Truth

I have a Bua, and she makes amazing idlis !

Mumbai @ Apollo Bunder

Nafrat ki aag mei jal raha hai Taj ka kinara
Aansoo baha raha hai Hindostan hamara
Toot rahi aas hai, thand padi saans hai
Nariman ke saamne, shamshan ka nazara
Aansoo baha rah hai Hindostan hamara

Chalees ghanton se soch raha neta hai
Pakistan, SIMI ya mujahiddeen par phenk doon
Ya Hindu algaav ka ise naya parivesh doon
Hilton ki manzilon se aati aag badi zor hai
Is aag ki garmi mein kya kya na senk loon

Is jung ke beej hum har paanch saal bote hain
Phir bhi goli khane par zar zar rote hain
Ghaav bada gehra hai, malham ka na thikana
Veeron ki aahuti mei hothon ka thartharana
Ruk ruk kar.....Aansoo baha raha hai hindostan hamara

The Opium Peddler

Someone famously paraphrased - Cricket is the opium of Indian masses. Indeed it has been, at least in the myriad cricketing images I carry within a heart which houses more than a suffering bias towards hockey, the national sport. And it is to this opium that rich oblations have been paid by various legends of the sport in their own great and humble fashions. Some like Manjarekar and Aamre performed with the finesse of an artist and perished before one could say - this one has a promising career. While others like Abey Kuruvilla, Balaji, Chetan Chauhan et al gave that glimpse of hope Indian cricket has been in eternal wait for, but ran out of steam or were sidelined before the masses could make them part of the regular opium.

In those times when all was well with our team, after having won the world series in Australia post the world cup success, we were in an all too benevolent mood to help others with their records against us; that a strange and unsettling trend began to delve in every tricoloured cricketing kit. Our record which had been on an ascendant as tourists began to fade with rapidity unknown since days of PT Usha and the habit to choke under pressure was taken up with a regularity seen only in the then automatic HMT watches. It is in these trying times that the most unfortunate sportsman of the century made his debut and went on to become the pillar around which the coming Indian teams started playing ring-a-ring-a-roses. Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar had not only to put up with opposition from other ranks but also from within is own team, what with half the batsmen always hell bent upon committing suicide or something close to that in every alternate match, oblivious of the venue. Volumes can be written and a Shakespearean tragedy documented on the miserable state of Ms Tendulkar and Sons, what made the situation worse was the fact that the poor lad was blamed for Indian debacles and he was expected to do everything right not only in his game but apparently for everyone else as well. The century knocks against Australia in Sharjah stand testimony to the brilliance and endurance of the little master. And the team's collapse on the freshly laid Eden Garden pitch in the 1996 Semi Final against Sri Lanka is a complete example of the frequent Russian Roulette played around Tendulkar.

But all that was to change with the entry of a haughty, arrogant, undisciplined, egotistic and lethargic bloke who toured England due to political reasons. Saurav Chandidas Ganguly announced his arrival with a flair that was to become his keep for the rest of his illustrious and entertaining career. A very unlucky Rahul Dravid, from under whose nose Dada stole limelight, stood and watched the master of offside unleash an incomparable century on debut at Lords. He went on to do greater things than that, but the idea was simple - I am here to outperform, the bloody opponents and if need be the bloody team ! Seldom does any sportsman ride a sinusoidal love-hate wave as Saurav did till today for various reasons including cricket. In an uncharacteristically humble fashion he claims - We all decided to do something about the non performance overseas. And he took a lot many such decisions, at times in collusion with his illustrious team mates and at others in confines of the unique cricketing brain. Be it, promoting youngsters in the team or bowling himself in Sahara Cup against Pakistan, be it making Steve Cool Waugh wait for 5 minutes before every toss or arriving 5 minutes early in jumpers on being reprimanded - Saurav did it the way he wanted to. The life and times of Saurav Ganguly deserve a great canvass and the best artist, yet I write because I have a reason -

Never before has anyone in public life been so aggressive and fought so hard for a cause so dear, never before did someone enthuse team spirit of such degree which could ignite an entire nation, never before did I see our arch rivals being taken to cleaners with a professionalism, teams of the yore were incapable of, never did I feel tremors of a nationwide debate on an individual's inclusion/exclusion from a sports team!, never did one see firangs being paid in their own currency in their own land in a fashion our timid upbringings disprove of, never did I see a man play his sport and politics with such ease that it became difficult to ascertain what was his primary vocation, and never before did the departure of someone on TV, who but plays a sport and captained a silly team of a nonsensical sport moisten my eyes.

