Homage

You welcomed with open arms,
a worn thirsty traveler, traveling
in the torrid desert of ignorance,
under the scorching sun of chance.

He was like a sapling, subjected to
gusty winds and frosty storms
- the tests of resilience, and now
moves on to scale unknown heights,
swim in uncharted waters.

He bids good-bye, mind drenched
with memories,  heart with emotions,
and promises to be back, to pass on
all that he got, the only way,
perhaps, to pay you back.

(This is an homage to my alma-mater IIT Madras)

Life - a notebook.

Life....
is a blank notebook
sans margins,
with white pages
scribed with nothing,
but my initials.

The last page is,
the most neglected,
though it bears
the notebook's weight .
It's only wish is
to have a black margin
and a verse in red
written by you.

A last wish, lest, it is
torn and crumpled,
like it's ancestors.
After all, a notebook
without pages is only
as good as my life
without you.

A Note

Life is the only way
to get covered in leaves,
catch your breath on the sand,
rise on wings;

to be a dog,
or stroke its warm fur;

to tell pain
from everything it's not;

to squeeze inside events,
dawdle in views,
to seek the least of all possible mistakes.


An extraordinary chance
to remember for a moment
a conversation held
with the lamp switched off;

and if only once
to stumble upon a stone,
end up soaked in one downpour or another,

mislay your keys in the grass;
and to follow a spark on the wind with your eyes;
and to keep on not knowing
something important.


-- -- Wislawa Szymborska

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

-- William Ernest Henley

The Waiting Room

There is a waiting room,
where everyone comes,
at least once,
carrying nothing,
not even their own,
supposedly known
self.

The traveler is alone,
the destination unknown,
rather, there is none.
There are only journeys,
of different kinds
to different places
with different people.

The only pause is in
the waiting room.

Line of Control

A line of control exists
between likes and dislikes
There are people on both sides -
residents and wayfarers,
spies and refugees.
Then there are things,
which for no reason,
keep switching sides,
like pesky politicians.

At times we go too far,
on either side, in search
of happiness, or God,
and end up with naught.
Instead it's best to stand,
in the no man's land,
'n just gaze at the sun
and life, rise and set.

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

The free bird leaps
on the back of the win
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hillfor the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

-- Maya Angelou

My heart leaps up

My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.


- William Wordsworth

मन समर्पित तन समर्पित

मन समर्पित तन समर्पित और यह जीवन समर्पित
चाहता हूँ मातृ-भू तुझको अभी कुछ और भी दूँ ॥
माँ तुम्हारा ऋण बहुत है मैं अकिंचन
किन्तु इतना कर रहा फिर भी निवेदन
थाल में लाऊँ सजाकर भाल जब
स्वीकार कर लेना दयाकर यह समर्पण
गान अर्पित प्राण अर्पित रक्त का कण-कण समर्पित ॥१॥

माँज दो तलवार को लाओ न देरी
बाँध दो कसकर कमर पर ढाल मेरी
भाल पर मल दो चरण की धूलि थोड़ी
शीष पर आशीष की छाया घनेरी
स्वप्न अर्पित प्रश्न अर्पित आयु का क्षण-क्षण समर्पित ॥२॥

तोड़ता हूँ मोह का बन्धन क्षमा दो
गाँव मेरे व्दार घर आँगन क्षमा दो
आज सीधे हाथ में तलवार दे दो
और बाएँ हाथ में ध्वज को थमा दो
ये सुमन लो ये चमन लो नीड़ का तृण-तृण समर्पित ॥३॥

