alvida II

But they were talking nonsense. It isn't that they never did so. They always talked nonsense. After chatting for hours they could not tell what they were talking about. Topic wasn't important, talking was. But not this time, when they were in front of each other. Words were not coming naturally. He didn't know what to say......

And suddenly he feels her palm on top of his. Fingers cross. In a tight hug. First barrier crossed...

They reached his place early, thanks to the low traffic of Sunday. His place was a mess, just like him and she was surprised how he cud find things from the garbage bin he had made of his table. He tries to clean up and she asks him to stop. They order their lunch from a nearby restaurant as they didn't want to 'waste' another hour on trivial things.

She shows him some pictures, of the place she had visited last and they glance through them while dining; sitting on the floor, plates in their hands. She seems uninterested in the lunch and he in the pictures and they keep doing it to avoid the head-on. “We have finally met” she says and grins. He pulls her closer and hugs her. A tight hug follows. And then a tighter one...

He wanted to hold her forever like that not to let her go. Ironically he was the one who didn't want to meet. He had 'decreed' his decision with a firm voice and aching heart. And now he thinks what and idiot he was. It was her who decided otherwise. Only she had the guts to. She wanted to meet him even if it was for a day and be content with the memories of that one day. She defied his decree and he was happy that she did. He wanted the time to stand still. It was slipping out of his hands though, with less than a day left and a lifetime to live.

They loosen a bit and see each other. Eye meets eye, breath meets breath. He lowers his head touching her lips with his; breath slowing down and pulse rising. He raises her chin and looks at her face. She closes her eyes; a subtle smile playing on her lips. He lowers again. She holds his head with her hands and takes his breath away. They kiss again and then again. She loosens her hold and lets him go at his pace.

“You look better with long hair”. She grins at it and lets her hair fall on his face. “It's getting dark outside”, “And you should be back home like a good girl” he grins. “Shut up”. “Do you want to go out”. “No we better stay in. I don't want to waste a single minute.” He smiles at it and they embrace.

She woke up with a start and saw that he woke up at the same time. They didn't know when they fell asleep; together. They were still in embrace and had fallen asleep like that. It was 3:30 and they needed to pack up. A message from the airline had declared an earlier check-in time. They packed up in a hurry and left for the airport at 4.

Every minute seemed important now. The cool morning breeze was soothing his eyes but his heart was restless. She dug her face in his chest and they remained in half embrace till airport. She entered the airport to inquire if she could check-in a little late. The airline staff gave her a weird look and asked her not to be late more than another 15 minutes. She was so much relieved. Fifteen more minutes! They sat on the garden dyke beside the entrance. These were the last 15 minutes of their life together ! 15 more minutes to live.... No one spoke, words were out of place. They embraced again and started kissing. Kissing at a public place when no one was around except the morning breeze.

It struck him at once: the time was up. This was a life where you knew when it was going to get over. And the time had arrived; time to bid farewell and be content with what you got.

alvida

STA: 11:30 AM

ETA: 11:20 AM

Wow ! The flight is landing early... That rush in the last hour to reach the airport early seemed fruitful. Even if it was 11:00 yet and he had another 30 minutes at his disposal, he could not take chances for the fear of listening to a complaint of not waiting with open arms.

He started watching people: his favorite pastime. There were a number of them; waiting for their loved one’s to arrive. This girl leaning on the railing caught his eyes. She was a chubby couch potato clad in her patterned pajamas and graffiti Tee. Her messy hair, the hanging earphones of her i-pod and that ‘I m fuckin bored’ look on her face made it an interesting watch. She was holding in her hand, with the same carelessness, a thick novel: one that would take him a lifetime and still remain unfinished.

STA: 11:30 AM

ETA: 11:30 AM

The initial happiness of getting those extra 10 minutes was gone. They were really important, at a time when they had just one day and wanted to live a lifetime. A fresh bunch of people appeared at the ‘Arrivals’. Looks like another landing. 5th since he came. He looked for the girl again and didn’t find her at the place. Her boyfriend had arrived and they were more than hugging each other. It is not that he felt any hatred for the PDA’s. He just didn’t care. But now, it was different. He was uncomfortable.