Men may come and men may go, they may bring glory to this country and may rise above odds to fight another day, but so far Mr. Ganguly you deserve a place no other public figure in recent times can hope of getting close to.......What the heck, the opium you peddled had an intoxication like none other

What Should One Write

From the silken strokeplay of Laxman, to a criminal peeing in his pants at the sight of a police inspector in 'Wednesday'; from travails of a not so young man in ultimately arranging a meeting between his folks and the soon to be arranged wife at India Gate, to the desperate claims of an old buddy at having found the real Sarah Palin sex tape on net; from the insider story of Lehman's collapse to a visibly upset uncle claiming that the inflation has hit 400% and not 12% as those in delhi would have us believe (because the prices of aaloo and pyaz were up 400% year on year) ; from a twenty something girl stating and defending the obvious advantages of consanguinity, to a hilarious note on usage of amniocentesis in raising an army of Tendulkars/Bindras/Kaushik Dashs et al; from a holiday in an old palace of a Gharwali king to hearing someone deliver to a driver - "Why should I pay you Rs 15 as basic charge, last year it was only 10, I will pay you 12, lena hai to lo"; from the launch of a puritan book weighing 3 kg to a plethora of movies and plays I missed; from the similarities between Narmada Man and Homo erectus pekinesis to the attempts at figuring what on earth did Langhnaj mean in 10 minutes flat with sarkay lo khatia blaring in the background; from the sound of my t-shirts being torn open at other end of the phone to a verbal duel in silence of the nights at what should be the ideal size of pani puris; from myriad attempts at blogging, to the eventual self harrasment and listing out of topics I had considered writing about - self abuse has today found a new low !

झुरमुट के उस ओर

पेड़ों के झुरमुट के पीछे कई नई रौशनियाँ दिखीं, बहुत घना हुआ करता था, अब हम माडर्न हो रहे हैं। शहर के कोने में किसी दुर्लभ जीव कि तरह छुपा यह सुहावना अँधेरा कुछ दिनों का मेहमान लगता है। कोई अगर इन उमरदराज़ रौशनियों को बंद कर दे तो मै अंधेरे के कुछ घूँट पी लूँ। जब मंद बयार बहती है और शहर शांत हो जाता है तब पत्तों की सरसराहट का संगीत मुझे दुकेलेपन का एहसास दिलाता है।

शायद कोई नई इमारत बन रही है, जो कुछ समय बाद पेड़ों के पीछे से अपना सर उठाएगी और आस पास की हरियाली को देख कह उठेगी कि "वाह! कितना हरा है शहर का यह कोना।" मुझे इस बात का गम नही कि कुछ और लोग यहाँ आ जायेंगे, कि कुछ और गाड़ियां इन कम इस्तेमाल होने वाली सड़कों पर दौड़ेंगी या देर रात गए किसी कि गाड़ी के रिवर्स होने का ऐलान सुनाई देगा, मुझे इस बात की भी फ़िक्र नही कि जिस अंधेरे में देखने का मै आदी हूँ उस अंधेरे में कुछ बत्तियां नज़र आयेंगी या हवा के एक रुख को यह इमारत रोक लेगी। मुझे गम इस बात का है कि जब वहां कि किसी बालकनी में बैठा कोई पेड़ों के झुरमुट के उस और से मेरी तरफ़ देखेगा तो यही कहेगा कि झुरमुट अगर थोड़ा और घना होता तो कैसा होता। और जब किसी नई इमारत कि नींव पड़ेगी तो वह एक कलम लिए कागज़ रंग रहा होगा इस गम में कि मेरा झुरमुट और छितरा गया।

मुझे इंतज़ार है अपने गम में शरीक होने वालों का।

कागज़ कलम वालों का, हरियाली खोने वालों का॥

High Bread

A: Hmm....... So whats the story, where have you been?

