Eventful Flight

Given very little leg room in the flights these days, the tall young boy on the seat next to me was getting impatient with his uncomfortable posture and pushed back his seat in a forceful way. Within in no time it resulted in a big resistance from the lady on the seat behind. Her loyal husband also quickly turned to her rescue and snapped at the kid right away, demanding him to adjust his seat in the upright position.

The kid refused to follow any orders from the couple and soon, the dialogues between them turned into a quarrel.

The flight attended was called - a beautiful woman in her thirties who spoke in a warm and polite manner. But her beauty or politeness had no impact on the boy, and when she respectfully asked his to adjust his chair, he retorted back with, “Humse na ho payeeeee…” in a thick Bhojpuri accent.

Looking at the situation and to save the air-hostess from any further embarrassment, I offered to exchange my seat with the lady on the back seat. This would have perfectly solved the issue, before I realized that there was barely any leg space to fit me (or my valuable parts) between the seats. Hence, in the interest of my future generation, I turned towards the air-hostess and said, “Humse bhi na ho payeeeee…”

Kafir

मद-मस्त था जो अपनी धुन में
उसे मायूस बना दिया
एक आलिम को तेरे इश्क़ ने
काफ़िर बना दिया

*आलिम =  An educated Muslim Scholar
*काफ़िर =  Disbeliever

Sanjh

अपनी ही धुन में

ढलते ढलते

एक हसीन सांझ ने

धूप के रंगों से

चुन कर तेरे काले घने केसू

मेरे दिल की सूनी दीवार को

रंग दिया

Khamoshi

किससे हज़ार पुराने वो
महफ़िलों में बयान करते हैं
दास्तान-ए-इश्क़ की टूटी कहानी
बाज़ारों में सुनाया करते हैं
गम का काफिला बड़ी आसानी से मिलता है उन्हे
वरना इस दर्द-ए-इज़हार को लोग
खामोशी से अपनाया करते हैं

*काफिला = Caravan

Bambai ki life

ये बंबई की लाइफ भी ना साहेब

और में छोटे शहर का

समझ नही पाता
क्यूँ भागना है
क्यूँ जागना है
जेब भरती नही
भूक मिटती नही

ये बंबई की लाइफ भी ना साहेब
और में छोटे शहर का

रुक जाता हूँ
थम जाता हूँ
मायूस हो कर कभी
ठहर जाता हूँ
रास्ते अजीब लगते हें
दोस्त यहाँ, दोस्त कहाँ लगते हें

ये बंबई की लाइफ भी ना साहेब
और में छोटे शहर का

याद आता है गाँव का वो चौराहा
चबूतरा, जहाँ ठंडी रात में
अँगारे जला कर
ख़ुशियाँ बाटा करते थे
कभी झील किनारे
पानी में गोते लगाया करते थे

ये बंबई की लाइफ भी ना साहेब
और में छोटे शहर का

इस भीड़ में यूँ तन्हा सा लगता है
वक़्त भी यहाँ अंजाना सा लगता है
हाथ से रेत की तरहा फिसलता कभी
कभी होने पर भी अधूरा सा लगता है

ये बंबई की लाइफ भी ना साहेब
और में छोटे शहर का

गर एक दिन में यूँ ही रुक गया
इत्मेनान से, ढलते सूरज को
समंदर किनारे देखने थम गया
ऐसा क्या था
जो इतनी भीड़ जमा थी
ये सोचते सोचते
भीड़ में जा खो गया
और उस दिन से
ये बंबई शहर भी
मेरा अपना हो गया
अब जब कभी गाँव की याद सताती है
ये बंबई की लाइफ भी ना साहेब
मुझे यहीं समंदर किनारे ले आती है

~ Dedicated to Auto Drives of Mumbai who are far from their home

Aarna

लाल रंग का सावन कुछ ऐसा था

तेरे माथे की बिंदिया जैसा था

काली रात की खामोशी भी एक सहर लाई थी

तेरी आँखों का जैसे घूँघट ओढ़ आई थी

सुबह की लाली तेरे चेहरे पर ऐसी दम्कि

तेरे आँचल से आज फिर खुशियाँ झलकी

तेरे पास होने का है ऐसा एहसास

मानो हज़ार सखियाँ हो मेरे पास

तेरी गोद में, आज फिर सर रख कर सो गयी

चुपके से आज माँ में फिर बड़ी हो गयी

Untitled

फरियाद थी जिनकी ज़हन में
आँखें मूँद कर उन्हे हारे हें
जीने का मक़सद यूँ ही नही बदलता यारों 
हम महज़ एक छोटी सी हक़ीक़त के मारे हें