--- राम अवतार त्यागी

हिन्दु तन मन हिन्दु जीवन रग रग हिन्दु मेरा परिचय॥

मै शंकर का वह क्रोधानल कर सकता जगती क्षार क्षार

डमरू की वह प्रलयध्वनि हूं जिसमे नचता भीषण संहार

रणचंडी की अतृप्त प्यास मै दुर्गा का उन्मत्त हास

मै यम की प्रलयंकर पुकार जलते मरघट का धुँवाधार

फिर अंतरतम की ज्वाला से जगती मे आग लगा दूं मै

यदि धधक उठे जल थल अंबर जड चेतन तो कैसा विस्मय

हिन्दु तन मन हिन्दु जीवन रग रग हिन्दु मेरा परिचय॥

मै आज पुरुष निर्भयता का वरदान लिये आया भूपर

पय पीकर सब मरते आए मै अमर हुवा लो विष पीकर

अधरोंकी प्यास बुझाई है मैने पीकर वह आग प्रखर

हो जाती दुनिया भस्मसात जिसको पल भर मे ही छूकर

भय से व्याकुल फिर दुनिया ने प्रारंभ किया मेरा पूजन

मै नर नारायण नीलकण्ठ बन गया न इसमे कुछ संशय

हिन्दु तन मन हिन्दु जीवन रग रग हिन्दु मेरा परिचय॥

मै अखिल विश्व का गुरु महान देता विद्या का अमर दान

मैने दिखलाया मुक्तिमार्ग मैने सिखलाया ब्रह्म ज्ञान

मेरे वेदों का ज्ञान अमर मेरे वेदों की ज्योति प्रखर

मानव के मन का अंधकार क्या कभी सामने सकठका सेहर

मेरा स्वर्णभ मे गेहर गेहेर सागर के जल मे चेहेर चेहेर

इस कोने से उस कोने तक कर सकता जगती सौरभ मै

हिन्दु तन मन हिन्दु जीवन रग रग हिन्दु मेरा परिचय॥

मै तेजःपुन्ज तम लीन जगत मे फैलाया मैने प्रकाश

जगती का रच करके विनाश कब चाहा है निज का विकास

शरणागत की रक्षा की है मैने अपना जीवन देकर

विश्वास नही यदि आता तो साक्षी है इतिहास अमर

यदि आज देहलि के खण्डहर सदियोंकी निद्रा से जगकर

गुंजार उठे उनके स्वर से हिन्दु की जय तो क्या विस्मय

हिन्दु तन मन हिन्दु जीवन रग रग हिन्दु मेरा परिचय॥

दुनिया के वीराने पथ पर जब जब नर ने खाई ठोकर

दो आँसू शेष बचा पाया जब जब मानव सब कुछ खोकर

मै आया तभि द्रवित होकर मै आया ज्ञान दीप लेकर

भूला भटका मानव पथ पर चल निकला सोते से जगकर

पथ के आवर्तोंसे थककर जो बैठ गया आधे पथ पर

उस नर को राह दिखाना ही मेरा सदैव का दृढनिश्चय

हिन्दु तन मन हिन्दु जीवन रग रग हिन्दु मेरा परिचय॥

मैने छाती का लहु पिला पाले विदेश के सुजित लाल

मुझको मानव मे भेद नही मेरा अन्तःस्थल वर विशाल

जग से ठुकराए लोगोंको लो मेरे घर का खुला द्वार

अपना सब कुछ हूं लुटा चुका पर अक्षय है धनागार

मेरा हीरा पाकर ज्योतित परकीयोंका वह राज मुकुट

यदि इन चरणों पर झुक जाए कल वह किरिट तो क्या विस्मय

हिन्दु तन मन हिन्दु जीवन रग रग हिन्दु मेरा परिचय॥

मै वीरपुत्र मेरि जननी के जगती मे जौहर अपार

अकबर के पुत्रोंसे पूछो क्या याद उन्हे मीना बझार

क्या याद उन्हे चित्तोड दुर्ग मे जलनेवाली आग प्रखर

जब हाय सहस्त्रो माताए तिल तिल कर जल कर हो गई अमर

वह बुझनेवाली आग नही रग रग मे उसे समाए हूं

यदि कभि अचानक फूट पडे विप्लव लेकर तो क्या विस्मय

हिन्दु तन मन हिन्दु जीवन रग रग हिन्दु मेरा परिचय॥

होकर स्वतन्त्र मैने कब चाहा है कर लूं सब को गुलाम

मैने तो सदा सिखाया है करना अपने मन को गुलाम

गोपाल राम के नामोंपर कब मैने अत्याचार किया

कब दुनिया को हिन्दु करने घर घर मे नरसंहार किया

कोई बतलाए काबुल मे जाकर कितनी मस्जिद तोडी

भूभाग नही शत शत मानव के हृदय जीतने का निश्चय

हिन्दु तन मन हिन्दु जीवन रग रग हिन्दु मेरा परिचय॥

मै एक बिन्दु परिपूर्ण सिन्धु है यह मेरा हिन्दु समाज

मेरा इसका संबन्ध अमर मै व्यक्ति और यह है समाज

इससे मैने पाया तन मन इससे मैने पाया जीवन

मेरा तो बस कर्तव्य यही कर दू सब कुछ इसके अर्पण

मै तो समाज की थाति हूं मै तो समाज का हूं सेवक

मै तो समष्टि के लिए व्यष्टि का कर सकता बलिदान अभय

हिन्दु तन मन हिन्दु जीवन रग रग हिन्दु मेरा परिचय॥

                                       --- अटल बिहारी वाजपेयी

ऐ मेरी तन्हाई

ऐ मेरी तन्हाई , 
मै तुझसे प्यार करता हूँ!
मुझे तू छोड़ चली ना जाना,
अब तुझे खोने से डरता हूँ!!

भागता रहा तुझसे डर-डर के, 
कितने दिन काटे रोज मर-मर के!
भटकता रहा किसकी तलाश में
पता नहीं था तू थी मेरे पास में!!

दिन ढला, रात जब आई
साए ने भी साथ छोड़ा !
तू बिन-बुलाये, बिन-बताये
हवा सी साथ चलती रही!!

तुझसे मिलने के बाद मैंने,
इस अंतर्मन को जाना !
इस दिल को पहचाना
एक बेगाना अनजाना !!


वफ़ा ना कर सके तू अगर
चुप-चाप, धोखे से चली न जाना पर,
साँसों की गिनती कर लूँ मैं पूरी
तब तक तो साथ निभाना!

ऐ मेरी तन्हाई 
मै तुझसे प्यार करता हूँ!
मुझे तू छोड़ चली ना जाना
तुझे खोने से डरता हूँ !!

Crazy insects.

