दे दो हमें,
उड़ने दो उन हसीन सपनो के संग,
जिन्होंने उन चंद लम्हों में ही जीना सीखाया हमें |

मैंने कहा था निशा से रुक जाओ
ना दो कोई मौका हमारी पलकों को झपकने का,
डूब जाने दो अपने काजल के नशे में,
परछाई बन जाने दो मुझे अपनी उस पाक् परछाई का |

मैंने कहा था निशा से रुक जाओ
चलने दो उन सर्द हवाओं को,
बंधे रहने दो सारी फिजाओं को साथ-साथ,
जाने से रोक लो मेरे उस पलभर के सुकून को |

मैंने कहा था निशा से रुक जाओ
कोई और आप पर नज़र उठा कर देखे ये हमें अच्छा नहीं लगता,
आप कुछ पल के लिए ही दूर क्यों न हों,
पर मैं खुद को ही अच्छा नहीं लगता |

मैंने कहा था निशा से रुक जाओ
साथ चलो तुम मेरे, मेरी प्रेरणा बनकर,
चलने दो मेरी कलम को तृप्ति की राह पर,
गूंजती रहो मेरे गीतों की सरगम बनकर |

मैंने कहा था निशा से रुक जाओ
मत छोडो मुझे अकेले इतने सारे तारों के बीच,
डर से सहम जाता हूँ मैं,
जब खडा पता हूँ खुद को मैं इतने सारे कच्चे रिश्तों के बीच |

लिखते-लिखते रात गहरी होने लगी है अब,
अर्ज करते-करते कई मौसम गुज़र गए,
निशा ने रुकने का फैसला तो कर लिया
पर हम कई महीनों के लिए निशाचर बन गए |

You gave your reasons

This is a story narrated by a girl whom I met in the train on my way back home in the summers. She basically belonged to kanpur, was studying in some college in Delhi. Unlike the typical Delhites, she was far more humble, far more sober. Once we started talking, she gave me a brief tour of her background and then told the recent incident which had left her in dilemma.

Before going to sleep after some long hours of talks, some funny, some quite serious ones, she handed me a piece of paper.

I never gave my reason but you gave yours,

you thought I broke the link, but it never was the link.

It took nearly an year to convince myself enough sure,

you may not know but it wasn`t just a blink.

You thought it was a matter of bearing some stress alone,

never realised about that soul wandering lone.

Haven`t you ever thought that you always require

a little dynamic stress to construct a firm foundation.

I always wanted this story erased from my memory

as an open-eyed dream.

But you continued it rationally,

once you started, you never stopped.

I got a little tired, a little pissed off,

in return I got some real reviews, some real advices.

Now after a six months` breach, you claim for my reason,

Is it really worth it?

When I woke up in the morning, she was gone. The train was halting at some station. Probably her statiom arrived late at night. But that piece of paper kept me wondering. Why did she gave that to me? Did I know her at some stage of my life?

The train started moving. I sat by the window seat resting my left hand over the iron railing, held the piece in the other unfolding the pages of history.

Often I talk to my heart

Often I talk to my heart, it speaks about my past

Beats when the intellect sees us walking

Together holding hands in hands;

Cries out loud each time I walk alone.

It takes me to the untamed north

With a smell of counterinsurgency in its air,

Approaching me with a blow that crushes me again and again,

Absence of wrinkles in the forehead is though very rare.

It takes me to the frozen Alps

I feel my feet embedded deep into the ice,

Often have a utopia about you staring at me from a distance,

But can’t move an inch towards you.

It takes me deep into those foggy woods

With inauspicious screams of uncharted creatures all around.

I get distracted from my original path,

Feel the deficiency of light among those long, dense trees.

It takes me right into the middle of lusty deserts

I see nothing around, but the sand making variable textures.

It often leaves me with no reason to remain alive,

But still I seek for your presence; want to die in your arms.

However sometimes it takes me right into its own core,

I see your elegant face, smiling.

So perfectly crafted, perfectly molded.

I don`t want to be out, I feel so alive.

On my way back

It was October, and I was on my way back from Delhi, having some nice pieces of photography I’d done in the rare outskirts of the railway station. The two seats in front of me were occupied by two ladies in their late teenage, most probably heading towards the same destination as mine. As we left the ISBT (inter-state bus terminus) Delhi, everything seemed to be so normal; Delhi was facing the routined day-end quiet early, the month being October. Coal-burn-smoke could be seen through the window.

The bus was not yet full the seat next to me was still empty. So I thought of having a nap, as I was a bit tired of the photography stuffs throughout the week. There were disturbances, horns, the shouting conductor while he managed hanging, with half of his body outside the bus`s entry. My nap was not a deep one though, I woke up every now and then as the bus vibrated, looked here and there for a while, checked out for some new passengers, expecting them to be coetaneous females (As I was still inside the Delhi-Territory) and again went back to sleep.

The two ladies I specified earlier began their chit-chat which started gaining my attention. As we moved and as the sky went reddish, their conversation went really interesting. They talked about guys, their interests, food, and some science. Now when you hear science from gals, there are two categories of reactions that usually come out of normal people:-

(1)Annihilating frustration followed by an intuition that might end up donating a tight slap or a further intuition of a suicide due to ‘why am I still listening to them’ phenomenon.
(2)Remembering the exact sentences used and sharing them with your friends, which might end up changing their perceptions about you and you getting the throne of the funniest person in the group.

Their innovative talks about ‘The various shopping spots in Delhi where you may find some smart and rich guy who may afford you for the whole evening and who don`t have the guts to ask for your phone number’ and ‘What to wear in which weather’ let me figure out that they were typical Delhi locals. Around 30 minutes later they had nothing more to talk about. So one of them took out her iPod and the other kept looking out through the half opened window.