Ek Shaam

एक शाम
गुज़रती नहीं
थमती भी नहीं
इशारा करते करते
फुरसत से आहें भरके
चुनिन्दा ख्यालों को
इन मायूस आँखों से
आज़माती हुई
चली ये
अपने ही धुन में
न जाने कहाँ
प्यार से
बड़े आराम से
एक अधूरी दास्ताँ
अपने सांथ लिये
होले से कहते हुए . . .
हम फिर मिलेंगे
ए वक्त के मुसाफिर

Woh Raat

वो रात
भी क्या रात थी
जब धुंडने निकले
आँखे मूँद कर
चुपकर
जिसका ठिकाना न था
बस एक ख्याल था
ज़ेहन में
कोई पैमाना न था
यूँ तोह
नाज़ुक सा बोझ था
सच पूछो
कच्चा हमका होश था
धड़कने जवाब देने लगीं
एक हलचल सी होने लगी
हिमात करके भी
चुप रह न सके
कहना था जो
कह ही गए
लेकिन वो रात
अधुरा एहसास थी
जैसे, सामने आ जाये वो
जिसकी तलाश थी
और कह न सके
दिल में दबी जो बात थी  

Ishq

बदलती नहीं तकदीर, लकीरें मिट जाने से
ईमान नहीं बदलता, सूरत बदल जाने से
धड़कने नहीं रूकती, यूँ साँसे थम जाने से
ये इश्क नहीं मरता, इंसान गुज़र जाने से 

Manzil

दूर किनारों में मंज़िल मेरी

रोशन तकदीर से भी क्या वास्ता

रास्ता गर होता उस मुकाम का एक भी

चलना तो में गिर कर भी सीख लेता

2nd Class Compartment

The compartment is packed with people. If a rat can find its way from one end to the other, I would adopt him for this bravery.

The bottom seat with capacity of four is occupied by seven over-sized individuals. One of the two upper seats have three young boys comfortably lying on each other, they seem to be college students by their appearance. Obviously, I inquire about the space. Apparently, two of their friends are stuck on their way back from the toilet room which is located at the end of compartment. I believe them, but it might take them hours to reach back here, so I give them my camera bag to place. Why not utilize the empty space I say?

I should convince my friend Nishu, who specializes in optimization algorithms, to frame a journal paper on 'Optimization techniques in a second class railway compartment'. With sandals and shoes occupying the free space above the fan cage, the published paper can be eye opener for many across the globe.

Since an hour has passed standing in the middle of this 'chandni chowk prototype' with my jacket on, I question my comfort level. I should have been soaked in sweat by now. Oh! The fan on this side of ceiling is actually working, a luxury only lucky ones can cherish. On the other side, various men have tried their luck by hitting the fan blade several times at a specific angle to maximize the torque with special tools like comb, pen, paper roll etc in both clockwise and anti-clockwise directions to make the damn fan run, but alas their comfort on this journey relies completely on the wind induced by the speed of this train.

The young boys from the toilet room have finally arrived. Their arrival is celebrated by a loud whistle and applaud by the fellow mates. I join them in this celebration.

My camera bag is handed over to me now. A wait of another long hour standing still on my right leg before I reach Lonavala. My left leg struggling to find a empty spot on the floor. Twice I've kept it on the fellow passenger's foot and I shall not test his patience further.

I might as well meditate and pray to Lord Shiva in this posture, and looking at the speed of train, I am confidant that I can achieve Siddhi of the highest order by the end of this journey.

Dorm 6 Morning

Chaos took over the dormitory as the final wake up alarm rang at 5:15 sharp. An old bell hung outside the large TV room, which made a high pitch sound at 5:00, followed by second alarm at 5:10 just before the final call.

Dorm keepers, ladies in their forties, were assigned the job of sending the students to the field. "Bhaiya ji utho" they would shout, in a pitch so high that could nearly draw blood from your ears.

