સુરા ની ઓડખાણ

શાયર તરીકે મારી ક્યારેય ના પેહચાન થઈ,
દુખ પડ્યુ નહી, ના સુરા ની ઓડખાણ થઈ,

જો ડોકિયા કરે છૅ, મારા સુખ ની પાછળ થી,
લાગણી બીજાની, આ શબ્દો ની મેહમાન થઈ,

શુ આપુ પુરાવા, વ્યથિત છુ તારી કથાઓ થી,
અશ્રુ-ભિના આ કાગળો ઉભા છે પ્રમાણ થઈ,

સુવિધા ની ગેહરી ઉંઘ ને પણ વીંધી ગયા છે
ઍ રિબાતા લોકો ના ખ્વાબ તીર-કમાન થઈ,

સુવડાવ નહી તૂ આમ, માઁ ની લૉરી બની મને,
જગાડ મૂઝ ને તૂ, હવે જગત ની રમખાણ થઈ,

શાયર તરીકે મારી ક્યારેય ના પેહચાન થઈ,
દુખ પડ્યુ નહી, ના સુરા ની ઓડખાણ થઈ

Gujarati Poem -સપના ના ઈંધણ સળગાવી ગયો છુ, - after a long time

આમ તો આ વસંત ને મારી જાણ કદી નહોતી,

તારી ઓડખાણે હવે હૂ ફાવી ગયો છુ,

કથિત કેટલી રહી અહી મારી નિષ્ફળ કથાઓ,

સફળ અંત દુખદાયી ભૂલાવી ગયો છુ,

પછી કોઈ હાસ્ય ના બાકી પડઘા નથી રેહતા,

યાદો મા માટે તને રડાવી ગયો છુ,

જીવન છે જીવવુ, નથી જીવતા રેહવુ,

વખત ના હિસાબો ચૂકાવી ગયો છુ,

સદા ભાગદૌડી રહી અહીં જીવન સફર મા,

સપના ના ઈંધણ સળગાવી ગયો છુ,

તારી આંખ ના ટપકતા ઍક અશ્રુ મા ડૂબ્યો,

નહી તો ઘણા સાગર ગટગટાવી ગયો છુ,

બસ ઍક ઓડખાણ રહી કે હૂ"તારો" રહ્યો છુ,

મરી ઉપર ગયો, ખરી પાછો આવી ગયો છુ

Day light saving - A poem

सुना है समय कल से बदलने वाला है,

सूरज को कल से एक घंटा देर से उगने की बात कह दी गई है,
सपने कल से थोड़ा और देखने की मोहलत भी ले ली गई है,
हाथों पे जैसे गोंद चिपकाए उजाला पकड़ने की बात है,
उठी आँखों को सुलाके जैसे कहना "सो आ अभी रात है"

काजल सुबह पे कोई मलने वाला है
सुना है समय कल से बदलने वाला है,

सोचता हू,

कहीं कल से चिड़िया चुप ना रहे, स्कूल-बस के इंतेज़ार में,
और नर्म ओस बरसे ही ना कल, इस बदलाव के व्यापार में,
रंग मौसम के अंधेरे में बदल ना जाए काले होकर,
सोचता हू, के दूर ना हो जाए थोड़े और कांटो की तकरार में,

एक घंटा अनाथ सा कल पलने वाला है,
सुना है समय कल से बदलने वाला है,

अजीब है,
क्रिस्मस से पहेले दिन की रोशनी को क्यों बचाना पड़ता है,
फ़र्क चंद लम्हो का किसी को भी बिलकुल नही अखड़ता है,
पर ये राजसी देश है, ठंडी में वक़्त भी बदल सकते है ये,
जब चाहे हमसे थोड़ी और दूरी बढ़ा, आगे बढ़ सकते है ये,

में जहा से आया हू, वक़्त किसी और ज़माने में थमा हुआ है,
यहाँ लोग अंजान है, आँखों पे सुविधा के कोहरे का धुआँ है,

आशा करता हू,
यहा की डेलाइट सेविंग से थोड़ी रोशनी वहाँ पे भी बढ़े,
वक़्त थोडा सा ही सही सब के लिए थोड़ा आगे ही बढ़े,

इस बार ये मौसम मुझे खलने वाला है,
सुना है, समय कल से बदलने वाला है ,

A Dummy created guide for dummies on Painting aprreciation

(Much before I write a word in this blog, I need to say, I don’t know much about paintings. This is my effort to understand and appreciate paintings. Whatever I write is assimilation of things I read or saw and some appreciation of the same that my mind could capture. )

Recently I have developed some interest in history of European painting and how society impacted art. In that context of art I want to write a small piece about the idea of "rebellion" here. We have a benefit of hindsight, and in hindsight everything looks logical. The rise of new forms of art if we look closely is one such premise. It changed and on hindsight it was all required and it was all necessary.

Let me first start with presenting you with 6 paintings. Let us not even get into the names and sequence and try to see if we can point out any difference.

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

Painting 1

I am not a Chritstian and I havent read bible, but if I see the first pic, it immediately tells me that the painter has very faithfully painted a scene from the religious book. The painter doesnt give minute details of the exact anatomy of the characters in "last supper" and he paints it with an opaque hallow and what a filmmaker would have said equally managed "depth of focus" throughout the canvas.

Every religion in this world was started as guidelines to follow a path of faith and choose a style of life. But as years passes, guidelines becomes rule and rules become law and laws become social customs. And then whatever one does, has to comply with his religion and hence for most of the work that one does one attributes it to its religion. Painters of 11th - 13th century were in a similar point in time and hence most of the paintings that was made during that period of time were as per the strict representation of bible (like the one here in pic 1 by Giotto) .

Sample one more "Madonna and child" from one of the Early Gothic Painters of that time - Duccio. (Of course there is a history of Baroque painters and classical painters before them which I don't know about and hence would not include here)

Painting 2

For every rule that you make, you will find one day a rebellion whose self-righteousness would be higher than the stringent rules of morality that you have built.

"Religion does not lie just in the name of God. Beauty does not lie just in painting the events that we preach. Development would not come with tradition but with science. There needs to be a reformation of thoughts."

The idea itself would have been rebellious and unacceptable initially. With broadening the minds, the people of this time, explored the world outside, read different books, met different people from other faith. Unflinching Christian beliefs met the Pagan painters, and hence came a revolution. A renaissance. Renaissance period saw some of the greatest artists (read Micheangelo, Leonardo da Vinci and Raphael) of all time breaking tradition and creating a form of art out of it that represented them.

Now look at Painting 2, the very famous Monalisa by Leonardo Da Vinci, and compare it to the first one.

Ah! there we notice, the focus is on the central figure, there are no boundaries at points were boundaries are not needed. You don't see the well defined corners of eyes and edges of smile. It turns enigmatic when you keep looking at her closely. Eyes look real, staring right through you to a point beyond and the supremacy of her being is felt as you see her smile along with. Perfection of her anatomy and detailing of her structure makes Monalisa intriguing. She is no fairy or God, she is someone we know. And that I believe was why renaissance changed the face of painting for ever. It brought a perspective of the painters, to the viewer. Work was no longer a representation of events but it was recreation.

Let us look at 2 more of these paintings, one by Michelangelo and one by Raphael. The paintings started getting complex with renaissance maturing in age.

This form of painting then became a tradition. Painters kept using the dark brown, light brown and cream to paint people around. There would be focus created from a single source of light and its impact on subject of painting keeping the darker parts in black. Brush strokes got lighter at places, features got more and more perfect, the color palette was getting confined to a set of colors and frames. The whole form of painting was ideal to draw portraits of people. But with advance of camera, the whole art of painting a portrait as documentation of having "being", lost its meaning. Tradition of creating the perfect Davids and creating deeply intriguing Monalisas had to change.


Painting 3

A new form had to emerge that captured the passion a person felt when he was with nature. That did not give importance to "human forms" but paid its ultimate tribute to the nature. A form of painting that represented the impressions the nature and environment left on the painter. And hence were born the rebellions of the 19th century- the impressionists. Painters who would not be accepted in their societies for a long long time for moving away from the "beauty" of painting. for using colors that were never used for showing a passion in harsh strokes. Painters like Monet, Manet, Vincent Van Gogh, Gaugin, Cezanne, Toulouse Lautrec, Rousseau and with them the city of France defined an era. The famous painting 3 here is the most celebrated of Van Gogh's collection - Starry night.

Here are a few other paintings. Notice how Claude Monet makes light solid and the view misty in his painting.



And how Lautrec captures the amoral burning passions in his paintings.


And the way the brilliant Van Gogh captured the colors of nature. It was as if they had seen a new world.

Impressionist movement too, in a manner captured the beauty. Beauty of simplicity, beauty of pain, beauty of the rigor of life and so on. Importance was given to the feelings that were invoked in a painter / viewer on watching a scene. The inner feelings on how the subject must have felt, thought or would have been from its core was not given as much importance. The painters who talked of bible, of Gods, of kings and of nature had to be shadowed by the ones who painted a perceptive being more often then physical ones. Expressions were to be brought to shock the world over the impressions. And came the expressionists.

Painting 4

What do you notice?

My first note was nudity. The bare breasted female who looks neither shy nor seductive. Paintings like these and its theme from Gustav Klimt, Scheile and likes had created an uproar of sorts with their works. And with it they brought secession and the expressionist movement to Vienna.

Not that the painters before did not use nudity, but they used it in its purest forms. In creating something that was as beautiful as the nature that created them. But expressionists were different, nudity was not just "ornamental" but was also "real" with these painters. The perfection of form was not important with these paintings, what was important was to say what the character felt.

Here in this painting by Gustav Klimt, we see beautiful Judith, who has just made an army legend fall in love with her dance, and made him give his head for her, stands with his head in her hand. She is not showing that pride on her face. It was her work, and she did it. She had to. There is a sense of detachment with the achievement on her face. She represented what stood for "Femme Fatale" in that time. She did not have the glass ceiling that the females of that age had to fight with. These painters brought the feelings of the subject out.

A handsome man like Egon Schiele, was at many point so much obsessed with his ugly feelings that he drew paintings that were portraits of his feelings more than his being. It was this that was so different with Expressionist.


Not that these painters could not have painted something beautiful. Infact in their life they did portray beauty in many forms but for their paintings, they were known for its expressions. Consider this painting by Richard Grestl, whose personal life was as much in turmoil as the painting of her lover and her husband and the family he made. If we dummies look at it without having a background and context, we might as well find it ugly.


Appreciating the art of this time and the times that came later, becomes difficult and needs some efforts and thoughts from the viewer. At times they might look inaccessible all together.


Painting 5

With technological advances of photography, the art of painting was going to get more analytical. It looks very logical on the hindsight. But there had to be a set of painters who would have to change the existing trends back then. And then came painters who broke the whole painting in parts and with passion of impressionists and eloquence of expressionists, they added their analysis. They created a new form of art out of painting- Cubism.