My eyes opened when we were at the midway halting for some refreshments. I went down to have something for my stomach as I hadn`t done my lunch that day and was terribly hungry. It came to my notice from the driver who was smoking his brand 101 bidi, that we had been halting since the last 10 minutes and were about to leave. I decided to carry along some packed stuff. Thinking about the available options, I headed towards the dhaba. I saw those two sitting comfortably on the chairs, relaxing. I kept thinking why didn`t the driver tell the same thing to every passenger. I got a pack of lays and two packets of chocolate cream biscuits. I looked at my watch; I had a safe and clear 7 minutes in hand before the bus was to leave. After getting my change back, I heard the conductor shouting, calling each passenger to board the bus, requesting to every one of them in the most modest way possible and then I heard the two girls ordering – 2 pav-bhaaji, 2 patties, 1 chowmein and 2 softies once the rest of the order had come.

Re-Union

Once I`d said and no one believed, “Closeness is inversely proportional to the distance and the time we spend away from each other”. I still remember my last day at school, the bid-farewell-day. People having mixed types of emotions, guys hiding out their tears, blinking their eye-lashes in an abnormally frequent rate, maintaining fake smiles and rushing to the wash-room each time their eyes overflew. After all they were the studs of our school. Gals getting their scrapbooks and stuffs filled by the teachers and other fellow mates, spilling out the excess (though it had no limits) amount of water off their eyes each time a teacher wished them for their futures. After all they were really good at that.

During our final touchy moments, after the function was over, we found out that there was not a single camera we`ve got to capture that first time when none of us had any reason to argue (It seemed quiet awkward though), but each one of us made a promise to stay in touch for life.

But now after 5 years, when I see some of the re-unions in my neighborhood, I see two groups standing in public, one of the guys and the other being their once most hated species back in school, facing each other as if an interrogation is in progress. Parents are aware that their children have entered a critical stage of life and are required to be kept under continuous public supervision. One of the teams throws some general questions on the opposition, hard to sort out who is its final destination. The answers come diplomatically from people some of whom searching the sky for fascinating images, don`t seem to be much interested.

That`s what happens when you talk to someone after a long time, when you never called during all those times before this day and after the day you made a promise.

Some of the general questions I heard:-
(1)So, how is it going?
(2)How are studies?
(3)What about your brother/sister/uncle/aunty?
(4)What will you eat?

Some of the answers I heard:-
(1)It`s fine
(2)Study`s good.
(3)Yeah, they are all fine.
(4)Anything! What all stuffs do we get here?
No, I`ve eaten already (actually they are ashamed to say that they are under a diet).

The re-union ends up peacefully after a silent meal and everyone greets each other again making the same promise of being in touch for life.

I remember the days when we used to hang out in someone’s terrace, pulling out someone out of his/her house, banging him in the 12th hour of the night during those birthdays, going out on long walks to an unknown destination, each ending up with an hilarious little story…….

I still want to close the refrigerator`s door with my foot in their houses,
I still want to keep my legs stretched out over the coffee table when we watch cricket,
I still want to talk to their parents about the kind of soul mates they are going to have,
I still want to help myself down in their kitchens.

I still want to get into a fight with a gang, their siblings bring in,
I still want to select dresses for them to be worn at parties,
I still want to spend my nights talking to them, when they are in hospital with a broken leg,
I still want to be picked up by them at the railway station when I return home.

I still want to fight with them whenever I’m bored,
I still want to tease them over the person they like,
I still want to read secretly their personal diaries,
I still want to give them some self-defense tricks in case someone tries to harass them,

I still want to talk to them all night even the one before the final exams,
I still want to go out for those awesome December picnics,
I still want to have my birthday cake cut at some uncharted location,
I still want them to be near always.

Alone in the dark

I still remember the day when I saw Anindita cry for the first time. It was the year 2005, the day of our traditional annual picnic, we got late and it grew dark. I took a step beyond the line of limits which is not to be crossed ever, so much involved in my mischievous amusements, I forgot she was Achluophobic. We left her alone in the jungle, thought she would scream at her normal pitch, but......

28th December, 2005
07:45 PM
Jatanpur,

Hey you,
Each time you cracked a joke on me, I laughed.

Each time you left me waiting, I din`t even say a word.

But I am afraid of darkness, don`t know what to do here....

I don’t want to walk alone in the dark
Hold my hand until I breathe some air in.
Don’t go too far, stay close
Give my heart the strength and the courage to beat.

Talk to me,
Keep me away from all those contrasting frequencies.
Talk to me more,
I`ve always waited for these moments, just you and me.

Come close,
That I can hear your breathes, every single incoming,
That you can hear my heart beating at double the normal rate,
That I can feel the warmth, every single outgoing.

Look straight and deep into my eyes,
That I can`t see the scary images in the cloudy sky,
Let my eyes speak the words for me,
That I haven`t been able to since so long.

Let me feel safe into your arms,
That no soul on earth can hurt me when you are around.
Let me lie over your heart for hours,
Let me sleep in peace.

Walk with me,
Till the light touches my eyes.
Stay with me, for better, for worse,
For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.

Till death do us part.

This was the diary entry she made that day. But now when I find this page along with the rest of the diary in my school bag long after the incidence, I feel scared.

Stay away

There are some things which we never want to notice but they get themselves enlightened with the spontaneous flow of time. These are some of the words that came out of that guy I recently met in a book store searching for a decent, thick novel that could be my any time-personal roommate during my stay in the college campus for the rest of the summers, who too had the same intention as mine, to get one as his companion all his way back home and suggested ‘The Afghan’, a novel by Frederick Forsyth.

