The Fear

Something new I am trying (For the new readers, no its not the romantic. I have been doing it for a long time. And please, no speculations about my love life based on that), but I am trying imagery and a poem in free verse. Please I need responses on this one.

A veil behelds the two lovers
and the fear of their thing
falling apart
holds them both still
sitting in the laps of time
waiting for the truth
and truth is not the veil
neither is the distance
Truth is only the fear
That behelds them
fear of being fake
of all this being
just a lie
fear of not knowing
the person without the veil
the fear of getting hurt
which keeps them away
from being happy
Yes, even my dictionary tells me
'he' and 'she' are far far away
but beyond the fakeness
that just 'might' exist
lie 'they'
which is their only way
and though they dont know it
true love can always wait
the mesh may just limit it
but remember
you are still visible.

A thing of beauty

I don't know why but today I am recalling John Keats' poem "A thing of beauty."Keats called a thing of beauty eternal. He said that its something which gives you happiness.
Happiness? True. Eternal? I am not sure.
Everything in this world is susceptible to change. The loveliest flower would die within a day or two. A cute kid would maybe grow up into a hard core metal fan(No offence to the metal fans but I think they may look rebellious but not beautiful). A sky full of stars has to turn into a cloudy or a scorching day within a 24 hour cycle. Even beautiful feelings like adoration and love which can also instill happiness in an onlooker gradually wane with time and then dies with the person.
Then I get the idea that probably Keats was talking about the 'ideal' thing of beauty which may not exist. But unlike 'ideal love' to which we may approach, ideal thing of beauty may just be a myth.
Thus comes my final realisation.
Do we really need a true thing of beauty? I mean look at an undisturbed lake or falling drops of rain and yeah some may like to see a metallic band playing, whatever. The point is these things may not instill a happiness that is eternal but certainly they are so many around to stay happy for a lifetime. Even the odes Keats wrote, neither is the song of nightingale eternal, nor is any autumn. But they gave him a feeling that took him to a world away from all his pain and suffering though not indefinitely.(People who have read Keats and about him may understand better)So final conclusion - find your things of beauty and escape to a world of your own design.

You owe me

The dark doors of heaven were open for him. He had imagined a lot of white light coming out to greet him but there he stood, still wondering how he got there when a voice rose from the dark, “You owe me” and this was always the last part of his dream. He woke up sweating. Even after a year, the voice still haunted him.

Five years back, Nikhil Taneja wasn’t the most eligible bachelor that he is now. He was just an ambitious guy, rapidly rising the steps of success. But unlike now, he wasn’t single. He had a girl who loved him, whom he loved. But as human nature goes, we ignore what we have only to run after what we don’t. But it wasn’t his ambitions that were a problem. The problem was that under no circumstance could Nikita become a priority, even when she needed him the most.

It is said that nothing compares to the ego of a newly successful person. The same ego widened the crack to the breakage point in their relationship.

Though Nikhil didn’t repent his actions at that moment but four years later, at the top of his career, he was ready to give up anything to have Nikita back to him. But she was married for two years now and people said they had a very happy married life.

Today, Nikhil wakes up again from the haunted dream to fight against the people he hated the most. He wants to repay what he thought he owed. Today is the moment of truth and he had an alternate plan if all didn’t go as he wanted.

The phone had rung a year back at his place and as soon as he picked it up, a voice transported him to another world where he always wanted to be. It was Nikita.

The sorrow that the perfect Nikhil wanted to feel didn’t show up when he heard about the death of her husband. Shobhit, her husband was an intelligence officer who was supposedly a martyr in line of work. But Nikita had found proofs collected by her husband that could convict a few politicians in a case of high level corruption involving billions.

“The people who killed your husband won’t mind harming you. I don’t like the idea and I think even Shobhit would not have liked you risking your life for something that he lost his life to.”

“Nikhil, I know you love me and I have loved you since the day we first met but this is something I need to do to get justice for my husband. I know you are the only one I can trust to protect me and I know you would help me as much as you can.”

Though most of the people would have felt elated at hearing the first part but these words instilled shame and guilt in Nikhil for thinking of starting a new relationship at the brink of her husband’s death.

