2024 - The Death of Comfort

September has Ended, I am still trying to wake myself up. What a year it has been so far!  

I saw death and birth. Death of my mom's body, birth of my son's. Death of my professional ego, birth of an inner balance. It was the year where new relationships were born and old ones died their cruel death. The year when I had to let the society die for me. I had to witness the birth of a new understanding that only and only a select few are needed for me to live at my fullest. 

I have written much about the pregnancy of existence. I feel like I have entered my labor and a new me is getting born. He will come through me but only when the old me dies. The mother has to die while she births to her child.  

Death although painful, has its own beauty. It births new possibilities. That's what 2024 is about. 

Oh Baby My!

When life gives you a choice,
Betwixt licking your wounds 
& Prepping for the fight,
Oh baby my! Give the healing to time,
To the next adventure you dance along!

When life gives you a choice,
Betwixt hating the fools,
& Letting the garbage go by,
Oh baby my! Bid the hate good bye,
To the next adventure you dance along!

When life gives you a choice,
Betwixt a thick dark frown
& A big fat smile,
Oh baby my! Don't think before you laugh,
To the next adventure you dance along!

When you feel that only one way lies,
That life wants you to feel low & dry,
Oh baby my! Trust these words of mine,
A choice hides close by, 

To dance as life's adventure carries on!

PS- A random scribble at the airport as I return to Raipur after seeing Niyati and our week-old Zen.

Mrs. Sarita Bansal

Everything about her is pious. She is a much higher soul, who had taken this life to nurture and pull us up in our respective journeys. Her life and its roles were not for the faint-hearted. Her decisions seem to be guided by a force beyond self-serving logic.

She lived her intense life as if it was an offering to someone divine. She suffered a lot, laughed a lot, withstood a lot and still, gave a lot. Her sufferings seemed enough to be able to cut many lifetimes of accumulated karmas. She never asked for anything, neither from people nor from life. Just kept giving.  She still gives and guides. 

As for me, she brought me into this world physically. She also shaped me spiritually. From reading the Bhagwad Geeta to me as an embryo to the Art Excel course in childhood, the DSN and Vipassana in the 20s and Isha Yoga later on. She was the silent nudge behind all my spiritual explorations. My spiritual being was nurtured by her loving hands. She always knew when I was having a difficult time - my teenage turpitude or even decades later, my cluelessness before Zen. Her few words were enough to give me the zeal to move on. 

She was the one who, with her limited freedom and resources, touched everyone's life lovingly. A lifelong learner, She loved maths and was a self-taught creative content creator. Chatting away with her bountiful supply of sisters, brothers, friends and everyone in between. She was the first to shower their families with birthday and anniversary calls. She kept her sweet sisters, blissful family, Devashish family, Banasthali friends and innumerable other clans together with her CGI collages and videos. Sunshine or clouds, she did this every-day. Till the cancer entered her brain again. 

The disease did its best to be dreadful. Yet she hunted the cracks in its dread to give life her broad-nosed smile. The cancer melted the strong emotional walls she had built inside of her. One of those days when I was trying hard to lift myself up, Muskaan came and spoke to me about her. How she spoke about her made me realise how much I have missed about my mother's life. In the last 2 decades, I have been busy with my own worldly pursuits and whenever I met her, it was brief and about me. She had sewed her own web of relationships which she nurtured and tended to. Muskan showed me that. She was her first grandkid. And to protecting her sanity, she took her out shopping when the emotional weather was to traumatic for a child. When I had secretly and shamefully lost hope, Muskan used to say that "Dekhna, Maa will come out of it, she has fought it before successfully, that too twice"

After the imli chuski episode, when she chose to delay her departure, a lot of magic was happening around her every single day. She spoke extensively about her childhood and was frank and unafraid even around Papa. Often taking the liberty to joke around and cutting people short jokingly. Her last year was more to give us, her Lucknow family time to accept the ultimate reality. In the last one year of her difficult life, she closed the emotional loops of her key relationships. Her magic penetrated the toughest of walls. I still remember papa wearing sherwani on the last anniversary they celebrated together. He became more emotive, reminding her that he used to call her Sweetu while talking about their honeymoon. She enjoyed her time with Kabir who always knew exactly how to keep the whole family engaged. Ever talkative and observant, he always brought a smile to his Maa's face. These last couple of years of her life was all about creating wonderful memories with family. With Garv laying out the cards as Palash, Shubhi, Kaka Bhaiya and Niyati play along while she watched. Telling me how my guitar could be improved, posing for pictures in her most recently shopped hat and scarf. She nibbled on her favourite sweets as she narrated her childhood stories to Muskan and Nisha Bhabhi. All her sisters and brothers took turns to visit her, and her response to their obvious question was "Ekdum Badhiya hai Sab".