These monsoon insects are crazy. They go mad at the smallest presence of light. But they come out only at night. And they invade your place, swarm it. Even your computer monitor lures them. They find out ways to creep beneath the window panes. They roll over and over until they can cross over. It makes me wonder if they can actually think. And then they just go mad. The trap is laid. The lizard is ready and so is the spider. But these guys aren't scared, not at all ! Maybe they know theirs is a short life. So why not live the fullest, even though it means meeting a bitter end ? Death comes to them in the jaws of ugly lizards or the claws of frail spiders. And if they manage to escape, they die when they see the real light source. The sun. Amazing isn't it ? They were crazy about light, and they die when there is sunlight. Like the moth who burns itself in the candle flame. And what about the funeral ? It occurs in the bellies of the scavengers, the big red ants. Their body parts are disintegrated, carried large distances with a fabulous team effort, and consumed, or stored in anthills. So much of effort to live, and such death, sigh ! Of course, Darwin will be happy.

Teenager

Me—a teenager?
If suddenly, here, now, she stood before me,
would I have to greet her as one who is close,
even though to me she is strange and remote?

To shed a tear, to kiss the forehead
when the only reason
is that we share a birth date?

So much dissimilarity between us
that only bones perhaps are the same,
the cranial vault, the eye sockets.

For her eyes already as if a little bigger,
the eyelashes longer, greater height
and the whole body tightly clothed
in smooth skin without flaw.

It’s true that we’re bound by relatives and friends,
but in her world almost all are alive,
and in mine almost none
of that circle we share.

We differ so much,
our thoughts and words so far apart.
She knows little—
but with tenacity worthy of a better cause.
I know much more—
but without certainty.

She’s showing me her poems,
in clear, careful handwriting
I haven’t used in years.

I’m reading the poems, I’m reading.
Well, maybe this one,
if you shorten it
and correct in a few places.
The rest of it doesn’t bode very well.

The conversation is heavy going.
On her poor wristwatch
time is still wobbly and cheap.
On mine much more expensive and precise.

Nothing for goodbye, a perfunctory smile
and no emotion.

Only when she disappears
and in a rush leaves her scarf.

A scarf of real wool,
with colorful stripes
crocheted by our mother
for her.

I still have it with me.

 -- Wislawa Szymborska

Manhole

Tottering on the lanes of life,
I suddenly see my one foot leaping
into what I've avoided all my life -
A gaping manhole. Too late,
it is!  The other foot follows,
loyal to his twin, leaves me agape
at my utter loss of control over me.
A deluge of thoughts gushes in
a fraction of a second. Thoughts
of death, amalgamated with the past.
"It's all over", I say with eyes closed.

What happens next is perhaps
worse than the awaited end.
I'm stuck, contorted, one half in,
hands pointing towards
dark dungeons of destiny,
the other half staring blankly
at the beautiful destination. 
Writhing in pain, I cry for help,
with a choked throat. But Alas!
The lane is forsaken, as it is -
'A road less taken'. Travelers,
if at all, are busy, after all !
I pray, to whom they call
God. If I can't get out, at least,
let me fall, yes, plunge into the
gaping manhole of love.

No Road

Since we agreed to let the road between us
Fall to disuse,
And bricked our gates up, planted trees to screen us,
And turned all time's eroding agents loose,
Silence, and space, and strangers -- our neglect
Has not had much effect.

Leaves drift unswept, perhaps; grass creeps unmown;
No other change.
So clear it stands, so little overgrown,
Walking that way tonight would not seem strange,
And still would be allowed. A little longer,
And time will be the stronger,

Drafting a world where no such road will run
From you to me;
To watch that world come up like a cold sun,
Rewarding others, is my liberty.
Not to prevent it is my will's fulfilment.
Willing it, my ailment.

 

 --- Philip Larkin

I wandered lonely as a cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed - and gazed - but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

 --- William Wordsworth

Prayer before birth

I am not yet born; O hear me.
Let not the bloodsucking bat or the rat or the stoat or the
club-footed ghoul come near me.

I am not yet born, console me.
I fear that the human race may with tall walls wall me,
with strong drugs dope me, with wise lies lure me,
on black racks rack me, in blood-baths roll me.

I am not yet born; provide me
With water to dandle me, grass to grow for me, trees to talk
to me, sky to sing to me, birds and a white light
in the back of my mind to guide me.

I am not yet born; forgive me
For the sins that in me the world shall commit, my words
when they speak me, my thoughts when they think me,
my treason engendered by traitors beyond me,
my life when they murder by means of my
hands, my death when they live me.

I am not yet born; rehearse me
In the parts I must play and the cues I must take when
old men lecture me, bureaucrats hector me, mountains
frown at me, lovers laugh at me, the white
waves call me to folly and the desert calls
me to doom and the beggar refuses
my gift and my children curse me.

I am not yet born; O hear me,
Let not the man who is beast or who thinks he is God
come near me.

I am not yet born; O fill me
With strength against those who would freeze my
humanity, would dragoon me into a lethal automaton,
would make me a cog in a machine, a thing with
one face, a thing, and against all those
who would dissipate my entirety, would
blow me like thistledown hither and
thither or hither and thither
like water held in the
hands would spill me.

Let them not make me a stone and let them not spill me.
Otherwise kill me.

 -- Louis MacNeice

Survival at Stake

Butterflies in my belly,
      fluttering,
  refuse to relax.

Voices in my head,
     resonating,
 refuse to damp.

Voids in my soul,
       glaring,
   refuse to fill.

Eddies in my mind,
       gyrating,
refuse to dissipate.

