Wednesday, November 27, 2013

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

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

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

Thursday, September 19, 2013

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

Friday, August 30, 2013

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  

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

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 

Friday, August 2, 2013

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

Saturday, July 20, 2013

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.

Thursday, June 27, 2013

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...

Monday, May 13, 2013

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

Monday, April 29, 2013

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

Monday, April 8, 2013

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

Sunday, March 17, 2013

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

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

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.

Saturday, March 9, 2013

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.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

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

Friday, March 1, 2013

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 

Sunday, February 24, 2013

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.

Friday, February 15, 2013

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

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

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

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Aahat

आहट न होती उन आँखों से,
तो डूबा ही रहता, अनजान ख्यालों के समंदर में . . .
उलझा तो वैसे आज भी हूँ,
बस, एक छोटी सी मुलाक़ात में,
उनकी आंखो से लफ्ज़ झलके,
और मेरे ख्यालों को एक पहचान मिल गयी . . .

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Talaash

तलाश है, एक ऐसी सुबह की,
जब आसमा में बिखरें कुछ रंग,
हलके नीले, हलके गुलाबी,
जैसे हांथो से किसी चित्रकार ने,
रात की चादर को, बड़े ही इम्तेनान से सजाया हो,
और जता रहा हो के,
धुप की पहली किरण, तेरी आँखों से ऐसे झलके,
जैसे ये सुबह एक नया पैगाम लायी हो,
और एहसास जगा दे ज़हन में,
जिंगदी वो नहीं, जो थी,
वो नहीं, जो होगी,
जिंदगी तो है अभी, यहीं
तू तालाश तो कर . . .
एक ऐसी सुबह की . . .

Monday, September 17, 2012

The Artist


       “Artists are born not created. Their talent is their character, their personality, their goal, their motive, their bread, their meaning of life, their purpose of existence, and this talent in them – be it in a painter, actor, musician, writer or a scientist, is born when a human brain and heart are united. Unfortunately! We are bound by time, which by its very nature is scarce, given we are all part of the life-death cycle.” quoted the Daily Mail editorial, an extract written centuries ago by a long forgotten mathematician Aulto.

Aulto, as predicted by the new age philosophers, lived in a constant fearful state of mind, as he believed that the four dimensions ‘three dimensional space and one dimensional time’, held the key to ultimate supremacy, and that human race would eventually fail if it did not conquer these four dimensions. Although, later it was also argued that Aulto predicted a possibility of another pseudo dimension, which he named after himself ‘Aulto-exist’, that acted as link a between space and time.

To explain the nature of such this pseudo dimension, Aulto used a mathematical co-ordinate system where three dimensional space and one dimensional time were represented by coordinates (x, y, z, t). He later reviewed that if space and time were to be connected by a pseudo dimension ‘Aulto-exist’ the coordinates of a particle located in space (x1, y1, z1) at time (t1) could be written as (x1, y1, z1, t1, AE), where x1, y1, z1, t1 represented the space and time coordinates of that particle, and AE represented its coordinate on the ‘Aulto-exist’ dimension. Hypothetically, a particle could relocate to its new coordinate (x2, y2, z2, t2, AE) keeping its pseudo dimension ‘AE’ as constant. The theory worked perfectly, if the space coordinates were changed w.r.t. corresponding change in time, or in other words, at a given instant a particle could exist only at one location in space represented by one defined space co-ordinates. Aulto extended his theory, that it was possible for a weightless object to be teleported to different space  coordinate at a single instant by using the pseudo dimensional ‘AE’ link. Therefore, his main focus during the later part of his life remained on finding a weightless object that could be used to prove his theory of teleportation.

Aulto published numerous journal papers, with a belief that, one day, mathematics along with other sciences will have the capacity to master and control all the four dimensions. He even anticipated that it was only matter of time that weightlessness could be used travel to any co-ordinates of the universe. However, his theory on pseudo dimension contradicted core fundamental definitions of various facts and was based on hypothetical ideas that were challenged by the scientists of those times. It is also believed that Aulto’s core subject of interest was religious philosophy but his fascination towards ‘space and time’ theory made him shift his focus towards experimental mathematics.

Space equations made complete sense to him, but, when these equations were combined with ‘time’, he felt as if his knowledge was trapped. He spent hours and hours in his laboratory, but could not gather ideas about how time was created. Is it finite or infinite? Does it depended on frame of reference? Is time required, to change our space co-ordinate? However, a question that was deep rooted in his mind was: “If weightlessness exist, is it possible move to a different space-time coordinate and defeat time?”

He spent nights working on this problem and isolated himself from the world. After days of absence, he was found locked inside his room staring at a pendulum clock with his dark red eyes, a pen between his fingers, the paper board in front had hundreds of equations and diagrams – some with reference to space and time, and others were made of human body, of religious teaching, which none of his co-scientists could comprehend.

A few days later, he organized a seminar to which he invited brightest minds, experts, geniuses of the planet, with the aim to explain his theory and trigger a wave to solve this problem:

“My dear friends”, he spoke softly.

“Artists are born not created. Their talent is their character, their personality, their goal, their motive, their bread, their meaning of life, their purpose of existence, and this talent in them – be it in a painter, actor, musician, writer or a scientist, is born when a human brain and heart are united. Unfortunately! We are bound by time, which by its very nature is scarce, given we all are part of the life-death cycle.”

“Can we conquer time?”

The room was dead silence. No one spoke or moved. It looked for the moment as if time was frozen, a layer of silence covered the Auditorium. Aulto looked tired, drops of water appeared on his forehead. He waited another minute and gulped the glass of water that was put on the side table and said his final words, “Oh yes, my goodness! We can, can’t we? We are made of  . . . weightless . . . SOUL!” The crowd waited patiently to hear Aulto’s next words, another minute of silence, students and co-professors stared directly at his face, as if, the equation of time was finally resolved. Aulto looked shocked and excited, but he spoke nothing more. He collected his books and left the seminar hall quietly.

Within seconds, the silence in the Auditorium turned into chaos. The question appeared everywhere - “Has professor Aulto found the key to supress time?” Only Aulto had the answer.
                             
The university was closed for winter holidays. Everyone, the entire country, waited for the answer, for the question that was discovered by Aulto himself. Thousands of letters flew in from journalists, philosophers, scientists, physicists across the globe. None were answered.

Days later Aulto’s body was found, sitting on his study table at his country house, still, clam and untouched. There was no sign of theft, no sign of a disease, no sign of a weapon, so sign of trouble. The equation of time was yet to solved and yet another mystery was left for the world to answer - the cause of Aulto’s death. The best practitioners across the world examined his body but could not predict the cause of his death.

The daily mail quoted an article on his death:

“The Artist is gone. Thousands appeared during the cremation ceremony of the famous philosopher, scientist, mathematician – The great Aulto. The man who had no family of his own but received blessings and prayers from millions around the world. The man who selflessly dedicated his life to ‘space-time’ equation. The man who was believed to have cracked the problem time-mystery dies of unknown cause. The country pays high regard and tribute to the great Aulto. The man who left this world, his great ideas, his philosophy, his countless achievements and his final words that he left for the world: ‘Yes!, Aulto-exist!’

He indeed exists in our hearts.”


**** The End ****