After a few routine, the math was simple. It took us nearly nearly 5 minutes to change into a track suit, another 10 to brush our teeth (including 5 mins to reach and return from washroom). A 10 minutes buffer to cover up for the lost time day dreaming.

By 5:30, everyone on the field standing in a neat queue, wearing a gray colored track suit, with blue stripes. Five to Six rounds across the campus were enough to pull the energy out of tiny lungs.

By the time the world was up, we got dressed in our school uniform. A clean light blue shirt and a navy blue trouser, which struggled to keep up with our growing height. A long wait in front of the mirror was common. No! it was a boys dormitory, but there were girls to be impressed in the school.

Before we walked towards the school, the Dorm leader, who was selected by the dorm in-charge, would lead the assembly followed by a short morning prayer.

Then, in a queue we marched towards the school with full of hopes. Too young to calculate the practicality of dreams, but honest and strong enough to make them real...

to be continued...

Last Romance

A water droplet drizzled from her face

Like snow gently melting down the hills

Her hair casually drenched, touching her lips

As if nature purposely spelled its magic across the valley

Her enchanted eyes, enticing me for a touch

Like the dry Sahara calling the rain clouds

Her laugh playful like a child

Unspoiled by practicality of life

The sound of her breath

Seducing the silence to break

Inspiring me her subtle charm

Her opaque beauty betraying my senses

As I'm unable to differentiate real from imaginary

Intoxicated by her last romance

I will be enliven for the days to come

Confession

एक झूट में अकसर कहता रहूँगा

दर्द-इ-एहसास को सहता रहूँगा

सच की तलाश करते कभी

फुरसत से आईने में झांकना

तेरी आँखों की परछाई में

तुझे ही धुड़ता मिलूँगा

An evening to remember

In the midst of this rushing life

Time stops one evening

With wreath of flowers on every street

And the radiant glow of the sky

Waiting to be shadowed by a silent evening

Blurring the mighty sun as time goes by

You touch my thoughts with your tiny hands

As I speak my heart

Baffling me with your intoxicating eyes

Your voice so calm and serene

Inviting me to your world

Tiny yet wonderful and real

I see what you saw

I feel what you felt

And as I wait to regain my lost senses

I know

That it's a beginning of something beautiful

Vagabond

कुछ रास्ते,

इस ज़िंदगी से अलग
राह अनोखी चलता हूँ में
हर रोज़
सुहाने ख्वाब बुनता हूँ में

पहाड़ों, वादियों
नदियों की गहराइयों को
अपने कदमों से चूमता हूँ में
हर रोज़
सुहाने ख्वाब बुनता हूँ में

नीले आस्मा की चादर
दूर फेले खेत खलियान
हज़ारों चमकते तारों में
नर्म चाँदनी ढूंढता हूँ में
हर रोज़
सुहाने ख्वाब बुनता हूँ में

समंदर से बातें करता
किनारों से दोस्ती
डूबते सूरज की परछाईयों में
एक दबी सी मुस्कान ढूंढता हूँ में
हर रोज़
सुहाने ख्वाब बुनता हूँ में

अजनबी चेहरों के पहलू
मॅन के माँझे में पिरोता हुआ
सबसे दिल लगा कर रहता हूँ में
अंदाज़ सबके अलग अलग
पर मुस्कान एक ही देखता हूँ में
हर रोज़,
सुहाने ख्वाब बुनता हूँ में

Diary

Nervousness was clearly visible on his face. The 52 years old auto-wala was worried about his diary. He could not recall where he left it. It was either in his trunk at home or he left it at the STD booth from where he usually makes call to his sick mother.

"What is so important written in the diary? Do you keep a record of your funds in it?" I inquired.

"It has my mother's contact number." He quietly answered. 

Somethings are priceless.

Alphabets

Another evening goes by, and my aspirations of writing a novel seems distinctly far. The teachings sessions with Raju Bhai, however, have been far effective. His will to read and write exceeds my yearn to produce a story. After six small sessions, he can comfortably understand two-third of Hindi alphabets. It is satisfying to see his slow and steady progress and, being his teacher I can evidently tell, how effectively he links images with alphabets to create a long-term memory. A trick I would like to take credit for! 