This campus had been my home for the last 4 years. When I was leaving my place for this new home, it was brought to my notice by some of the friends of my elder brother who`d been in similar campuses about the abnormal sex ratios in the IITs. After my stay in Kota for the coaching stuffs, I already had a rough idea about the abnormality people occasionally talk of. But as the days passed, I observed some abnormalities in the abnormality I had the idea about. This led the "females" to "non-males" ….

He stated some of the similarities and some distinctions which create an environment of confusion between the males and the non-males-

Similarities-
(1)Both of the species have similar varieties of hair: long and short.
(2)Both have an extended portion of the hair all over their cheeks and the space between the nose and the upper lip, which is generally given the term beard/moustache in case of males.
(3)Both have a very strong intuition from time to time that something`s going the wrong way.
(4)Both of them find the synonymous gender relatively comfortable to talk about the other.
(5)Both avoid skin-to-skin contact with their counterparts even for a second.

Differences-
(1)The non-males get the perks and privileges of receiving all sorts of condolences from the respected professors.
(2)The same species has a unique quality of getting their work done by their counterparts whenever required.
(3)They are least involved in any kind of fun-related activity, there do exist some exception though.
(4)They have an extreme and incomparable power to mug up things, which make them deliver exceptional academic performances.
(5)They usually speak of equality, but whenever in a state of complication, they follow the quotation of naari-shakti and perform the call-the-dean operation.
(6)They are packed with tremendous volumes of supernatural egos, which are habitually overflowed in the form of sophisticated jealousy within the same kind, which comes out as a source of entertainment for the other.

Now that fellow moved his lips so frequently that I can`t recall each and every word he said. Actually he had his train at 1900 hrs, so we had our way back into the campus to his hostel. During the last convocation in front of the main gate, these are the words from him--“ stay away from them”.

For the first time

It happened in the year 1997, couldn`t realize though. The year 2009, recalled and called, narrated the whole story, she just laughed.

Sometimes it`s hard to see what`s been there all along
Sometimes we`re sure of everything until we find out that we`re all wrong
Now we`re standing here face to face,
Nothing feels the same.

How did we ever end up here?
I don`t know, but it feels so right,
The last thing, I ever expected, is happening, it`s you and I.
There`s something real, I can`t explain and nothing feels the same.

I can`t find the words
For how I feel about you, just want to be around you now.
I never imagined,
That someone could make me feel the way you do.

For the first time, I realize, something I didn`t see before
For the first time looking in your eyes
Suddenly there`s so much more.
Something we both feel inside, for the first time.

Road Trip (Kota)

6^th August. 2005

Kota (Rajasthan),

It was just five of us – gobar, pankaj, appoo, vigi and me while others were enjoying the 4-days-holiday Bansal gave during the Raksha Bandhan. One year was over staying there in Kota, none of us had really got a chance ever to have a Kota-Local tour. So we took out our cycles, had some evening snacks, and set out on NH-12 in the opposite direction of Bansal Classes to some unknown destination.

We paddled our two-wheelers till we reached a scenario where there were loads of people with proportional intensity of whisperings, four constables and an open ancient police jeep with half-corroded number plate while the other half loaded with mud, leaving behind the lower curved part of the letter 8 as the only visible sign. It seemed to be the outer part of a village, seeing a wide well with no pulley and some buffaloes around, we concluded. We parked our two-wheelers and approached towards the crowd. Before we could reach them, a structure with two hands, two legs and other stuffs exactly like those carried by a human being suspended to a branch of a giant banyan tree with a white cloth came to our visible range.

Since it was the first time when I saw a dead body, it was just a source of amusement for me, while the other four joined the array of whispering people. Someone told us that he was a farmer who`s wife was under serious and expensive medical procedures, was under a lot of debt from various people, had 11 children, 6 being females, 4 of whom were of the age in which they were supposed to have in-laws, only 2 of the males of the family were the source of bread and butter, the total income of the family being not more than Rs 25000/- averaged over an annum.

Now the question was, what was the police waiting for? Was it for a free demonstration of hanging human body to little kids who`d never seen death in their lives. We then came to know that they were waiting for an expert climber of the same village who was out to the city which was around 5 kms from that place, was on foot and still they were expecting him any time.

As the shared vision of the Rajasthan Police says, “Aam jan mein vishwas, apradhiyon mein darr”, they are doing a great job inspiring the youths into the medical line by presenting a live demonstration of physical changes that occur in a human body 8 hours after death. Also they are creating a decent piece of trust among the public by laathi-charging to those who came forward with some advise, their repose being- “ab tu mujhe mera kaam seekhaayega, bhaag yahaan se (Now you will teach me what to do, get yourself out of here)”.

Instead their Vision should be, “Aam jan mein darr, apradhiyon mein vishwas”.

फसकर रह गया हूँ

This is a story of a boy named Ishaan from Godhra, the administrative city of Panchmahal district in Gujarat who now is a youngster who can take his own decisions. He is one among the targets of the deadly Gujarat riots. He belonged to a peaceful, middle-class, Hindu family living in a Muslim area, their residence being situated just opposite to the mosque. The boy lost his whole family in the riots when he was just 7, leaving himself all on his own. All of his relatives assumed him to be dead and never ever tried to find his body, they never showed themselves up in that Muslim area.