B: Kahin nahi, here only I was, can you pass that slice of bread

A: Can you answer my question and not stare at your tea and bread like a moron

B: Ya.... question, your question, what about it.....I was around, as always

B: Can you pass some more bread, does the pot have any more tea ?

A: Dude, I am asking you....... where were you ?

A: Cut that assinine all knowing smirk, wtf do you think you are !

B: Some more bread please.................................................please !!

A: You come from middle of nowhere, act your usual self and expect me to sit and watch

B: Do I need a shave, would it hurt if I were to get close to her

B: BTW, does the stuble suit me ? I think it does, at least when it is dark

B: Someone needs to write about my stuble before its gone, oh god !

A: Ok, one last time - WHERE WERE YOU !

B: ......hh....calm down; there is lots more tea to go

A: I don't care my third foot for the tea and these bread crumbs hanging around your face, are you going to tell me or not !

B: You are scary, ever considered banking ?

B: Pass on some bread please

A: Tell me, I promise to be nice to you

B: The music is too loud, can someone lower the volume, change the language and retain the lyrics

A: Ok, allright! Here .... I have turned it off

B: Good, now....... pass some bread

A: No I can't, this is the last piece

B: When did you develop a liking for bread, pass it on

A: No I wont, you will leave once its over

B: To leave once its over is always the idea kid....... learn

B: Do ayurvedic docs take their own medicines

A: Ok, what should I do

B: Appreciate my stuble, tell me if you want me to get you something which I can't

B: Or....try using english next time

A: Do you have to go ?

B: Yes....there is no more bread

A: That was the biggest loaf so far........when do I see you next

B: Next.....when you have questions to ask and I need tea and bread

B: Tra la la....

Kuch Nahi...Aise Hi...Aaj Mai Maun Hoon

Kahan kahan bhatak rahe hain shoonya chitt raaste

Tujhi ko dhoondh dhoondh ke huye hain past raaste

Too aaj bhi yaqeen hai, too aaj bhi chupa hua

Too aaj bhi dimag mei, hriday mei hai basa hua

Prshansaneeya hai mera tujhe yun dhoondhna guru

Tu woh kapaat hai prabhu jo khul ke na khula hua

Aseem tap kiye huye aadambari bhi dhoondhte

Achoot kehlate huye woh 'dalit' bhi hain poojte

Hai majal ki tere darshan mile kahin kabhi

Aaine ke saamne mai sadaiv tha khada hua

Ghee, doodh, naivedya, naye kahan se dhoondh laaun mai

Tere banaye phool hi tujh par chadhaun mai ?

Yeh khel hai, prem hai, ya rachnatmak lekh hai

Bahut kahaniyan suni, ab kaun sa yeh vesh hai

Prachand agni ki tarah kampit swar mein bol doon

Ya raag malhar mein chaashni sa ghol doon

Ek hi sawal hai, ek hi jaddojahet

Tu kaun hai, tera naam kya, tu kyon hai yun basa hua

Aas...

With due apologies to BSJ and Faiz

Faiz se keh do kahin door ja marein
Itni jageh nahi hai dil-e-sharmsar mein
Kalam chala kar khushnaseeb zamindoz hain
Hum zakhm jhelte hain ulfat ke intezar mein

Khushnaseeb

Jaante ho..... kitne khushnaseeb ho tum
Allah ne tumhe sochne ke kabil hi na samjha

Alfaaz ...

Husn-e-seerat ke ghar ka pata kisi ko na tha
Husn-e-soorat ke bazaar mei boliyan lagi

Tamaam raat teri yadon ka intezar kiya
Tamaam umr isi masroofiyat mei kati
Ki tune kitni betaqallufi se mujhe tamaam kiya
Sikhane wale ne ehsaan bhi tamaam kiya

Tazagi ki khushbhu hai, jumla sunte jaiye
Kahin kisi aur se suneinge, to
Mere hisse ki hansi mari jayegi