This painting number 5 by Pablo Picasso represents that abstraction of feelings and analysis that came in to the art of painting. Painting moved above just being sensory, it became intellectual. I still have not got enough of understanding of this art and the new art that followed it. This painting represents the 3 musicians.

It took me quite some reading to find out an example on what he was trying to do. Consider this painting by the impressionist painter Paul Cezanne. Its called portrait of Ambroise Vollard.

Picasso made his version of this great art dealer. A dealer whose head understood the complexity of the dealing. He promoted Picasso also and here is Picasso's version. The painting had become analytical and Surreal. It was a portrait of a person who in its part was not there, but existed in entirety with his own interpretations.


The art was heading towards a path which would get more and more complex. And the new art, the modern art (I believe there always had been modern art in every era, Renaissance was also modern art and so was impressionism), went beyond the means of what was traditionally known as painting.

Painting 6

The last painting in the set of 6 is that by Andy Warhol. He was not just a painter. He juggled with painting, film making and printing and in many ways he managed to create an art out of creating hybrids out of each of it. Here is one more by Andy Warhol.

Not sure whom to put here but here are a couple of paintings by Rene Magritte, that I thought were brilliant :

A painting of pipe, that says, "this is not a pipe". Well weird isn't it. But true, this is not a pipe, its a painting of pipe. That is what he called "treachery of image". Here is one more surreal painting from him that I thought was interesting. It is called "Not to be reproduced".





At every point in history some or the other artist have grown beyond a point, took a different direction and has defined the movements in decades to come.


There is much more as more and many have been generated outside the form of paintings and with its extension from comics, to animation, from logo making for business brands to graffitti. There has been lot about photorealism, conceptual art, fractal images that I want to read and know but have no idea about . But that is what art is today. Boundaries of medium have merged, digital medium is partnering the painting to form a new form of art. I have no idea about how :) and so would stop here.

But look back on history of anything and you will find a set of brave people, who did things differently. They lived their life, struggling to get accepted, for their belief that they were doing something that would stay longer than their struggle. The time they got accepted the directions changed. With hindsight it all looks logical and chronological. But do you think it could have been different? Do you think expressions could have come before impressions and impressions after film-making. I doubt that. Somewhere for everything whether it be art or since, there is a beginning and that beginning will go on to its logical path till end. And there will be people, there will be events that will define this path. And so has it been with paintings.

So if you are accepted by everyone around, you are not going to change anything :).

There is a lot you can read about the art periods and its influences on net, this was no where close to those details but it had just been a dummies guide created by a fellow dummy. Hope you enjoyed it.

कुछ अलग ही ये generation है,

ठाठ अलग है बात अलग, कुछ अलग ही ये generation है,

“आज की सोच”, “मेरा क्या”, “limelight ” ही obsession है,

नक्सलवाद या बाढ़ के माने, अब कुछ मुस्किल से लगते है,

Filmstars के affairs की gossip,इनकी news का विश्लेषण है



माँ बाप से एक gap बना हुआ है, जिसमे कुछ frustration है,

दो साल में सिर्फ़ तीन affairs! ज़िंदगी के अब नये equation है,

Mythology सब boring है, History के lesson भी irritation है,

हनुमान है cartoon अब, महाभारत बस जैसे playstation है,





waste है बातें राजनीति की, और कहना महेंगा ये बेसन है,

जो सिर्फ़ रातों को जाग सके, life ऐसी fasttrack celebration है,

traffic signal पे भूखा बचपन जब , थैई थैई कर नाचे तब

wine की price hike में छुपा कोई इनका food inflation है



हर साल नये tattoo पे नये नामो का impression है,

राधा-कृष्ण का प्यार भी "no strings attached" relation hai,

शायद में ही समज नही पाया, ये क्या change है क्या fashion है,

मुझको लगता रहता भारत के युवा बन रहे पश्चिम के imitation है

माँ तेरी बातें

है याद मुझे कहानी किससे वो बचपन के,
संगीत जो चमच बजाती थी वो बरतन पे,
सत्यवादी एक राजा और था भीम बलवान,
याद है धीरे कछुए ने ली खरगोश की शान,

वो याद मुझे है अचरज एलिस की बातो मे,
चूहे, बंदर सब नाचे थे जो शेरो की बारातो में,
नागराज और एक चाचा साबु संग ग़ज़ब थे,
बेगानी शादी में वो अब्दुल्लाह नाचते तब थे,

हररोज़ मुझे कहानी सुना तू आराम से सोती,
और मेरे बचकाने सवालो पे अपनी नींद खोती,
पर माँ, ये दुनिया उन कहनिओ से अलग है,
सच बता माँ, क्या तू ये देखती तो खुश होती?

झूठ भरा है सब मे यहाँ पे, निर्धन सारे बेचारे है,
दौड़ लगा सब भाग रहे है, किसी घड़ी के मारे है,
तेनाली सारे भूखे मरे और कौए खाते है मोती,
सच बता माँ, क्या तू ये देखती तो खुश होती?

जीवन की रंगीनियो में, प्यार का कोई रंग नही,
नही आए राजकुमार, रेपूंज़ेल टावर पे सड्ती रही,
काँटे उगते है , माँ जब तू यहाँ आम है बोति,
सच बता माँ, क्या तू ये देखती तो खुश होती?

रामराज की बात नही, रामनाम की राजनीति,
बडो का आदर सिखाते श्रवण की नही आपबीती,
कहते ये बच्चे पापा को प्रवीण, तुजको "ज्योति",
सच बता माँ, क्या तू ये देखती तो खुश होती?

जिस "बापू" की बातों में तुजको नयी आस थी दिखती,
सत्य, अहिंसा प्रेम सभी यहाँ उसकी नोटो पे बिकती,
सूरज-कंचन, धूंप-चाँदी, वो सुबह कभीना होती
सच बता माँ, क्या तू ये देखती तो खुश होती?

ऐसी ये दुनिया है, जहाँ तेरी कहानी कोई सच नही
कोई सीख ना चलती है, सच मानी वो भी सच नही,
फल की चिंता रहती है, ना फल, ना चैन हम पाते है,
माँ तूने जो भी सिखाया, किसी और दुनिया की बातें है

(quite a few spelling mistakes here, on a review :). Its difficult to type in English and see it getting typed in Hindi)

ख्वाबिदा हम

पिंजरो के संग उड़ते कौओ के, फलक सी है दुनिया ये,
तू भी एक क़ैद परिंदा है, यहाँ में भी एक परिंदा हू,

जब जिस्म जलाते रूहो को, झूठ से मन बहलाके बोलो,
तू भी एक जो ज़िंदा है , यहाँ में भी एक जो ज़िंदा हू,

बड़े घरो में अकेले रहनेवालों के, इस अंजान शहर का,
तू भी तो एक बाशिंदा है, यहाँ में भी एक बाशिंदा हू,

जिससे जले बच्चे और लूटे शर्म, ऐसी पहचान से अपनी ,
तू भी तो शर्मिंदा है, यहाँ में भी एक जो शर्मिंदा हू,

बेजान खन्डर के ढाँचे में बैठ, अब राजमहल की बातों में
तू भी तो ख्वाबिदा है, यहाँ में भी एक जो ख्वाबिदा हू
 

में तब से फूल तोड़ता हू

जब आँगन में छोटे पौधो पे,
गुलाब के एक दो फूल लगते थे,
जब कांटो की चुभन पे मम्मी,
गीला कपड़ा लगा फूँक से सहलाती थी,
में तब से फूल तोड़ता हू

फिरउन फूलों को जामुन के संग,
लंच बॉक्स में स्कूल ले जाया करता था
पर वहाँ दोस्तो को मिलने से पहेले,
हर फूल मूर्ज़ा के मरता था,
जब नानी ताज़े फूलों को मंदिर में सजाती थी,
में तब से फूल तोड़ता हू

फिर जब कुछ पौधे पेड़ बने,
तो धूप से बच के संग में उसके,
पेड़ो की छाँव में मूँगफली ख़ाता था,
जब मोगरे की महेक उसको प्यारी लगती थी,
में तब से फूल तोड़ता हू,

और एक दिन किसी बारात के गेंदे को देकर,
मैने तुमसे जीवन भर का साथ माँगा था,
तुम ना मिली पर सारे गुलाब तुम्हारे,
अब भी तुमपे लिखी कविताओ के बीच सोते है,
जब से बँध कविताओ में महेक सारी लगती है,
में तब से फूल तोड़ता हू

अब सब फूल मुरझा गये है,
एक ऋतु है, और संग कोई नही,
कल की ही बात है,
चल बसा वो एक दोस्त जो बुढ़ापे तक साथ रहा था,
में पोते को ले उसके घर गया तो,
पोते को देखा उसकी फोटो पे से फूल तोड़ते,
पास वो आके बोला दादाजी,
हम आपके लिए ऐसा ही फूल रखेंगे,
बनावटी है तो कभी मुरझाएगा नही,
वो अब से फूल तोड़ रहा है,
में तब से फूल तोड़ता हू,
सोचता हू,
अगर ज़िंदगी में सारे रिश्ते
बनावटी फूलों से सजाए होते,
तो ख़ूसबु ना होती पर कुछ कभी मूरजाता नही

 

मेरे सपनो में परवाज़ नही

जो पड़ोसी के बच्चे को खिलाए,जो अपनी संतान को जग से मिलाए,
गुज़रते जनाज़ो को देख रुके जुका सर,अब वो लोग नही वो बात नही,

सब कल की बातो से है, है सब गीत पुराने, थे पाँच रहे जो संग हमेशा,
टेबल की थाप पे, मेरे सुर में गाते थे, अब वो दोस्त नही वो साज़ नही,

अपनी जन्नतो के मारे है हम भी, बेकारी के बादशाह है हम खास नही,
मेरी माँ,बाबूजी मेरे, मेरा बचपन वो यार मेरे, पूंजी वॉ मेरे पास नही,

आरक्षण है, संरक्षण नही, जगह जो भी मिलती है जैसे हो दान मिला,
परमेश्वर है लक्ष्मी पे हाथ उठाते, रोकने वाली वो बच्चों की आवाज़ नही,

आज़ादी की बात छिड़ी तब, माता की जय बोल शहीद हर गली से उभरे,
इंक़लाब की है ज़रूरत आज हमे तो, अब जो बचे भगत वो जाँबाज़ नही,

बह दुनिया के सागर में अपने जहाज़ ने जो जीते थे अब वो ताज नही,
मेरी काग़ज़ की कश्ती डूबती जाती है, अब मेरे सपनो में परवाज़ नही

छोटू का सिलसिला

राम-राम, अस्सलाम-वाले-कू, गुड मॉर्निंग सर,
में छोटु, बेचता हू सेठ की बनाई चाइ तैयार कर,
कोई "साला", कोई "ठिन्गु", कोई गाली दे हस्ता है,
में सबको सलाम करता हू, रूपीए ले खिसकता हू,
किसीने नही पूछा, क्या है तेरी स्कूल की पढ़ाई का?
ढाई रूपीए दे, चाइ पे लेते मज़ा चुनावी लड़ाई का,
कोई कभी प्यार से एक बार पूछे भी घर कहा है?
सुन फूटपाथ घुर्राते दूर रहे पास क्या कर रहा है?
कभी किसी को मेरी बात राज़ ना है आई यहा,
में छोटू हू, में बेचता हू सेठ की गर्म चाइ यहाँ,