Now this boy was taken up by a tea-vendor, having his stall near the outskirts of Sant Road which led to Dahod. Unlike other children working for livelihood in the area smoking and gambling during their free times, he chose to write. This is an article from his book of write-ups speaking the words of his life-

एक पत्ते की तरह थी मेरी ज़िन्दगी कभी
हरी तो थी पर
सहारे पर जी रही थी,
हवा चलती उधर मुड़ जाती थी |

एक दिन एक झोंका हवा का ऐसा आया
कि वो पेड़ जड़ से ही उखड़ आया |
अपने फूल पत्तियों को बचाने कि भरपूर कोशिश की उसने
पर बिना किसी सहारे के वो सीधा ज़मीन पर आ गिरा |

उसे पता था गिनती की ही सांसें बची हुई थी उसके पास,
ज़िन्दगी की रफ़्तार उसके हाथों में नहीं थी अब |
आने वाली बारिश की पहली बूँदें
बहाकर ले जाने वाली थी उसे |

उस पेड़ से टूटकर अलग तो हो गया था मैं
पर पास ही पड़ा रहा उसके
देखता रहा उसे, उसके उन आखरी कुछ लम्हों में
साँसे रुकीं उसकी ता एहसास हुआ, कितना अकेला हूँ इस भीड़ में |

रेंगता रहा इधर-उधर, किसी सहारे की तलाश में
पेट ने उत्पात मचाई तो लगा जैसे
खुद का सहारा बनने के अलावा और कोई रास्ता नहीं बचा है मेरे पास
जान हथेली पर रखकर घुस गया इंसानों सी भरे हुए जंगल में |

अचानक एक कांटेदार झाड़ ने रोककर आसरा दिया, सुरक्षा दी
जीवन के कुछ रंग देकर ही खुश कर दिया था उसने मुझे,
अब तो एक पौधा बनने लायक हो गया हूँ मैं,
फिर भी उस झाड़ में ही फसकर रह गया हूँ मैं |

चोट

रात भर सो ना सका मैं तेरी याद में
देखता रहा बस तेरी उस मृत शरीर को,
मंडराने लगे वो सारे पल आँखों के सामने एक-एक करके
जो गुजारे थे मैंने कभी तेरे साथ |

Orkut की वो खुली हुई scrapbook,
Facebook पर खेले वो सारे time-pass games,
Gtalk की वो ping-ping की आवाज़,
Messenger की वो smileys और वो नशीली लाल backgrounds,

CS की वो go-go-go,
AOE की वो भोंपू ,
Mario की वो उछल-कूद,
Taken की वो घटिया graphics,

50 cent और linkin park के वो romantic numbers,
Avril की वो मरी हुई आवाज़,
Blue Ray की वो 8 Gb की movies,
HIMYM, PB, Heroes, F.R.I.E.N.D.S की वो धडाधड sequels,

TS के समय की वो slides,
लोगों के कारनामों की वो print screens,
Paint पर बनाये वो सारे claasy art works,
Photoshop के वो सारे तिकड़म,

याद तो आये पर निकल गए एक-एक करके
पलकों में से आंसुओं के रूप में,
फिर सोचा हंसते-हंसते विदा करूँगा उसे
जिसने हमेशा साथ निभाया अपने उस जीवित रूप में |

देखता रहा, कभी उस काले हो चुके ENTER को,
तो कभी उस USB mouse को,
भूख तक bore होकर चली गयी थी जब
सुबह 6:13 को एक काले प्राणी ने कमरे में दर्शन दिया,

बोलना शुरू किया उसने
"रात भर सोया नहीं है क्या, आँखें लाल हैं तेरी
अच्छा सुन, तेरे Invertor का plug निकाल दिया था मैंने कल
लगा लियो उसे" |

आंसू

आंसू भी सूखने लगे हैं अब
धीरे धीरे नींद भी आने लगी है,

lawn में लगा वो कटहल का पेड़
अब फल देने लगा है,
बीतते हुए हर मौसम के साथ
वो भी तुझे अब भूलने लगा है,
12 साल पहले किसने उसे जीवन दिया था
शायद ही याद होगा उसे अब |

Drawimg room के tea-table के उपर रखी वो कलम
जिसकी स्याही शायद ही कभी सूखती थी,
उसकी nib कहीं खो गयी है
उसकी जगह तो अब भी नहीं बदली है,
पर तेरे लिए लिखे उन सारी कविताओं की खुशबू
अभी भी बाकी है उसमें |

album की सारी तस्वीरें अब धुंधली पड़ने लगी हैं
जिनमें हम साथ देखते थे कभी,
काई सी जमने लगी है हर एक पन्ने के कोने पर
कागज़ को छूने से भी थोड़ा-थोड़ा डरने लगा हूँ मैं अब,
कहीं अलग होकर बिखर ना जाए ज़मीं पे
कुछ कुछ खोने सा लगा हूँ मैं अब |

तेरी काजल की डिबिया वहीँ टेबल के उपर रखी हुई है,
कोने की दिवार से सटकर, पड़े पड़े अब धूल की मेहमान बनी हुई है,
ढ़लते हुए हर दिन के साथ
जब इस कमरे में बत्तियां जलाने आता हूँ,
उसके एक-एक हिस्से को देखकर लगता है जैसे
तुझे भूलने की कोशिश कर रही हों |

शीशम से बनी उस shelf में रखी उन
Tagore की किताबों के बीच, कांच पर कभी कभी
तेरी परछाई दिखाई देती थी,
आँखों से आंसू निकल आया करती थी,
रातों को नींद तो साथ छोड़ ही दिया करती थी,
दिन में पलकें भी झपकना बंद दिया करतीं थीं |

पर अब तो मेरी धड़कन तक तुझे भूलने लगी है,
ना जाने क्यों, धड़कना बंद कर दिया है उसने
आंसू तो सूखने ही लगे हैं,
धीरे-धीरे नींद भी आने लगी है अब |

Mothers Day

When I started Writing ::

It`s a rare cloudy morning of May, the exam month. Every walking creature with a pair of each limb, having some cotton on them, is seen to have some stapled papers in hands, walking down the road, with not at all a single scope of nain-sukh-praapti, there are not much of the chances one gets inside the campus though. But there is one guy, totally in a different state of mind, busy listening to an extremely man-ish voice of the RJ who calls herself Vinita hosting the regular morning show, AIRed by a very famous channel.