Baarish

Garm khichadi ki bhaap mein pighalta ghee; din ke andhere mein baithak se aati Farida Khanum ki awaaz - aaj jaane ki zid na karo; stand par phaile adh-sookhe kapde; naraz samundar ke sur se sur milati tez lahrein; pahadi se neeche utarti maddham aur thandi hawa; badalon se aankh michauli khelta havai jahaz; table par rakhkhi Mr. God This is Anna, ke hawa mein palatate panne; ek ek inch khisakti gadi aur gadi ke bahar zindagi ka shor; masheeno ki tarah idhar udhar beparvah daudte log; Samundar ke kinare khada paani ki cheento se bheeg jaane ka intezar karta mai aur achanak kisi sajish ki tarah shuru hui baarish; baarish, jo kabhi thamne ka naam nahi leti, jo jeevan ke har ek zarre par apna haq samajhti aur jatati hai; baarish, jo jeevan samapt kar deti hai aur nav nirman karti hai; baarish, jo bepanah aur beparvah hai, jo kabhi muskurati to kabhi ghranit nigahon se dekhti hai; baarish, jiske saath mai rehna seekh raha hoon, yeh kehna seekh raha hoon - mere naye shaher ki nayi baarish aa tujhe aagosh mein le loon bebu ......

Dhoop..... Intezar

Ek muththi aasman lekar aaj mai ghar se nikla, mausam karvat le raha tha, kisi koonchi mein naye rang bhare ja rahe the aur savere ki suhani dhoop atkheliyan kar rahi thi. December ki woh bachpan wali subahei yaad aa gayin, jab nariyal ke tel se sar ki maalish kara hum dhoop sekne ke liye chat par baithte the aur jadoo ki tarah garma garam doodh jalebi ya samose aa jate the.

Koi sawal javab kar raha tha mujhse –

Tumne kuch naya likha kyon nahi ?

Samay hi na mila

Samay hi nahi mila ya kuch aur hai, pehle bhi to itna hi samay hua karta tha tumhare paas?

Haan par pehle likhne ke liye karan bhi hua karte the, aisa kuch hua hi nahi ki mai likhoon

Tumhe kyon hamesha kisi reason ka intezar rehta hai

Aise hi.....generally, tumhara phone kahan tha?

Yahin tha, mere paas......


Dhoop, tumhara intezar tha, tumhe chookar dekha
Tum gunguni aur sunehri, meri hatheli par khel rahi thi
Tum mujhe kisi purane baag ki or dhakel rahi thi
Jahan sookhe patte kadmo ke neeche charmarate
Tum oonche darakhton ke beech aankh michauli khelti
Kabhi mai tumhe choo lele ki koshish karta
Kabhi tum mujhko khud mein dubo leti
Dhoop, tumhara intezar tha

Hmm.... the proverbial muse

Junoon ke shikar ho, junoon ke raaste chalo
Bahut kadam rok liye, aaj mere vaaste chalo

Aadha Rasta

On a portal called LSD, posted something long-long time ago. An attempt to recollect a bit in my mother tongue –

Saath chalogi mere? Aisi do pagdandiyan jo na dishaheen hain aur na hi unhe aakhiri manzil ka gyan hai, un par chaleinge hum. Saath saath par apne apne raaston par. December ki ek khushnuma subah ki dhoop mein, garm doodh mein ghulti haldi ka rang liye sookhe patte, hamare kadmo ke neeche cheentiyon se aankh michauli khel rahe honge.

Tum taktaki lagaye kabhi aasman to kabhi kshitij mein kuch talashogi, har woh koshish karogi ki meri nazron se apni nazar bacha lo. Hum purane gaane gungunayeinge aur Bharat ek Khoj mein Roshan Seth ke kirdar ko saraheinge, hum tumhari kavita ko jiyeinge aur meri tukbandi ko theek karne ki koshish kareinge, hum darkhton aur paththaron mein aakritiyan talasheinge aur jab achanak ek hi shabd saath saath boleinge to khil khila kar hans utheinge, haan shayad batana bhool gaya - hum baat bhi kareinge, albatta nazarein churate huye. Yeh pagdanadi badi albeli hai, raaste mein tum kanto ke painepan ko samjhoge aur phoolon par machalte bhanwaron par tumhe taras aayega, hume achanak se zor ki hawa chalne par haath pakadne padeinge aur thapedo se bachne ke liye kareeb chalna padega, shayad apne apne raston ko khud b khud kareeb lana padega.