STA: 11:30 AM

ETA: 11:40 AM

God !!! What the hell. Ten more minutes gone. Why do they give a hope when they can’t stand upto it. This thought made him even more uncomfortable. In the mean time people kept coming out of the airport with different moods. Some more pissed off by the hot and humid climate of Mumbai than the flight delays. He took a cup of coffee for the third time and kept trying her phone to check if she has landed.

His phone rings. “It’ll take me 10 minutes to reach.” Looked like everything now came in EMI’s. But this one wasn’t equal in any measure, neither quantum nor intensity. He kept his eyes at the gate searching through the flood of people. He had a difficult time recognizing her. It was her voice, he was acquainted with. She looked different from the last video chat they had. Different from all the photographs she had sent. They hugged each other but left instantly, uncomfortable with each other’s bodies.

They took a taxi and were heading for his flat which was at an hour’s distance. He was being too courteous, giving her a treatment befitting a lady. This came to her as a surprise as he was being more polite than he ever sounded. To her he seemed different from the one she knew. One she knew would pull her leg at every given chance and speak nonsense for hours together. But today he was silent. Both remained silent for the first quarter of their journey not knowing how to start. Their bodies were still strangers. They had known each other so well. They knew things about each other that nobody else knew. But…

She broke the ice with a casual conversation. She knew that she had to because this dumb will never do. With the voice came a comfort that they had always felt while talking to each other.

pursuit of truth...

It was surprising... my eyes always deceived me. It was only when I used my camera, could I capture it. Not in the shining daylight, but in the dim light of dawn, the "sankranti kaal" as they call in sanskrit. It was the slow shutter of the camera that made me feel the fourth dimension of spacetime. The picture was blurred. Like my view of life. It captured motion for quarter of a second during which the reality had changed so much that the picture was vague enough not to reveal anything.

When we capture moments, we don't actually capture moments. We capture periods. This is not a problem of the camera, it's our brain or rather the TIME itself. My training in science and engineering has taught me to rely on experiments and observations for the TRUTH. For this I rely on my senses. When I see something, it is what my brain perceives from the image formed by my eye using the visible spectrum of radiation. There are two aspects to it: One is lack of totality and second is subjectivity. But we will talk about it later, let's come to the time part first. So when I see something it is because light from that object has fallen on my eyes and my brain has processed it into an image. But there is always a time lag in this process. So when I see something it doesn't actually exist now. What I see is past. So when I am just living for the moment I am not actually living for the moment :)

Heisenberg's uncertainty principle again puts a limit to the observation. It says that you cannot observe reality without changing it. There is a limit to what u can know. This limitation has been put by none other than the laws of nature, in pursuit of which you started observing in the first place. It is actually this law itself which decides if you can know it !!!

This pulls me to mysticism. While science tries to understand, mysticism tries to feel. As I said in earlier, the limitations of scientific method makes my understanding subjective. It is based on observation and hypothesis. While there is a limit to what one can observe, the bigger limitation is put by the hypothesis. There can be an infinite number of them and thus you tend to rely on intuition. This blurs the boundary between science and mysticism. I am standing on this blurry line now and waiting for my call.

Cleaning the cupboard
this Sunday morning,
found books
soiled by a layer
Of dust and indifference.

These works of fiction
which got to live
a reality of their own

I meet one. Yet unfinished,
with a boarding pass
used as a bookmark
still @ page no 169.

This one has tarnished
a little more.
Weathered by a baggage
of expectations
or an everlasting wait??

Some stories are better unfinished...

सर से पाँव तक डूबे हुए गुनाहों में
वो करते हैं मुक़र्रर मेरी सज़ा क्या है

राम तुम हो कि नहीं

हर दशहरे पे मैंने
रावण को जलते देखा है
फ़िर भी मरता ही नहीं

तुम्हारा रूप धरे कोई
बस आग लगा जाता है
कभी आओ तुम भी
रावण को जलाने के लिए...

तुम्हारे नाम पे अक्सर
मिठाई खूब खाई है
तुम्हे जो भोग लगाया
कभी चखा ही नहीं

आज तुम्हे सच मे
खिलाने को जी करता है
कभी आओ मेरे घर
मक्के कि रोटी खाने ...