Flames in my heart,
      engulfing,
refuse to quench.

Swooning sanity,
   Will I survive ?

गंगा बहती हो क्यूँ?

विस्तार हैं अपार, प्रजा दोनों पार,
करे हाहाकार निशब्द सदा,
ओ गंगा तुम, गंगा बहती हो क्यूँ?? 

नैतिकता नष्ट हुई, मानवता भ्रष्ट हुई,
निर्लज्ज-भाव से बहती हो क्यों??
इतिहास की पुकार करे हुंकार, ओ गंगा की धार निर्बल-जन को
सबल संग्रामी समग्रोगामी बनाती नहीं हो क्यों?? 

अनपढ़जन, अक्षरहीन, अनगिन जन खाद्यविहीन,
नेत्रविहीन देख मौन हो क्यों?
इतिहास की पुकार करे हुंकार, ओ गंगा की धार निर्बल-जन को
सबल संग्रामी समग्रोगामी बनाती नहीं हो क्यों?? 

व्यक्ति रहे व्यष्टि-केंद्रित, सकल समाज व्यष्टित्व-रहित,
निष्प्राण समाजको तोडती न क्यों?
इतिहास की पुकार करे हुंकार, ओ गंगा की धार निर्बल-जन को
सबल संग्रामी समग्रोगामी बनाती नहीं हो क्यों?? 

स्त्रोतस्विनी क्यों न रही? तुम निश्चय चेतन नहीं...
प्राणों में प्रेरणा देती न क्यों?
उन्मत अवनी कुरुक्षेत्र बनी,
गंगे जननी नवभारत में, (तुम) भीष्म-रूपी सूत समरजयी, जनती नहीं हो क्यों? 

कवी - पंडित नरेन्द्र शर्मा
गायक - श्री भूपेन हजारिका


English Translation


Countless commons are crying out on both the banks of your unfathomable expanse,
yet silently Oh Ganga, why do you keep on flowing? - 1

Morality is destroyed, Humanity has been corrupted,
Yet shamelessly why do you continue flowing?
Why don't you empower the weak and make them progressive, in spite of the approaching roaring tides of history? - 2

Countless men, illiterate, uneducated and hungry,
Why do you silently turn a blind eye towards them?
Why don't you empower the weak and make them progressive, in spite of the approaching roaring tides of history? - 3

(in modern times) Individual stays in small circle, entire-society is lacking identity,
Why don't you break and destroy this already lifeless society? (so that new beginning can be made - hint towards prayala)
Why don't you empower the weak and make them progressive, in spite of the approaching roaring tides of history? - 4

Why didn't you remain full of life, (it seems like) for sure you are lifeless..
Why don't you inspire the "life-force" within yourselves and society?
Defiant earth has become Kurukshetra, O mother Ganga why don't you conceive again a victorious son like Bheeshma for New India (to happen)? - 5








Poet - Pandit Narendra Sharma
Singer and Composer - Bhupen Hazarika

Strange whispers, बावरा मन

Sun in the earth.. sunflower
Bird in the air ...rain
Eye within eye... daybreak

Streets we have never walked on
Windows we have never opened
Hands we have never held
Dreams we shall never ..never see again

Sun in the earth.. sunflower
Bird in the air ...rain
Eye within eye... daybreak

Lives we have never lived
Hopes ..we have never realized
Fires we have never lit
Loves we shall never .. never make again

Sun in the earth sunflower
Bird in the air rain
Eye within eye daybreak

Sun in the earth sunflower
Bird in the air rain
Eye within eye daybreak

I hear those strange whispers again.....

(From the Movie Hazaron Khwahishein Aisi soundtrack 'Bawra Man')


बावरा मन देखने चला एक सपना 

बावरा मन देखने चला एक सपना

बावरे से मन की देखो बावरी हैं बातें
बावरी सी धड़कने हैं बावरी हैं साँसें
बावरी सी करवटों से निंदिया दूर भागे
बावरे से नैन चाहें बावरे झरोखों से
बावरे नज़ारों को तकना
बावरा मन देखने चला एक सपना

बावरे से इस जहाँ में बावरा एक साथ हो
इस सयानी भीड़ में बस हाथों में तेरा हाथ हो
बावरी सी धुन हो कोई बावरा इक राग हो
ओ बावरी सी धुन हो कोई बावरा इक राग हो
बावरे से पैर चाहें बावारे तरानों के
बावरे से बोल पे थिरकना
बावरा मन देखने चला एक सपना

बावरा सा हो अंधेरा बावरी ख़ामोशियाँ
बावरा सा हो अंधेरा बावरी ख़ामोशियाँ
थरथराती नोह मद्धम बावरी मदहोशियाँ
बावरा एक घूँघटा चाहे हौले हौले दिन बताये
बावरे से मुखड़े से सरकना
बावरा मन देखने चला एक सपना


-- स्वानंद किरकिरे

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7CDKs6-OmNM&feature=related)

Walk alone (Ekla chalo re)

If they answer not to thy call walk alone,
If they are afraid and cower mutely facing the wall,
O thou unlucky one,
open thy mind and speak out alone.

If they turn away, and desert you when crossing the wilderness,
O thou unlucky one,
trample the thorns under thy tread,
and along the blood-lined track travel alone.

