वो सड़क, वो हवा, वो शोर

वो सड़क, जो पगडण्डी सी लगती है,

किसी की सुबह और शाम के बीच का पुल है,

किसी का घर है

कितनों की रोज़ी रोटी है,

थोड़ी संकरी, छोटी है

मेरे घर की ओर चली जाती है

वो सड़क, जो पगडण्डी सी लगती है

वो हवा, जो बस छू कर निकल जाती है,

कभी दिन भर की थकान मिटाने का मरहम है,

कभी तूफ़ान की दस्तक है

पसीने  में भिगोती गरम लू है कभी

ठिठुराती, कंपाती, सर्द सरसराहट है कभी

मेरे घर की खुशबू लेकर आती है

वो हवा, जो बस छू कर निकल जाती है

वो शोर, जो हर पल कानों में गूंजता है

कहीं ख़ुशी से नाचता झूमता कोलाहल है.

कहीं दर्द की आह है

कभी लगता है कितनी आवाज़ों में गुम एक साज़ है

कभी लगता है एक अनकहा सा राज़ है

मेरे घर से आती आवाजें ढूंढता है 

वो शोर, जो हर पल कानों में गूंजता है 

To We or not to We......

As dusk falls and twilight peeps through, the twittering turns to cacophony. Gradually, it dies down to soft murmurs only to retire to a serene silence. What then one yearns for is that familiar yet surprising tiptoeing across the room, that mundane yet refreshing account of the day gone by, that casual yet comforting handclasp which puts you to a blissful sleep.

They say companionship is over rated. They say it put fetters around you, takes away your identity and makes you an illusionist. They say it is irrational ! 

They say independence is undervalued. They say it gives you wings, it helps you discover your “self” and makes you a realist. They say it is sensible !

Well, I say, I am more of me when the other is around. I fly, flap a little, soar high above and come back home to the other who shares “my” world and everything in it. I dream, I wish, I hope, I desire. And together with the other I discover a life which is as real as any other !!!!!

On this side of the sea !

It’s a vast expanse. Deep. Boundary less. Dynamic yet absolutely still at its depths. Noisy yet absolutely at peace from within. Its blue, its silver, its orange, its pink, its black;  yet it is colourless by its very nature. It is fatal when in rage yet  harbours life in its deepest recesses. It leads to separations and creates boundaries yet it also connects. It makes you happy yet thoughtful, it gives you strength yet makes you feel insecure and insignificant ! It takes your rubbish in and still offers you the pearls it breeds !

I am not exactly fascinated by the sea. No, in fact there are times when I am a little scared by its vastness.  But there is something about those waves lashing across the rocks, that constant bouncing of the waves on the shore that makes me go back to the sea. Maybe its vastness arouses a sense of freedom in me. If I feel cramped within my self-created close spaces, I know the sea is at my rescue. There is a world beyond it, a world which I am yet to see and its BIG ! And funnily enough that’s when also the exact opposite realization dawns. That the world on this side is also yet unexplored. Why am I not stepping out of my shell? Why is it that I always wonder about the “other side”? Hell, there’s so much on this side yet to experience, yet to share !

The sea itself tosses out the shell from its womb so that the pearl within can be noticed and polished and shine and cherished.  Well, I am the pearl ! And I want to discover and be discovered. And I want to shine and be cherished. And of course, I want to get out of this shell yet hold on to it. Because this little shell of mine holds the entire sea for me !!!!!

खुद से मुलाकात

कभी जब ख़ामोशी कानो में चुभने सी लगती है

लबों के कोने में एक गुफ्तगू की आरज़ू दबी रहती है

कभी जब खुश्क पत्तों की बुरबुराहट में कोई कहानी छुपी सी  लगती है

लम्हों के साये  में एक सदी की दास्ताँ गूंजती है........ 

वो पल है जब मेरी खुद से मुलाकात होती है

अनकहे से कुछ शब्द  स्याही से निकलकर,

पन्ने की ओट लेकर, अपने वजूद का एहसास दिलाते हैं

एक मासूम  सी ख्वाहिश दबे पाँव आती है; और किताब के कोने में सिमट के बैठ जाती है 

शब्दों और ख्वाहिशों की पहचान करते करते 

जब कुछ  खोयी यादें जवां होती है.......