He arranged for her to reveal her husband’s killers on a live TV show the next week. During this time, despite of the guilt he felt, he still cherished every moment he spent with Nikita. He felt complete with her. Every time she smiled, he pledged to do anything to keep her smiling for the rest of her life. He was in love and he knew it was something even more than what he had felt for her in the past. It was something divine.

That dreaded day, they went to a market. Nikita made him try some hats and she was laughing for the first time in these few days. Suddenly she fell into his arms. It took Nikhil a moment to realize that she had been shot. One out of the two was dying but it was the other who let out a cry of agony. Nikhil realized Nikita was trying to say something. “You owe me…..,”  she could not complete. Those were the last words Nikita said and the only words that mattered to Nikhil. That day, people saw the most successful businessman of the year, cry on the footpath with a dead girl in his arms.

Today, Nikhil walks towards court with the file in his hands, on the judgment day.

The proofs were enough for him to prove the politicians guilty but even the false witnesses, setup by Nikhil could prove them to be Nikita’s murderers. But that was all that mattered to Nikhil. So he had an alternate plan ready.

With Nikhil’s fortune, it was not difficult to bribe a few Jail guards to poison her lover’s killers. He arranged for them the most painful death and as soon as he got news of their deaths, he took an overdose of sleeping pills himself.

Before dying, while in sleep, Nikhil heard and saw Nikita dying but only this time she got to complete her last sentence. She said, “You owe me the chance to see you happy. Find happiness for yourself for me to rest in peace,” and that was the moment. Doctors are still amazed how a tear could trickle down a person who is in comma because of overdose of sleeping pills but it didn’t matter to the world as 3 minutes later, everything flat lined. The world lost an evolving business tycoon, or so did the world felt.

The world remember that Nikhil Taneja died on 11^th February 2011 but he died the day he left Nikita, only to be reborn again to die a death that nobody deserves, a death that was painless in the physical sense but agonizing for his soul as he died but he still owed her.

A six sentence story

The World was at his feet when he decided to leave it all behind and then came the moment of revelation. The glow of the first light of the day blinded his senses into believing something that did not exist to a normal eye. Nobody knew what he saw when he decided to surrender all his success to live in a time that was not real. Some say that he had seen the god while others told that he had seen the ghost of his dead lover. A few ridiculed him but the most laughed at his sanity in the world of insane but everyone was jealous of the state of contentment he lived in. Though no one knows how he experienced that bliss, but the only thing that could be established as a fact was the date and time of his death which was quite irrelevant as the smile on the face of the dead transported everyone to that unaccounted world of joy where time ceased to exist, at least for a moment.

My collection

जीत में खुश हो के गम को भुलाना सीख लिया
और गम में झूठी ही सही पर हसी बनाना सीख लिया
पर गैरों की ख़ुशी को अपना बनाना जाना नहीं
हसना तो सीख लिया पर मुस्कुराना नहीं

 

ढलते देखा सूरज को आज, बदलो को ओअत में
राज़ दबा है उस रंग का, कुदरत के नरम होठ में
फूल देखे, तारे ताके, दुःख और ग़म की चोट में
भूल गया मतलब इनका, ढलती ख़ुशी की सौत में
डूब सा गया हो अब से मैं , इस रंग के स्त्रोत में
जलता पाया खुद को मैंने, इस कुदरत की ज्योत में
भुज गयी यह ज्योति भी तोह आज मेरी मौत पे
पर खिले फूल चमके सितारे, आज मेरी चौथ पे
पर खिले फूल चमके सितारे, आज मेरी चौथ पे

इन अँधेरे रास्तो पे जीत का साया नहीं
हारने पे हस दिया लेकिन मैं मुस्काया नहीं
सीखने को ज़िन्दगी से सीख लिया है सब कुछ
पाने को दुनिया से मैंने कुछ भी तो पाया नहीं

इन हरी हरी वादियों का हो जाने को जी करता है
इस खुले आसमान के साए में सो जाने को जी करता है
वोह तो हम बस इस ज़िन्दगी से बंधे है वर्ना
आज सब कुछ भुला खो जाने को जी करता है

पैरो को ज़मीन पर रख कद को बढाओ
कंधो की सवारी तो कोई भी कर सकता है
अगर उच्चाई से ही जीत का फैसला होता
तो आज पंछी भी हमें दाना दाल रहे होते

 

 

 

क्या हुआ मेरे देश को ?