फिर एक रोज़ सामने की होटेल में हुड़दंग मचा,
किसी आतंकवादी ने था ग्राहक का स्वांग रचा,
अफ़रा तफ़री मची हुई थी गोली की आवाज़ो में,
कितनी लाशें बिछी पड़ी थी वहाँ के दरवाजो में,
में तब वॉचमेन को चाइ पिलाने गया हुआ था,
दौड़ के जान बचाई थी, सच, जान का जुआ था,
कॅमरा किसी चॅनेल का हमको देख गया था तब,
कुछ लोगो का हाथ पकड़ दौड़ बहारे आए थे जब,
फिर सब आके घेर गये मुझे, बोला में "हीरो" था,
एक छोटी सी जान से जाने बचाई था में वीरो सा,
में डर से काँप रहा था, वो बोले अपनी बात सुना,
"कैसा लग रहा है?" "कौन घर में रहता साथ सुना"
तुम हो हमारी कवर स्टोरी, बता हुआ कब कहाँ
में छोटू हू, में बेचता हू सेठ की गर्म चाइ यहाँ,

लाशों को छोड़ दरवाज़ों में, मुझको सारे पूच रहे थे,
कुछ नेता, मीडीया सब, फिर नाम मेरा बुझ रहे थे,
"ये देखिए ये जाँबाज़ बच्चा", "थोड़ा पाउडर लगा दे"
मेने सच बता दिया, में ने कुछ नही किया कही पे,
में डरा हुआ था, में भाग रहा था सब के साथ वहाँ,
में छोटू हू, में बेचता हू सेठ की गर्म चाइ यहाँ,
फिर एक साहब आया बोला किसको उठा लाते हो,
बनाओ दूसरा बच्चा स्टोरी, इसकी तनख़्वा पाते हो,
फिर किसीको पैसे दे बुलवाया, पूछा तुमने क्या सहा,
उसने आँसू संग होसला दिखा सबकुछ ठीकठाक कहा,
में फिर डर के उस ज़हरीली ठंडी में, रोड पे सोने चला,
वो भीड़ गा रही थी अब भी उस छोटू का सिलसिला,
उस रात फूटपाथ -माँ ने आके सपनो में यही कहा
तू छोटू है, तू बेचता है अपने सेठ की गर्म चाइ यहाँ
तू वो खून वो मौत ना भूलना, और ऐसे मत डरना,
अगली बार छोटू नही बनना, छोटू की तू छबि बनना
अब सोजा कल सुबह बहुत भीड़जमा होगी यहाँ,
तू अपना काम करना, बेचना सेठ की गर्म चाइ वहाँ

खुद से चाहिए

साइकल पे तेज़ हवाओं में पाया था जो,
चेहरे पे वोही सुकून, मुझे अब रुक के चाहिए

हवा से भड़क उठा, बुझ के पड़ा था जो,
होसला मुझको उस सा, अब दुख से चाहिए,

तू है खुदा? था कहा दुनिया की मौत पे,
शिनाख्त तेरे वजूद की, अब रुख़ से चाहिए,

हर जुंग की वजह है, दानापानि किसी का,
मुजको उम्मीद अमन की, अब भूख से चाहिए,

सर कटा सकते थे आज़ादी की खोज में,
तेरी पनाह में वोही मुझे, अब झुक के चाहिए

अपनो की भीड़ मे , में में नही रहा,
अपनी ही पहचान मुझको, अब खुद से चाहिए,

Love For Couplets

There is something very specific about poetry in Indian language that is different from its English counterparts - The art of writing poetry in couplets. A couplet that is complete in itself, in its meaning and its story and also fits in to the overall poetry made out of these beautiful couplets together. I am not thinking hard as I am typing this. I would like to go through a few of my favourite couplets as they come to my mind. I am not keeping it constrained by a theme / poet / Language. Ghazal writing - the form for which the couplets are created is a very strong form created in Urdu and the style has over the years been adopted by Hindi and Gujarati poets too. Many poets believe that Ghazal's are the most heart touching write-ups of a poet, as Mariz (A Gujarati Poet) writes :
હોઈ ઉર્દૂ ની ઓથ કે હોઈ ગુર્જરી ની ઑ મરીઝ,
ગઝલો ફકત લખાઈ છે, મોહબ્બત ની ઝબાનમા
Which can be roughly translated to :
चाहे लू उर्दू की या लू गुजराती की कसम मरीज़,
ग़ज़ले सिर्फ़ लिखी जाती है , मोहब्बत की ज़ुबान में
And there have been years of poetry that has experimented in this mixing of languages. One of the best and the one of the oldest that I remember is by Amir Khusro (1253-1325). Thinking that this kind of mastery of mixing persian with Braj bhasa existed centuries back, humbles our mind (In the first verse, the first line is in Persian, the second in Brij Bhasha, the third in Persian again, and the fourth in Brij Bhasha.)
ज़ीहाल-ए मिस्कीन मकुन तघाफुल,
दुराए नैना बनाए बतियां;
की ताब-ए हिजरां नदाराम ए जान,
ना लेहो काहे लगाए छातियाँ
Which can be translated (Source : Wikipedia) as :
Do not overlook my misery
Blandishing your eyes, and weaving tales;
My patience has over-brimmed, O sweetheart
Why do you not take me to your bosom?
There are a lot of couplets like these that I admire and are timeless.And I truly belive that writing something contemporary is as difficult as such timeless pieces. The one that I like in the contemporary ones is a couplet by Javed Akhtar on the burgeoning city life :
उँची इमारतो से मकान मेरा घिर गया,
कुछ लोग मेरे हिस्से का सूरज भी खा गये
And the poets keep on writing a lot on God, on lost love, on philosophies of life, on emotions, on love and everything that they see around. Every poet has a past and has a story to tell along with. Nida Fazli whose life like that of poets like Saahir had been impacted by parition of our country writes about worshipping God in these beautiful lines :
Ghar se Masjit bahut door hai, chal aa yun kar le,
Kisi Rote hue Bachhe ko hasaya Jaye,
Nida fazli has written such beautiful verses, including the idea of innocence of kids that most of those lines have been memorable for me. For example.
Bachhon ke chhote haathon ko, Chaand Sitare chu lene do,
Chaar Kitaabein padh kar ye bhi ham jaise ho jayenge.
I remember a similar nice line from Javed Akhtar that talks of how the kids of today's world are getting smarter :
Chaand mein budhiya Buzurgo mein khuda dekhe,
Bhole itne bhi ab ye bachhe nahi hote
This idea of conveying the start and end of life in terms of childhood and old age has been used by umpteen number of poets and have been used really well. But there were poets and there was Ghalib. The great Mirza Ghalib, who with an air of above the world feeling, wrote :
Baazicha-e-Atfal hai duniya mere aage,
Hota hai sab-o-roz tamasha mere aage,
(Baazicha - e - Atfal = Playground of kids)
And many poets who have been disenchanted with the society and life and the world in general have written things that would mean a world to many poetry lovers like us. Saahir writes beautifully about the idea (And this was sung by Mhd.Rafi with equal finnesse)
Tang aa chuke hai kasm-e-kash-e-Zindagi se hum,
Thukra na de jahaan ko kahi bedili se hum
Saahir famously had a life of failed love affairs and this also goes with lives of many other poets. Poetry hence is created from the indepth feeling of not getting the beloved. Mariz explains how his words have become his own enemies in this couplet,
Mujh par Sitam kari gaya, mari ghazal na sher,
Vaanchi ne rahe chhe e koik bijana khayal ma
which can be translated to :
Mujh par sitam dha gaye, meri ghazal ke sher,
Padh padh ke kho rahe hai wo kisi aur ke khayal mein
A similar emotion as conveyed by Saahir, about a lost passionate love affair, can be found in the following 4 lines that he wrote for a song :
Tumhe bhi koi uljhan rokti hai peshkadmi se,
Mujhe bhi log kehte hai ki ye jalwe paraye hain,
Mere humraah bhi rusvaaiyaan hai mere maanzi ki,
Tumhare saath bhi guzari hui raaton ke saaye hai
A Gujarati poet - Gani Dahiwala in a very famous Gazal of his says this about comparison of his love with the beloved who got separated as :
Tame Raaj Raani na Chir sam, Ame Rank Naar ni Chundadi,
Tame Tan par raho ghadi-be-ghadi, ame saath daiye kafan sudhi
which can be translated as :
Tum ho jaise kisi maharaani ke vastr-aabhushan, hum hai gareeb naari ki chunari,
Tum rehte ho tan par pal-do-pal, ham saath dete hai kafan tak.
Gulzaar, who has written many memorable songs in his long career as poet and who has written some of the most contemporary songs at all times writes in one of his early works about the way of living in this world :
Jab bhi ji chaahe nayi duniya saja lete hai log,
ek chehre pe kai chehre laga lete hai log
And this incompleteness of things that always remains with everyone and that is always beautifully summrized by poets and can also be seen in Nida Fazli's beautiful words :
Kabhi kisi ko mukammal Jahaan nahi milta,
Kahin zameen to kahin aasman nahi milta

Alvida

सब सपने पूरे होने पे सुंदर लगे ये ज़रूरी तो नही,
कई ख्वाब अधूरे अच्छे है, पूरे हुए जो वो पूरे तो नही,
तुम दूर रहोगे पर खुश तो होगे ये सोचता रहता हू,
पर संभाल ना पाऊँगा उन सपनो के बोझ जो सहता हू,
कुछ जो साथ देखे थे,
वो ख्वाब तुम्हारे पास छोड़ के जाना चाहता हू

फिर से देखना उन ख्वाबों को अकेले मेरे बिना,
ज़िंदगी कितनी तेज़ कहा चली आई समझ पाओगे,

वो शुरुआत के दिन के थे,
दुनिया से परे, चाँद पे ठहर,
रोशनी में नहाया एक अकेला घर बनाने के ख्वाब थे,
कुछ और दिन ये ख्वाब देखोगे तो घर को जलता पाओगे,
तुम उसकी आग अपने तक ही रखना,
उस आग की तपिश में गर्म महसूस नही करना चाहता हू,
वो ख्वाब तुम्हारे पास छोड़ के जाना चाहता हू,

फिर वो ख्वाब देखा था
जो एक नन्ही परी के नन्ही मुस्कान का था,
वो ख्वाब में चमकती उन आँखों को फिर से देखना,
वो भूरी आँखों का रंग
उम्र के उस छोर पे भी मेरी आँखों सा दिखता रहेगा,
रिश्तो के नाम से पुकारती आवाज़ सुन, आँसू रोक नही पता हू,
वो ख्वाब में तुम्हारे पास छोड़ के जाना चाहता हू

और भी हज़ारों ख्वाब है,

कुछ ख्वाब जो जन्मे थे सुनहेरी सुबह में
दो जोड़ी पैरो के मिल जाने से,
कुछ रसोई में छोन्के से,
कुछ रुपेहरी धोखे से,
कुछ जो चले थे साथ चाँदनी में पत्तो पे,
कुछ बारिश में गर्म चाय के प्यालो से बरसे थे,
उन ख्वाबों का बोझ हमेशा ना उठा सकता हू,
वो ख्वाब में तुम्हारे पास ही छोड़ के जाता हू,

नही छोड़ा तो,
तुम बिन दिल पे बोझ बने रहेंगे,
तुम ले जाओ अपने साथ उन्हे,
तुम्हारी तो आदत है मेरे ख्वाबो को मुस्कान देने की.

