Tam ko Naman

Vish peene ki kshamta ho gar
Haath me le le kali hala
Aankhon mei hon gar angaare
Sheesh jhukakar ga le aalha
Vishv tera gar simat raha ho
Jap le tu nav tam ki mala
Ye kshanbhangur deewali hai
Jal ja tu ban aahutishala
Harsh mein vismit daud raha hai
Rok lo usko, tod do vada
Yeh teri nishchit majboori
Tu hi saki.... tu hi hala

Ek Khayal

Zaroorat ban gaye ho, khuda na bano

Mujhe butparasti ki aadat nahi hai.

Full Circle

"This was your first home." Had chuckled Ma staring at the structure after what had seemed eons. A sultry Dehradun afternoon and an uncanny familiarity with the old colonial bunglow made me feel restless. I wanted to explore the house and ask those resposible - "Why would you partition such a beautiful bunglow into three?" It was FRI after that. The majestic academic building and huge lawns. We stood by the side of a gravel path and looked upward. Mussorie in all its innocence, completey unaware of me was a picture in tranquility. "Thats where we have the academy, as a child you were learning to walk in the corridor connecting kitchen with sitting room in the course director's bunglow," she wasn't done yet. "You were fascinated by the sight of gentlemen officers on horse backs and would clap aloud. Alas, you will not understand. ..... Well each to his own."

This was about 3 years ago and the clapping was summer of 1982.

As our car took the Rajpur road on the 30th, and familiarity began to knock hard, the above conversation played like a feature in my mind. With every hair pin bend and a gain in altitude, I was trying to answer myriad questions, some exstential and some prosaic. Is this homecoming, or the mountains were up to their usual trickery? Am I not the same person who defended vehmently, his idea of serving in the private sector. Did I not force myself to believe that Mussorie was a hill station best avoided because it would remind me of a place I should have been to but wouldn't go to because of reasons galore? Did I not pin to dine at the corner table of The Savoy, overlooking Dehra and sang praises of Kasmanda Palace to a dear friend while nibbling a dosa at Lexington?

Was woken out of my reverie by a phone call, "How are you - destiny's child? Have they allotted your cadre yet? Aren't you feeling great? Would you be the sahib, will they let you wear your tweed and those detestful cufflings?......."

With a cursory reply or two I hung up and the car drove past Library Point. 2km to the academy. Alas....each to his own, I guess life has a habit of coming full circle.

I don't know - call it Blogspot's gift !

लबों को सी के, आंखों को झुकाए हुए

इस दश्त में चल रहे हैं ख़ुद से पराये हुए

कभी खुदा कभी अपनों की कभी ख़ुद की याद आती है

यह कैसी दौड़ है कि हम ख़ुद से है शरमाये हुए

ज़ुबां संभाल ओ काफ़िर कि यह रास्ते ठीक नही

खुदा के नाम पर इंसान मिटाए जाते हैं

तेरी आवारगी के आलम कुछ यूँ हैं

मील के पथ्थरों पर तेरे नाम पाए जाते हैं,

मुनासिब हो अगर मेरा खप जाना, दुआ कर कि यह आखिरी हरक़त हो

इस हश्र पर मुमकिन है कि कुछ कसीदे आ जाए, कुछ शरमाते, कुछ सकुचाये हुए

बुलंद रहे यह मौसिकी और इसके खयालों की ताज़गी, कलम को इंतज़ार रहेगा

शहीद हो चुके हैं कितने ख़यालात, कुछ निब के नीचे दबते, kuch .....hell ! Typing in hindi sucks big time, this has to be one of the most user un-friendly applications ever, they could have asked us to get a hindi keyboard and practice shusha or mangal fonts for that matter !

But I shall try again...another day another time, when patience stands by me and flow of thoughts is not hampered by gtalk going tak tak tak or blogger simply refusing to co-operate :-(

आओ हिसाब करें

ज़रा हिसाब देते जाइये, ज़िन्दगी का बही खाता है

ज़रा शर्म दिखाइए , ऊपर भी एक विधाता है

किसी ने खूब कहा उम्र मरहम देती है

चोट कुरेदते जाइये गर इसी में मज़ा आता है

फतह की आग में झुलस गए होंगे

हमारी आंखों के खारे पानी को मौका दीजिये

सुकून में न सही, मुगालतों की मैय्यत ही सही

यह बन्दा कभी न कभी तो काम आता है

चोट कुरेदते जाइये गर इसी में मज़ा आता है

मन नही किया आगे लिखने का

घात !

अश्क के बहाव थाम, होंठ पर उसी का नाम

चेतना की ओट में, स्पर्श भूल गए राम

कई बहाव आ गए, कई मंज़िलें जलीं

कोई कुछ न कर सका, हार हाथ फिर लगी

कोटि कोटि तालियों के बीच अकेले निदान

भीड़ में हो ढूंढते परिचित पलकों का झुकाव

आज वही नीर है, शब्दों की जागीर है

तरकश से निकलते हैं वही पुराने से बाण

आओ हाथ थाम लें, कटु यादों को त्याग दें

नव गगन की लालिमा में कुछ नया अलाप दें

अर्ध विराम लगा लगा के, तुम बहुत हो थक गए

नई लीक रखने के वादे कहाँ गए

आओ जमुनी तले कुछ पलों की याद में

भाव विभोर हो जीवन की फरियाद में

सुमन अर्पित करें इन चंद लम्हात को

आओ पुनः जी लें उस छोटे से घात को

When .......

When mind fails to keep up with ambient athleticism and nerves begin to burst at the seams

When eyes plan to see what you want to and the finger tips begin to feel abstract nouns

When self cries out in agony of latent mediocrity and lips tremble at the sound of I

When motives haunt your innocence and reality is a painted ship upon a painted ocean

When milieu is defined by horizon and margins creep over to occupy your pages

When sunshine shies away from you and raindrops stop just above your head

When blase sarcasm is confused for wit and words begin to dictate the poem

When lesser known fears assume unknown proportions and fullstops are welcome

Then lets talk and take the long promised walk .... ..... ..... .....