Dancing on the Rope

Life is a tightrope, and to live is to move. Every step is a moment of balance, a silent game played breath by breath. Yet balance isn’t found in a single step—it’s woven through time. You may wobble, falter, even lean toward the edge—but keep moving.

Step by step, forward is enough. There will be many milestones - each with its unique sense of completion. You keep moving forward yet it feels like you are moving in circles. Keep moving ahead over the knots that lie in front and you will see the circles will get bigger and bigger. As you move, your feet learn the rhythm. Once heavy with doubt, they grow light with grace. And one day, you’ll find yourself not just walking, but dancing—steady and free—on this tightrope of life. 

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?

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 ही तो कथा है,

अब इसे भी झोंकना है। 

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.   

बदलाव, और दोस्त?

I

तुम परदेस निकल गए -

पर हम तो देसी रह गए। 

चप्पल पहने, फ़ाइलें घिसते - 

तुम सूट-बूट में एप्पल टकटकाते।

बेरंग इनोवा में सिमटे सफर मेरे - 

तुम लेटेस्ट सेडान चलाते। 

जंगल के रास्ते, झरने हम खोजते - 

तुम बिजनस क्लास से हवाई जाते। 

II

पहले ऑर्कुट और फिर एफबी के जरिए - 

दुआ सलाम हो जाते थे। 

अब तो व्हाट्सएप ग्रुप पर भी - 

सिर्फ दुनियादारी के पैगाम ही हैं आते। 

इंस्टा से कभी-कभी - 

तुम्हारे समाचार मिलते रहते थे। 

पर जमीन पे बैठ, कश मार के,

बिखरने के मौके कभी नहीं मिलते। 

III

आस हुई, की आज तुम्हें फोन लगा ही लें - 

कैसे भी तुम्हें सलाम फरमा लें,

टूटी फूटी अंग्रेजी अपनी, परदेस वाला ऐक्सेन्ट भले ना हो इसमें,

सोचा जरा हिन्दी मिक्स कर के काम चल ही लेंगे, 

याद दिलाया खुद को, कि ज्यादा मज़ाक नहीं उड़ाना है,

कालेपन पे हसने को, रेसिस्ट कहता ये जमाना है। 

छिछोरापन भी ज्यादा नहीं करना है, 

अब इज्जतदार आदमी हमारा चंदनवा है। 

IV

फिर लगा ही लिया तुम्हें फोन हमने, 

झटपट उठा भी लिया उधर तुमने। 

जैसे की तुम भी इंतज़ार में ही बैठे थे,

इतनी इज्जत से किया तुमने सलाम, लगा की ऐठे थे। 

हिचक थी हममें, और थोड़ी तुम में भी,

ना रिश्तेदार, ना किसी अंग से संबंधित गाली दी।

शराफत से पूछ लिया पारिवारिक स्थिति का हाल,

अच्छे से बात हुए, हो भी गए थे दस साल। 

V

इतने में बात हो गई कॉलेज की चालू,

और उठ गई कहानी जिसकी किरदार थी शालू।  

उसका नाम सुन तुम विडिओ पे ऐसे शरमाए,

जैसे काले आसमान पे गुलाबी बादल छाए। 

पुकार ही दिया फिर हमने,

तुम्हें उस रेसिस्ट नाम से। 

गूंज गया व्हाट्सएप का सर्वर,

गालियों की धड़ाम से। 

याद आ गई लड़कपन की मस्ती,

धीरे से हमारी बातें हुई सस्ती। 

रखने का मन तो नहीं था किसी का,

पर ऑफिस कि कॉल थी उसकी।  

VI

समय और जगह से परे,

यह कैसा संबंध है? 

इसमें जो घुल गया है हमारे, 

असली चरित्र का रंग है। 

VII

पार किया था साथ हमने, 

जवानी का हर एक चौराहा। 

दूरी चाहे जितनी हो जाए, 

दूरी, चाहे जितनी हो जाए - 

आज भी एक दूजे के लिए,

दिल में उतनी ही है जगह। 

Sweet Child of Mine

Initial hesitation in writing is natural. The mental image is perfect, expectations are high, and the world is watching. So that when the pen is held, the heavy baggage of expectation drags it down. This expectation is the self-imposed friction that wears off the pregnancy of the mind. So much so that the idea becomes an unborn child, cursed to death. 

This is the time to take a step back. Feel the child within, allow him to take his own shape. Let him feed off you and Your Truth. He will come out in the world at the apt time. When he does step out of its embryonic cocoon to lie in your lap, nurture him with the knowledge that he is perfect. Enjoy the time that you get to spend with him. Very soon he will outgrow your desk, to step out in the world. And then you will miss him. So, cuddle him and play with him, utterly devoted to this divine opportunity to grow along with this sweet child of yours. 

Colon D

Sometimes in moments of strong emotion, one can do nothing but smile. At the situation. At everything outside. At everything within. A smile to himself. I call the smile, my Colon D face. An attempt to sketch it for myself - 

That colon D re-appears on this mask,

Pierces it to reflect the real truth - 

Of The calm surface beyond all the turmoil.

