Tanhayee

The composition is old, but the relevance is revisited. Please excuse some evident exaggerations, for when imagination flies, i let her spread her wings as wide as she can.

Kaanp rahi hai yeh zameen,
jam gayee hai hansee,
cheekh raha hai soonapan,
ro rahi hai sard sameer.
Tham sa gaya hai samay,
ruk si gayee hai zindagi,
udwign ho utha hai man,
thak gaye hain mere kadam.
Na jaane mujhe aisi dasha kyon bhayee,
ki shashwat shraap ban ke hai chayee,
gehri tanhayee.

Parde ki bhanti, dharti pe lehraati parchayee,
aur kaanto ki tarah, use bhi chubhti hai tanhayee.
Use dekh kar bojh hota hai kuch halka,
saath mein usse hi karta hoon kuch sawaal.
Par jab ambar mein lagaa chane dhundhalka,
lagaa jaise, jawab ki raah mein guzar gaye kayee saal.
Phir ayee, parchayee se bhi kaali,
jag ko tam ki chadar se dhakne waali,
naisargik saundarya samragyee, raat;
aur bichad gaya mera parchayee se bhi saath.
Tab chayee, rajni se bhi kaali, wahi tanhayee.

Moondkar aakhein, dekhta hoon yaadon ke abaad sheher,
jinke sahilon se takra rahi hai leher pe leher.
Par in lehron ne mita diye padchinha meri raah se,
akela bhatak gaya hoon, door apne ghar baar se.
Yaadon se vidaa li, pahuncha kartavya ke dwaar,
kandhe pe liye hasraton aur ummeedon ka bhar.
Tabhi saesaraati hawa ne darwaaje par di dheemi dastak,
aankhein khuli meri, khud se poocha.. kahan the tum ab tak?
Le kar bojhil man aur ladkhadaate hue kadam,
bahar nikla,magar chaya tha ab bhi wohi tam,
aur wahi, sadaa ki sahchari, Tanhayee.

Aaine mein soorat lagti hai ab anjaan,
apni awaaz ki main bhool gaya pehchaan,
aankhein thak gayee hain takte takte sooni raahein,
deewaron ki cheetkaron se dab jaati hain meri aahein.
Khud se baatein karte oob chuka hai ab ye man,
is manchahi azaadi mein bhi, chubhta hai ek bandhan.

Haan, isliye, kyonki main hoon paristhitiyon ka maara,
is anant akash ka bujhta hua ek taara,
zehan mein bhare dard ka saagar saara,
jaise behti nadi ki thokar khaati jaldhaara,
lekin phir bhi.... Tanhayee ka pyaara,
Tanhayee ka Pyaara.

Composed on 30.10.2001

Few Things That Money Can't Buy

A very good evening, literally. So it was, as I finally decided to venture out in the sun after two days of online burial, living on virtual cadaverous existence and real nonexistence. I'd been lying like a sloth, locked inside one of the dingy rooms in our dingy hostel in a dingy weather, making the most of the precious moments of inactivity and unemployment and not a moment was wasted in my adventure of making myself feel miserable about the prospect of greener pastures across the globe, hated myself at the same time, but acquiesced to the temptation at every given opportunity. I supposedly 'socialized', with people, creepish like myself, whom I didn't know, never met and had every reason to believe might not be real, or at least not what they claimed to be, as I shunned the societies I belong to for those that I think I want to belong to. Realization does not come cheap, it has it's price, and what better way to learn that I was wrong, than by myself. We are seldom bound by the confinements of pride and ego when we are alone, unobserved.

Finally the realization dawned upon me, that a bird in hand was worth two in the bush, switched off this shining window to virtual existence, reluctantly, opened the door, and stepped out, and my head whirled like a whirlpool. The air, fresh after persistent showers and the sun peeping through the silhouettes of the gray clouds welcomed me, as I came back to life. To realize the worth of something, try abstaining from it for a while, however commonplace it may be, this was the second lesson I garnered. Thank you. I had to help myself with whatever moist, stale food I was left with, I had forgone this vital necessity of survival too, to my utter disbelief. I tried in vain to look as fresh and cheerful as possible, the disease just won't let go of me. Lesson number 3: Diseases that pale the soul are much more difficult to fight than those that grieve the body or the mind, there are simply no remedies or advice available. Mind, body and soul, the three pillars of existence have to be intact for harmony. Thanks again.