નામ ભુસાતા નથી - A gujarati Poem

હૃદયના ખ્વાબ ઍક જીવન મા સમાતા નથી,
હાથ ધોવાથી હમેશા કાઇ નામ ભુસાતા નથી

લાખ કરી લે કોશિશ, તૂ મન ભરવા ની અહી,
તળ વગર ના વાસણ છે, કદી ભરાતા નથી,

રખડી આખો દાડો ઘણા સૂરજ નામાવ્યા અમે,
પણ અમાસી ચાંદનીથી અંધારા જાતા નથી

કેટલા જીવી ગયા, કઈ સાથ લઈ જાતા નથી,
કફન મા લપેટાઈ , કોઈ શબ રેહતા રાતા નથી.

Interaction with Passport office

Has anyone dialed this … what a weird call center system they have for voice response …..
Dial the number (Randomness of option was quite remarkable)
Dial “0” to continue (and no other option)
Dial “5” for Hindi / Dial “7” for English / Dial “4” for Something I don’t remember
Dial “9” for fresh passport / Dial “8” for existing appliacation
And then there is no way to talk to a customer service, dial any number and you are disconnected with a “thank you”. :D
Then I call up the local desk to ask, what if my mom doesn’t have any address proof of this place where we are living?
“Achha to aapki jo ye mataji hai , wo Pooone mein reh rahi hai ya GuuujRaaat mein?”
“Sir Pune mein”
“Kitne Bakhat se ?”
“Sir…”
“Kitne samay se aapki maataji, poona mein reh rahi hai?”
“Sir 14 months”
“Achha, phir 14 mahina to bahut lamba time ho gaya na, koi address proof nahi banvaya?”
“Sab mere naam pe hai”
“mataji ki umar kya hai?”
“61”
“Achha, unke phir to School living aur birth certificate wale document bhi nahi hoge?”
“Sir School leaving hai”
“Par address proof nahi hai?”
“Nahi sir”
"Address proof to chahiye" Click ... phone disconnects
And suddenly I realized, baaki sab call center mein they call me “Sir” :)
GOI rocks ! Reminds me of Office Office :D
 

नफ़रत का ज़हर

आँखों में नफ़रत का ज़हर, होठों पे क्यों ये बात हो,
प्रहार करो गली-मुहल्ले से, अब ना कोई पाक हो,
जिस ओर से चली थी गोलिया, रातों के अंधेरे में,
अब लुपाचुपी खेल रहे है, कुछ बच्चे वहाँ सवेरे में,
तान में बँधूक उनपे कैसे कहु के तुम ही सपोले हो,
घर जलाती आग की लपटे हो तुम, तुम ही शोले हो,
ढूँढ नही पाए हम, जिसने ताज-कश्मीर जलाया था,
नादानो तुम्हे मार, कैसे में कहु के दुश्मन सॉफ हो,
जो आतंकी बरसात थे लाए, वो सरहद पार से आए थे,
तुम भी तो सरहद पार रहते हो, कैसे तुम बेगुनाह हो?
जो बहा मेरे देश के ताज पे, वो खून भी तो बेगुनाह था,
खून के बदले खून मिले, अब आँख के बदले आँख हो,
एक फ़र्क जो मुझमें-उसमे में था वो मिटा के क्यों कहु,
प्रतिशोध की ज्वाला में अब तू-दुश्मन जलके राख हो
तुम्हे ज़्यादा जाना तो नही पर बारूद ख़ाके जीते होगे,
नरसंहार की बातें कर तुम रोज़ हमको खाते पीते होगे
कैसे मानु बीमारी और भूख से वहाँ कोई मरता ना होगा,
कैसे बोलू सब एक से हो, चाहे दिखते तुम सौ-लाख हो,
तुम भी भोले नही हो, और में भी चुप नही सहने वाला,
एक दूसरे की मौत की बातें करते रहेंगे जब भी रात हो,
पर आज अगर तुम आए हो में क्यों सियासाती खेल रचु,
क्यों कहु सब मरते है मारे पर हम में ना कोई बात हो,
आओ बैठे सब पुराने घाव उधेड़े, आओ, बैठे बाते करले,
आओ यहाँ देखो तुम जो घाव तुम्हारे बच्चों ने छोड़े है,
आओ अब देखो की सारे सपने उन्होने जो अधूरे तोड़े है,
आओ अगर बात नही करेंगे तो कैसे ये समज पाओगे,
नही रोकोगे संतान जो अपनी, तुम भी यूँ मर जाओगे,
आओ बैठ के समजता हू, तुम देश नही सियासत हो,
तुम अमन के प्रेमी रहे नही, बेअकल एक रियासत हो,
तुम अपने लोगो को हर सियासत सा बेच के खाते हो,
जो मुर्दो पे वोट बनाए तुम ऐसी अनोखी एक जात हो,
हम बात करने को राज़ी है, हम लोगो से दिल जोड़ेंगे,
तुम लोगो को बहकना मत, नही ये सोच हम भी खो देंगे,
आँखों में नफ़रत का ज़हर, होठों पे क्यों ये बात हो,
प्रहार करो गली-मुहल्ले से, अब ना कोई पाक हो,

A Girl Too Ordinary

A girl meets a boy, so we see all these stories start,
She is always beautiful and he, charming and smart,
First looks, the flying sparks, tells her he is the one?
Then comes the fights sweet, tender love, and all fun,
The hero fights the world for her love, she waits for him,
And they live happily ever after, live to fulfill their dream,
Didn’t you believe in all that you read ever since a child?
Didn’t you want adventures too in passions running wild?
But when does it happen outside the stories that we read?
There are no prince charming and no Cinderellas to be wed,
Let me tell you a story less glamorous, a story too ordinary,
Of a little girl so very unlike Cinderella, a girl, too ordinary,
There would still have been a boy in the town running awry,
Who, for her, might have made a good groom with a dowry,
A girl whose lips would not make a perfect smile if they were to,
But she would have had smiled heartily nonetheless if she were to,
She might not have charmed the many men out there waiting,
But with efforts, she might have got someone’s heart beating,
She would have done this and she would have done that in her village,
(I know this would not rhyme with the poem like her life out of sync),
Still,
“She would have” If only, She was allowed to be born.

Fir Wohi

Relationships leave a life long impact. Even when they are left like an unfinished painting, they put their colors in our life. They were meeting each other after almost 30 years since they broke off. She was a lively young girl back then and they were madly in love with each other. Life did not go as planned, infact there was a little planning involved. And they got separated, promising never to cross each other's roads. They did not cross until this day after years, when everything they had in the past was just a blurred memory. They chose different partners, had a great life, good children and occasionaly they remembered each other. Today they crossed path, unintentionally, when they stood infront of each other, he was speechless. He could not say much. She was just like the way she had always been, happy about the past they had, not sorry about the past they did not. Future would be an End soon, and things will not matter. She still smiles and looks at him just the way she always did.


थोड़ी समज, थोड़ी झुर्रिया और थोड़े सफेद बालों में,
तुम बदली इतनी भी नही, वक़्त में क़ैद सालों में,
"काफ़ी देर हो गयी, क्या लाए हो?" तब सा पूछ के,
तुम वैसे ही मुस्कुराती हो अल्हड़ से इन सवालो में


मिलना घर के पीछे, पौधो को पानी देने के बहाने,
याद अभी है तुम्हे सोच के सुनना जगजीत के गाने,
फिर माथे पे छोटे चाँद सी बिंदी लगा तुम आती थी,
बचकानी सी बातों पे, तुम खुश होके मुस्काती थी,
थे कितनी दोपहरी ख्वाब, गन्ने के रस के प्यालों में,
तुम बदली इतनी भी नही, वक़्त में क़ैद सालों में,

पोते को अपने, "लेटेस्ट बॉय-फ्रेंड" कह मिल्वाति हो,
सालों के मेरे गम को तुम, यूँ मस्ती से झुठलाती हो,
मेरी भी एक पोती है, जिसकी तुमसी बिल्कुल आँखें है,
आशा करता हू वो जीवन का नज़रिया तुमसा पाती हो
आज में जीती रहती हो, तुम जीती थी कब ख़यालों में
तुम बदली इतनी भी नही, वक़्त में क़ैद सालों में,

आज तुम्हारी वोही तस्वीर, उभरी है उमर के जालो से,
तुम्हारे होने से होना था, अब गीत नया, नये तालो में,
तुम जैसा ना हो पाऊँ तो भी, तुम्हारे संग रहा था कभी,
था जीवन का एक हिस्सा खुश, मेरे कल के तालों में
थोड़ी समज, थोड़ी झुर्रिया और थोड़े सफेद बालों में,
तुम बदली इतनी भी नही, वक़्त में क़ैद सालों में,
 

उम्मीदों का शहर

आस के वीरान जंगल में, उम्मिदो के कई शहर बसते है,
सब बाशिंदे, ख्वाब से सिकुड के घरों में महफुज़ रहते है,
भरे भरे से हमेशा, उम्मिदो के गाँव, कभी खाली नही होते,
हर घर यहाँ, अपने ही या किसी और के हाथों से बनते है,

जब धीरे से, आहट को दबाए, खोला पहले घर का दरवाज़ा.
देखा तो अपने माँ-बाप के ख्वाबों में मुझको बनना था राजा,
फिर दूसरे घरों की और, एक बॉज़ के साथ बढ़ता रहा तो,
देखा मेरे बच्चों के भी ख्वाब भी इसी शहर में ऐसे रचते है,
उनके लिए कुछ अप्रतिम सी उँचाइयाँ सर करनी है और कही
संगनी की खातिर घरों में अलग ग़ज़लें-महल भी पलते है,

फिर इस शहर के किसी कोने में लावारिस एक खन्डर देखा,
सूम-सान सा लग रहा था तो मैने झाँक के थोड़ा अंदर देखा,

एक टूटी चार पाई पे, एक बीमार, अपाहिज़ उम्मीद पड़ी थी,
सालों पहले कुछ कर दिखाने की, मुझमे जो एक ज़िद बड़ी थी,
भूल गया था कब से इसके बारे में यहा फिर मिल गये हम,
तुमको विकलांग बनाते वक़्त जैसे, दोनो हीथे सहम गये हम,
फिर आज यहाँ उम्मिदो के खंडहर में भूले यार से मिल गये हो,
ये जो पर तुम्हारे, मैने अपने हाथो से, गीत लिख सवारे थे,
अब इन परो के पास मखियाँ की आवाज़ पे जुगनू जलते है,

मेरे इस शहर में बस ये घर मेरा है

छत के उपर जब जाके देखता हू,
कितना बड़ा हो गया है ये शहर कुछ सालों में,
कितने घर, कितनी इमारतें,
कितने लोगो की उम्मीदें,
पर ये शहर तो मेरा था ना?
और मेरी उम्मीदें यहाँ,
इस खंडहर के कोने में सीमित क्यों है?