Kabhi doston ke saath jamun ke ped ko zor se hilaya hai ? Hum kuch bachchon ko rah kinare yeh karte dekheinge, ret par girte jamun bator bachche charo taraf bhageinge, kuch hamari taraf aur kuch us nehar ki or. Hum kheton ki med par chaleinge, tum mujhe bataogi ki kahan kya boya hua hai, mai nazarein bachakar tumhe dekhne ki koshish karoonga.

Fir kabhi chaleinge dost, koi sahi kehta hai, mai man lagakar soch bhi nahi sakta, aalasya ghar kar gaya hai nas nas mein…..maalik

Pocketful of Sunshine

Every living molecule of my being soaked in warm delight as electric sun rays danced on the exact spot that I stood. It was a sleepy, Sunday afternoon for most. But a testosterone submerged routine quarantines few from that luxury, and I am one of the privileged few. So I allowed myself to lapse into a mental conversation of sorts, before it would be time to yield to schedule.

A pocketful of sunshine is all it needs to send you plumbing crevices that hold jumbled-up memories of winters spent in a faraway tropical country that I call home. And where my thoughts and my mind still escape to. Garden-fresh gajar-matar ki subzi, countless afternoon hours spent sitting in the garden, shelling peanuts and then crunching them between your molars, watching the sky turn a burnt yellow and then a tired crimson, clutching tightly with both hands that adrak ki chai ka cup and letting it sear your palms in the most tender manner, and so much more.

By daytime, things are refreshingly different here too. And I see things in a different light, literally speaking! For instance, the neighbour’s curtains are beige coloured not brown as I always thought them to be. Innocuous specks of rust adorn barbed-wire fences everywhere in the world. Yes, even in America.

And that butterflies fluttering their rainbow wings still excite me. I am very tempted to break into a sprint and leap at them, as those lovely, winged creatures dodge my attempt… At that moment I think nothing of dropping to the ground my fancy overcoat, and the fancy contraptions that I carry. But that instant ticks away soon. Only if I could chase butterflies!
And then I told her.

Me: Now I know why weather, especially sunshine finds so much mention in firangs’ novels…
Her: Hmm… Okay
Me: What a tepid ‘okay’. Now I won’t tell you what I wanted to say
Her: What’s wrong with an ‘okay’. Plus, it was an encouraging one
Me: Who are you kidding?
Her: You
(silence)Me: Haan… so what was I saying? About weather…

The Critic

To recover from a work of art is an art in itself. You delve deep into the myriad possibilities created by the artist which he never takes the pain to enlist, project into a space with no ropes around to cling on to and take a shot at basically nothing - "Hmmm......beautiful, this is an extremely intense interplay of colors to highlight a symbiotic realisation vis a vis the protagonists' attempt at falsifying the fundamental reality behind narrator's take on psychic truth in the cultural ball" The only intelligible word being, ball. Ran into something extremely revolting, being praised by all and sundry, on probing an oblong shape and almost a bent arrow replied - "I don't know about art, but the food is good and so is wine and when high, I think I am a critic. " It feels nice to write in English at times.

Woh Hisse ...

Darmiyan sookhte darakhton ke, aaj jab nazar utha kar dekha toh kshitij par kahin door ek badal ka lihaf udta nazar aaya. Dagmagate kadam baarsih ki nirlajj boondon ko andekha kar badh chale, ki railing ke sahare tek lagayeinge aur oonchi imarton ko paani ke is taraf se samajhne ki koshish kareinge. mai chala, mere kadam badhe, par woh wahin reh gaya. Pehli baar nahi hua hai aisa, bahut baar peeche choot chuka hoon, is martaba baarish zor ki thi aur railing ki taraf badhti peeth zehen mein dar paida kar rahi thi. Hisse choddkar chal padna seerat na ban jaye kahin yeh dua har dar pe mang chuka hoon. Us adalat mein meri arzi pahunchti hi nahi aur jab bulayeinge tab yeh nahi dekheinge ki meri kitini koshishon ko unhone khud hi nazarandaz kar diya tha. Kaash mujhe sangeet ka gyan hota, kaash mai sur aur taal samajh sakta - kehte hain ki gaane wala apni rooh ka koi hissa chodd jata hai hamesha ke liye apni nazmo mein, kuch seekh leta ki har baar kam hote aap, kaise naye raaste tai kar lete hain ...................... mehfil-e-dard ke siva thikaane kaise mil jaate hain