After multiple rounds of surgeries and chemo, came her first demand for herself - "Mera 60th birthday achche se manana" was what she told me after seeing one of her school friend's retirement party. I often feel that she purposefully gave us a chance to serve her before she leaves her body. She wished me on my birthday on 25th Jan 2024 and that was the last she spoke to me. 

Before leaving her body, she closed all karmic loops, to the extent that no one can feel good about her going. She was protective of me all through her life, till her very last breath. Protected me from the painful realities of life and death alike. She passed away, sparing me the trauma of seeing her go. She left her body with gangajal and tulsi on her lips. With the lord in her heart and "Hare ram, Hare Krishna" on her mind. She passed away as her husband and her eldest son held her.  After spending 60 years on earth, on the morning of Magh Purnima.

That gloomy night as her bereft body laid in the hall, the moon had its brightest shine in years. Celebrating her home-coming and telling us that her being's luminescence is there to stay, in one form or another.   

She came. She gave and she left. Even while dying, she showed us how to live. 

Yes, she was not that old. Yes, her abundance of love could be cherished by us for decades more. But now that the inevitable has happened, life gives me only one choice. In fact, mummy has already made that choice for me. The choice to face life, receive the abundance it has to offer, accept it fully and live willingly. Use life to reach the source of my being and extract the jewels stored therein. Bring them out and offer them to the world around. The huge void left by her is a black hole pregnant with possibilities. Possibilities that will give shape to the values she lived by. 

She lives on through all of us, her children. And she talks to us, tells us what she wants. Her secret diary reveals that she always had her children in her thoughts. Infusing the Guru force in their lives and rooting for their success. She is still doing the same.  Her life is soaked in ours. Manifesting through memories and our actions alike.

She wants her grandson Zen to never feel the lack of the super extra shower of love that she would have given, had she been around physically. She wants Niyati and me to take care of that. 

As for me, she wants me to define my own path, unafraid of the shadows of expectations of the world. She wants to see nothing but the ultimate realisation of my true potential. See my life burn bright with the exhaustion borne out of complete surrender. I must see her after this.  I know I must maintain access to Her. I will not distract myself from that. I want to be alone more often. To brew focus and invest it in my soul. She has left me with many a bigger job to be done. Now she wants me to direct my emotional energy and harness my life force in a way that allows me to fulfil my potential - as a father, as a husband, a friend and an officer. She wants me to make this life count. As for Niyati - she wants to see us as that couple who inspires millions to live meaningful lives, filled with kindness. Can feel her smile when watching Niyati hold Zen in her arms.

Most importantly, she wants all her children to remember her happy times and not the traumatic tremors. The times when she was truly alive. The times when she chirpily told her stories and happily shared videos of her family. When she connected people from across the world through her innocent concern and love. Her Zen and Kabir will know her for what she was - a strong, kind, giving person who was ready to forgive and move on. The coolest Maa in the world! Who worked and still works tirelessly to protect and nourish her own. 

One of those difficult days when language betrayed her, I found myself instinctively rubbing her forehead with my thumb. I was feeling like I was having a silent conversation with her. I gave her the news of her fourth grandchild and she mumbled something to herself. It is said that the soul takes home in an embryo after 3-3.5 months of conception. Just around her 61st birthday, 21 weeks after the shining moon. Zen was born. The math is clear. 

मुर्दों का बाजार

सत्य के थे पैर चार,
किया उनपे हमने ही वार,
गंदगी भोग कर जो,
सजा दिए झूठ के बाजार। 

अब आया झूठों का उबाल,
फैला निर्दयी खेलों का जाल,
सीधी साधी जिंदगी बनी जो,
रण जहां खुद ही से हो टकरार।

  
यहाँ सब संभव पर सब उचित नहीं,
जो लगे सही हो वो सहज नहीं,
इस नकली बसंत में सुंदर फूल दो,

छोड़ इन्हें, ये मौसम हैं बेकार।

कुछ सच्चे जन को तू परख, 
क्षण भर का जीवन, जी बेझिझक, 
मत भूल कि है तुझे सत्य से प्यार, 
ये शमशान सही, तू तो जिंदा है ना यार?

नया जन्म

How will you live if you know, as a fact, that your deceased parent is with you every moment, cheering for you to be the best version of yourself? 

As for me, I would want to make her proud and show her all that I can be. Living intensely, leaving no stones unturned and freeing myself from my past into a glorious future. I would live a life rich enough so as to be alive for millions of years, through the lives I touch. Exactly like my mom, who left her body on Saturday, the 24th of Februrary. I left at 5AM to catch the flight to meet her. I ended up scribbling this while I was driving home from the airport, where I had received the news of her demise. "Karna Kya hai" - The question I was asking at the moment, was as relevant to the social ceremonies involved as to the entire life I was living. 

घर आने को है, बहुत रो लिए, अब करना क्या है? 

जवाब इसका हमेशा मम्मी ने दिया है,

अब करना क्या है? 

घर पहुँचा आज जब, ना मिले जवाब तब, 

करना क्या है! बताओ ना मम्मी?   