सोचत हू अबकी बार ये शहर जला दूं,
और फिर तिनका तिनका जोड़ के इससे अपने,
नये पंख बनाऊंगा
अबकी बार ये उम्मीदों का शहर मेरा होगा

"तेरा सजदा दिन रैन"

Wrote at the time of SRK – Thakrey Controversy.
चाँद तोड़ लाने की, सब लुटाने की बातें,
में कर नही पाता तुम्हे रिझाने की बातें,
तुमसे होगी सुबह, होगी शाम तुम्ही में,
लो, मेरी भी लगती है हर दीवाने सी बातें
प्यार तो मुझे भी एक मुद्दत से रहा है,
पर रोकती रही है, कुछ ज़माने की बातें
में करना तो चाहता हू, इश्क़-प्यार की,
पर आ रही उमड़ के खोने-पाने की बातें,

कुछ मरे थे सैनिक, कल जो फिसली चट्टान थी,
शहीद भी ना हो पाए वो जो बहादुरकी जान थी,
तुम पूछती हो, गीत कोई प्रेम का गाने को,
"रंग बसंती" सोच "केसरिया बालम" गाने की बातें

कल रास्ते पे देखी सब गुलाब की थी बिक्री,
बेचने वाला सुलझा रहा, जो लाल फ़िक्र थी,
में भी गया था लेने फूल पर करके आया हू,
चारफूल बेच, मिलेगा जो वो खाने की बातें

जल उठी थी कुछ तस्वीरें धर्म-धरोहर के नाम पे,
रास्तो पे टोलिया हंगामी सरकार से थी रौफ में,
ये लोग बादशाहो को भी डरा देते है, कैसे करू इनसे,
में "तेरा सजदा दिन रैन" नही कर पाने की बातें

चाँद तोड़ लाने की, सब लुटाने की बातें,
में कर नही पाता तुम्हे रिझाने की बातें,
तुमसे होगी सुबह, होगी शाम तुम्ही में,
लो, मेरी भी लगती है हर दीवाने सी बातें

सब की तरह मुझे भी छुपाना आ गया है अब,
दिल में हो दर्द-सोग, मुँह पे तुम्हे पाने की बातें
 

A Sharp Turn

I Get up, I Brush my teeth, I have a quick breakfast, I Spree,
I take the road, straight from the house, the only one I see,
I take a bus to the office, and work the daily chores there,
I take a bus back to home and eat again to have a sleep bare,
I am programmed to live a life ordinary,
I am programmed to dream extra ordinary,
I know, one day I will touch the sky,
I know, one day I will soar too high,
I know one day, I will live the moments I dream,
I know one day, the world will believe what I say,
But till then,
I Get up, I Brush my teeth and I have a quick breakfast

One day, a day like no other, in office I got a slip pink,
I thought he will laugh after handing it to me and wink,
That one day, was a day like no other, and all it changed,
I got up late, I did not spree and on road I was deranged,
I did not have to move straight, I took an unexpected sharp turn,
Never took that way, didnot know what was on fire there, to burn,
A little boy moved ahead of me with a kettle of tea in a small palm,
Over a sewage pipe, to a cramped house with thick air of uneasy calm,
There a few girls barely of the age for their profession stood,
I remembered my child, she would have made them a company good,
But their company was sweat that trickled down the bodies old,
I thought what would it be, like a vegetable, if one gets sold,
Out came I with disgust for the world, and saw a friend entering,
There in that sharp turn, the guilt of my world found sheltering,
I walked down a little more through the crammed alleys small,
Poor, unfortunate, darkly despaired, crooked, I saw them all,
There he was sleeping a boy in his teens, above the terrace facing sky,
I went to him and tried to peep in his thoughts, dreams soaring high,
He too had been in that crammed room once to sell the hot teas,
Everyday he gets up, brushes his teeth and to work he sprees,
He is programmed to live a life less ordinary,
He has programmed himself to dream extra ordinary,
In the wild world, when I will move out of this sharp turn,
He will be competing with me, for the bread and work to earn,
I know I would always be more fortunate and had my own days,
But friend I wish you and your likes make it big in your ways,
Friend, trust me, your world shakes my belief in humanity,
Friend, trust me, your resolve, makes my pride my vanity
Friend,
As I move out of the sharp turn back to my straight road,
As I move out to a new job, to my beautiful world broad,
I promise I will never forget what I saw in that sharp turn,
I promise I will never feel bad for things that I wont earn,
I will Get up,
I will Brush my teeth,
I will have a quick breakfast,
I will Spree,
I will take the road straight from the house,
And will remember thee. 

Lori

Just a Try at a lori :)

You can change Happy's name to your child's name ! :)

ह्म्म हँ हुहम्म ह्म्म ह्म्म्म्ममम
नींद आ सुला जा, हॅपी संग गा जा
आँख बँध कर ले
चाँद तू बुझा दे,
परिया बुलाके कोई,
संग लॉरी यूँ गादे,
ह्म्म हँ हुहम्म ह्म्म ह्म्म्म्ममम
नींद आ सुला जा, हॅपी संग गा जा
चुपचाप आँखें मुन्दे,
सिरहाने मेरे सिने को डाल दो ,
फिर सपनो के संग ढूँढे,
धक से धड़कन की ताल को,
चल सपनो की दुनिया में,
जाके नया सूरज यूँ साधे
ह्म्म हँ हुहम्म ह्म्म ह्म्म्म्ममम
नींद आ सुला जा, हॅपी संग आ जा
कहानियों के जादू मे वहाँ ,
उड़ती कालीने है चराग़ भी,
बोलते खरगोश भी है, जहाँ,
बढ़ती झूठ पे है नाक भी,
बाँध कर आँखों को तू भी,
वहाँ उड़ पंख नये बाँधे,
परिया बुलाके कोई,
संग लॉरी यूँ गादे,
ह्म्म हँ हुहम्म ह्म्म ह्म्म्म्ममम
नींद आ सुला जा, हॅपी संग गा जा

A few lines just like that

जो समजाते है, हिम्मत ना हारो, देखो वो चिटी बार बार गिर फिर चढ़ती है,
वो कहा रोकते है कदम, जब पैरो तले कुचलने उनके, वो चिटी आगे बढ़ती है
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गरम चाइ की चुस्की पे टीवी देख, वो बोले क्या बदलेगी? पागल सरकार है ये,
दूसरी जगह पे फिल्म नयी आ रही है, बदलो चॅनेल इनकी लड़ाई तो हर बार है ये

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वो नोटो की गड्डी हरी हरी सी, घर के टेबल पे रख मुस्कुरा रहा था मेरी कमज़ोरी पर,
कल रात बन मोटा थानेदार खूब खुश हुआ था, मुन्ना नानी की मोरनी वाली चोरी पर,
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एक पल आती, एक पल जाती, हर बार नयी रेतों पे उछल्ने,
पानी के बुलबुलो सा साहिल पे, में जीवन की लहरो पे जीता हू

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कुर्ते से निकले धागो में,
सिगरेट की राख में,
कुर्सी की खाली "किचूड़" आवाज़ में,
कॉफी की कड़वी महेक से .
आज भी अख़बार को कोने कर
तुम यादों की मेज़ से रसोई घर में आ जाते हो

दुनिया की गोलाई

एक ग्यानि ने खोज निकाली थी दुनिया की गोलाई एक दिन,
हर मौसम चक्कर काटे है, फिर धरती ने सूरज के निश दिन,
लाख-करोड़ भी कीमत अपनी, शून्य-गोल से ही तो पाते है,
एक प्रतिबिंबित गोले के बिना तो सब रातें अंधियारी रातें है,

बचपन भी तो गोद में अपनी, खेलने लाया था गेंदे-पहिए गोल,
और जवानी भी लाई थी कुत्सित अनकही कितनी गोलाई तोल,
हाथो में अंगूठी थी गोल प्यार की, बच्चे के गले में लॉकेट गोल,
जा बुढ़ापा नापोगे तो गोल चस्मे के पीछे बहते कुछ आँसू गोल,

ज़िंदगी में कुछ उपलब्धिया अप्रत्यक्ष तो कुछ साफ पुरस्कृत है,
छाति पे चमकते मेडल हो या प्यार भरी ये आखेहो, सब वृत है,
ध्यान देअगर जीवन को देखोगे जब, उसकी गोलाई को समझोगे,
अंत भी तो शुरुआत है कोई, समयचक्र की परच्छाई को समझोगे

व्यंग भरी कलाकारी

खुद को अंजान बना दे ऐसी, मुखौटो की तरकीब अनोखी होती है,
दुनियादारी के बाज़ार में बिक्री, बस इस खोटी चीज़ की होती है,
नये ज़माने के संग जीनेको हर बार नया मुखौटा चुन सकते हो,
जश्न में खुशाली के रंग तो मातम में झुर्रिओ से उसे बुन सकते हो,

राम-मुखौटा पहन के वादे झुटे, दशरथ जानकी को दे आ पाओगे,
फिर अंधियारी रातों में दुशाशनि-मुखौटे से लाज नोच खा पाओगे,
बहुत निर्धन लाचार सी लाशें, यहाँ जीवन के मुखौटो में फिरती है,
चाहो तो बलवान मुखौटा पहन उन कमज़ोरो को दबोच ला पाओगे

कोई जो पूछे "कौन हो तुम" , खुद का चेहरा ले जाना बैमानी होगी,
मुखौटो के भी कुछ ल़हेजे होते है, उसकी कभी ना नाफ़रमानी होगी,
सच की आए बात भी जब भी, एक बचकानी सूरत ले जाना तुम,
"में नही था उस कायर चेहरे के पीछे", कह कर के जान बचाना तुम

इस दुनियादारी का चलन आसान नही है, एक बक्सा साथ ले चलना है,
एक भी मुखौटा छूट ना जाए, ठून्स ठूंस हर धोके को चेहरे पे भरना है,
मुखौटो की दुनिया मे ज़िंदगी जीना दोस्त एक व्यंग भरी कलाकारी है,
"में ऐसी दुनिया का नही" कह रहे हो तो, तुम्हारी कला भी चमत्कारी है
 

जो भी हो जब भी हो वो ही सही

Not very usual - Something totally surreal from me today.