वो पल है जब मेरी खुद से मुलाकात होती है

बारिश की बूँदें जब बदन को छू कर रूह को भिगोने लगती हैं

ख्यालों के मकां में जब ख़्वाबों की धुप सजने लगती है

कभी जब एक सियाह से अक्स में रंग भरने लगते हैं

कहीं से हरी दूब की सौंधी सी खुशबू आने लगती है.......

वो पल है जब मेरी खुद से मुलाकात होती है 

It's You !

The song that plays in the background, or just the silence of the kitchen,

The chaos and commotion of the traffic on the road,  or just the stillness of my window sill...........

In the midst of all this, I am present yet secluded

I am right there in the thick of things; near yet aloof !

You sing the same songs to me, you suddenly clutter my kitchen

You wait at the other end of the commotion;

You peep right through the window sill !

Both smiles and tears play games with me,

For one often becomes the reason for the other.

I remember the moments of shared laughter and;

welled up tears follow my memories;

I weep in memories of sweet nothings and;

a blushing smile crosses my countenance !

You are the breeze that glides past me gently; you are the raindrop that moistens my face;

You are the radiance that brightens my eyes; you are echo that resonates in my ears !

The song, the silence, the chaos, the stillness,

You are the one who pops in through it all !

The smile, the tears, the memories, the shyness,

You are the one who has a share in this all !

Tired Eyes !

They speak !

Sometimes out of sadness, sometimes out of sheer excitement,

Sometimes out of anger, sometimes out of sheer frustration !

Now they are muted.

Tired eyes !

They look around !

Sometimes out of curiosity, sometimes out of sheer boredom,

Sometimes seeking attention, sometimes beseeching acknowledgment.

Now they are still.

Tired eyes !

They listen !

Sometimes to the sound of silence, sometimes the stories that the world tells,

Sometimes to the laughter of a happy heart, sometimes the sobbing soul.

Now they are indifferent.

Tired eyes !

Tired they are, not so lifeless, though

They still twinkle, they still glow

momentarily though !

Seeking solace from within,

Tired eyes !

वो माँ है !

सवेरे नींद से जगाते हुए भी आँखों में जो नए सपने भर दे

जो नाश्ते में एक मीठा दुलार, एक खट्टी सी डांट और ढेर सारा गरम गरम प्यार परोसे,

वो माँ हैं

जिसकी  सारी के पल्लू को कभी अपना तौलिया तो कभी पर्दा मान लिया

जिसको गोद में कभी अपना सर रखके चैन से सो गए,

तो कभी रुआंसा सा चेहरा चुप के आके छुपा लिया

जिसे कभी खाना खाने के लिए तंग किया

तो कभी अपने मनपसंद पकवान बनवाने की जिद्द की

वो माँ है

पापा से छुप के जिसे अपने दिल के सारे भेद बता दिए,

जिससे नज़रें चुराके भाई के साथ रोज़ एक नयी शरारत छेढ़ी

वो माँ है

वो जो घनी, तपती धुप में स्कूल के बहार शिकंजवी लिए खड़ी थी

वो जो कड़कती सर्दी में अपनी रजाई मुझपे दाल देती थी

वो जो बारिश में भीगने पर खूब डांटती 

और फिर गरम गरम हलवा बना कर मेरी सर्दी दूर करती

वो माँ है

वो जो मुझे रोज़ दिखती तो नहीं, 

पर हर पल मेरी हिचकियों में मुझे पुकारती है

वो जिसको परछाई हूँ मैं,

जिससे अलग तो हूँ , पर उसी  में समाई हूँ मैं,

वो माँ है

Stay !

Whisper to me, for i am all ears,

tell me stories, both told n untold. 

Clasp my hand and take me forward,

or just hold it and let the moment stay !

let me sit at my window sill and gaze across the overcast span of sky,
let me play with the raindrops while you just sit across and smile !

Oh ! what a day would that be.

let me just stay tight-lipped for the day,

let my eyes say what my heart speaks !

let me just enjoy the quietness of the silent breeze;

while you just sing those songs that lend a symphony to the surroundings

Oh ! what music would that be.

Speak to me, for i just want to listen,

transpire from my thoughts to reality !

Let me look at the mirror and smile,

don't roll down my cheeks, just stay at the corner of my eye !