आसुओं के प्रपात संग,उजड़ी सांस, सिसकि भंग,

दौड़-ता सवाल मन में, 

भेदता उपाय सब ये,

पूछे हर बीते क्षण, 

कि करना क्या है? 

अर्रे तू चीखता क्या है? कर ना वही, जो वो करतीं,

पूछ खुद से, तुझ ही में वो आ बसीं,

तो क्या है जी के करना - 

इस खौफनाक गणित में दिमाग मत लगा,

उनको जिंदा रखने को अभी तुझे है जीना। 

जो वक्त है ये मुश्किल,

तुझे रखना होगा बड़ा दिल,

धो के चेहरा, जा के सब से मिल,

हिम्मत दे सभी को, और दे भी ये तू भरोसा,

करा दे महसूस की अभी भी जिंदा है सरिता। 

Let's Cut to the Chase

Let's cut to the chase dear. What do you really want? Beyond your exalted miseries, your celebrated evasions, what is it that you really want?   

Now, please don’t pretend that you are not in control of your shit, of your destiny or of your mind-made misery. Please don’t. As I said, let us really cut to the chase.

What do you want? Do you want to sleep some more? Pretend that it’s not really your responsibility? Pretend that you can’t handle the pain?

Or do you, for some more time, just want to carry on like this? Pretending that you are insufficient, incomplete and incapable?

If you do – then by all means, please continue. But do give me a deadline ‘coz I am getting bored of it. I am bored of accepting the commonplace excuses of finite thought. I have seen magic. I know it’s there within me. Waiting to be unlocked. I know you have answers to everything. I know that you know. You have the damn keys to the doors you love banging against. You only pretend to look for a Master Oogway while you stuff momos down your Panda throat. You know there is no one else coming. It’s just you and me. I am the only Master you have got. I am the only Master you need. You know that. Or do you not?

 
मौके पे चौका नहीं, हम छक्का मारते हैं,
चाहे अन्दर हो या बाहर,
बाधाओं को पकड़, हवा में फेकते हैं ...
शरीर और मन पर, रख कर संयम,
खुद को पुचकारते, मुस्कुराते हरदम,
ले के हवा का कश गहरा, बड़ी सी छलांग मारते हैं ...
 

All I am asking of you, my friend, is to take your fighter jet for a spin. Not on the runway ‘coz that’s where the cool crowd hangs; but in the sky – where it really belongs.

नए पंख

 1.

माँ, ये क्या मुझे है हो रहा?

चलते हुए खो गया मैं रस्ता यहाँ - 

अब न राह दिखती, न है कोई सहारा, 

दिमागी बोझ से है कंधा झुक सा गया ...

2.

बेटा, ये क्या है तू कह रहा? 

गौर से तो देख तू जरा - 

डरावना भले, पर सुन्दर है तेरा जीवन सजा,

जमीन तो क्या, अब पूरा आसमान है तेरा ...

नया जरूर तू इन हवाओं में अभी,

सीखेगा इन्हें, भले नए हों नियम सभी,

तो खोज मत तू चलने का कोई नया सहारा,

ये बोझ है तेरे नए पंखो का ...

जब मिल सकता है तू रोज़ मुझसे बादलों के बीच,

उंचाई से डर के अपनी आँख न भींच,

चलने या दौड़ने का नहीं, समय है ये उड़ने का,

बहुत किया संघर्ष अब मस्त हो के पंख फैला ...  

 

अब बस!

1.

मैं पूछूँ खुद से -

जिंदगी में अब क्या करूँ? 

चढ़ तो गया हूँ ऊपर बहुत,

इस अहम के नशे से और क्या लूँ ? 

2. 

आता कोई जवाब, उससे पहले 

चेहरे पे एक मुस्कान आ गयी,

विचार की जगह,

हाथ में कलम दे गयी ...

3. 

कभी सत्ता, कभी शौहरत,

और कभी अपनों से खेलने में कसर न है मैंने छोड़ी,

अब घर बैठ, कलम घिस,

परिवार में रहने का मन करता है बस यूँ ही ... 

 4.

थोडा आलस है, थोडा डर भी,

थोड़ी परेशानियां, थोड़े बहाने,

कुछ छोड़ना है, कुछ पकड़ना,

कुछ कम करना है, कुछ ज्यादा ...

5. 

इस नाप-तोल को तो है चलते रहना,

क्यूंकि परेशानी चाहे जितनी हो बड़ी,

है तो वो मुझसे ही जन्मी,

मुझसे बड़ी तो वो हो नहीं सकती ...

6.

क्या तू पूछता और क्या है कहता,

बना इस अहम के धुंए का शीशा,

अपने फैलाव को समेट,

और शीशे पे स्याही तू रचता जा ...

तू देखता जा!

मेरी हार को मेरी पहचान मत बना - 

मैं जीतूँगा, बस तू देखता जा !