तुम्हारी अयोध्या का
हाल बाकी अच्छा है
अगले इलेक्शन को
वक्त बाकी है अभी

दो बार तुम्हारे घर को
भक्तों ने तुम्हारे तोडा
बेघर हुए हैं ठाकुर
आज परजा कि तरह

धूप मे बारिश मे भी
चुप - चाप खड़े रहते हो
आ जाओ ज़रा
हाई कोर्ट गवाही देने

ये मसला सुलझ
जाए कि तुम हो
मुझको भी यकीं
आए कि तुम हो

कई दिनों से इक सीपी सिरहाने ही रक्खा है
कातर हाथ सहम जाते हैं तोड़ने की बात पर

मेरे मोती का सपना न चुरा ले कोई...

Ye hai Bambai-II

Nigdi is a nice little place in the outskirts of Pune on Mumbai-Pune highway, with low decibel, hilly terrain n continuous rains. This is where the training center (read holiday home ) of my new company was situated. This was the fateful place from where my second journey to Mumbai started. It was almost an year since last one in the same season : monsoons.

Journey from pune to mumbai is a pleasant experience, specially during rains. We were in no hurry and had ample time to spare. We halted at Lonavala and Khandala, the two famous spots on the way. But i loved the whole journey more than the halt. The hills, clouds and lush greenery............ I never wanted this journey to be over.

“We are in Mumbai now” said the taxi driver, while we were crossing Vashi. The weather here was in contrast with the highway. It was hot and humid. With scorching sun, the thermometer was about to spill and there was no sign of any rainfall. It was a Saturday afternoon but the traffic wasn't in a mood to rest a while. After a long and tiring journey from Dadar to Chembur we landed at the company guest house. Welcome to Mumbai !!!

Next thing in my mind was to find an accommodation. I went to a broker and when asked about the budget, I told an amount considered to be decent in Delhi. He tried to convince us that if we could raise it a little he could find a nice chawl for me!
Well this wasn't the end. I tried hard to find a nice little flat that I could afford but only to be disillusioned later. I wasn't possible. At least within 1 hour run from my company. I was close to bankrupt, paying the hotel room charges for last two weeks. The food wasn't any cheaper. “My god how do people sustain in this city !!! ”

This food thing reminds me of something strange to say the least. On the first day of my stay in a hotel near Chembur station, I was searching for a restaurant for dinner. But all of them were 'Bar & Restaurant's. It wasn't a problem of being a teetotaler. But the ambiance of such places is sick. The smell of whiskey in a closed room mixed with smoke makes feel me sick. Plus the food here isn't the one I'd like for my dinner. So the fact is that I was trying to skip them. But after a long stroll when I could not find anything different, I entered one. The scene was beyond my imagination. There was a well lit stage with 2-3 girls dancing on a song from a Ram Gopal Verma movie. There was a lady in her late 30's trying to seduce a man on a table on my right side. “It's a dance bar” Suneel told me as we swiftly walked out. I do not remember where we had dinner that night.

Well after all the failed trials we settled in the company's colony. Here I was saved of all the horrors of living in mumbai. One of them is travel on a local train. The first time I planned to travel by train was a journey form chembur to siwri. There is specific reason why I am calling it a plan. Bcoz it could not materialize. I tried to board four trains one after another and then stopped trying, went out, and took a taxi........

None of the features of this city gave me a reason to stay. I could not understand why people live in this city and more than that, why more and more are pouring in everyday...... Its damn costly. You can't afford to live even in a house that you wouldn't have considered worth living before coming to this city. Rent takes a much bigger part of your pay than you could think of. Next comes the biggest horror : travel. Just because you can't afford a house near your workplace, you decide to travel everyday. And when you are on roads in the office hours, you realize how crowded this city is. It takes you two hours to travel 20 kilometers by road and if you can board a local train in this hour, you should be awarded with nothing less than an Olympic gold. This city is bulging at the seams. What are all the people here, waiting for ?? A big bang ??? huh.........