If they do not hold up the light when the night is troubled with storm,
O thou unlucky one,
with the thunder flame of pain ignite thy own heart
and let it burn alone.

Bengali Roman script

Jodi tor đak shune keu na ashe tôbe êkla chôlo re,
Êkla chôlo, êkla chôlo, êkla chôlo, êkla chôlo re.
Jodi keu kôtha na kôe, ore ore o ôbhaga,
Jodi shôbai thake mukh firaee shôbai kôre bhôe---
Tôbe pôran khule
O tui mukh fuţe tor moner kôtha êkla bôlo re.
Jodi shôbai fire jae, ore ore o ôbhaga,
Jodi gôhon pôthe jabar kale keu fire na chae---
Tôbe pôther kãţa
O tui rôktomakha chôrontôle êkla dôlo re.
Jodi alo na dhôre, ore ore o ôbhaga,
Jodi jhôŗ-badole ãdhar rate duar dêe ghôre---
Tôbe bojranôle
Apon buker pãjor jalie nie êkla jôlo re.

-- Rabindranath Tagore

Help please

Help me, if you'll.. please,

Burn all the pixels in my brain
containing your memories.

Make paper planes..No..boats,
from those unsent letters,
to set sail in the ocean.

Rub the sketches that I made,
of you walking on beach at sunset.

Jumble the letters in words
of poetry until they lose sense.

Forget your tunes, the notes,
amidst the noise in my life.

Crush the crushed daffodils,
resting in journal margins.

Live with my forsaken heart
never ever beating again.

Animal Men

She went to help,
it was a trap.
She ran,
yelped for help
only to be,
once again,
Soiled
by Animal Men.

Fear of Fall

In the trite carom-games played then,
finding myself at the receiving end, 
I would scatter all the coins,
create chaos, decide the end,
of the game. Only choice, if at all,
was to start all over again.
No fear of banishment, no shame
in being touted a renegade.

At the 'receiving end' again, all
cues in the game of life missing,
retreat is impossible. Chaos'
seems easy to create, 'n start
afresh. But the high stakes,
ignominy of defeat, fear of fall,
are scary, standing tall. 

I was braver, then, after all. 
 

लोहे के पेड़

लोहे के पेड़ हरे होंगे,
तू गान प्रेम का गाता चल,
नम होगी यह मिट्टी ज़रूर,
आँसू के कण बरसाता चल

सिसकियों और चीत्कारों से,
जितना भी हो आकाश भरा,
कंकालों क हो ढेर,
खप्परों से चाहे हो पटी धरा

आशा के स्वर का भार,
पवन को लेकिन, लेना ही होगा,
जीवित सपनों के लिए मार्ग
मुर्दों को देना ही होगा।

रंगो के सातों घट उँड़ेल,
यह अँधियारी रँग जायेगी,
ऊषा को सत्य बनाने को
जावक नभ पर छितराता चल

आदर्शों से आदर्श भिड़े,
प्रज्ञा प्रज्ञा पर टूट रही।
प्रतिमा प्रतिमा से लड़ती है,
धरती की किस्मत फूट रही

आवर्तों का है विषम जाल,
निरुपाय बुद्धि चकराती है,
विज्ञान-यान पर चढी हुई
सभ्यता डूबने जाती है

जब-जब मस्तिष्क जयी होता,
संसार ज्ञान से चलता है,
शीतलता की है राह हृदय,
तू यह संवाद सुनाता चल

सूरज है जग का बुझा-बुझा,
चन्द्रमा मलिन-सा लगता है,
सब की कोशिश बेकार हुई,
आलोक न इनका जगता है,

इन मलिन ग्रहों के प्राणों में
कोई नवीन आभा भर दे,
जादूगर! अपने दर्पण पर
घिसकर इनको ताजा कर दे

दीपक के जलते प्राण,
दिवाली तभी सुहावन होती है,
रोशनी जगत् को देने को
अपनी अस्थियाँ जलाता चल

क्या उन्हें देख विस्मित होना,
जो हैं अलमस्त बहारों में,
फूलों को जो हैं गूँथ रहे
सोने-चाँदी के तारों में

मानवता का तू विप्र!
गन्ध-छाया का आदि पुजारी है,
वेदना-पुत्र! तू तो केवल
जलने भर का अधिकारी है

ले बड़ी खुशी से उठा,
सरोवर में जो हँसता चाँद मिले,
दर्पण में रचकर फूल,
मगर उस का भी मोल चुकाता चल

काया की कितनी धूम-धाम!
दो रोज चमक बुझ जाती है;
छाया पीती पीयुष,
मृत्यु के उपर ध्वजा उड़ाती है

लेने दे जग को उसे,
ताल पर जो कलहंस मचलता है,
तेरा मराल जल के दर्पण
में नीचे-नीचे चलता है

कनकाभ धूल झर जाएगी,
वे रंग कभी उड़ जाएँगे,
सौरभ है केवल सार, उसे
तू सब के लिए जुगाता चल

क्या अपनी उन से होड़,
अमरता की जिनको पहचान नहीं,
छाया से परिचय नहीं,
गन्ध के जग का जिन को ज्ञान नहीं

जो चतुर चाँद का रस निचोड़
प्यालों में ढाला करते हैं,
भट्ठियाँ चढाकर फूलों से
जो इत्र निकाला करते हैं