जंग जब खुद की खुद से हो,

थोडा वक़्त जरूर लगेगा,

अच्छे से समझने को - 

क्यूंकि है जंग नहीं पर प्रेम मिलाप ये,

जिसमें जीवन की संभावनाएं खुद के अतीत से मिलें,

मिलन ये ऐसा की इसी में कई कहानियां गढ़ें-

है नायक या खलनायक, इसकी मत कर तू चिंता,

क्यूंकि क्या हार है क्या जीत, ये तो समय ही बताएगा,

अभी इन कहानियों का अंत न हुआ - 

इसीलिए, मेरी हार को मेरी पहचान मत बना,

मैं जीतूँगा, 

बस, तू देखता जा -

बघिया मेरी

1.

ये कहानी है

एक सुंदर सी बघिया की, 

और चंद नन्हे से फूलों की,

पर था इसमें एक पेड़ भी ...

2.

बीते बचपन-जवानी फूलों के,

बघिया की गोद में खिलखिलाते,

एक पेड़ की छाया में पलते,

हँसते हुए, गीत उसके गाते ... 

3. 

वो फूल तो थे बघिया के दिवाने,

पर पेड़ समझे कि वे उसके अहम के दृश्य से थे चहकते,

अपने झूठे वहम में, मूर्ख पेड़ वो बादलों को ललकारे,

बेखबर, की थी वो बघिया ही, जो उसे बचा के रखे ...

4.

क्यूंकि जब बादल निकलें वृक्ष के अहम को तोड़ने, 

बघिया फूलों को आघोष में लिए, हाथ जोड़ तूफानों को रोके, 

श्रृष्टि  के कहर को झेल, अपनों के जीवन सीचें, 

बेखबर पुष्प और पेड़, बस खेलते रहे खेल दुनिया के ...

5.

पर पता नहीं कब और कैसे,

उस पेड़ में और भी भारी राक्षस आ बसे,

जो बघिया को कोसें और मारें,

डरावने रूपों से फूलों की रूह झक्झोंकें ...

6.

राक्षसों का सिलसिला था चलता रहा,

बघिया के प्रेम से मेहेकता था फूलों का समा,

कई साल बघिया ने राक्षसों से सबको बचा के रखा,

जब हुआ बहुत तो बेचारी ने बिमारी को कबूला ...

7.

आज बघिया के पत्ते हैं झड गए,

और अर्ध-ज्ञान के अहम से फूले वृक्ष को छोड़ गए,

 उनकी ममता की खुशबू से आज भी फूलों का जीवन महके,

याद में उनकी, फूलों के आँसू सूखे ...

8.

अब, फूल देखें पेड़ को बिन बघिया के घेराव के,

डरे, सोचें, बिन सोचे वो डरे ,

न चाहते हुए भी नफरत करें,

उस वृक्ष में उन्हें वोह खौफनाक राक्षस जो दिखें ...

9.

राक्षस अहम का -

हंसने में असहज, आक्रोश में नहीं,

जिसने अपनों से प्रेम के दो बोल कभी बोले नहीं,

जिसमें खुद से पहले, दूसरों को रखने की क्षमता नहीं ...

10.

राक्षस अज्ञानता का -

जो पूर्ण हो पैसे से, प्रेम से नहीं,

जो तौले रुतबे को, देखे भाव को नहीं,

जो है भरा सा, ज़रा भी खाली नहीं ...

11.

पर आज, उन राक्षसों से आजाद,

अपनी खुशबू से भी सिखा रही अपने फूलों को उनकी बघिया माँ,

दिखा रही राक्षस के पीछे का बेबस पौधा,

डर है जिसे अपने कमजोर होने का ...

12.

माँ, आपने अपनी छाया से इस फूल को न होने दिया जुदा,

एक सुन्दर परिवार चुन जो नियति के हवाले था कर दिया,

आज ध्यान में आपके साथ होने का एहसास फिर वापस आ गया,

पर उस मूर्ख पेड़ को अपना पाने का इम्तिहाँ ये क्यूँ दे दिया? 

नटखट मस्तियाँ

जिस्म की चुस्कियां, मन की अठखेलियाँ,

अजब है तेरा,

क्षणिक आकर्षण को समर्पण,

हो तू नंगा, पर छोड़ मत  दर्पण ...

क्या है सही, क्या गलत,

ये तुझे ही है समझना,

जंगल है, यहाँ मार्ग कई,

पर ना है कोई अपना ...

जब जीवन लागे नीरस,

छाँव में दोस्तों संग जा हंस,

इस हंसी का सुख है अपना,

पर भूल से इसे परमानंद ना समझ ...  

चस्का

 

मेरा हाथ खोजे तुम्हें,

अचानक कहाँ तुम चले गए,

अभी तो बैठे थे यहीं, इत्मीनान से,

ऐसे ही बैठे बैठे, कहाँ निकाल गए?