The people here are always running around. Running to catch the '7:39' in the morning or wrestling their way out of a train on their way back home. Probably the whole week passes waiting for the weekend, when you can actually live........ It's then that you come to know that your mother had a knee pain, that your daughter failed in her maths paper, that Mr. Shinde's daughter ran away with that fussy guy with long hair......
And one does it religiously; every week !!! All this to earn some extra bucks which always fall short of growing needs and inflating prices. “You can live like a king in Nainital with this money” one of my friends commented. Yeah, sure.... Cheers to the kings of Nainital who come to Bambai oops.. Mumbai in search of work, in search of a king size life.........

The monsoons are no more romantic. The bad roads add to the trouble. The traffic always gets on your nerves. But you see people, going through all that and still not disillusioned with life. All you see is a herd, moving at a brisk pace in random directions. If you get closer you see Mr Gorpade who lost his left leg to the same local last year; Mr Patel who is looking for a flat in a decent chawl for he is getting married next month; Meenakshi who broke off with her boyfriend last week for her career.... They are all chasing their dreams. It's not a glamorus path they are moving on. They have all made difficult decisions. I think that's this city is all about, about choices. This city is too harsh and spares no one. Yet it accepts, with open arms, the people who have made the difficult choices.

Salam Bombay....

बड़ी ही स्याह सी तस्वीर बनी है तेरी
डूबा के ब्रश ज़रा सी धूप मे कुछ रौशनी भर दो ...

That august evening, half wet
with parting monsoon spill
We met like strangers
or strangers to be ?

It was dark and dull
n all I saw
Was the glitter in your eyes
through the line of Kohl

Your fingers filled
the spaces between mine
Couldn't hold 'em for long
my fault...

Did you hear me
as we hugged
To hold each other
and everything in between...

लकीरें

हाथों पे ये किस्मत हैं, सरहद पे हैं जंजीरें
बन जाती हैं कलम से, मिटती नहीं लकीरें

मुद्दई बने हैं भाई, बरसों के तोड़ रिश्ते
क्या क्या हैं इसके जलवे, जादू की ये लकीरें

अपने ही घर मे कैद हम, साँसों को तरसते हैं
अपनों से ये चेहरे हैं, मगर बीच में लकीरें

ऐ क़यामत गिरा दे घर की, इस चारदीवारी को
राहत मिले घुटन से, दब जायें ये लकीरें

मिटटी की ये लकीरें, पत्थर न हमको कर दें
बारिश करा दे मौला धुल जायें ये लकीरें

डरता तो हूँ मैं
इसका एहसास तो है
पर माना नही
कभी किसी के सामने

शायद इसमे भी इक
डर ही मेरा छुपा हुआ है
और भी गहरा
दूर जड़ों तक घुसा हुआ

डरता था हर बार मैं
पापा के थप्पड़ से
मास्टरजी की छड़ी के आगे
याद पहाडा भूल गया

कुछ इस डर का इस्तेमाल भी
किया था मैंने गुड्डी पर
डरा डरा कर उससे अपने
काम कराया करता था

पूजा की थाली से जब
एक अठन्नी चुरा के मैं
फुचके खाता पकड़ा गया था
बहुत डराया दादी ने तब

मन्दिर के आगे वाले उस
कोढ़ी को दिखा के बोली
"जानते हो इसने
ठाकुरजी का घंटा चुराया था "

वो डर आज भी मेरे
ज़हन मे जिंदा है
डरता हूँ खुदा से
शैतान से भी

क्योंकि कल मन्दिर में ही
एक धमाका हुआ था
और सुबह से मेरे सामने
वाली कुर्सी खाली है

वो खाली कुर्सी देखकर
बार-बार सहम जाता हूँ
डरता तो हूँ मैं
बस बताता नहीं किसी को

कीमत तेरी बड़ी वहां पर, यहाँ न कोई दे पाए
बड़ा हिसाबी हुआ है तू तो, ये भी हिसाब लगा जाना

बुरी नज़र से तुझे बचाने, लगा दिया था माँ ने जो
काजल के उस टीके की भी, कीमत ज़रा लगा जाना

माली की नज़रों से बचकर, खाए तो चुपके से
चोरी के उन अमरूदों की कीमत ज़रा चुका जाना

माँ के लाख मना करने पर, भी खा ली थी जो छुपके
जाते जाते उस मिटटी की कीमत ज़रा चुका जाना.....