I strolled gently, pausing momentarily at the locked doors, in the aisle that teemed with life and mirth, resisting the habit of knocking and kicking the doors intuitively. It made me sad, I never told them how important and integral they were to me, though I felt it all along. I thought they'd understand, I hope they did. Hats off people! Lesson Number 4 : Express yourself when you feel like, for you may not be able to later. Gracias.

I grabbed the key to the bike, the dear Royal Enfield, which had been soaking the rain for two days, quite skeptical that it'd start, but it totally worth the try.. anything for the 'bult'. I laboured hard of half an hour, kicking frantically without relent as sweat poured on my brows. I could almost smell my own muffy body odor but still reluctant to relinquish. The 'bult' has always been to hard to get on, precisely the reason that I love it, but she refused to budge. I had to give up, lest I'd faint right there. I parked it in the shed, and decided finally to walk, defeated by a machine. I strolled on the empty road, washed clean by the rain, toads croaking on both sides in the dense undergrowth, as I passed beneath the canopy of leaves above. A white flower, I'm not sure what species, fell right in front of me, as if from heaven. I picked it up, lifted it up to my nose, and inhaled the aroma. It was delicious. I found it hard to let go, so I decided to carry it with me, purifying my soul with it's elixir. I emerged now on a comparatively busier street, still enjoying the flower, held gently in my left hand. People occasionally stared at me, they must think I'm insane. Poor people. They're innocent enough not to realize how far they are from themselves, and close I am, at least at the moment. They've spent fortunes decorating their bodies with expensive clothes adorned by flowery designs, wasted these precious natural offerings in front of holy idols, used them often to impress their lovers, decorated their home even with artificial ones, but the thought of pausing to amuse oneself by a real one is so alien to them. Poor, ignorant, ordinary people. Someone please liberate them, I think, as I smile to myself once in a while. Back to lesson number two. My acknowledgments.

I bought myself a pack of cigarettes, can't figure out why I do so again and again.. this vice needs serious attention. Anyways, the habit humbled me yet again, as I lit one, and moved ahead to pause by the coconut seller, to get myself a tender coconut. The few customers stared momentarily at me, they must think of me as an imbecile, a white flower in one hand, a lit fag in
the other, and trying to buy health. A young girl , probably 20, decent looking, couldn't resist her amusement, and finally asked, " Excuse me sir, lekin yeh bhi aur wo bhi? Ek saath kaise piyenge? " Normally, it should've found me unexpected, but I half expected it, though it's not normal in a country with as skewed sex ratio as India. I'm calm, surprisingly. I smiled, a small one, and managed to say, "Balance zaroori hai". She laughs. I'm amazed how one man oblivious of all pretense and conventions can make people stop and think. They should be grateful to me. People don't think, generally. They just follow. Lesson number 5: Do as you feel like. You might feel the world might reject or ridicule you, but it pays. Stored.

As I walked away, the smoke made my head dizzy after a while, and my steps began to get erratic. I'd been sleep deprived for a long time. I threw it away, and fetched the pack from my pocket, and looked hard at it. I just made someone richer, and myself miserable for this thing. I clenched it hard, and fought an internecine battle, finally, flung it in the bush. I saved a few lives. I looked around, and found myself beneath the same shed of leaves. Enriched by the beauty of one flower, I decided to pick some more. I ventured in the tall grass, braving snakes and crabs, and picked a few. A passer by comments, "Dada bach ke , jungle mein mat jaana". I laugh. Thanks for the advice, as if I care. I took pride at the bunch, glistening on my palm, and felt the softness against my face. Marvelous creation, these little things. Wonder why do they have such a short life span. Even God didn't understand the worth of the treasures he(she/it) created, as useless two legged parasites plague this planet. Next lesson: Don't ever underestimate the power of nature. She got enough to sustain all, in a much better way than the artificiality that we so painfully created.