Is this Bombay or me ! :)

She has her own way; she lives her own life. There is a unique way in which she wakes up to greet the day. She rambles and trudges; wanders and meanders her way through the day. At times she would just gaily promenade her way through the twists and bends while at other times she tends to hiccup a little. You see, the day doesn’t yield to every whim and fancy of hers ! Why would it, after all ? So, she cribs, complaints, grumbles and moans. But towards the end of the day she still finds herself striding along the same pathway; she has got used to a tumble here or a topple there. 

And then comes the evening. So she has her own distinctive or rather idiosyncratic way of hailing the twilight, for this is when the world actually notices her.  Up until now everyone around her is so engrossed in finding ways along their own pathways that no one really bothers to observe where is she leading to; even though they cross hers unimaginable number of times. So, as dusk falls, she lights up, grapping everyone’s attention (and even the deliberate lack of it!). Some see her as independent, some tied up in clutches of routine, norms and conventions; some hail her as a rebel, others pity her solitary existence; some find her magical, others wicked. For some she is the epitome of exuberance, excitement and life itself while there are those for whom she’s symbolic of eternal and tedious grind. She’s both avant-garde and regressive; she’s unconventional but also conservative ! 

As night falls, she curls up but hardly sleeps. Her dreams keep her awake. So many hopes are pinned upon her; she is to fulfill many aspirations. And of course she wishes to spruce up her own pathway, she is not too fond of the hitches and the glitches, you see. But yeah, she has to be patient and also let time enjoy its veto power over certain matters. 

And one morning come the rains ! Ahhh! She both awaits and dreads them (actually she is biased towards the “awaits” part!). For the rains bring with themselves freshness and sparkle but she has to be very cautious to not let the raindrops soil her….. for she loves to hop and skip and soar and fly and enjoy the rains :) 

That's my song !

It’s a regular day. You are busy with the routine chores, the clutter of everyday life strewn all around you. You are engaged in completing a jigsaw puzzle, putting together pieces; sometimes trying to create a new picture altogether. And suddenly a tune echoes somewhere near you. You stop. Raptured. Enamored. Captivated by the intensity with which the melody touches the chords of your heart. It is strange how a song, written by some stranger somewhere; a tune composed by someone unrelated, unknown, cuts across the deepest recesses of your hear and stirs your soul. You feel an instant connection with the words, the music, the interplay of melodic chords that create a divine symphony. Sometimes it is almost like it’s written for you. The very words you keep away from speaking to yourselves, the very melodies that you “unlisten” even when you can hear them all around you!

Such is the power of music and songs. They make you talk to yourself; they make you aware of the sound of silence around you and they make you conscious of what your heart really desires. Haven’t there been times when we listen to a song and instantly leave our world of mere “survival” to reach a world where we “live” with our thoughts, our very own dreams and desires.  How many times has it so happened that you instantaneously, in a reflex go, “That’s my song!” Funny it is, how we can associate songs with ourselves, with the people around us, with the places we have been to and with our thoughts and fears and fantasies!

Songs…..they ache and soothe our heart; they stir and satisfy our soul; they make us dance and sometimes leave us motionless……Songs!

And as I end this, those playing on my playlist, “my songs” are:

Aoge jab tum o saajna http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iwnCMv--L9Y

Titliyaan http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oWr9BXBXxek

Kaminey title http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Te374eAaA3w

Tears in heaven http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VRsJlAJvOSM

Ye safar bahut hai kathin http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tbJdWxOhuA

Roobaro http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r8Ni_NStSxU

And of course the list goes on..... :) 

  

ख़ामोशी का शोर

इस खामोशी के शोर में गुम सी गयी है मेरी खुद के आवाज़

वो पल जो गुज़र गए, कुछ अनकही, अनसुनी सी सिसक छोड़ गए हैं

ये पल जो यहाँ, अभी है, बहुत कुछ कहना चाहता है

लेकिन ख़ामोशी के शोर में इसकी आवाज़ दब सी गयी है !


इस ख़ामोशी के शोर में, मेरे कानों में कुछ लव्ज़ गूंजते हैं

होठों तक आते हैं,
 
इस शोर में वो अपनी आवाज़ ढूंढ़ रहे हैं

लेकिन ख़ामोशी का ऐसा कोलाहल मचा है चारों ओर

की मेरी खुद की आवाज़ गुम सी गयी है !


इस ख़ामोशी के शोर में
, 
एक गर्जन भी है, एक रुदन भी
 
बहुत सी आवाजें जैसे अपना अस्तित्व खोज रही हैं

लेकिन ख़ामोशी का ऐसा कोलाहल मचा है चारों ओर
 
की शब्दों का मतलब, उनके मायने ही जैसे गुम से गए हैं !