That freak gets himself so involved in the bakar-bakar talks of the RJ, that he forgets that he has an End-Sem paper just within an hour or so. He comes into the real world only when his stomach shouts, 'knock knock, give me something !!'. He does his regular breakfast in the ultra-modern mess having its own Electric Tandoor, comes back and sticks himself to his radio-cum-mobile phone. The same Vinita taking messages of people, concerning how much they love their mothers. Mothers day today ??, asking himself, he narrows down his ears to get some more updates. Suddenly she reads out some lines SMS-ed by some listener, followed by a song from the movie TZP inluding that "Maa" word, which pushed him into the depths of sentiments, when he starts writing.....


I`m gonna return home,
Every single day she keeps waiting.
Whenever tears visit her eyes,
She keeps smiling.

It`s like all the time when i feel my empty stomach,
There is just a single call
When she turns off her favourite daily soap,
She keeps baking.

There are times when I`ve got nothing to do but wander,
She leaves her gossip-conferences with the Aunties next door.
She wants to know every happening,
She sits by and keeps listening.

There are treats some evening and late at night,
There are friends hovering all around
Theoritically they are only our enjoy moments,
But then she loves running.

There are sleepless midnights when I host some viruses,
She keeps reminding me the angelic effects of those bitter pills.
Talking of the Love Marriages of nice-nephews,
Unless I`m deep asleep, she keeps waking.

I relive those moments every single day,
Wish I could express my Love and Honour,
I pay my tribute to this selfless soul,
Wish my each day to be a Mothers Day.

I wish

It was the day in the month of August, when it was raining outside and I was alone at home sitting besides the window watching each drop as they passed by, some of `em declining diagonally sticking to the glass. It reminded me of the day way back in school, raining very similar to the present day, and that bunch of girls having the photo-session in front of the shopping complex. It was the first time when I saw her in a black top, green capris and almost transparent flat sleepers, under a pink umbrella. She had khol in her eyes which was supposed to be resistant to moisture with her hair loose and wet. Her wide, open, perforated smile made me sit by that window with thoughts flowing all around.....



I wish
I were a drop falling from the clouds,
Passing through each altitude of attitude
To its ultimate ground zero.

I wish
I were a snail crawling up a rough trunk,
Fetching each of the ups and downs
Conquering every single tremble.

I wish
I were a stone lying at the edge of the road,
Watching each footstep, numbly
As the seasons change their colours.

I wish
I were one of the legs of the table,
Always standing still with the other beside
Confronting each of the charging tonnage.

I wish
I were a note of the Sargam
Incomplete without the rest of `em
Bringing smiles each time I shiver.

I wish
I were possessing all these roles concurrently,
I wish
I were in love.

Its almost 5 years now since then, I still retrospect those eyes dipped in that thick layer of khol and I regret having that first glimpse of her way back in the school.

Renaissance

How he gay-ed

It was a hot and windy evening when Cwong woke up astonishingly from his routined 2 O`clock sleep after a heavy stuffed lunch in the Bhawan`s mess mess, bunking the afternoon classes. It sometimes makes me think why does he even ask every now and then, the reason of people calling him a Tondu. His immediate words were, "abe, maine bhoot dekha". Coincidently it was that 57 year old, white haired, short, pot bellied young man`s class having a very thin moustache which was still black. So more than 80% Janta was not in that monotonous class as that fellow never took attendence. He seemed no less than a lady who`d just delivered a baby.

His description was something like this, ''There was a face outside the window next to the door, with red glittering eyes and blood drooling out of its mouth. The face was attached to no body, instead it was floating over blood. I had closed the left sideboard of the wide window and had left the right one open, but now it`s just the reverse way. I`d been listening to the song Writtten in the stars (Greenday), and now when I woke up ........''.

We searched for that unapprehended, unascertained, uncharted, unrevealed thing starting right from the underside of his bed, all through the pathways, even inside the water-cooler, over his window-shed, found two suspicious pigeons but to our surprise, their heads were intact and there was not a single sign of blood. Even in this chaotic situation, Cwong never lost his original, accustomed conformation and kept repeating the incident to each and every individual who came along his way, to mess, back from the mess, throughout the stairs, every room he stepped into, even to a senior who met him once in the railway station.

The same evening, when there were 3 metal-heads in his room, having some chill-pill, sharing some fictitious horror stories creating an awkward unwanted environment, listening to some typical numbers, his laptop suddenly switched off automatically. Anticipating for an overheated processor shutdown, I pressed the power button. No response. We kept it upside down to go through a natural cooling process, and gave a try again. But all in vein. Cwong`s expression started to stiffle, as if some haunted spirit had started entering his body.

That night he never showed up even near his room, maintained atleast 30 feet distance, slept in the same couch as mine, kept doing some CENSORED actions all night. The next day, with the first ray of sun, he shifted in with me, same room but different couches this time. He also explained on demand, the CENSORED unconscious actions which he`d been doing since his early teenage whenver he dreamt of something breathe-taking. Now this lappy-less fellow spent all of his daytime, wandering and all of his night-time ........
He moved out only when the Finals arrived for the rescue of the angelic, numb fellow, making him feel like a Renaissance.

PS :: All characters in this post are purely imaginary. Any resemblance of names and/or location is purely coincidental.

When I revisited my birth ....

As the years of my life passed, I realised that Newton had once said very truly, "Everything that goes up must come down". My journey started just from the very moment I was born.