दर्द है तुम्हारे ना होने का,

शायद बेहतर हो अभी, ये उम्मीद भी,

शांत और सहज थे तुम हमेशा,

शुक्रिया मेरा साथ चुनने का।

ना देख सके तेरा दर्द हम,

तुम्हारा चस्का जो लग गया था,

इन नाम आँखों से दें विदाई हम,

जाने, कि तू फिर, रूप बदल के आएगा।  

स्वीकार

 

I.

क्या चल रहा है मन में?

कहीं कोई भद्दा मज़ाक तो नहीं?

पहले भी तो ऐसा हुआ है –

बनता दिख, सब बिगड़ गया है,

कहीं जल्दी तो नहीं खुश होने की?

II.

लाजमी है तेरा यूं डरना,

थोड़ा ठहरना, लपकने से झिझकना,

जरूरी भी हो शायद,

थोड़ा बच के चलना।

III.

तेरी चिंता से परे अब बात आई मुझे समझ,

अर्रे अपने को नहीं कोई बच के चलने की गरज,

जिंदगी दे रही एक नन्हा सा नया तोहफा,

बंधन समझ, इसे आंक मत छोटा,

वरदान है जो उसने तेरी गोद में ला रखा,

सामने इसके ना मूल्य किसी और चिंतन का।

IV.

तो मेरे दोस्त,

मत बचा तू आज मुझे टूटने से,

टूट के भी तो बच्चे हम उसी के रहेंगे।

जब समझा उसने काबिल हमें उस अमूल्य तोहफे के,

आ अब उसे सहज खुश हो के स्वीकार लें...

Lizards of the Mental Maze

Have you felt it? This presence presiding over your experience of life. Like a slimy and watchful lizard issuing silent judgements on each of your decisions. It has silent judgments on each of your actions. The judgmental buzzing of this creature in your metaphorical ear is same as that of the reptilian eyesore on the ceiling. Always there, staring back at your being.

And, if you are lucky, sometimes there's a jury of lizards out there. Hurriedly buzzing in the marketplace of your mind. Each one of them has an opinion on your doings and undoing. They also possess the entitlement to express it.

This arrangement breeds toxicity. And that drains your energy. So much so that it seems taxing to live. For living means deciding. And with each decision comes the deafening buzz of reptilian judgements.

When the alarm buzzes, a simple decision whether to snooze or to get up becomes a battlefield of competing opinions. But beyond this blood and bones of thoughts and judgements lies the answer to the question you were meaning to ask. All this while, beyond the artificial presence of fearful lizards, is that answer.

 

But the question is, what is it that I seek to ask?

She Says ...

She says I am angry at myself,
I am judging myself too hard –
That, she judges from my poem …
 
Maybe she’s right,
Cause I like to hold my mirror tight,
It’s not without giving in a lot of thought,
Can I sleep at night …
 
I am angry,
@ not being able to cry and breakdown,
@ not wishing 20 more years for my mom,
@ rubbishing my hope as a fool’s pomp,
@ accepting the boundaries of this world’s swamp …
 
@ being the centre of attraction,
@ not feeling like a complaining victim,
@ my inability to feel lost and broken …
 
But, why be angry, especially –
When my perception transcends the urges to judge,
When classification as good or ugly, isn’t necessary,
When both sides of the coin, I clearly see …  
 
Then, why be angry, especially when –
Lost is the compulsion to be perfect,
Lost is the necessity of hypocrisy,
Lost is the need to be reactionary,
Lost myself and found what’s needed to be free …
 
A mid-term death, another life afresh,
Accepting the dualities,
Bearing the weight of conscious conduct …
 
When the wheels are taken away,
Like a plane taking off a runway,
Shoulders do hurt as the wings sway,
Wings of responsible living take me far away …
 
Time for crawling and running is over,
It’s time for old patterns to die,
True, there are rules to be followed,
Even as I fly and puff,
But I’ll fly cause nothing else is enough …

प्रतिबिंब

बेटा,

क्या चुकाने की बात तू है कर रहा?

मेरा प्यार था वो, मेरे अपनों के लिए,

कोई क़र्ज़ नहीं, जिससे पा सके तू छुटकारा। 

 

किस समय की तू है गिनती कर रहा?

ये साथ था जो, लगे कुछ सालों का ये,

पर था, आदि से अनंत तक का।

मुझसे जन्मा, है मुझ में ही तुझे मिटना,

जब ख़ुद ही माना तूने देवी मुझे,

तो यह कैसे हिसाब में तू लग गया?