Finally, back in the room, which seemed lively all at once, I washed the small bouquet and placed it on my table, drawing fresh, divine inspiration. Next lesson: Wither if you will, but spread the fragrance as long as you can. May be, it can make someone long lost come home. I felt the evening impossible to let go, let me emboss it in words, something I haven't for almost a year. One evening taught me more that what four years of college education couldn't.
Thanks again.

I guess there are things money can't buy, not even Mastercard.

Gehraai

What matters more in life? Is it sheer height, or is it depth? Without any exception, every living soul craves for chimeric heights, sacrificing much more that he can ever gain. You might be lucky if you haven't realized this yet, for ignorance of course is bliss. Inspired by Atalji's masterpiece, Oonchai, the following is my take on Gehraai.

Jeevan ke uddeshya mein gehraai hai,
Prakriti ke satya mein gehraai hai,
Brahmaand ka anth hi gehraai hai,
Vidya ki shikhar hi gehraai hai.
Maanavjaati ko aaj chhichlaapan nahin, gehraai chahiye.

Woh gehraai jo jheel sareekhi
aankhon mein ho, maasoomiyat ke roop mein.
Woh gehraai jo kisi ke
rishton mein ho, pavitrata ke roop mein.

Jab bhakti mein ho who gehraai,
to milti hai apporva shanti,
Jab tap mein ho woh gehraai,
to deti hai aparajeya shakti.

Nihit ho jab wo jeevan mein,
to ban jaati hai ek uddeshya.
Nihit ho jab wo baadalon mein,
to ban jaati hai oonchai.

Yahi gehraai shabdon ko,
arthapoorna kar de.
Aur yahi gehraai us arth ko,
goodhta aur satyata se bhar de.

Kaash, yahi gehraai hoti vichaaron mein,
ki hum samajh paate,
kya satya hai,
aur kya drishti ka bhram.

Yahi gehraai hoti vishwaas mein,
ki hum dekh paate,
manzil ab bhi paas hai,
aur waqt hai mera humdum.

Yahi gehraai hoti kartavyon mein,
ki hum anubhav karte,
ki zindagi ek lakshya hai,
jidhar badh rahe hain hamaare kadam.

Aavashyakta hai humein gehraai ki,
kyonki gehraai hai ek nayaa aayaam,
jiski paridhi mein hai mahaanta aur oonchai.

Aur saagar ki gehraai hi to, motiyon ki khaan hai,
Man hi gehraai hi to, ishwar ka pawan dham hai.

Composed on 15/09/01

City Abandoned

It was dawn, when I arrived, but seemed as if it had been dusk since eternity. I left behind images of modern, promising India captured through two months of my odyssey. And here I was, at the end of the world, at the end of time.

It was a city abandoned by civilization, or by life, enravished by destruction altogether. A place where nature had experimented all her weapons, and abandoned for slow decay. There had been a clandestine alliance between the creator and the destroyer. The trees bent down to touch the ground, and the bushes raced up to the sky. The roads were bordered with dense vegetation, which were crusading for their lost territory,brandishing their swords in the sky, marching slowly ahead from both sides, narrowing down the space. A multitude of terrorising war cries could be heard, those of the insects. Amidst the towering vegetation, some constructions could be seen, barely though. But they were ruins, all of them. The walls crumbled from some corner, or were sustained perilously by some strange balance, in a strange equilibrium. Some odd stream of water flowed from some crevice. Someone said, water is life. And there's life, scampering for shelter, chased away by death. The walls have been painted black and gray by a huge paintbrush. It's wet at some places, in shades of dark green. A thin trunk, some twig like branches and a few leaves are waiting outside a window, at the sill, waiting cautiously for their opportunity to get inside. They indeed look like worthy occupants.