लफ्ज़ कुछ बिखरे हुए
पड़े हैं सारे कमरे में
नज़्म कुछ अधूरी सी
तार तार जिंदा है
तुम्हारी सलाइयाँ अब भी
फंसी हैं अधूरे स्वेटर में
इस रास्ते गुज़रो कभी
तो बुन जाना

लफ्ज़ कुछ फंसे हैं
पन्नों के हाशिये में
कुछ घर के हर सामान से
चिपके हुए हैं
कुछ मेरे तकिये के नीचे
छुप के साँस लेते हैं
हर रात सिसकते हैं
सोने नही देते

कुछ दबे हैं उस गिलास
के टुकडों के तले
गुस्से में आकर जो
मैंने फैंका था
लफ्ज़ वो चीखते
तो हैं लेकिन
टुकडों की खनक में
दब जाते हैं

जब से घर बदला है
मेरे घर का हर सामन
मेरी ज़िन्दगी सा ही
कहीं बिखरा पड़ा है
इस रास्ते गुज़रो कभी
तो सहेज जाना

रेत का घरौंदा है बिखरने के लिए,
जानकर भी घरौंदा ये क्यों बनाया है
कहीं आँखों के खारे पानी पर
समंदर को तरस भी कभी आया है !

बैठा हूँ दरिया के किनारे लेकिन
जकड के पैरों से दो बालिश्त ज़मीं
हर लहर थोडी रेत छीन जाती है
पैरों तले ज़मीं को खोखला करके



जितनी ज़ोर से ज़मीं को पकड़ना चाहा
उतनी ही हुई खोखली बुनियाद मेरी

I was 14 then. Her father got a transfer to this place and she joined our school in mid session. This is a typical case with govt. employees; they are frequently transferred, to places unheard of. And then you start afresh, making new friends and for a long time feeling nostalgic about the the old place and lost friends.
But then there is one relief. The same old Kendriya Vidyalaya. You are happy that you do not need to remember new prayers again and start over again with new books with half of all your notebooks already full...... But there is more to it.... The feeling of being at home. It's always the same, wherever you go. The same loose discipline, the same style of teaching and the same set of co-curricular activities every Saturday.
She came from a big city perhaps. As she wore blazers against the regular pullovers all of us wore. None of us knew her name and no one dared to ask, for she always kept a mile's distance from all of us. Most of the time she kept to herself. So in the meantime she a got a nickname 'newcomer' till we discovered her actual name "Swati Sinha" , from the 'All India Radio' of her section.
She was too beautiful to remain anonymous despite her introvert persona. Every second boy in our class had a crush on her. During morning prayers, she stood in the line on my right with me a little behind her. Her long beautiful hair was made into a nice French braid, with some loose hair near the ear flowing with the morning breeze. And I watched her between the prayers : the corner of her Kohl lined eyes, the glitter from the gem in her nose stud, her neck sinking into the collar bone, the crease on the sides of her blouse.........
I visited her section during recess and watched her eat. Most of the time she was either alone, reading or writing something or chatting with a single friend. I never saw her as a part of a big chat group that girls usually formed. She had very few friends. But she cherished being with them as I saw the glow on her face while she was with one of them. I really envied Mitali whom she gave her best smile. Yet I always wanted her to be in the class for I wanted Swati to smile for all the time I was watching her. But Mitali opposed to her was a complete extrovert. She was the vice captain of her house and her commitments kept her busy for most of the time during recess. So Swati took refuge in one of her books or scribbled something on her pink notepad which was always kept handy for times like this.
Here I watched her from the front unlike the prayer queue and I could see her full face and not just her profile. But here I was conscious, confirming now and then, like a thief, that no one was watching me. I felt embarrassed at the thought of being caught. I did not have the answers to the questions that would follow. I could not answer the questions to myself. “Why am I doing this?” A mixed feeling of guilt and bliss surrounded me.
My view was thus restricted to some glances that I could make, pretending to look around the class while I sat with the 'pumpkin' who never went out of the class, even during recess. I liked every expression on her, smile or frown, even the blank one she gave while scribbling on her notepad. One day she was sleeping with her head on her desk. I got the news that she had a fever and wasn't feeling well. I felt like sitting next to her and watch her sleep all through my life.........
One day I heard her poem was selected for the first prize in some competition. I heard our principle recite her poem. It was touching........ 'All India Radio' had told me that her parents were not having a steady relationship. The grief had percolated in her poetry. Those silent eyes had a lot to say !!!
It was our last day in school and our juniors had arranged a farewell party. For the first time I saw her in anything other than school uniform. She was wearing a black sari and her hair was arranged in a twist unlike the regular French braid. I imagined myself with her and blushed.....

