Hallelujah

Tiny Loo. Crate of Beer. Solo Shower.

Diverse options. Fuzzy pathways.

Uncertainty outside. Certainty within.

Open Mind. Fear of failure. Excitement to try.

Floating Ideas. Wild Dreams. Self Love.

 

Other opinions fade. Own path. Discover.

Natural. Transformation. Sheer joy of Labour.

Figuring out. Challenging. All limits of self.

Solo walks. Blank stares. Alone.

 

All in. Nothing kept back. Not even for later.

Illogical, often. Reasonable with himself, rarely.

Any road. Any distance. One calling.

Cities changed. Desks changed. The boy didn't.

He reached where he was meant to.

Because he played intense.

 

Seventeen years. Same water. Different door.

Shared loo. Rubber duck. Two-minute shower.

Crate of beer. Now a crate of blocks.

A knock. A small fist. Papa.

 

Diverse options. Fewer. Sharper.

Uncertainty outside. Louder. Certainty within. Deeper.

Open mind. Still. Fear of failure. Still. Excitement to try. Still.

New dimensions. Same hunger.

Equilibrium. In chaos.

Chaos, mostly self-made.

Waves he chose. Dancing anyway.

Giving. Smiling. Not always. Mostly. Enough.

 

Solo walks. Now stroller walks.

Blank stares. Now someone stares back.

Alone. Not anymore.

 

Proud of that boy. Dripping. Dreaming. France.

Proud of this dad. Dripping. Dreaming. Home.

Same boy.

Still playing intense.

Valuing the Zen in My Life

People chase Zen. A little stillness in the torrent of life.

I am lucky. Zen came as a gift. Straight from the universe.

First imagined as a peanut, already holding the keys to our hearts.

We were warned by those who knew us a little too well:

a torrent, a tumble, but a beautiful journey all the same.

We are here not to own or control, but to nurture.

Not just to instruct, but to show.

And as we help him grow, to keep growing ourselves.

Parents to a child. Still children ourselves.

Learning to parent the child within as we raise the one in our arms.

Parenting the Child Within

Suppose you were to have a child, what would you tell her? Would you whisper to her that anything is possible, that dreams and magic can be real? Or would you caution her to tread carefully, to prepare for compromises, to understand the boundaries of what might be possible and what might not?

The truth is, parenting doesn’t begin when you hold a life in your hands. It begins with the child within. The one who still believes, still dreams, and still aches. That child matters. Your body matters. Your family, your emotions, the stories and songs—they all matter. Life itself matters. 

Life matters. So don’t give up just because it feels tough now. This moment is not forever, and what seems insurmountable today will shrink to its true size when you face it. Ocean though it may seem, it’s just a puddle. And yes, you’re the only one who can pull yourself out of it. 

As for me, it's time to show the universe that these things matter to me—not just in words but in choices. Choices that align with what I claim to believe. Choices that empower rather than weaken me. Stop sending out conflicting signals, pretending to be someone small, miserable, or helpless. That’s not me.

I have been unnecessarily squeezing yourself into a role of self-pity, forcing myself to live smaller than I am. Why? It’s time to be me—the authentic, unapologetic me.

It's time to enjoy life as it comes: the urges, the deprivations, the freedom, the pain. Let it cleanse me. Feel the pulse of my heart as it dances to the emotional weather of the world around me. Savor every storm, every sunrise, every quiet night. And while I live to do all this, keep writing.

So I need to begin again, with a clean slate. Forgive—not to forget but to free yourself from the chains of the past. Only unconditional forgiveness can make room for the magic I'll need to unleash. Only then can I show my child—the one within and the one in my lap —how a magician works.

I need to take responsibility. Parent the child within and express the man I am meant to be. Boldness isn’t always about taking action. Sometimes it’s about letting my feelings sink into my being, dissolving and reshaping me. And then, when the moment comes, expressing them. This life, this moment, even this struggle—it’s a sign. A reminder that I am meant to take charge of my house, my family, my self. 

I would like to end with a didactic whisper to Zen (the child I am holding in my lap) - Best of luck, mon ami. Luck favors the bold, and boldness is a kind of surrender, a willingness to live fully. Be ready to feel, to forgive, and to create. And never forget: You are enough.

करना क्या है

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। 

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 कर, 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...