गूंजती, सुबकती, सिसकती, हंसती, चिचियाती,

कई तरह की आवाजें है ये

लेकिन ख़ामोशी के शोर में, आज सब चुप हैं !

It's a funny feeling, nostalgia !

Nostalgia is a funny feeling. It fills your insides with warmth, yet leaves you all frozen at the outside. Something inside you stirs intensely, yet you sit motionless... it's a funny feeling, this nostalgia !

Today, I stand at threshold ( was at one when I finished school, one when I finished college, looks like the threshold is pretty dynamic :P ). However, this particular "threshold" is different. Till now I was moving from being a school girl to a college-going teenager to a first-time hosteler, but now from this threshold onwards, I am an ADULT - going by the demographic definition, no longer a dependent but an individual responsible for my own self. This thought is both liberating and scary....okay maybe scary is too superlative a word but definitely anxiety-ridden. So, from now on I would be responsible for all the decisions I make, I would be expected to think objectively and yeah, I would be expected to act in a "mature" manner. Now THAT is a fuzzy area for me. You see I never quite understood what exactly this "level of maturity" means ! Does this mean that from now on I am forbidden to make mistakes? Or that everything that I do would be measured on a scale of costs and benefits and appraised accordingly? Or does this mean that whatever I say or feel from now on will be subject to judgment and assessment? If that's what the world does to "mature" people, I would rather be called childish all my life!

So, as I dread the though of entering the world of "worldly wise, mature adults", I am gripped by the nostalgia of childhood, teenage and "hostel-age". Memories of childhood and teenage have become a part of my mental scrap-book now but those of the hostel-age are still dewy-fresh; I guess it's time for them to be pinned to the album as well! However, I can still see the fresh colours of those moments, maybe that explains the moisture in my eyes. There's no checking the timetable now, no setting up the bag for tomorrow's classes, no looking forward to the latest class gossip, no power naps between class breaks, no sports fests or cultural fests to look forward to. No 3 am maggi with dorm mates, no night-long gossip sessions with my girlfriends, no "looking for excuses to go to Rambhai", no midnight buffets and morning breakfast, no RGgiri, no arguments over ordering in from McDs or Birmies...

Nostalgia is a funny feeling. It holds you back, yet gives you the strength to move towards a new 'morrow. Something inside you tells you its all gone forever, yet you know you can relive the moments 'cos they belong to you... it's a funny feeling, nostalgia !

On this side of the mirror

Sometimes I find myself staring at a blank sheet of paper, a pen in my hand and fingers itching to write. I give it a thought, scribble something, quickly read it and immediately tear the paper into bits and pieces; to be flown away with the breeze into no where. And I immediately go back to my daily chores and tasks, brushing aside my thoughts and pushing them away to the deep recesses of my mind and heart.

This is not something which is a routine of sorts, however I cannot deny the fact that there are parts of my "self" that I keep hidden from "myself". I doubt if many of you out there do it, I mean most of us usually tap ourselves on the back for "knowing" ourselves inside out. We claim to know our strengths and weaknesses, our fantasies and fears, our shrieks and silences. Yet, for me I seem to be on an eternal quest, a continuous journey where I discover something new about myself at each turning point. It may not particularly be good or bad (I think such binary objectivity falls short of human psychology and its explanations), it is new nevertheless. I do not necessarily cling to all of these "findings" or "discoveries" about myself. Some of them tend to be a bolt from the blue, literally. It is amazing to suddenly realise that I "myself" have nurtured so many stereotypes and notions about my "self" and have been living with those happily. But bam ! one little incident happens and I realise how little we know of our selves. So we talk and act and preach and play along like that one in the mirror we see ourselves to be. We have notions and ideas about how that "me" in the mirror reacts to things, how she feels about people and/or situations, what she dreams, what she wants. Yet, one fine day, along this journey we realise that the "me" is on THIS side of the mirror and not THAT side ! This "ME" does not always need to be rational, logical, understanding, balanced, calm, thoughtful..... The "Me" on this side of the mirror would want to be a little stupid at times, she would want to enjoy the independence to make mistakes and not be judged, she would want to revel in the luxury of listening to her heart and not being called heartless, she would want to spend time with herself alone and yet not be left lonely.....she does not want to know herself. The me on this side of the mirror wants to discover herself every single day !