The day shall not be far when Raju Bhai would fulfill his desire to be able to read and write - names, addresses and possibly poetry! :) And that day, I shall surely be motivated to pen a success story.

Untitled

एहसास क्या है यूँ मिलने का
ये न पूछों यारों
दिल करता है
ये शाम गुज़र न जाये
मरासिम के हर शीशों में
बस मेरे यार नज़र आयें

Haqeeqat

मेरी अपनी ही हकीकत 
छोड़ जाती है मुझे 
सताती है मुझे 
तरसाती है मुझे 

इतनी सच्ची फिदरत 
पहले थी न मेरी 
फिर भी ये हकीकत 
सताती है मुझे 
तरसाती है मुझे 

दूर हुआ इससे लम्हा भी 
तो परछाई बनकर 
खींच लाती है मुझे 
पास बुलाती है मुझे 

तैखाने के पिंजरे को दस्तक दी है 
पहेली की तरह ये हकीकत 
एक तरफ़ा - मोतियों की जकड दिखाती है मुझे 
तो कभी - बाहर आज़ाद पंछियों की कहानी सुनती है मुझे 

मेरी अपनी ही हकीकत 
सताती है मुझे 
तरसाती है मुझे 

Marine Drive

I can think of nothing that has changed during the last eight years of my visits to Marine Drive. The lengthy 4,300 mts pavement, the tall buildings standing with pride, the series of street lights perfectly in line to form a necklace, people jogging on the side walk, some casually sitting on the edge of the concrete, couples romancing while watching the sun take a slow dip in the water, loners dispersing their thoughts in the ocean. It has always been the same.

I can’t recall my reaction when I first came to Marine Drive. It must be mesmerizing to see the charm of this secluded and yet most attractive part of the city. Although, I have been here over a hundred times now, but it amazes me every time when I watch the astonishing view standing on the top of the platform. The intensity of this fast paced city appears to slow down as you listen to the sound of waves hitting the rocks. It lets you free your thoughts. 

I wonder, if there is any aspect of my life that I haven't thought of, sitting here on this pavement? A more comforting friend, the sea, than many friends that I have met here on Marine Drive. Probably, because it has patiently listened and absorbed all my thoughts. My well wishers might have given me better suggestions but none gave me the power to accept the uncertainly of life, as the sea. It guaranteed me that even in the worst of times, it will be here, at the very same place, and absorb my trauma with the same patience.

But today is not one of those days. Today, I will take a long lousy walk, grab a drink and watch the gorgeous necklace as it twinkles fearlessly into the night.

Life @ room no. # 203

The wall had words scrubbed

Posters covered the dark

Rock-bands, mountains, celebrities

And sometime Indian gods

A table always dusty

Books untouched for long

Linux / windows on the Intel PC

As we wished to install

Videos, movies and games

Unusual genre of songs

Singing verses after verses

Missing her all night long

Voices of laughter

Serious discussion on math

Never ending arguments

To be continued over yahoo chat

But with the exams overhead

Our bond became stonger

Fearful faces asking each other

Can you stay little longer?

The room had a green veiw

With friends as neighbour

It knew us inside out

It knew us better

We lived a dream

An imaginary world of our own

A garden enriched with friendship

Trees of tresure we’ve grown

The bonds that we have made

And the achievements that we laid

Might not last long,

But these incredible memories

Will stay with us like a beautiful song

Mohabbat na kar jaana

कर ,
चाहे जो कर जाना,
पर भूल कर भी,
मोहब्बत न कर जाना,

कह,
चाहे जो कह जाना,
मोहब्बत हो भी जाए,
तो इज़हार न कर जाना

बढती कहानी हो,
इशारों में थम जाना,
इज़हार वो कर भी दे,
तू इक़रार न कर जाना

हार,
चाहे जो हार जाना
गर, भूल से भी
दिल न हार जाना

ये दिल बड़ा ही कमजोर है,
मोहब्बत भुला न पायेगा,
रंगीन यादों पर भी,
ये आंसू बहायेगा

फिर भी, मोहब्बत तेरी ज़िद है,
तोह इसे आँखों से कर ले
ये रूठ कर भी खामोश रह जाएँगी
दिल के टूटने पर
तेरे आंसुओं का,
कडवा ज़हर भी पी जाएँगी