It didn't quite look like the place I was dwelling in for three years, and niether did it look like I could continue for another. Something had changed. Time had lost it's pace, it's moving very slowly, drowsily. This might explain why everything appears so lazy. The air was dense, even breathing and walking met with a fierce invisible resistance. It seemed as if I was at the bottom of a gelatinous ocean. It was nature's diktat: Stay where you are. And so did every single leaf on every single tree, and every single bird on every single branch. I looked above. There was a thick black blanket as far and as high as I could see. And it was not moving, it lurked, as if captured in a picture frame. We had been ostracized by civilization, lest, the plague should bare it's fangs. The last standing human victims carrried the scars all over their body, soul and spirit. Dusty, torn attires; black, greasy faces, and eyes begging for mercy. They moved around languidly with half open eyelids. What's that which was competing for their consciousness? Just sleep, or death? No one dared to talk, or cared to. The silence was very uneasy. An odd sonic disturbance was like a pebble thrown in stagnant water. It reverberated slowly, for long. After eons of domination, finally, mankind has surrendered to submissiveness.

Hail the supreme power!!

Maut

Following is an account of my speculations on death, when I perceived death as a distance to be traversed, or a time to be spent, between two lives, or may be between two consecutive heartbeats.


Kshan bhar ki peeda,
ya ek jeevankal ki avdhi?
Ek pal ki moorcha,
ya varshon ka intezar?
Ek vaanchit lakshya,
ya ek bhayasvi prahaar?
Agrasar ho raha kaarvaan, aviram,
aur badh rahi hain, dooriyaan.
Aatm aur sansaar ke beech ki dooriyaan,
ek hi pal ke faasale mein,
zindagi aur maut ke beech ki dooriyaan.

Dooriyaan,
jism aur rooh ke darmyaan dooriyaan,
jab raktapipaasu ho jaaye anal,
aur mitti ka rakh se ho milan,
dhoomra ke saath saath,
praan ki manzil ho anant disha,
jab ek chhoti si urja ka,
shail shakti se ho saamna...
Bas ek chhoti si agni pariksha,
kahin viyog ashru ki boondein,
kahin par mukti ki bhiksha.
Kyonki.... badh rahi hain dooiyaan,
Sparsh aur ehsaas ke beech ki dooriyaan.

Dooriyaan,
Bandhan aur mukti ke beech ki dooriyaan,
Jab aatm ne tod daala moh paash,
jeevan ke mool uttardaaitva ka jab ho abhaas,
antarchakshu ki nidra jab sampann ho,
param-jyoti ki tapasya jab bhang ho,
nashvar shareer ki shakti jab ksheen ho,
jeevandaayi saahas-sroat jab jeerna ho
to tay hoti hain dooriyaan,
Karma aur moksha ke beech ki dooriyaan.

Jeevatma ko karti atma se prithak,
mangalmayee mrityu tandav ka aadhaar,
pranimaatra ki seemaaon ka parichayak,
shushka jeevan-vriksha par vajra prahaar,
Ek atal satya ko sthapit karti,
dharaa aur gagan ke beech ki dooriyaan,
Ek hi pal ke faasale mein,
do dhadkanon ke beech ki dooriyaan.

Talaash

Samay ki pathreeli, kanteeli raahon mein,
bhatakti manodashaaon mein,
smrition mein, asmanjas ki chaaon mein,
karaahati ummeedon ki aahon mein,
zindagi ki baahon mein,
naakamiyon ki ullason mein,
dhairya ki ghatati hui saanson mein,
bhavnaon aur manshaon ke bhanvar mein,
tham chuke zindagi ke safar mein,
kahin mera astitva kho gaya hai,
Is sarvavyapi andhakar mein, kahin so gaya hai.

Mrityu jaisi is andhakar mein,
is sannate mein,
khamosh cheekhon ki chitkaar mein,
deep koi pradeept ho, mujhe iski aas hai,
Mujhe.... apni talaash hai.