ये भी जाएँगे कभी, मगर,
आधी मनुष्यतावालों पर,
जैसे मुसकाता आया है,
वैसे अब भी मुसकाता चल

सभ्यता-अंग पर क्षत कराल,
यह अर्थ-मानवों का बल है,
हम रोकर भरते उसे,
हमारी आँखों में गंगाजल है

शूली पर चढ़ा मसीहा को
वे फूल नहीं समाते हैं
हम शव को जीवित करने को
छायापुर में ले जाते हैं

भींगी चाँदनियों में जीता,
जो कठिन धूप में मरता है,
उजियाली से पीड़ित नर के
मन में गोधूलि बसाता चल

यह देख नयी लीला उनकी,
फिर उनने बड़ा कमाल किया,
गाँधी के लोहू से सारे,
भारत-सागर को लाल किया

जो उठे राम, जो उठे कृष्ण,
भारत की मिट्टी रोती है,
क्या हुआ कि प्यारे गाँधी की
यह लाश न जिन्दा होती है

तलवार मारती जिन्हें,
बाँसुरी उन्हें नया जीवन देती,
जीवनी-शक्ति के अभिमानी!
यह भी कमाल दिखलाता चल

धरती के भाग हरे होंगे,
भारती अमृत बरसाएगी,
दिन की कराल दाहकता पर
चाँदनी सुशीतल छाएगी

ज्वालामुखियों के कण्ठों में
कलकण्ठी का आसन होगा,
जलदों से लदा गगन होगा,
फूलों से भरा भुवन होगा

बेजान, यन्त्र-विरचित गूँगी,
मूर्त्तियाँ एक दिन बोलेंगी,
मुँह खोल-खोल सब के भीतर
शिल्पी! तू जीभ बिठाता चल

---- 

जनतन्त्र का जन्म

सदियों की ठंढी-बुझी राख सुगबुगा उठी,
मिट्टी सोने का ताज पहन इठलाती है;
दो राह,समय के रथ का घर्घर-नाद सुनो,
सिंहासन खाली करो कि जनता आती है।

जनता?हां,मिट्टी की अबोध मूरतें वही,
जाडे-पाले की कसक सदा सहनेवाली,
जब अंग-अंग में लगे सांप हो चुस रहे
तब भी न कभी मुंह खोल दर्द कहनेवाली।

जनता?हां,लंबी - बडी जीभ की वही कसम,
"जनता,सचमुच ही, बडी वेदना सहती है।"
"सो ठीक,मगर,आखिर,इस पर जनमत क्या है?"
'है प्रश्न गूढ़ जनता इस पर क्या कहती है?"

मानो,जनता ही फूल जिसे अहसास नहीं,
जब चाहो तभी उतार सजा लो दोनों में;
अथवा कोई दूधमुंही जिसे बहलाने के
जन्तर-मन्तर सीमित हों चार खिलौनों में।

लेकिन होता भूडोल, बवंडर उठते हैं,
जनता जब कोपाकुल हो भृकुटि चढाती है;
दो राह, समय के रथ का घर्घर-नाद सुनो,
सिंहासन खाली करो कि जनता आती है।

हुंकारों से महलों की नींव उखड़ जाती,
सांसों के बल से ताज हवा में उड़ता है,
जनता की रोके राह,समय में ताव कहां?
वह जिधर चाहती,काल उधर ही मुड़ता है।

अब्दों, शताब्दियों, सहस्त्राब्द का अंधकार
बीता;गवाक्ष अंबर के दहके जाते हैं;
यह और नहीं कोई,जनता के स्वप्न अजय
चीरते तिमिर का वक्ष उमड़ते जाते हैं।

सब से विराट जनतंत्र जगत का आ पहुंचा,
तैंतीस कोटि-हित सिंहासन तय करो
अभिषेक आज राजा का नहीं,प्रजा का है,
तैंतीस कोटि जनता के सिर पर मुकुट धरो।

आरती लिये तू किसे ढूंढता है मूरख,
मन्दिरों, राजप्रासादों में, तहखानों में?
देवता कहीं सड़कों पर गिट्टी तोड़ रहे,
देवता मिलेंगे खेतों में, खलिहानों में।

फावड़े और हल राजदण्ड बनने को हैं,
धूसरता सोने से श्रृंगार सजाती है;
दो राह,समय के रथ का घर्घर-नाद सुनो,
सिंहासन खाली करो कि जनता आती है।

(26जनवरी,1950ई.) 

--- रामधारी सिंह "दिनकर"

मनुष्यता

है बहुत बरसी धरित्री पर अमृत की धार;
पर नहीं अब तक सुशीतल हो सका संसार|
भोग लिप्सा आज भी लहरा रही उद्दाम;
बह रही असहाय नर कि भावना निष्काम|
लक्ष्य क्या? उद्देश्य क्या? क्या अर्थ?
यह नहीं यदि ज्ञात तो विज्ञानं का श्रम व्यर्थ|
यह मनुज, जो ज्ञान का आगार;
यह मनुज, जो सृष्टि का श्रृंगार |
छद्म इसकी कल्पना, पाखण्ड इसका ज्ञान;
यह मनुष्य, मनुष्यता का घोरतम अपमान|

----  रामधारी सिंह "दिनकर"