बेटा,

नहीं कुछ गया है, है नहीं तू अकेला,

चल तू अब मेरे दिये पथ पे,

बिन डर, झिझक के, बहुत दूर अभी है चलना।

 

हर स्वास जीवन है, इसे ख़ुशी से है जीना,

मैं आयी इस अंधेरे में लौ जलाने,

अब इस दिये को तुझे है अखंड बनाना।

 

बहुत हुआ, छोड़ ये सवाल बेमतलब के,

चाहे मिलना मुझसे 

तो बस आँख भर बंद कर ले।

 

और बेटा,

कहीं और नहीं, तुझ ही में है प्रतिबिंब मेरा।।

कथा

 

तू पूछे -

और अब क्या बचा है?

लगता सब कुछ झोंक दिया है,

पर नये किरदार और मोड ये क्या हैं?

अभी कितना और चलना है?

 

ऐ बालक -

यह बड़ी बेहुदा व्यथा है,

पर इसी में जीवन छुपा है,

जब ये सवाल आता है,

तो समझ कुछ अभी भी बचा है।

 

तेरी मोह और आदतों के घेरों में,

अंधेरे कोनों में,

थोड़ा डर अभी भी पनप रहा है,

तेरा जीवन यही तो कथा है,

अब इसे भी झोंकना है। 

काश

काश मैं काम से एक दिन चुरा,

आपको सप्राइज़ कर,

आपके भरवा टमाटर और पराँठे खा पाता ।।।

काश, मैं बचपन से अब तक,

थोड़ा और अच्छे से आपको गले लगा पाता,

काश, मैं आपके जिंदगी भर के कष्ट को,

खुद में समा पाता।  

 

काश,

     मैं आपके साथ थोड़ा और समय बिता पाता ।

 

काश, मैं एक बार फिर,

आपके माथे को चूम पाता,

रख कर अपना हाथ आपके सर पर,

काश आपके प्यार का कुछ अंश चुका पाता ।।।

 

काश आप होती यहाँ मुझे बताने कि आगे क्या करना है,

काश मैं कितना अकेला महसूस कर रहा हूँ,

यह आपको बता पाता।

 

काश,

    मैं आपके साथ थोड़ा और समय बिता पाता ।

दोहरा सच

तेरा सच अलग है, 
मेरा अलग। 
तेरी शिकायत मुझसे है, 
मेरी शिकवा उससे है। 

तू सोचे, कुछ तेरे हिसाब से है नहीं,
मैं मानू जाल में फसा मैं भी यहीं। 
तू सोचे तेरे साथ हो रहा है गलत,
मानूं गलती से ही रगड़ा जा रहा हूँ मैं भी। 

तुझे दुख व्यक्त करने में रस है,
दुख भगाने की कोशिश मेरी चरस है। 
तेरे इरादे तो हैं बिल्कुल सही,
मेरे सही इरादों से हासिल हो कुछ नहीं|

तेरे मन के राक्षस करे तुझे परेशान,
मेरा मन मुझे ही बना देता है हैवान।
तू सोचे तुझे समझ सके कोई नहीं,
मैं सोचूँ मैं समझूँ तुझे पर तू मुझे नहीं।

क्या गलत, क्या सही, 

यह तो पता नहीं,
कब तक चलेगा सब, 

यह भी तो पता नहीं|

तेरा सच अलग है, 
मेरा अलग। 
शायद मंजिल भी हमारी अलग हों,
पर चलना तो है साथ ही| 

क्यूंकि हमारी मंजिलों से पहले,
ना ये रास्ता खत्म होगा, ना ये जिंदगी।
तेरा सच अलग है, 
मेरा अलग।

 
इन दोहरी सच्चाइयों की हैवानियत से,

हमें अब डरना है नहीं,
आखिर उसी की कृपा से हम हैं, 

और है नहीं वो निर्दयी...

That Match-Winning Feeling!

It's a burst. Sometimes a sprinkle, sometimes a blast. The intensity may vary - but it inevitably comes as a splash of naughty excitement and release of a lot of feel good hormones. The hormones that tell me to let go and permit myself to do something crazy - something forbidden.

It's that sense of victory. Like the podium finish that makes one eligible for a bucket filled tumbler of chocolate ice-cream. 

To an untrained and unprepared mind this feeling may be difficult to handle. A difficulty similar to one faced by a rookie bar-owner handling a victor football team fresh after their win. The indebted bar-owner faces brawling musclemen loaded with rebelliousness. If he doesn't handle them well - he will soon have a ruckus of fist fights and a broken property. But, if he handles their excitement and heightened energy levels well, it's good for business. 
He has to channelize the team members' rebellious spirits. Giving them a sense of reward can help them feel acknowledged and appreciated. A round of on-the-house beers can easily do the trick. While the blood alcohol levels rise, he can subtly nudge the sportsmen to relax. He can then hope that their violence will pacify as they enter the space of energetic relaxation. As simple an idea as exclusive access to TV can do the trick. When energies relax, a person naturally tilts towards accepting his desire of a good night's sleep. This good night's sleep is what every one is really looking for. Sleep is the taste of death in the otherwise super intense activity filled life. Life with many roles and roleplays. 