सुबह हुई, सूरज आज चाँद सा चमक के आसमान पे आया है,
सुबह कभी ऐसी ना थी, ना दिन है ये ना रात का अंधियारा है,
सारे घर जो खिड़की से देखता हू में , सब मेरेघर जैसे बेरंग है,
सब में जैसे खिड़की पे में ही खड़ा हू, मुझसा ही सबका रंग है,
और खाली दीवारों पे तस्वीरें है, मेरी मेरे साथ, पर में जानता हू,
के मैं कौन हू, मेरे पिता मेरा भाई कौन, में सबको पहचानता हू,
और मेरी मेज़ पे चाइ पी रहा है एक परिंदा पहचाना सा कोई,
उसी प्याले की दूसरी ओर, उसे चुस्की लगा के चुपचाप ताकता हू,
एक ख़याल है, शायद मेरे किसी दोस्त से उसकी शकल मिलती है,
और दिन की बढ़ती धूप के साथ, आयने सी ये बस्ती पिघलती है,
सब जो था एक पल, अब अब्र सा बरस के बह जाता है रास्तो में,
कोई हैरान नही बहने से, सबकी सक्शियत एक दूसरे में सिलती है,
गौर से देखने की मुझे कभी आदत ना थी, पर आज ये क्या हो रहा है,
देखता हू ये की जो में जानता हू में हू वो बेचेहरा बदन चेहरे बो रहा है,
अब शक है की बदन भी है या वो भी सिर्फ़ एक ख़याल से ढाला है,
ये कौन से जगह है, कहा हू में, क्या मिला है मुझे और क्या खो रहा है,
ये जगह कैसी है? कहा हू आज? कल जब में था, तब था भी या नही?
कोई फ़र्क नही है किसी में यहाँ, सब में हू, और मुझे में सबही है कही,
ये दुनिया को खुद में, पाके सब दूख प्यार इंसानियत की बाते बैमानी है
क्या ये जन्नत है खुदा? क्या तुम हो? जो भी हो जब भी हो वो ही सही

रात छोटी है

Not my forte though, trying to weave a slight tinge of passion in romance :).

रात छोटी है, जल्दी ख़त्म हो जानी है,
आँच के नीचे, बाति भस्म हो जानी है

रोशनी बादल के हुक्के की गड़गड़ाहट से
उतर इंद्रधनुष कोई दिलचस्प हो जानी है,
देखता तुम्हे हू, यूँ ओढ़े चाँदनी की चादर,
बूँद पसीने की, जम जिस्म हो जानी है

रात छोटी है, जल्दी ख़त्म हो जानी है,

आओ, ना डरो तुम, ज़माने की राय से,
आज की बग़ावते, कल रस्म हो जानी है,
आँखों की अय्यारि, मुस्कुराहटें ये आम,
आशिक़ के वास्ते तिलिस्म हो जानी है

रात छोटी है, जल्दी ख़त्म हो जानी है,
आँच के नीचे, बाति भस्म हो जानी है

(Tilism is enchantment / magic)

एक मामूली मोहरा

काली-सफेद सी बिछी बाज़ी पे,
अपनी सेना के आगे खड़ा,
एक मामूली मोहरा,
एक पायदल की होड़ में,
इंतेज़ार में सर उठा के,
बादशाह पे उठे वार सिने पे झेलने खड़ा,
एक मामूली मोहरा,

खूद एक सफेद खाने में खड़ा काला मोहरा,
हाथ में तलवार लिए खड़ा है, आँखे गड़ाए दुश्मन पे,
और फिर खिलाड़ी के हाथों से उसकी सोच पे,
आगे बढ़ता है, कदम-ब-कदम, एक नये खाने में,
खुद फ़ना होना है राह में, या अपने से किसी और रंग के,
किसी एक मामूली मोहरे को ख़त्म करना है,
किस्मत हुई तो एक बड़े मोहरे से भी खेल जाएगा ये,
सफ़र के अंत तक बचाता रहेगा बादशाहो को वो,
फ़ना होके फिर एक नयी बाज़ी पे बिछेगा,
पर उस बाज़ी पे भी वो रहेगा एक मामूली मोहरा,
बादशाह बनने की चाह भी कभी बादशाह ना बनाएगी उसे,
ये बाज़ी हार भी गया, मारा भी गया किसी गोरे मोहरे से,
तो भी सिकश्त उसकी ना होगी, क्योंकि,
मामूली या ख़ास कोई भी,
मोहरे कभी शिकस्त- झदा नही होते है,
हार और जीत सिर्फ़ खिलाड़ी की होती है

Updating blog : Uttarayan - A Poem written on 14th Jan

वो दिखताबड़ी हवेली सा, कोई बुढ्ढि सहेली सा, एक पहेली सा घर,
पॅहरो की धूप-छाँव में लगता था जैसे कोई ख्वाब रुपेहली सा घर,
वो घर की जिसकी बेफ़िक्र छत से बचपन की हिकायते जन्मी थी ,
वो कॉंक्रीट और ईंटो का ढाँचे सा , वो उम्मीदों की भारी थैली सा घर,

भाई का बड़प्पन, मेरा लड़कपन, गुज़रे से कल में साँस लेता है वहा
कटी पतंगो को पकड़ने आज भी पीछे किसिका बचपन दौड़ता है वहा
छत के उपर से गुज़रते तार में आज भी फसते है किसी और के रंग,
हम दो भाई बारी बारी से जहा फिरकी पकड़ते थे और उड़ाते थे पतंग,

फिर अपनी पतंगो को छोड़ मेहता जी की छत पे दौड़ जाते थे हम दोनो,
जब भी वाहा कोई लूट किसी पतंग की दिख जाती, लड़ते थे हम दोनो,
बड़े खुश हुआ करते थे लड़ाई में और प्यार से जुड़े पतंग-माँझे में हम,
और फिर बड़े होते ना जाने कहाँ से वो लूट पतंगो की घरो में बदल गयी ,
कब ये रिस्ते भी काग़ज़ की पतंगो से फटने लगे, डोर भी कटती गयी ?
फटी पतंगो को तब हम चावल के उबले दानो से रफू करके उड़ाते थे,
रिस्तो को जो रफू कर दे ऐसे चावल, अफ़सोस हम ना कभी उगाते थे,
इस संक्रांति शहेर से में आया हू,
दीवार से उसका घर और मौत से मेरा भाई जुदा है,
देखता हू यादो के भूतकाल से,
छत के उस हिस्से में, मेरा बेटा पतंग लूटने कुदा है

PFCONE - Pragati and Alive

Hi friends,

We have smaller dreams on the journey to bigger achivements and ambitions of life. Fulfilling these smaller dreams makes of those moments in life that makes the journey as enjoyable as the final destination. One such long cherished dreams of mine has been recently fulfilled and am happy to share with you the fact I managed telling a story in an audio-visual format. I feel quite excited sharing the same with you.

PFCone was a competion for 1 min short movies and we made 2 movies for the same. The compeition is a great platform for inspiring filmmakers. And We (Deepu, Seema, Neha, Shrikant and Me) did not make it to the competitive section but are very proud of things we made. Hope you too like this. Aslo watch more of all the other films on http://www.passionforcinema.com/. It would be highly enjoyable thing to do , is what we promise. Hope you enjoy mine too. Do let us know your comments and criticism

Thanks ,

Jay

Poem - Madness

Once I had been to the Pune Railway station and after bidding my parents a good bye when I was coming back from the overbridge, I saw this old man in his white beard and curled hairs with torned clothes - definitely not sane. He was sitting looking at the sky aloof of the rush of people fighting their ways thorugh the foot bridge singing in a really good voice some English song of yesteryears. His accent made it clear that he would have been once rich or in company of rich and he might have had a story of a life that would have passed through good and bad. I have been thinking about that person for quite a long period now. I think he either would have had a heartbreak from all the loved ones he ever had, and would have lost all he had ever earned. He would have seen a life saner than us and is now choosing this life of a mad person.

भीड़ की इन पागल आवाज़ों पे,
मद्धम मद्धम में गा रहा हू,
वो कहते है,ये प्लॅटफॉर्म है,
पर जहा तुम हो, वाहा बस हम है
चाँद बड़ा सुंदर है,
और तुम्हारा चेहरा बरसो बाद भी वैसा ही है,
में अब भी महसूस कर पाता हू तुम्हारा हाथ मेरी उंगलिओ पे,
आज भी गा रहा हू तुम्हारे लिए ,
I want to hold your hand,
Oh please say to me,
you will let me be your man,
सब कहते है एक हैरानी से, "पागल गा रहा है",
उनको लगता है, पागल कपड़ो से पहचाने जाते है,
उनको लगता है, वो सायने है औरे मैं दीवाना,
अगर कभी उनके पास होता कोई ख़ास ऐसा,
जिसकी ख़ुसी खुद की ज़िंदगी से ज़्यादा प्यारी होती,
जिसकी कत्थई आँखों पे गिरते भूरे बाल में ढलते दिन,
जिसकी साँस की आवाज़ संगीत की किल्कारी होती,
जिसको बरसों करीब रख एक दिन कहा होता,
Oh please say to me,
you will let me be your man,
तो जानते,
की पागल कपड़ो से नही बनते,
धोके से बनते है,
तुम्हे जो सोचना है सोचो,
में उसका हाथ पकड़ आज भी गा रहा हू,
और गाता रहूँगा
एक दिन
उस चाँद के पार से तुम आवाज़ दो ये आस है,
एक दिन
हाथो पे हाथ का एहसास इस भीड़ से दूर होगा.

*The English Part is from a song by beatles
 

My Favourite 5 Song Lyrics This Year

Everyone is making a list of top 10 this and that of the year, so here I come with top 5 of my favourite lyrics of the year. You might disagree with me but I love it. These songs / albums are in the order I liked them :

1. Duniya
Piyush Mishra showed his years of theatrical experience in making the music and songs of this film. I can never forget the goosebumps that the words "Jis kavi ki kalpana mein zindagi ho prem geet, us kavi ko aaj tum nakar do" that comes after a momentary silence in Aarambh. And mention of Gulaal's without mentioning the "Sarfaroshi ki tamanna..." tribute would be injustice. But out of all those works, here is Duniya that just stands out. The song comes as a crux of the movie and in general the world.

I like this song so very much that I might as well call it the song of the decade. What a song! If Saahir's great poetry was an inspiration to this song, then Piyush Mishra very well lived up to it in each and every line of this song. Life and the world are the two things that have been talked about the most by the poets of bollywood after the Lover. And it is too just too difficult to capture all the moods in one song. Duniya very well does that. It starts low and hopeful on a romantic side of life - surmai aankhon ke pyalo ki duniya, satrangi sejo gulalo ki duniya, and then it moves from the greed and the lust of life, and then ends up in to a dark "Ye duniya agar mil bhi jaye to kya hai". This is an absolute classic.

My favourite line from the song:
Khwaahish mein lipti zaroorat ki duniya, Insaan ke sapno ki Niyat ki duniya .....

2. Kaminey

If there is any magical musical pair that exist in today's Bollywood, its Gulzar-Vishal Duo. The whole album of Kaminey, absolutely proves that. Gulzar can make anything sound poetic. A poem on AIDS that sounds so beautiful (Bhanwra bhanwra aya re - Keedo ki basti ka makoda hai), and then a piece on life at the end of the movie were just as good. But above it stands the usual Gulzar style mixing of languages in Dhan te nan, (aaja ke one way hai ye zindagi ki gali ek hi chance hai). Even the romance comes so beautifully to him (hamne gilhari ke jhoothe matar khaye the). No poet has ever given words so beautifully consistent for decades and decades like Gulzaar. He has always been contemporary.