(0) Hey, I`m not out yet.I was sleeping.
(1) I cried.
(2) I spoke.
(3) I walked.
(4) I learnt how to play.
(5) I learnt how to go to school.
(6) I got some people who also just had learnt 'How to go to school'.
(7) We started dreaming a common dream.
(8) We made ours teachers run after us.
(9) We pee-ed together into the school`s front garden.
(10) We made our teachers pay for their local-wooden-scale again and again.
(11) We learnt how to study.
(12) We learnt what to study.
(13) We learnt why to study.
(14) We never studied.
(15) We studied hard to keep our parents` heads up.
(16) We fell in love.
(17) We failed in love.
(18) We got into college.
(19) We played computer games.
(20) We found girls to spend all our money on.
(21) We got ourselves out of those girls` hearts and then from the college.
(22) We dreamt of being a Roadie.
(23) We managed to get a job.
(24) We smiled watching our parents` smile/whisper.
(25) I got married.
(26) Everyone else laughed at me .
(27) I fell in love.
(28) I had a baby.
(29) He cried.
(30) He spoke.
(31) He walked.
(32) He learnt how to play.
(33) He learnt how to go to school.
(34) He got some people who also just had learnt 'How to go to school'.
(35) I had another baby.
(36) She cried.
(37) She spoke.
(38) She walked.
(39) She learnt how to play.
(40) She learnt how to go to school.
(41) She got some people who also just had learnt 'How to go to school'.
(42) I was found out to be a diabetes positive.
(43) I got a Life Insurance plan.
(44) I started believing in God.
(45) He got into the IITs.
(46) He got himself occupied in some Top-Secret projects.

(47)-(60)

I worked hard, got them into good colleges.

Their frequency of talks with us reduced drastically.

They started avoiding us.

Our presence in front of their colleagues embarrassed them then.

I got them married.

I became grandpa.

(60) I got retired.

(61)-(81)

Finally I got some life with my life-partner.

(82) I died.

It is now when I realise that those were the first and the last twenty years of my life which I actually lived. Life resembles a chemical reaction. It has stable ends at both ends. Only the reaction occurs high.

I was young

It was the time
when I was young,
running through the closed hallways,
Shouting.

They used to be only the nights,
when I slept
flying from one planet to the other,
Dreaming.

All during the daylight,
I kept myself occupied,
breaking window-panes, some historical cricket scores.
Bursting some tires out,
leaving that 53 years old kiddo behind,
Screaming.

It was that old, yellow-painted building,
where we all gathered everyday in a familiar colour combination.
Jumping from one desk to the other
Taking some teeth out of ones` mouth,
Banging.

It was the time
when I was young,
storing in every single blessing
from those old age kiddos ,
Smiling.

What happens

When an IITan tries to clean up his/her room :-

If the IITan is a guy :-

(1)First of all he appreciates this noble idea which just arrived his and only his mind.

(2)He then starts singing 'jai ganesh, jai ganesh, jai ganesh deva...' followed by 'humko itni shakti dena....'.

(3)He starts a chain of thanksgiving to all his closed ones who inspired him to take such a great step.

(4)This is the moment since the extreme past when his eyes donate some tears.You cann`t imagine how happy is he at this point.

(5)Listening to 'wake me up.... (greenday)' , he starts enjoying a real life nap when somebody comes and reminds him of his original missison for the day.

(6)He expresses his gratitude towards this kind-hearted fellow by addressing him a '*&&$^&*#)!^&#^#('.

(7)He then performs his sub-mission of finding a broom anywhere in the hostel.

(8)Failing to do so he goes & gets one from the market thinking of those '&^!&**^)#$' words all along his way up and down. This took him some 2 hrs and 45 mins.

(9)He spends only 30 mins thinking where to start from.

(10)He finishes his original mission just within 2 hrs and 17 mins and fortunately got some of what people call important stuff--

• A titan watch (worth Rs 1275/-)
• A 100 rupee note (worth Rs 100/-)
• 12 ten rupee notes (worth Rs 120/-)
• chillhar coins (worth Rs 73/-)
• 12th board original Mark-Sheet (some things money cann`t buy, for everything else.....)
• 5 packs of Goldflake though partially filled (worth two days)
• 4 ATM cards of which only one was his.
• 3 socks each of a different shade of which none was his.
• The Associate (A novel by John Grisham)
• Nokia N95 (He is using RIM CDMA these days)
• A calculator (worth Rs 500/-)
• Logitech speakers (while he kept shouting all these days "iski awaaz itni kam kyun ho gayi hai " )
• some raddi (worth Rs 142/-)

Now after he`s all done with his mission, he analyses the losess as time and the gains in terms of monetary profits.He sorts out that getting the mission done by an assistant (jhaadu waale bhaiya) giving him a sum of Rs 30/-, talking some politics accompanied by some masala-maar-ke campus gossip would have been far more worthy. Once again starting his chain of thanksgiving to all his inspirational idols, dedicating those noble, kind '&**!%^#%%(#($' words and realising those 6 hrs 43 mins of workout on a weekend, he goes to sleep.

If the IITan is NOT a guy :-

(1)As a part of her usual routine, she picks up the broom leaning against the corner besides her bed.

(2)She starts the job from right under her study-cum-make up table.

(3)She finishes within 6 mins (including a revision so that not a single inch is left untouched).

(4)Fortunately she located some of the disorders that made her conscience act steadily:-

• 1 pen ka dhakkan lying under her 2-in-1 table.
• 1 sudoku cutting from TOI on her table.
• One of her 4 pair of sandals not placed parallelly.
• 1 empty pack of maggi noodles.
• 4 gms of dust.