ना देश अपना ना लोग पराये

अब किस चोर को कोतवाल बनाए

अब जैल भी लगती है नेताओ को सुहानी

और जान प्रतिनिधि को पोलीस पकड़ ले जाए

गाँधी का यह देश है मेरा और अहिंसा मेरा धरम

रोक दिया जाता हर कोई जो करता अपना करम

यहा कसाब को जमाई बनाए और अन्ना को मुजरिम

बोल उठेगा देश सारा उबलेगा हर खून गरम

पैदा हुआ भगत जो जल्लियाँवाला मे खेली होली

अब डाइयर भी बोले हिन्दी तो हुकूमत भी यही बोली

उठे हत्यार देश के खुद पे ऐसा कल ना आएगा

पर एक दिन ऐसा आएगा जब भगत खड़ा हो जाएगा

आज़ादी पे बंद गयी पट्टी देश हुआ अनदेखा

लोकतंत्र मे लोकपाल ही लगाएगा सब पे रेखा

फिर से आए नेहरू गाँधी फिर से चलेंगे दांडी

आज़ादी ना देखी तो क्या संग्राम तो मैने देखा

आज़ादी ना देखी तो क्या संग्राम तो मैने देखा

Are we narrow minded?

Today while travelling in metro, I was reading a portrait of the artist as a young man by James Joyce - Perfect combination for someone to get philosophical. It was then that a thought struck my mind. Movement of everything, from as big as heavenly bodies like stars and planets to as small as atoms and molecules, is bound by a certain law. Then lets act the way Heisenberg did and say world is symmetric. So if the movement of planets is bound and so is the movement of atoms, then why can’t we say that our movements are also bound by a certain law which may be too complicated to be understood by us?
Well certainly this theme has been explored earlier also by movies like ‘Pi’ but think of it this way. If such a law really exists, then can things like numerology, astrology, fortune telling, crystal balls, etc etc etc may be various approximations to that law thus ‘calculating’ the future to some extent. Then maybe everything we call superstitions are just because of our narrow mindedness. Should it be called superstition that our mind tends to accept only things that have been proven? Then how are we better than all those people who refused to accept that earth was round and those who denied the concept that earth went round the sun?
A few people who may have read Joyce may say he has got to my head and probably they are right. Maybe I will forget about the narrow mindedness of not accepting future predictions by tomorrow and continue to be a ‘rational’ person but now writing my thoughts out may keep it in my mind for some what a longer duration of time.
Expecting quite elaborative discussions.

The closet of my dreams

I heard a story as a kid

in which the dreams of a boy

were trapped in a closet

but the cupboard was locked

and to fulfill al the dreams

the boy had to empty the closet

this story was my childhood fascination

but i got a lot of scolding

for emptying my cupboard

My mom told me

that the cupboard cannot be emptied

but i continued to empty

the Closet of my dreams

Gradually i realised

Mom was as usual right

All dreams can never be fulfilled

Dreams keep changing

Dreams either come true

or are left behind

But dreams keep changing

And as I was growing up

My cloths kept changing

Old clothes were taken out

As new and newer clothes found place in

I was growing and growing into a dreamer

And everytime a dream was fulfilled

As a cloth went out of

the Closet of my dreams

Now I have grown old enough

but that child in me is still alive

And that child is quite scared

As the closet lies disorganised and dirty

Its hard to find anything

and it has been time since

anything has been thrown out of

the Closet of my dreams.

Where is my God?

My world dies in agony and pain

 What do we miss, I cannot explain

The god lives in a world too far

To whom shall I take my complain?

Training dulled the worthy brain

Escaped is the worst religious bane

Beauty is same as skimpy now

What do we miss I cannot explain

Religion is no more spiritual gain

While bloodshed fills every lane

We fight for who’s god is better

To whom shall I take my complain?