But the song that works for me completely is the title track. A song that not just beautifully gels with the characters of the movie but also makes you relate to the darker side of life when Vishal himself sings mellifulously "Meri Aarzoo kamini, Mere khwaab bhi kaminey, ek dil se dosti thi, ye huzoor bhi kaminey". The whole ides of how difficult and demanding life is comes up with Gulzaar saab penning
Kabhi zindagi se maanga, PInjre mein chaand laa do,
Kabhi laal ten de ke kaha aasmaan pe taango ....

My Favourite Line from the song :
Jiska bhi chehra chhila andar se aur nikala
Masoom sa Kabootar Nacha to mor nikla....

3. Sapno se bhare naina

There was a time when every other song in the film industry was written by Javed Akhtar. Javed Akhtar comes across to me as one of the most versatile person in the film industry as far as writing is concerened. The trademark of this great poet is his conveying of the most difficult themes with the most easiest words. The movie had some great music and song, but this song, for me was the highlight of the movie.

The song starts with some beautiful slow lines which are etched in my mind for the simplicity of the words,
Bagiya bagiya, baalak bhaage,Titli lekin haath na lage

and then the music alleviates the lyrics to a different level conveying what the song wants to convey as theme ...

Is pagle ko kaun bataye,
Dhoondh raha hai jo tu jag mein,
Koi Jo paye to man mein hi paye....

I dont remember a year in recent history when Javed Akhtar did not come up with a great song.
My favourite line from the song :
Sukh hai alag aur chain alag hai,
Par jo ye dekhe wo nain alag hai,
Chain to Apna hai,
Sukh hai paraye ...

4. Dhoop ke sikkey
Once in a while in an obscure album you might find out a gem. For me this gem features in the blip of a movie called "SIkander". Prasoon Joshi, one of the poets who is young and understands the subtle stream of thoughts and can make you cry and laugh with his words would be remembered for years. This song, especially talks of keeping the innocence intact in life in a beautiful beautiful way.

Dhoop ke sikkey uthakar gungunane do use,
Baigani Kanche hatheli par sajane do use,
Bholi bhali bholi bhali rehne do,
Zindagi ko zindagi ko behne do,

Words like Kanche, sikkey, baigani brings back the memories of childhood to me. The song then goes on to tell how every vice of life has started from an innocent life being destroyed and says it so beautifully with a metaphor.

Barood Jab bachha tha, wo titli pakad ta tha

The song features in my top 5 and Prasoonjoshi in my list of favourite poets ever for this metaphorical writings of his.

My favourite lines from the song
Bahut Jaldi Dupatta Odhna sikhla rahe hai hum,
Kyon Zindagi ko raat se milva rahe hai hum,
Wo pallu se chipak kar maa ki chalti thi to achhi thi,
Akela chhodkar usko kya kehna chah rahe hai hum,
Ek Gehri neend se humko jagane do use ......

5. Masakkali

The Album Delhi-6 happens to have some of the very great songs from Rehman with lyrics that would be remembered for a long long time. The "Rehna tu hai jaisa tu" and "Ye delhi hai mere yaar" Seem to capture the spirit of the place completely with them (kabhi pyaar mein gaali bhi deta hai, kabhi gaali mein pyar bhi hota hai). And the masterful metaphorical Kala Bandar tells beautiful things that makes people think(sample this : Kasmein to moongfali hai, jab chahe hum khate, Upar se na na karte par thali aage sarkate). Every person has a dark side only if he looks in the mirror properly. And then comes the deeply sufi "Maula mere maula". (Jo bhi tere dar aaya jhukne jo sar aaya ...). A really good album for the year.

But after all that, here is one of the most simplest of songs that has come in recent times on the silliest premises. A song on a pigeon, on masakkali that again in the trademark metaphorical Joshi way takes you along with the character.
The best part about this song that I like is the almost onamotoepic first stanza ..

Zara Pankh Zatak,
Gayi Dhool Atak,
Aur Lachak Machak
ke door bhatak,
The song beautifully talks about an attitude to fly like a free bird and to run away from all who dream small. (Dikhla de thenga un sab ko jo udna na jaane). The song is about building up that attitude.

My favourite lines from the song
Itdi se mud, ada se ud,
Kar le poori dil ki tammanna, ....

Hope you liked my top 5 songs of the year :).

Down Memory Lane Part 3

(Here we go with the third part. It feels so very passionate to write about that place, that time and that life.)

So as I welcome you to Narayan Nagar 3, you are greeted with the smiling faces of women and old men greeting you like you have been here before. There as we start moving towards our house we see Vijaya-masi- the lady who thinks that my life has been an exact replica of his son's life (His son repairs computers and owns an Indica for taxi - I agree both of it has some resemblence to my life. He went to ITI, which she feels was the biggest of the coincidence when I joined IIT.). Vijaya-masi seems to be talking to Tara-ba, the only lady from the society who was present with my parents when I was born, she hence feels a special bond with me. As you go on, you see a 'couple' exchanging looks from their windows on the first floor rooms of houses on opposite sides of the lane, hiding away from their parents, pretending to study. They are one of the usual lovestories that every society has and that ends in fights and marriage of one, as the other drinks her marriage away.

And two houses down on the lane, we see Kaana-bhai. A small tin-board outside his house reads in large fonts "Krishna Classes - Best in Spoken English Teaching by Krishna Vyas (M.A in English)". Kaana-bhai insists that I talk to him in English, I feel a little embarassed doing that there though. He will happily come to you and say "How are doing friend?". And you would hear in his voice the distinct Katiyawadi (Kathiawad is a part of region in Saurashtra) accent like the ones you see of Gujarati caricatures in TV shows. Just opposite to the Krishna Classes, we have the old lady looking at us with all her love. She looks at us as if we are her sons that were never hers. This is the house I have spent half my childhood at - Pandyas. The 3 sisters, who first tied Rakhi on my hands when I was 5 months old, have been like my real sisters. We touch their feet, the old man sitting by her side, smiles and asks for your haealth as animatedly with his hands as with his voice which is calm but loud. He has a small machine in his ears, that is not working properly since last few days and you need to talk to him at the top of your voice. I wish I was a better son to them. My house is just a couple of houses ahead. It always takes atleast 10 min to cross the lane till my house which has a nice Gulmohar tree just in front of it from which the kids pluck the flower-buds to eat. Both the houses that we now have to cover to reach mine are owned by Ranas - an 'almost joint family' you might say. You might wonder what almost would have meant if you would not have visited this place. A family that had 2 sons and 2 daughters all of them married now. The two sons will fight due to difference in income and hence needs different houses, but parents dont like it and hence there are 2 houses adjacent to each others. The children of the two sons, play outside, you see the eldest son of the elder son of Ranas, trying to pull and twist the tail of a cow that is standing infront of their house. The younger one is throwing water at her for making it run away. But we need to move ahead.

And right opposite to a house where the Rojasras lived, is my house. That house would always be of Parimal, a dear childhood friend whose friendship was only limited to childhood. Last I heard of him, he was working as an attendant in some gold jewellery shop. The only non-Gujarati family of my society - Ahivarkars live there now. The Dadaji in that family is a writer and has many interesting pen-friends that he has had since his younger days. But we won't spend time with them, we will straight away head to this small house, painted creamish with Green border and black safety door in front of a peach door with fissures that I talked about, fissures that were the glimpse of my house after ringing the bell. This is my house- the house that I grew up in. And just as we enter we see "Mehrundidi" washing clothes in the open space within our house. We call the open space a "Fadiu", but its difficult to explain it in English, its not a garden space though it could have been, its not even parking, though it works partly so; it has a jhula and it has a small porche; bathrooms are not in the house like cities, bathrooms are in this fadiu. But wouldnot have known it but now you know it as you are here. Coming back to Mehrun didi, Mehrunnissa is what we call in cities, our Bai/ maid, but at my place she is a lot more than that, she is a didi. Her mother too worked at our house and she works since she was 10. She is a muslim and a follower of Amba mata. She happens to be neice of one of the most famous stage show artists in Gujarat. She is married to a man who pulls his hand cart to collect scrap. She is happy to see us.

Before we enter my house let us stop the time once again as we try and move around. See, papa is eating his favourite cashews, sitting on the jhula, and from teh window of the small kitchen that opens in the fadiu, you can see my mommy, making tea for daddy. She is sweating a lot, as the kitchen is too small to house a fan. I and my dad used to sit where the Refrigrator now stands short, while mom cooked rotis which we divided in half to eat in my childhood. There are two gates to the small house, its exact mirror reflection of house on both the sides, with one side having a kitchen that we are looking at. Both the sides have 2 small rooms (11ft X 12 ft). The one on our right is the one that we used to give on rent, while we lived on left. There is a long story of those two rooms and people who have lived in there. They are the closest relatives of my family now. The windows are made up of wood and grill, and has small translucent rectangular glass at the top of it. The windows dont open up on the road, they open up in the open space that we now call Fadiu. We havent build anything on the first floor, its open terrace, which is the best place to be at on Makar sankranti.

We dont give the house on rent anymore. The cieling has the flakes of colors which is now coming off, it happens with the best of paints here. On the left the room that we enter first is half occupied with the dining table and a small temple. On right we have all the storage equipments with a couple of big containers for water. We need to store water well in Surendranagar. There are lofts in both of these rooms, and the two rooms just after that are living room on left and bedroom on right. The living room once had a "Show case" where mommy kept crockeries on display, it was removed when it turned old-fashioned. This was the room that once housed my bed. It had a small monalisa painting which was then replaced by a folk art and then a watch. Nothing is there on that side of the wall anymore.The cupboards are inbuilt in the wall and are made of plywood with wooden 'sunmica'. The bedroom now has a AC and two big Almirahs - mine and mom's, one of which we bought when we were living in Ahmedabad., there are 2 small seetees in the bedroom now. There is a small bathroom, which has been converted into store room. The tenants of the house used it as bathroom earlier. If kids are running from one terrace of the row house to the other terrace then you will hear their footsteps like drum beats from the cieling. So the four rooms with the kitchen forms the main part of the house while the fadiu is divided in to a parking, jhula space, space for washing clothes, a bahroom, a wash basin, 2 water tanks and stairs leading to the terrace. All in all its a compact small place which is small in space and big in terms of the dreams, thoughts and principles that it bred, just like the hearts of the people in Surendranagar.

(Will like to talk about my parents if there comes a part-4)

Down Memory Lane Part 2

Well now that you have got down from the bus, I need to welcome you to my town. Welcome to Surendranagar:). Sorry for keeping you waiting at the bus-stand.