The party was getting over and people started leaving. I wanted to talk to her. Wanted to tell her that there was someone who could wait for her for whole life watching her eat and sleep and scribble those poems on her notepad. We never talked through the two years we were together in school and while leaving I did not know what to say. I gave her my autograph book and she obliged. While she was writing, I saw her father coming. He had come to take her back. All that I thought of saying sank at once. She gave me a smile as if saying good bye. I watched her sitting on the back seat of her father's Royal Enfield. They crossed the boundary wall and all that remained was the sound of the engine. It faded as they moved on........

Ye hai bambai meri jaan- Part I

My first encounter with this city was like a teenage crush, a love at first sight. It was a two day visit at the break of monsoon. The first place that I wanted to visit was a sea shore. Though Mumbai is not known for its beaches, I had never seen one before and mere thought of watching the waves was exciting. And it did not disappoint me at all. The place I visited first was the gate way of India. It came with the twin benefits of The TAJ and the Arabian Sea. I was taken over by her majesty.
Standing in front of a sea is very different from standing in front of a river or a lake. There you can see its boundaries. You can see beyond it. But the sight of a sea is mysterious, even frightening. The fear of unknown, unseen power: overwhelming human psyche with its grandeur. The first deities worshiped by humans were basically forces of nature. I guess the image of goddess of water in coastal regions would have been quite different from the image of serene faced ‘Ganga’ in the plains.
The first evening was spent roaming around the area that included marine drive and fort. I liked every bit of it- the stroll across marine drive, the Paav-Bhaji at chaupati, the gothic architecture and even the bustle of Fashion Street. The first day ended with this as I readied for next day’s event.
The destination for next day was Trombay. I undertook my first journey on a BEST bus. Number 21, I still remember. It was a cloudy morning and the sun wasn’t visible. The hills painted with bright green all over, had clouds surrounding them like diamond crown over the head of beauty queen……………. Soon it started pouring…… Now this was romantic!
The rains for the two days seemed all sweet and beautiful to me; may be because they never troubled me. Most of the times, shower came when I was in no hurry. I could wait and watch and even drench myself at times, without being worried about getting late. Sometimes it seems that the journey is more pleasant when you don’t have to reach anywhere.
But the evening came with the same old rush to catch my train at CST, the new name for the grand old VT. It was the most beautiful railway station building I had ever seen. It was quite old and graceful. The tombs, the carvings and even the tinted glass on the arch shaped windows gave it a look of a bride. The architecture was mixed and I being a novice could not judge where the influences came from. But I loved it. For not doing so you need to be too much of purist or perhaps a member of a right wing; like one of those who renamed it.
This was coming to an end. The train caught speed as I gazed the platform passing away. Little did I know then, that I’ll return after a year to settle down to watch Mumbai with a completely new perspective.

मरने की ख्वाहिश जो हुई हमको
ढूँढने निकले कि ज़िंदगी क्या है

मरने की आरजू मे जीते चले गए ..............


आज लगता है मिल गयी है तेरे
आंसुओं के नमक मे ज़िंदगी मुझको

कुछ तल्खियां छुपी थीं, बातों मे उनकी शायद

हम समझ ही न पाए, और बात बढ़ गयी।

इन फासलों ने मुझको, पत्थर सा कर दिया है

कहते हैं लोग मुझसे, बड़ा तल्ख़ बोलते हो।