After she`s all done, she takes a bath (no doubt using her own bucket and stuffs), spends a little 45 mins in front of her 2-in-1 table holding a mirror (which is again her own property), using some more stuffs (difficult to differentiate), some of which I had mugged up while being in a party hosted by a female friend and to my luck, sat between 5 ladies. At last, after conducting a poll of how-she-looks among 12 active and regular participants including her DD, she makes her way to the main gate of the girls hostel where she sets her original mission of extracting the maximum out of the guy who thinks he`s in love, waiting outside, desperately.

PS :: One guy asked me "why are they even referred to as she/her ?"

He suggested some better words like 'not-he/not-him' !!

Once upon a time

Once upon a time there happened to be a guy who lived somewhere in the untamed region of middle India, concealed and insensible, that some of the gifted individuals of north india, who surprisingly happened to be what people called CBSE-district-toppers of their times, had never heard of the state to which this place belonged. At an age when he couldn`t play his all time favourite game, cricket, his routined timepass was to visit his one of the neighbouring aunty`s (kaki-ma`s) place when all the uncles (kaku`s) were out for work, fortunately all headed for a single destination (so their common back-home-timing was known). It was one lazy night, the clock on his, what people say, study table showing 2:55 AM, when history just tickled through his thoughtless mind.

He rolled back his eyes 12 years past, where he saw the backyard of a quarter which resided at the corner of the road which headed towards the main shopping complex (main enough to have atleast a hair-cut), That road contained numerous quarters, brimming out people each evening. The same corner was accompanied by a badiminton court followed by a quiet awkward shaped playground having two working night lamps, which was supposed to be the only one of its kind then. It was the court where all those historical cricket matches used to be played with all those gossiping aunties as very delighted spectators. The playground was used as a get-together venue at night, by aunties as a chit-chat point and by kids (age below 5 or above 22) as a regular hang-out place.

He could revive the evenings, which used to make him laugh, no doubt donating tears sometimes. Suddenly that face appeared before his eyes that once taught him how to laugh. To his surprise he remembered every single stretch, every single crease, every single depression of that character.

(1) The dimples in each of her cheeks.
(2) The shoulders hopping every time she laughed.
(3) The shoulders hopping exactly the same way every time her eyes overflowed.
(4) The narrow neck occasionally made him think how she was able to take enough of the oxygen.

(5) Her deep, watery, shining eyes with quiet dense black eyelashes.
(6) A perfect zero-wrinkle face, even when she was or seemed to be what people say, angry.
(7) The shoulder length hair slightly curly at the bottom.
(8) Legs resembling broomsticks, he wondered how she managed to run that fast then.
(9) Her presence of mind to use her nails and teeth efficiently each time he used to pick her teddy up. Though he wonder if that was a teddy.

(10) Such a high-pitch voice that he sometimes thought of her being an X-man.
(11) She never tried anything beyond those knee-lenght frocks with flowers printed all over. All credits goes to her mum.

The guy had a recent thought then, whether he was dreaming ! Then his common sense told him that he couldn`t write a blog, sleeping. But as soon as he was out of history he wondered "Was it really 12 years !!".

बस एक लम्हे का झगडा था

Someone just called ......

चाहते तो रुक सकते थे उस दिन
कमी रह गयी तो बस सिर्फ,
कुछ अल्फाजों की
बस एक बार नज़रें मिलाने की,

सोच और सांस एक हुआ करते थे कभी
साथ उठते थे ,साथ चलते थे कदम,
आखों की हलचल सारी कहानी बयां कर दिया करती थी
सुकून मिलता था रूह को
सिर्फ इतनी सी ही थी शब्दों की अहमियत,

अचानक मौसम ने कुछ ऐसा रुख बदला
आसमां भी सर पर भारी लगने लगा,
रास्ता भी कुछ धुंधला सा लगने लगा था
देखते ही देखते काले पड़ने लगे थे वो दिन

एक-एक लव्ज़ अब
शतरंज के प्यादों की तरह लगने लगा था,
भले ही छोटे और आसान होते थे
पर हर तरफ से काटने को दौड़ते

हर एक नज़र अब
मन की तस्वीर को तोड़ जाती थी,
जैसे कांच टूटता है
हर एक टुकड़े में वो साहिल नज़र आता था
जिसके सपने साथ-साथ देखे थे कभी

आंसू तो थे पलकों पर उनके
बस इस बार साथ बह ना सके,
बस एक लम्हे का झगडा था वो
चाहते तो रुक सकते थे उस दिन !

ज़माना था ....

ज़माना था जब हम नवाब हुआ करते थे

रिक्शे पर बैठकर स्कूल जाया करते थे,

रथ पर हमारे साथ चार मंत्री और चला करते थे

यात्रा के दौरान भोजन सम्बन्धी राजनीति किया करते थे !

सूर्यदेव की पहली आवाज़ के साथ उठा दिए जाते थे

सोचा करते थे,

सूरज मामू के बाकी कार्यों के विषय में

जिन्हें त्यागकर वो अपना सारा ध्यान मुझपर लगाया करते थे !

ज़माना था जब हम नवाब हुआ करते थे

गुसलखाने से भी इंतज़ार करवाया करते थे

नाश्ते में colgate लिया करते थे,

और ये नाश्ता पूरे 20 मिनट तक किया करते थे !

आश्चर्य की बात तो ये थी कि

तब हम रोज़ नहाया करते थे,

शान से वर्दी धारण कर

माताश्री को भगाया करते थे !

पकडे जाने पर TV के सामने बैठकर चुपचाप

दूसरी बार नाश्ता करते थे,

TV देखना जारी रहता था तब

पिताश्री पधारते थे !