Outside the busstand you see the clouds of burning coal-smoke from a small pot that has been kept over a heap of Khari Sing (roasted salted peanuts) on a hand-cart. Behind these swarms of smokes you see a couple of autos, who would charge you 5 rupees more, mainly for your looks, to travel to my house. You find it cheap. Still you negotiate as you think you should; he reduces that 5 rs. and you would know later how you pay for it. A friend of his would jump-in to sit beside him on the drivers seat chatting with him in Gujarati that you would not understand even if you were Gujarati. He wouldnot look friendly for the first 100 mts. of your drive and then he would tell you how, there is no rain this season too and how municipality gives water once in every 5 days. As you move along you realize the other aspect of the place- roads are almost non-existent. You would find enroute an arts and science college, with the only Tennis court (cemented) of the town. You dont see boys and girls gossiping together here like your cities. There would be a group of eve-teasers in the parking lot that you might catch a glimpse of. There, just ahead of it you would find people selling cricket bats and earthern pots; No there are no shops, you dont earn enough out of that business to create shops; its on the road-side. As your 3-wheeler jump over a few pot-holes no one cares about, you would realize that you are still not into the market area. You see buses enroute- private buses waiting for passengers to be taken to Rajkot, Bhavnagar, Ahmedabad. Most of the people in it are paitient enough to wait for the bus to get filled. The auto-wallah would stop near to a theatre where his friends get off and where a female of about 50 stands. She is wearing a typical banjara dress (Bharvad as the tribe is known as in Gujarat) with a black ghaghra and a black choli with an open back showing her aged, wrinkled and dark back and the tatooing on her hands giving her name like - "Devu Ba". She will smile at you with a golden teeth and scars of tobacco (Bajar) that she brushed on her teeth. You get uncomfortable with the smell of cattles that comes from her and unwillingly you look down on a friendly lady, and shout at the autowallah as he tells you that for 15 rs. you need to share the auto. Your negotiation for the money goes for a toss.

You move on and as you reach the underbridge, just after an ambedkar statue, you see traffic police taking 50rs. from a person driving without helmet. Its so typical of our times, guards -who are entrusted with the responsibility of serving and guarding rules, are so powerful that you fear them. You smile. There are a few things that you can relate to. There on your left you would now see the only mall of the town with a "Jay Khodiyar Auto Parts" board at the entrance, with red and green font on white in gujarati. The Mall also houses the courier company and the tiles merchant and many more, but from outside you would just find it like a building. Its a mall without any escalators and with the corners of walls stained red. There is a juice center just a few hundered mts. down the line in the market, where the soda is more transperent and less saltier than water. This is a crowded area, the roads are full of chattering people, newspaper-eating cows, pigs, dogs while the bikes and auto try to move on the fringes of the road or footpath. Mid way every now and then you might see a lavish bungalow, not a huge one but something interesting and outside most of these you would find a hand-cart of a dabeli-wala or Kulfi-wala. I would not like to leave you in the auto for a while till you reach my lane, you can enjoy the roads that arent on your way. Had you had come by train, you would have seen nothing of Surendranagar that you just saw, inplace you would have seen a lonely temple on a barren land where I first went with some special friends- these days they call it a "date".

By the time you get down of the auto purshottam(the driver) would have befriended you. Now as you get down and pay him at the end of the lane of my society (we call it society, rightly so). Enroute you would have already noticed a few things but we will pause the time at the end of this lane and take in a few things that our city life makes us notice. Almost every lane of any Middle class society (read it as relatively poor lower middle class with your city classification) in surendranagar has 3 things in common - Open uncovered gutters where the sludge from each of the house would flow in, a hand pump for the lack of municipality water where you might catch a few passers by drinking directly from the pump and a "Hanuman" Temple. Grapejuice (Vine/wine is a word you should not use in Gujarat), says that Surendranagar is registered with Guiness book of world records for highest number of templesfor the monkey god. Every Hanuman Jayanti the young boys of society get together to build a temple with their hands. So just on the sides of gutters or beside the handpump you might find a Hanuman temple. There just on the other side of the 25 mt. long lane, you would see a common plot which happens to be a playground for all the kids there, a dumping ground for all the kachra and the place of the thorny acacia weeds to grow. A small boy would run from the play ground to collect the cricket ball hit by a rowdy old friend of his into the gutter. The gutters are shallow and cemented in a half a feet deep canal-form; they look black and smell pungent. Very pungent to you. The young boy first herds the group of pigs lying in front of the gutters after their bath in it. There are marks they leave from gutters till the place they are lying. The young boy then runs and puts his hand in to the sludge taking out the red rubber ball, it looks black on one side. He runs down near you to the side of the handpump, pumps water out, washes the ball and his hands drinks a handful of water and runs back in to the playground. That young boy could have been me if you were here a 20 years back.

As the time has paused for us, we can look at each of the house carefully. For your eyes the two doors at the main entrance of all houses are unusually colorful green, blue or yellow with little fissures on them from which the kids look into their house after they knock to see if mummy is coming to open the door. The skyline, that is a long strip as you stand on the narrow 8 ft wide lane is marred with electricity wires and kites, on which you might find an array of bright green parrots with red beaks if the time is morning else it would either be pigeons or most likely crows. The row of small houses on both the sides are painted with equally vibrant colors. There outside the houses are small tanks with municipality taps. Each of the tank shas a cover to safe guard the waters from pigs/dogs and safeguard kids from falling into it. Women are out sitting on the porche infront of their house which covers the gutters. You have a peculiar sense of warmth and welcome on all faces that are turned towards you as you are standing at the end of the lane. You are Gotu's friend here. So let the Gotu formally welcome you to his society - Narayan Nagar Society no.3. We are back home!

Down Memory Lane Part 1

I might have written an incidence or two about my life but I generally haven't written about myself, ever. The reason was pretty simple, there is nothing interesting in my life, is what I feel, its a mundane story of a simple guy, going through life as things happen to him, everything gets induced, nothing comes out of the inner desire that is not affected by things around him. Life has happened to me, I dont know what to write about it. I dont have a story to write on my own, or let me put it this way, I would have to accept my incapabilities and shortcomings and inferiority complex as a child if I were to write an autobiography. I would not be able to write that. But there were interesting stories around. I never wrote about it as I think it would be unfair to write about someone else's life without their permission. But these posts made me think more. I need to write. I want to write. I want to write about the places that have had importance in my life, about the people I saw. I was only an observer. I was only a kid - too simple and too simplified. With the feeling of guilt of not taking permission, I am starting this post, I want to write about personal experiences, mostly of others as I watched them. I want to write about the lane where I grew up, the school I had gone to, the cultural shocks I got in my life, about friends I had in my childhood, about my cousins and so much more. Pardon me if I am getting self-indulgent here, I ought to write this for myself. I am not sure if there will be a follow up post to this but would start.

My Place
Let me start today and introduce you to places that have been important in my life. A person living at a place would never realize what is different or special about his place, but as a visitor you might make sharpest of observation. Let me take you with me to my place, let me take you to Surendranagar as a visitor. The stories are sparsed across times of my parents, my childhood and present times. Timelines are blurred but the place has a character, it survives.

Gujarat is developing and there are expressways running around the length and breadth of Gujarat. Surendranagar doesnt fall on that map. Its a district and a town. Town its quite difficult for average reader of this blog, many of whom grew up in cities to imagine this word. Its not a big city, it doesnt have huge buildings,and it is not a village with farmers and cattles. It is a town. It is a town like the ones you see in the fringes of your IT cities. It has its own schools and it has its cinema theatres, it is an urban place for the villages in the district and a rural place for Mumbai and Delhi walas, who have their ancestral bungalows in there. The villagers around dream to make it to this place for living and the dreams of Surendranagar reaches Ahmedabad. It has the warmth that comes to a place by the virtue of knowing your neighbours, and it has the indifference that comes by having self-centered community-less goals of personal life. And by the very definition of this place and for that matter of any town, it's always in flux.

There are two ways to reach Surendranagar from here, by train and by bus, but we would take the interesting bus route to reach my home. As we take a diversion from the expressways of Gujarat going from Ahmedabad to Rajkot in a State Transport bus whose windows rattle more than its engine, and which moves creating clouds of dirt behind it in which the small villages diappears. Villages on the side of a small pond, where the gutters flow in, where people take bath at one end and cattles on the other and there is a small part where females bath. You might see the teenage kids from the villages going to Surendranagar for weekend peeping on to bathing females from the seat ahead as the dirt comes in. You might even smell the dung cakes that burns to cook the food for people here. But everything runs away fast as you move on that road. More and more of such places that we never thought would have existed. And then as we come just near surendranagar, there is a small town called Wadhwan, a forted town, which even housed an engineering college once. It is what people in cities sell for high price - a gated community. We would come to this place too, it has a special importance in my life. As you cross the bridge over the dried front where you migh see a hut or two and where the river never flows, you would see a the green colors of Dargah at the entrance of the city, and the autorickshawwallahs there would should "10 Rs. to Meldi Maa's Temple" if you happen to be there on a weekend. The person next to you in bus would look at your jeans and red T-shirt and the cap and the Sidney Sheldon novel you hold in your hands and might ask you if you study in the Medical college or if you are visiting your family. You might find it odd to answer questions on your salary and work and family life. But they would be curious to know about your life.

As you move in looking at the industrial establishments around, you would realize that the main stay of the economy of this town is this Industrial belt, small scale and medium scale industries.Conductor would stop the bus virtually every 200 mts. to let people down with a smile. There en route on your right you might see the big electric towers and people hovering around it with the board reading "Pachim Gujarat Vij Co. Ltd." - A place where my dad worked for more than 30 years before his retirement. And just on the left where your bus passes you will see a big banyaan tree. There is a "Parab" (A place to get free water from the matkis) run by an old man there. You would see people gossiping while sipping the tea from saucers making the sipping noise and the "Aah" after gulping the extra-sweet tea. But you dont have time to take absorb all this as the bus stand is just next to it. and your bus stops with a jerk, which might make you fall, if you were standing. But you would not be standing as the smell of the villagers that mars you nose like some allergy might make you feel sick if you stand the kids, would be running all over the aisle of the bus over luggage kept. The bus jerks and takes a brakes as the conductor would get down to help the herds man who is moving the herd of buffaloes out of the way and one of the buffalow is in the process of caking the road. The cakes would be picked by someone by the time you return the next day. Once the road is cleared the bus is parked in the bus-stand at its regular place, and you got to push yourself out of the bus as there are scores of people fighting to get in to the bus. The big red fonts on top of the dirty white building reads "SURENDRANAGAR" in two languages - one you know. There are ads of the international giants like Vodafone and Cococola that fills your eye if you look just a level above the level where you are seeing the Daal-vada vendors and the rickshaw stop. Just about 10-12 years I would have craved for these daal-vadas, but if I eat it now, it would upset my stomach. You definitely dont look at it, as you move past, paan-spitted building and walls of bus stand that gives you the stench of how the urine of the entire town smells.


(Not sure if I can continue this in further series, if I can I would like to take you to my home, my school, my parents first home, their childhood places and see what I can see of it. Sorry for making it so long, but for once, I dont want to stop myself writing this.)