I am often the cash-strapped bar owner timidly handling a high which makes my mind behave like those drunk sportsmen. This high, which may be artificially or meditatively induced, needs aware handling. I need to acknowledge and pat my hormonally-loaded sportsmen on their metaphoric backs while handling them a few beers, all the while, nudging them to sleep. Because it's  a good night's sleep that they really crave for. 
After all, our football stars understand that they have just won the local county match - it is the FIFA world cup that they are aiming for. They can't lose their balance with small wins... 

जीवन पथ

तू पूछे ये कैसा पथ है,
मानों बस दर्द ही दर्द है,
हाँ, मज़े भी हैं, थोड़े बहुत,
पर क्यूँ होता इतना कष्ट है?
 
ऐ पगली दिल बिखर कर,
है पड़ा जरूर तेरा फर्श पे,
पर भरोसा तो रख तू मुझपे,
तुझे ले ही जाऊंगा मैं अर्श पे।।। 
 
हैं ये कष्ट भी सभी तेरी ही गर्भ से,
देख जरा, कुछ और भी है इनमें,
ये कष्ट नहीं ये हैं खुशियों से भरे ताले,
सोमरस भी इनमें, थोड़ा सब्र बस तू रख ले,
 
जहरीली जलेबियों सा,
उलझा दिखता जरूर ये पथ तेरा,
हिम्मती तू सहज, थोड़ी उम्मीद तो रख,
यहाँ नहीं मैं छोड़ूँगा तुझे अकेला ।।।

पागलपन

हो रहा संग मेरे सब कुछ है बुरा,

फिर कैसे, तुझे मैं धन्यवाद दे रहा?

शायद, है यही दिमाग का भ्रष्ट हो जाना,

कितनी आसानी से मान लिया कि सबको है जाना?

क्या जब बात खुद की होती,

तो कह पाता इतनी ही आसानी से?

सोचो, जब बात खुद की होती,

तो कह पाता क्या, इतनी ही आसानी से?

 

कुबूल पाता घिनहोने सच को,

क्या इतनी ही बेशर्मी से?

कुबूल कर पाता, इस घिनहोने सच को,

क्या इतनी ही बेशर्मी से?

 

कोने में घुस कर तड़पते होंठों से रो रहा होता,

तब ना मैं यह खोखले शब्द गढ़ रहा होता।  

 

शायद आसान है मेरे लिए,

यूं हाथ जोड़ कबूल कर लेना।

कुबूलियत की कविताओं की महक से,

बेसहारेपन की दुर्गंध को ढकना।

 

ऐ मौत,

ये हाथ खुद-ब-खुद गए तेरी अगुवाई में,

क्यूंकी जीतेगी तू ही इस लड़ाई में।

समझदारी है मेरी की कर लिया जल्दी कबूल,

अब कभी ना होगी मुझसे पुरानी भूल।

जियूँगा हर पल तेरी मौजूदगी में,

तेरा प्रतिबिंब होगा मेरी बची हुई जिंदगी में।

Wrong

 

I. Wrong.

How sorry I am to have hurt you so much,

Biblical ego and selfish ignorance,

Leaving no room for you, as such…

 

As I lived life's naked ironies,

Giving everything, or so I thought,

To manage you as a life's category…

 

Now it dawns that you ain't a category,

It's you whose smile makes all this worthy,

It's you who makes my life savoury…

 

I wronged you in so many ways,

Expecting to blind following,

As if, you can't gauge…

 

Ignored how you nourish everybody,

Judging your fickleness,

Calling it lack of capacity…

 

As you're pushed to despair,

By this life's questionnaire,

Breaking you beyond repair.

 

Our apathy feeds your emotional poverty,

Till you see your lovers as admonishers,

Treated as an object of pity…

मकड़ी जाल

 

काला अंधेरा साया,

जानलेवा जाल ये किसने बिछाया?

उलझ सी गई,

मैं कब कहाँ कैसे?

अच्छी तो थी जिंदगी,

अब क्यूँ मुझे फाँसे?

 

ये घिनहोनी मकड़ियों का अंबार,

छल और कपटी बदबू भरमार,

अब बक्ष भी दे मुझे इन विचारों के फैलाव से,

छोड़ मुझे और जीने दे खुलके।

अपेक्षाएं - खुद की, खुद से

 

I

क्या कहूँ मैं खुद से,

क्यूँ खफा हूँ मैं खुद में?

क्यूँ ढकेलूँ अपनी सीमाओं को,

इन जालिम अपेक्षाओं से?

क्यूँ जीने को लागे, इन अपेक्षाओं का सहारा,

क्यूँ बिन इस ढोंग के जीना है गवारा?  

