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। 

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... 

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.