परिचय

सलिल कण हूँ, या पारावार हूँ मैं
स्वयं छाया, स्वयं आधार हूँ मैं
बँधा हूँ, स्वपन हूँ, लघु वृत हूँ मैं
नहीं तो व्योम का विस्तार हूँ मैं

समाना चाहता है, जो बीन उर में
विकल उस शुन्य की झनंकार हूँ मैं
भटकता खोजता हूँ, ज्योति तम में
सुना है ज्योति का आगार हूँ मैं

जिसे निशि खोजती तारे जलाकर
उसीका कर रहा अभिसार हूँ मैं
जनम कर मर चुका सौ बार लेकिन
अगम का पा सका क्या पार हूँ मैं

कली की पंखुडीं पर ओस-कण में
रंगीले स्वपन का संसार हूँ मैं
मुझे क्या आज ही या कल झरुँ मैं
सुमन हूँ, एक लघु उपहार हूँ मैं

मधुर जीवन हुआ कुछ प्राण! जब से
लगा ढोने व्यथा का भार हूँ मैं
रुंदन अनमोल धन कवि का, इसी से
पिरोता आँसुओं का हार हूँ मैं

मुझे क्या गर्व हो अपनी विभा का
चिता का धूलिकण हूँ, क्षार हूँ मैं
पता मेरा तुझे मिट्टी कहेगी
समा जिस्में चुका सौ बार हूँ मैं

न देंखे विश्व, पर मुझको घृणा से
मनुज हूँ, सृष्टि का श्रृंगार हूँ मैं
पुजारिन, धुलि से मुझको उठा ले
तुम्हारे देवता का हार हूँ मैं

सुनुँ क्या सिंधु, मैं गर्जन तुम्हारा
स्वयं युग-धर्म की हुँकार हूँ मैं
कठिन निर्घोष हूँ भीषण अशनि का
प्रलय-गांडीव की टंकार हूँ मैं

दबी सी आग हूँ भीषण क्षुधा का
दलित का मौन हाहाकार हूँ मैं
सजग संसार, तू निज को सम्हाले
प्रलय का क्षुब्ध पारावार हूँ मैं

बंधा तुफान हूँ, चलना मना है
बँधी उद्याम निर्झर-धार हूँ मैं
कहूँ क्या कौन हूँ, क्या आग मेरी
बँधी है लेखनी, लाचार हूँ मैं ।।

----   रामधारी सिंह "दिनकर"

रोटी और स्वाधीनता

आजादी तो मिल गई, मगर, यह गौरव कहाँ जुगाएगा ?
मरभुखे ! इसे घबराहट में तू बेच न तो खा जाएगा ?
आजादी रोटी नहीं, मगर, दोनों में कोई वैर नहीं,
पर कहीं भूख बेताब हुई तो आजादी की खैर नहीं।

हो रहे खड़े आजादी को हर ओर दगा देनेवाले,
पशुओं को रोटी दिखा उन्हें फिर साथ लगा लेनेवाले।
इनके जादू का जोर भला कब तक बुभुक्षु सह सकता है ?
है कौन, पेट की ज्वाला में पड़कर मनुष्य रह सकता है ?

 झेलेगा यह बलिदान ? भूख की घनी चोट सह पाएगा ?
आ पड़ी विपद तो क्या प्रताप-सा घास चबा रह पाएगा ?
है बड़ी बात आजादी का पाना ही नहीं, जुगाना भी,
बलि एक बार ही नहीं, उसे पड़ता फिर-फिर दुहराना भी।

--  रामधारी सिंह "दिनकर"

Wait 'n watch

There are such mornings,
when on waking up you're confused
if the sun will rise, or night will set in.
Life throws you in such situations,
when you're as ignorant and unsure
as a recalcitrant child, lost in a fair.

Ignorance is not bliss, oblivion is.
Just go, sleep in the paper boat
flung in the river of time,
flowing nonchalantly with the tide,
and wait, but wait until what ?
Don't know. Just wait 'n watch.

बसंती हवा

हवा हूँ, हवा मैं
बसंती हवा हूँ !

सुनो बात मेरी -
अनोखी हवा हूँ !
बड़ी बावली हूँ
बड़ी मस्तमौला !
नहीं कुछ फिकर है
बड़ी ही निडर हूँ
जिधर चाहती हूँ,
उधर घूमती हूँ,
मुसाफिर अजब हूँ !

न घर-बार मेरा,
न उद्येश्य मेरा,
न इक्छा किसी की
न आशा किसी की
न प्रेमी न दुश्मन,
जिधर चाहती हूँ,
उधर घूमती हूँ,
हवा हूँ, हवा मैं
बसंती हवा हूँ !

जहां से चली मैं,
जहां को गयी मैं -
शहर, गाँव, बस्ती,
नदी, रेत, निर्जन,
हरे खेत, पोखर,
झुलाती चली मैं !
झुमाती चली मैं !

चढ़ी पेड़ महुआ,
थपाथप मचाया,
गिरी धम्म से फिर,
चढ़ी आम ऊपर,
उसे भी झकोरा,
किया कान में 'कूँ'
उतारकर भागी मैं,
हरे खेत पहुंची -
वहाँ गेहुओं में
लहर खूब मारी !