Kafir ki Sangya

Mai shool nahi, pashan nahi, tarkash se nikala baan nahi
Mai tej nahi, abhiman nahi, mujhko bhasha ka gyan nahi
Mai bhoot nahi, mai yaad nahi, mai mrignayani ka aaj nahi
Mai karun vedna karte ... abhishapt yugon ka shrap nahi

Maine chaha tha man prasoon pulkit ho pehli kirno se
Maine chaha tha naav meri tar jaayein bhagwan charno se
Mai karm karoon, mai dhyan karoon, mai ras ka nav nirman karoon
Mai prem karoon, mai raag rachoo, mai sur ka nit - nit pan karoon

Mujhko vo kafir kehte hain, kehte hain mithya lobhi ho
Kanton se jhootha prem hai yeh, tum sarv karm sukh bhogi ho
Tum jhoothe chehre rakhte ho, jeevan ko manchit karte ho
Samidha ka dharan vesh kiye, tum chita prem ke jogi ho

Aisi aasha ka saath liye, na nikala tha jeevan path par
Aisa dveshlipt algaav liye, na natmastak tha tere dar par
Woh raah hi kuch aisi pakdi, woh ratein hi kuch kali thi
Tha takshshila ka rukh mera, kafir ki sangya pani thi
Tha takshshila ka rukh mera, kafir ki sangya pani thi


Jab parda girne wala hota hai, tab nepathya se jo sootradhar nikal kar aata hai use bhrankush kehte hain

Peele Kagaz aur Chelpark ki Ink

Aaj ek aur dhaga toot gaya, kal ki kuch yadon ko tatola to paya ki kahin khalipan sa tha. Kya mujhe koshish karni chahiye unhe fir se dhoondhne ki ? Kya unka itna mahatvv hai, kya ve zaroori hain mere astitv ke liye, kya mai matr ek sangya hoon bina unke ? Aise kai sawal zehen mein uthe aur kisi gaane ke aakhiri hisse mein doobte sangeet ki tarah dheere dheere khamosh ho gaye. Par yeh sawal un yadon ki tarah nahi hain, har baar panapte hain jab bhi koi dhaga toot jata hai. Ek nirantar chalti kriya hai, par mai anbhigyata ka dikhava karta andhere mein badha chala jata hoon. Gyan nahi ki path kahan le ja rahe hain aur kitne hain. Kai musafir milte hain aur bichadte hain, halanqi ab khushi is baat ki hai ki andhere mein koi dikhta nahi, woh kiska sparsh tha, woh kiske shabd the, na yaad rakhne ka prayatn hai na hi mansha. Yeh tiraskar hai ya badalte parivesh ko apnane ki antim pehel, mujhe nahi maloom, par jeevan ka satya hai. Kabhi path pradarshak hua karte the, kabhi mai raushani ke aagosh mein hasta khelta chala karta tha, na jaane kab aur kaise dhalte sooraj ke safar ko mehsoos nahi kar paya, kab pahar badle, kab shaam aayi aur kab andhere mein pehla kadam rakhkha.... pata hi nahi chala. Jab dhyan diya tab dhage tootne lage the, khud ko dilasa dena seekh liya tha aur peele kagaz par chelpark ki ink zaya ki ja rahi thi.

....nahi

Woh chamak nahi woh prem nahi, ankhon ki bichti sej nahi

More aanchal mein rang bhar de, aisa koi rangrej nahi

Aate the roz hi vyapari, shabdon ki bikvali karne

Kahin kriya nahi, ras-svad nahi, shabdon ka khilta mel nahi

Aahutiyan dene aate the, bam bole kehkar gate the

Aise bhi kapalik dekhe jinke shareer par ret nahi

Sanidhya tumhara milta gar, mai bhi shayad kuch likh leta

Ab manthan na ho pata hai, mera vaisa parivesh nahi

Kya tum kavitavli-sanrakshak ka patr ada kar paaoge

Mere haathon se le jaao, ab lagta hai yeh khel nahi