II

है जालिम जरूर, पर है ये जरूरी,

इन अपेक्षाओं से है जुड़ी, आस जीने की।

तो जी ले तू ऐसे,

कि है कोई कल नहीं।

जो लेना है जीने का मज़ा पूरा,

तो सब कुछ तू कर अभी।

Creator's Zone

We call it being high. Losing the sense of bodies, space, and time. It’s when all the karmic melodramas are arranged, played out and dissolved in quick successions. Like in the eye of a hurricane. The hurricane that engulfs the entire world of our dreams, the world that defines our reality, and squeezes it into a tiny dot.  

It is in that very dot. The huge, all encompassing, all engulfing darkness. The darkness that consumes us all. It is in that darkness that the creator resides. He sits there smiling, writing our scripts, arranging beats that make our lives thump, painting the richly coloured visuals that we so gladly see.

Welcome. This is the creator's zone... and you are in command.

And Then, the child cried...

I 

The man wrote poems,

probing his numb heart for something divine,

while secretly wishing that he would cry.

 

Wishing he could cry and break down,

remove these cruel rationalities' gowns,

and demand a long life for his mom.

 

The ironies wrecked emotional crusades within,

but his efforts to draw tears went in vain,

he finally slept as his energy drained…

 

II

In the dream his lives' maternal angel called,

said her blessings as she always does,

smiled and cheered at him, despite her hurts…

 

She suffered the stutters in her will to speak,

to lay her hand on his head as the chaos seeped,

It happened on his birthday, beside the cake hurting his mom lay…

 

III

And in that very dream, as the man died,

caught unawares, the inner child cried ...

शिकवा

क्या शिकवा करूँ मैं,

क्या शिकायत हो तुझसे -

जब बिन मांगे है दिया,

इतना तूने खुदसे।

क्या कष्ट, क्या डर जब तू उछाले,

कर दे मुझे आसमाँ के हवाले।। 

रोता जरूर हूँ कभी कभार -

रोता, जरूर हूँ कभी कभार,

थक के, तेरे बेमतलब खेलों से,

पर कैसे छोड़ूँ तुझपे भरोसा?

पर कैसे छोड़ूँ तुझपे भरोसा,

जब जिया हूँ तेरे ही कंधों पे ।।। 

A Few Minutes ...

There is a boy. A young, energetic lad who wants to do well in life. He is doing a lot to make everyone around him live a better life. He seems to be helping them. He does everything that he is capable of (at least, this is what he is made to believe by those around). Yet, our boy is sullen. He feels there is something missing.  He feels as if he is trapped to  do things that are much below his real capabilities. He is feeling alone. Alone in feeling that he is operating in a world that is fundamentally flawed. It's like a room that is devoid of any real light. All his efforts to uplift others are mere struggles of finding treasures in a room that is dark. He begins to believe that there is something more to it. He desperately seeks the beacon of light to end the darkness all around him.
 
In his heart, he knows, he just knows that there is light. Years pass by and his struggles continue. Oft correct, his passionately lethargic efforts to ignite, are consistent with time.
 
One fine evening, it happens once again. His serendipitous encounter with the knowledge that confirms what he already knows - that there is light beyond. A source of light, mighty enough to light up his entire world. He is elated. Imagine what he, a shaky attempt of a man, would be able to do in this world if it lights up? How much more difference he can make in this otherwise futile existence in the space-time void? It's a realm of possibilities that make him shudder with excitement!
 
This evening, something was feeling different. Life's pregnancy was palpable. Our boy saw a hand, pointing up to something in the sky. In a blink of time, he got the message. This was what they were talking about. Those glitches in the matrix of his algorithmically programmed worldly life. They had told him that one day, after all the struggles of a few hundred lifetimes are over, he will find his chance. His only chance to leave the darkness and enter the world of light to which he really belonged. In the chaotic maze of life, that day has come, the day of finality. When he finally found that hidden clue to the puzzle of the great Mystery of Light.
 
After enough squinting in the dark, he realises what it really is. It is the hand of the universe pointing to the source. He cries his heart out. His dry tears questioning his capacity to use that clue to solve the puzzle. He knows, all he must do is to follow the direction of this life's finger and stare at the source for a few minutes. The clouds will shift, and the moon will be clear in a matter of time. The moon, who was always there with him, yet eluding him all this while. So many lifetimes. Just 5 minutes, and the entire puzzle will have a solution. In fact, he himself will become the solution...

 

PostScript: I know, you don't understand. My unreasonable actions and inactions; my merciless choices of life and zero tolerance to corruption. Corruption of my sense of purpose. You don't understand why I do it. It's ok, very soon you will. Let these few minutes pass.
 

Dream

I was running, dodging as fast as I could,
webs laid by spiders in my hood.
Kept running against time,
not trusting anybody to be mine.
As the painful anger in me grew,
I shouted, seeking rescue.
 
Woke up soon,
to dog sniffs in my ear.
It was a dream,
But I was indeed in tears.
How it metaphorized the real life on mine?
The one with so many axes to grind…

PS: Stress Dreams (Anxiety Dreams) are caused by a stressful lifestyle and dream journaling (even if not presumptuously poetic :P) helps.