सामने आकर हाथ बांधकर खड़े हो जाते थे

तब हम चुपचाप TV बंद कर देते थे,

आदत तो हमें पड़ ही चुकी थी

मार तो हम हर सुबह खाते थे !

रोते रोते जूते घिसते थे

पिताश्री फिर आकर खड़े हो जाते थे,

सच मानिए, हम तुंरत ही रोना बंद कर देते थे

और जाकर अपना बस्ता सजाते थे !

जब हमारा सारथी सड़क पर खड़े होकर चीखता था

तब हम शान से बस्ता ले जा कर उसे थमा देते थे,

आखिर तब हम नवाब हुआ करते थे

रिक्शे से स्कूल जाया करते थे !

A moment for thoughts

ये ख्याल आता है .......


बिछौने के बगल में कोने की दिवार की टपकती छत को देखकर
ये ख्याल आता है,

गर्मियों में उस टूटे हुए पुल को देखकर
ये ख्याल आता है,

पुलिस की वर्दी में छिपे हुए उस चोर को देखकर
ये ख्याल आता है,

फुटपाथ पर सोते हुए उस विशाल सेना को देखकर
ये ख्याल आता है,

घर के रोज़-रोज़ के झगडों को देखकर
ये ख्याल आता है,

ज़िन्दगी के बीच सफ़र में उस बढे हुए हाथ को देखकर
ये ख्याल आता है,

दर-दर की ठोकरें खाते अपनों के उन नम पलकों को देखकर
ये ख्याल आता है,

अपने बीच ही उस महकते बचपन को देखकर
ये ख्याल आता है,

दूसरों के लिए धड़कने वाले उस दिल को देखकर
ये ख्याल आता है,

वैसे तो ज़िन्दगी गुजारने के लिए बहुत लम्बी है
पर हार कर भी जीने वाले उस रूह को देखकर,
ये ख्याल आता है,
कि कहीं देर ना हो जाए !!

सोच कभी

कुछ लोग दूर रहकर भी पास थे मेरे .....

सोच कभी
उन लम्हों को जो कभी हसीं हुआ करते थे;
पलकों को नम कर दिया करते थे,
बैठे बैठे किसी अनजाने दुनिया की सैर करा दिया करते थे !

सोच कभी
उस उम्र को जो मासूम हुआ करती थी;
यार अपने और हम उनके हुआ करते थे,
ज़मीन में रहकर भी आसमां में उड़ा करते थे !

सोच कभी
उन आदर्शों को जो शायद ही हम माना करते थे;
उन नियमों को जो हम हँसते हँसते टाल दिया करते थे,
जो मात्र आने के लिए और फिर जाने के लिए हुआ करते थे !

आज बारी है ज़िन्दगी को मुड़कर देखने की
जो खो दिया है उन रिश्तों को खोज निकालने की;
अपनों के पास वापस आने की,
माफ़ी मांगने की !!

Show off

These are some of our future representatives :: -

(1) Abhinav :: saale cp sutta le ke aa na
(2) Akshay :: IMG is more important than CG
(3) Anirudh :: Tum to yaar galat hi ilzaam laga rahe ho, maine kiya hi kya hai, accha tu bata
(4) Chaitali :: Main try karungi, main dukhi nahi karungi aur kutte-kamine nahi bolungi.
(5) chandra prakash :: Abe ab to interest hi hat gaya hai.....shaadi-shuda aadmi hun
(6) Divij :: The pants should never be above the "10 cms mark " below the hips
(7) Gurdeep :: He is gurdeep . Nothing else is needed
(8) Harsh :: Hamaare bhopal mein na .......
(9) Indroneil :: He`s already got a spouse >> His computer ! I love pink. Abe darvaaza band kar yaar

(10) Jatin :: Jatin "y cant i study" has serially kissed Piyali Purkait in the cafeteria 22 times and scored 2300 kisspoints (via Serial kisser)
[because they are damn close]

(11) Manoj:: Abe last time hamne sirf 3 peg hi maare the
(12) Naveen :: Abe saale aukat mein reh.
(13) Prashanth :: kya re >> most frustrated !
(14) Pratik :: oye 10 rupaye de naa , chal gabbar chai maar ke aate hain
(15) Rashmi :: Sir ye kya hai , ye kyun hai , isse kya hota hai
(16) Ravi :: arre nai bai , arre kya bai ???
(17) Sahil :: The fone guy ! abe baat kar raha hun
(18) Saikat :: The fattebaaj !
(19) Sandeep :: Abe dekh , Item Aunty !

(20) Sankalp :: Abe main nahi aa raha class , proxy maar dena .
Abe mess mein kya bana hai , canteen chal raha hai kya

(21) Shaifali :: chalo class mein ek to sensible ladka hai.
(22) Shivang :: pata hai ek baar hum Orchha gaye the , tab naa %#^%#%^%)()(^%^%#% ......
aur dost ne naa ......*&%^&%^$^&*&&^&^ ......
aur aaj AOE mein na .......*(&(&^&#%^%#*)()#(*((#()* .......
aur......... *&(*^&#^&*^#(*&#^&*^*#(*& .........

(23) Siddhika :: bhaiya ek chanaa-masala ,ek shaahi panner , ek raita , aur stuffed naan . Baaki main-course ke liye 15-20 min baad aana .
(24) Tanuj :: Abe sir nahi aa rahe , 5 min ho gaye , chalo vaapas chalte hain.
(25) Vyom :: Tumhe ladki nahi milenge aur jo honge vo bhi chale jaayenge.
(26) Vinod :: I love my roomie .
(27) Vignesh :: kya re , Phod daalega tereko .
(28) Rajpal :: raj9-double jeero-6 at gmail dod com