Selflessness is in total vain

Selfishness is wronged in diplomatic reign

Thinking is left to just thinkers now

What do we miss I cannot explain

Beauty is ardent in this world of sane

Imaginations are bound by unknown restrain

We deal off innocence to commercialize the mind

To whom shall I take my complain?

God resides in every grain

Sinners end up in hell’s lane

And sins are decided by our species own

What do we miss I cannot explain

Boiling world and acidic rain

Fear of hell holds the sinner again

Terror is the weaponry of all tyrants

To whom shall I now take my complain?

Beauty is truth and truth is on wane

Religious tyranny is is no god’s gain

But god still lives in a world too far

To whom shall I now take my complain?

The Closet of my dreams

I heard a story as a kid
in which the dreams of a boy
were trapped in a closet
but the cupboard was locked
and to fulfill al the dreams
the boy had to empty the closet
this story was my childhood fascination
but i got a lot of scolding
for emptying my cupboard
My mom told me
that the cupboard cannot be emptied
but i continued to empty
the Closet of my dreams
Gradually i realised
Mom was as usual right
All dreams can never be fulfilled
Dreams keep changing
Dreams either come true
or are left behind
But dreams keep changing
And as I was growing up
My cloths kept changing
Old clothes were taken out
As new and newer clothes found place in
I was growing and growing into a dreamer
And everytime a dream was fulfilled
As a cloth went out of
the Closet of my dreams
Now I have grown old enough
but that child in me is still alive
And that child is quite scared
As the closet lies disorganised and dirty
Its hard to find anything
and it has been time since
anything has been thrown out of
the Closet of my dreams.

Absurd

I was studying Absurd plays in my drama class when a statement by my teacher brought me to a very interesting point of view. A point of view that is possible though improbable but certainly very interesting.

First for the beginners in literature, let me define ‘Theatre of Absurd.’ Plays that are absurd in structure, dialogues and actions but the message that they convey is certainly not absurd. They have generally got a circular structure, that is, they play ends where it started from, gibberish language and no logic to actions and reactions. Absurd plays generally bring out themes like insignificance of life, communication barrier, absurdity of language etc.

Well that was totally textbook definition. I strayed away from it when our teacher told us that the probable irony in plays of Absurd is that the playwrights try to communicate that actual communication is impossible.

That is when this idea struck me that probably they are not trying to communicate at all. They are only trying to prove that maybe even if they present anything gibberish or meaningless, people tend to draw conclusions and meanings from it and probably that is where the absurdity in communication lies, that is, in being ‘over’understood. All words we say sometimes mean more or sometimes less than what we intend to and that beats the entire function of language. Language is meant to present thoughts clearly rather than twisting with it to use metaphorically by one person and then to derive endless meanings by all others.

I do not know whether I believe in this point of view or not but certainly language is not very transparent which makes those Absurd playwrights either ‘over’understood by the world or ‘under’understood by me.

DREAM

I have a dream
Though what it is I haven’t realized
I live my life in its pursuit
What you shall call the pursuit by a blind
What I shall call the pursuit in darkness
Because when light will fall
It would be my rebirth
Life demands meaning till then
Blind are those
Who cannot fight for a dream
Those who don’t dream
Are the blindfolded
Who have to reach the destination
Without knowing the way
Who have to find the way
Without  the sense of light
So is dreaming a way to escape from the world?
Is dreaming a way to see with a blindfold?
Because who knows what you are meant to do
And what you dream to do
Who knows  if dreams are just an illusion?
And its not an absurdist’s allusion
And as some poet had said
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there
wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams
 no mortal ever dared to dream before
I would say the poet would have
 stood peering deep into the darkness
because its not dreams that guide us
its our actions that shall always speak out loud
so let me grow vision instead of dreams
because dreamer is a loner
because dreamer
shall always remain to be a loner

What's reality?