Sharp pains and deep excitements below,

Torrent of psychological, emotional waves - 

Engulfing all this and more, while hiding nothing -

This colon D says it all...

  

कल से फिर

1.

कल फिर से,

इस दिन में,

सूरज ढलेगा।

कल फिर से,

इस घर में,

रोशनी बुझेगी।

कल फिर से,

इस दिल में सवाल उठेगा, 

फिर झूठी फ़िराक जगेगी।।

2. 

कल से फिर,

इस कमरे में,

एक फूल खिलेगा।

कल से फिर,

इस धरती पे, 

वो सूरज उगेगा।

कल से फिर,

ज़हन में चिराग जलेगा।  

और फिर, समर्पण की आग लगेगी ।।

Sluts for Life.

Yes, life is awesome, yet very often its perplexing ups and downs feel like throbbing of wild fornication. The emotional resonance with a song reminds one of one's own life experience. One can't help but notice a poetic metaphor. There is a choice offered through life's ups and downs. Choice that pertains to the experience of life itself. One can experience the throbbing as someone being unwillingly torn-apart and raped. One can also experience them as an intense surrender and merging, a key to the super-consciousness. These sinusoidal ups and downs of life. No matter how huge, they are waves after all. I can choose to let them flood my senses and drown me in the ignorant darkness. Or I can seek the Shiva within and surf on this wave. Dancing.

PostScript: I could feel a groove inside me. Dying to come out. I just started playing it. Didn't care much on its origin. A few days later, it was the Awaari song, sung by the same intense feminine voice of Momina as Nawazishein Karam. It's been on loop ever since - accompanying me through the piercing of both body and mind.

आशीर्वाद

यह परीक्षा है या है और कोई बात,
समय जाते ही कुछ रहता नहीं याद,

सिर्फ बदन का दर्द और मन की थकान,
करती है दिन की कहानी बयाँ !
 
याद आती है आपकी चेतावनी,
साधक के रास्ते हैं तुफान कई,
कचरे के मोल हैं यह मेरे सूखे आसूं,
मेरे अस्तित्व को मिटा दे मेरे गुरु !
 
मत कर मेरी चिंता, न रख कोई बंधन,
कर दे उपयोग तू सभी तेरे साधन,
इस नासमझ को बस कर दे तू आबाद,
हर चोट इस अहम पर है तेरा आशीर्वाद !

Blacks and Greens.

I don't remember clearly when it had begun or why did it start? There was no one single moment of strong urge or temptation that shook my foundations. There wasn't even a clear cut day that I can trace it all down to.  There were some tumultuous moments like when friends got rightfully angry. But then, a lot of water has flown through the Indravati since.  

There is actually no larger-than-life, profound reason for me to continue this compulsion. There is no profoundness rather anywhere in this entire scheme of things. I am often challenged by otherwise scary imaginary feelings of breathlessness. Ironically, I write this while sitting in an airborne plane - the origin of it all.   Showing the little significance that psychological imaginations of the past hold today.  

Something is happening though - I felt a greater depth in the sea this time around when I started swimming. It didn't feel like a plunge pool where my chaotic bodily movements are enough to shake up everything. It feels like an oceanic body of profound couldn't - care - less - ness that characterises the depth of experiential existence.

A part of me is asking for the chaos. It asks for confusion and clutter. Deriving sadistic pleasure out of the numerous psychological battles fought on my mental ground. There's only one casualty of these power struggles between my schizophrenic selves - My Self Confidence . I, very subtly, gradually and steadily start subscribing to submissive thoughts. The vibe of compromise and settling for the fat.

So what is it? An accidental nightmare that I am living out in my matrix, or a concerted effort to intentionally create chaos. Chaos that shakes my very psychological foundations. Pushes me to look for the real core value system that feeds and nourishes me. Because a lot of times, knowing is the goal.

Coming back to my point, whatever this is - it clearly demands (rather urgently and strongly) my conscious attempt to boost my self - confidence. It is like the metallic armour around the "right" mindset. Built through affirmations and visualisations - it gives me a sense of security.

Maybe it is not the matter of creating and lugging around battle ready armour coats. Maybe it is the time to look through the futility of all clothes that life has to offer. And understand them for just what they are. Just pieces of clothes...

Maybe it is time to tune into my basic ability of designing and sewing my clothes. The "right" ones, that address the need of the hour - the requirements of the people/situations and functions.

The ability to do absolutely whatever I want. Without weighing in the numerous, oft-contradictory thought patterns. The clutter of imagined importance.

This reminds me of my quests to look into the mirror, especially after the first few days of the black and the green. They were attempts to find the right cloth and design for the most appropriate wear in the need of the hour.

As someone smart would have definitely said at some point of time -

"Sometimes the real offering is hidden in plain sight. One just needs to inch closely at the foliage to understand the voice of the living forest. Hear the words it mutters in your ears. The woods are not just meant to confuse you - they are clearing the path for something more meaningful. They punctuate the path to the meadows. The path that is lit up by the bright sun of awareness. One should cherish these woods as divine offerings as they give him company."

As you said yourself - there is nothing profound - it is all shit. Some shit is more useful than the rest. Play along.