This is going to be short. Well maybe you can say that it is an effect of literature over me but I really am quite confused about the way authors, filmmakers, playwrights present the world to us. On one hand I read Eugene Ionesco's The Lesson today (Eugene Ionesco is an absurd playwright. Check wiki definition of theatre of absurd) and as many of the absurd playwrights present that there is always chaos in the world and our existence in it is totally insignificant. On the other hand, we have all those indian movies and the major lot of novels we get where after all the turmoil, peace and happiness is restored and accept the antagonist (or in some cases even including him), everyone is happy. Then there are the flat good characters ending up into sadness at the end into many great works like Antonio in Merchant of Venice (yeah, mam discussed it in class) by William Shakespeare and the samurai in The Seven Samurai by Akira Kurosawa which is as I would say, a diplomatic way out of the previous two options.
So what exactly is reality? The one presented by most of the people? The one presented by Eugene Ionesco? The one presented by William Shakespeare and Akira Kurosawa? Or the one presented by Shahrukh Khan, "agar ending happy nahi hai to picture abhi baaki hai mere dost" type?
Maybe poets have gone a step ahead of all other forms of literature or maybe they have skipped this indispensible step the same way I did while writing some of my poems?
We need to know what world do we all live in before demanding for another one which is absolute rather than being relative in all respects.
Stuck deep into thoughts, signing off from my way out of reality.

P.S. Sorry it got a bit long especially after the starting note of keeping it short. Saving short for the next time.

It is my own land

The future burns in bits

Our depth is not of the oceans

We all belong to the pits

The rich is flying higher

The poor is dying in slum

Heads above us decide the tunes

What song am I supposed to hum?

The sea of jewels

Is even washing away the golden sand

But I am still not leaving it

Because it is my own land.

The peace of white

shall always exist

but between saffron and green

there is a thick layer of mist

when did fights turn into riots

and riots into terrorism

not even the god knows

hatred can breed in diversity

that’s what our history shows

broken seems to be our tricolor band

but I am still not leaving it

because it is my own land.

Everything can be bought these days

Even conscience hangs for sale

Bribery broke into us through many ways

Anti corruption seems to always trail

They say machinery always needs oiling

So whats better than it being organized

Rate boards would soon be put

Soon a subsystem for it will be devised

And we all are lending a helping hand

But I am still not leaving it

Because it is my own land.

What strength of men

What hidden powers

Resources are never short here

To build the highest tower

Of victory in this show off world

Where developing is the tag we get

And we would remain developing

If abroad is where all our people fret

Change shall come from within

And for that we need a magic wand

Till then I am not going to leave it

Because it is my own land.

सिकंदर

आंधी और तूफ़ान का साया
जिसने सब कुछ हिला दिया
अन्धेरा यह कैसा छाया
जिसने रौशनी से मिला दिया
जब जीतने का जज्बा था तो
कोई सानी नही मिला
और जब डूबने की इच्छा हुई
तो कही पानी नहीं मिला
बेकार गयी हर सुरक्षा
खाली गया हर वार
जीतने पर जीत न मिली
हारने पे न मिली हार
जीत ली जब दुनिया साडी
अब और क्या मैं पाऊंगा
जीने की वजह भी हारी
अब मर के सिकंदर कहलाऊंगा
आंधी और तूफ़ान का साया
जिसने मेरा सब कुछ हिला दिया
अँधेरा यह कैसा छाया
जिसने मुझको आज रूला दिया
खड़ा अकेला उस छोटी पर
ढूंढ रहा करने को काम
नीचे लोग आवाज़ दे रहे
बुला बुला के मेरा नाम
दे कर मैं उनको सहारा
सब को ऊपर लाऊंगा
यूह अकेला मर की भी मैं
ज़िन्दगी से क्या पाऊंगा
होगा अन्धेरा ऊपर मेरे
पर रौशनी तो निचे है
मंजिल चाहे आगे हो पर
साथी मेरे पीछे है
मर गया सिकंदर जी कर
क्या उसने खुद से पाया
पूरी दुनिया को हरा के
आखिर में तो ज़हर खाया
आखिर में तो ज़हर खाया

Last blog entry on this Valentines Day

My last blog post on this special occasion of Valentines Day. So talking about the most well commercialized relationship A.K.A. love, I was told by someone today that why are we supposed to express all our love on a single day in a year?

Well that was a very good question but since none of us gets much time to spend with our loved ones (especially if they are in another college or worse in another city), occasions like birthdays, Valentines day etc etc (though I know there may not be too many of them) may be able to bring that spark back for some time. It provides a reason for lovers to meet. And that is the purpose of such days, to remind you how important people are in your life. Like it’s the mother’s day when you truly appreciate what all has your mother done for you. So recognizing all that once a year is atleast better than not doing it.

Then people come back to the old discussion that true love does not require reasons and excuses. To this I would say that true love does not exist. It is too absolute to be true and as I say it, “This world is too relative to have anything absolute to exist in it.” If my sitting is also relative to that of the frame of earth, then how can something like love be absolute which is far too complex?

Simple answer to this is it is not and what we can only do is inch closer to that perfect thing high above us. Wishing you all a very romantic year ahead. Keep inching towards absoluteness. Kudos.

मैं कौन हूँ?

लहरों से आगे

आसमानो के नीचे

दूर उस ज़मीन पर

जो अकेला बन्दा खड़ा है

वोह मैं हू

हर पल जो किसी को ढूंढती रहती है

वोह मेरी नज़रें है

और जो तुम्हारे सीने में धड़कता है

वोह ही मेरा दिल है

पर मैं हू कौन?

मैं लाभ हू

मैं हानि हू

मैं आग हू

मैं पानी हु

मैं ही राजा

मैं ही रानी हू

मैं किसी शिरी का फरहाद हू

मैं किसी के दिल की फरियाद हू

किसी का सपना हू

किसी का अपना हू

और जिसका पराया हू

उसका भी मैं अपना हू

जब तुम्हे भूक लगती है

तो मैं खाना हू

जब ठंड

तो मैं धूप बन जाता हू

और गर्मी में साया भी मैं ही हू

हर दिल का मुझसे नाता है

और हर दिमाग का मुझसे रिश्ता

कोई मुझे भगवान् कहता है

कोई फ़रिश्ता

पर हु तो मैं तुम्हारा ही हिस्सा

बस देखो तो सही

खुद ढूंढते हो तुम

अपने लिए धुप, साया और खाना

प्यार के लिए भी

तुम्हे कही और नही जाना

सब तुम में ही है

तुम ही एक दुनिया हो

तुम ही हो एक संसार

तुम्हे ही मिलती है हर जीत

तुम्हारी ही है हर हार

मैं हू कही

पर भूल के मुझे

करो अपना काम

और हर गलती का

मुझपे न लगाओ इलज़ाम

क्युंकी मैं लहरों से आगे

आसमानो के नीचे

दूर उस ज़मीन पर

अकेला खड़ा हू

नज़रें चाहे सब पे हो

पर हाथ सबसे दूर

हाथो का है तुमसे ही रिश्ता

क्युकी चाहे भगवान् मैं हू

तुम ही हो अपना फ़रिश्ता

Love

Love is not dependent on age or face

It does not change with time or space

Love is not something we call as art

Love is every soul’s integral part

So let the haters get away with unfair

Since happiness is not hatred’s heir

Love shall always be prosperity’s mother

And love blossoms from one to another

It may have begun in one’s prime

But it gradually goldens with time

The two look into each other’s eyes

And purges away the darkness and lies

Even after those the end of lusty days

They don’t have to think of a praise

And the time finds it complete use

Them who shall never seek an excuse

Love is always new unlike art which grows old

And it keeps the blood warm when its too cold

So what has kept my eyelids open

Even after exhaustion on a weary night?

Love seems to have made me blind

Love seems to have takne my sight

And the love that is still not found

Want to fly but I am still on ground

I may have to rethink about my speed

But actually there is certainly no need

When even Ferrari shall seem to be slow

I am in love, its then I shall know

And I do not need to keep up the pace

Because it is not a bloody race

And with that sweetness, I have to live

That truth may not be able to give

And I want something very closely knit

Away from all lies, away from all wit.