पहर दो पहर क्या,
अनेकों पहर तक
इसी में रही मैं !
कड़ी देख अलसी
लिए शीश कलसी,
मुझे खूब सूझी -
हिलाया- झुलाया
गिरी पर न कलसी !
इसी हार को पा,
हिलाई न सरसों,
झुलाई न सरसों,

मुझे देखते ही
अरहरी लजाई,
मनाया-बनाया,
न मानी, न मानी;
उसे भी न छोड़ा -
पथिक आ रहा था,
उसी पर धकेला !
हंसी जोर से मैं,
हंसी सब दिशाएं,
हसें लहलहाते
हरे खेत सारे,
हंसी चमचमाती
भरी धूप प्यारी;
बसंती हवा में
हंसी सृष्टि सारी !

हवा हूँ, हवा मैं
बसंती हवा हूँ !


---- केदारनाथ अग्रवाल

Chh..Chhh...!!

"Old man dies....
Who dug and sold soil,
Ten bucks for ten hours.
Perhaps couldn't toil,
lift and walk any more."
I heard her say
"Chh..Chhh...!!"

"Street urchin trampled...
Who sold paint brushes
in the scorching sun,
came under the wheels,
painting them crimson "
I heard her say
Chh..Chhh...!!

"Slums caught fire....
Where sleeping dwellers slept,
not one left, so no one wept,
Appears to be a short-circuit
in an otherwise dead wire."
I heard her say
Chh..Chhh...!!

"Two siblings succumb....
Survived by a sick mother,
School closing was an ordeal.
Thanks to Telangana protests,
they lost their mid-day meal."
I heard her say
Chh..Chhh...!!

Mom had warned,
as mothers often do,
" I told you, didn't I ?
Don't step out. It rained.
You slipped ?"
I heard her say again
Chh..Chhh...!!

"The same expression !"
So easily blurted.
Just feel, utter and forget
What compunction !
Chh..Chhh...!!

The Day Is Done

The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.

I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me
That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.

Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.

Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.

For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life's endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.

Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;

Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.

Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.

Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.

And the night shall be filled with music
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.

 ----  Henry W Longfellow

I'm nobody! Who are you?

I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us -- don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

--- Emily Dickinson

Social Blunder - II

The month of August 2004.

The third semester commenced, as we reached Jalandhar after a long vacation, and a 24 hour journey on the Punjab mail. Traveling as a group by train was fun, with everyone having their anecdotes to tell, not-to-mention the home-made mouth-watering snacks. That way one did not miss home much. Something was different this time as we entered the institute portals. We were seniors, now.  As second year seniors we could walk around with our heads held high, at least two inches higher than couple of months back. Freshers would have joined by now. Of course, ragging was banned by Supreme Court order, but a 'personality development program (PDP)' would continue to occur as long as we could make them believe that their life in campus would be devastating without our blessings.

I had ensconced in the second year hostel with my new room-mate and friend Kanishk. Just as I returned after dinner, I got a call from my home on his mobile. "How are things ? Have you settled ?", my father was curious.

"I am fine, settled, and mess food is fine, too", I anticipated his next question and answered it.

"How was your last semester's result ?", he asked what all fathers consider their prime duty to inquire.

"Don't you remember ? I had shown it you already, on the internet. I got a grade point of 8.75", I replied making it sound it was not so important. "Oh! But you fell short of nine. Make it up this time", he replied.

"I'll try.", I answered. I hated talking about results, right from my school days, and always wondered why it was the sole criteria to judge our capabilities. I wondered what it would be like for others, those who succumb to the demonic grade point system, to talk to their parents.

"Son, listen, it's about my colleague Mr Sinha. His daughter has got Industrial Engineering branch in Jalandhar after the second counseling. He had some queries. Can you answer them ?"

" Of course, I have all the idea !", I replied even though I was from another branch.  "What exactly does he want to know ?", I continued, this time more cautious.

"I don't know exactly, some thing about marking system, branch change, placement, etc etc!".

"Why don't you give him this mobile phone number ? He can get all doubts cleared directly." I said.

"Yes, I wanted to ask you once before doing that.", he replied, "Fine, go and study, good night". I described the talk to Kanishk, and he seemed excited.

He said, "Since I am in Industrial after my branch change, and it is my mobile phone, it should be me who should explain all details to your father's friend."

"Don't even think about that.", I chipped. I knew very well why he was so excited.

"I won't hand you the phone when he calls. I will pretend to be you", he teased. 

"You'll be caught. Uncle knows my voice. And if you do that, I'll call your home and tell your parents about your shady activities.", I lied to tease him back. For a second he looked scared on my statement, but he succeeded in hiding it.

"Ok, ok. But you should at least consult me. Its my 'branch' privilege.", he almost pleaded.

"Fine, I'll do it", I said, "..if I feel like", adding the later half in a hushed tone.

Uncle Sinha called the next day at eight in the morning. Kanishk was still asleep. He said "Hello son ! How are you ?". I wanted to tell him that he had dialed a wrong number and that I was not his son as he had woken me up too early on a holiday, but I controlled myself. "Namaste (greetings), uncle ! I am fine, thank you.",I replied yawning.

"Is it the right time to talk to you?", he inquired.

"Yes, you may ask whatever you want", I replied looking at Kanishk who was busy dreaming.

"What is this branch 'industrial' ?", was his first question that I had already expected. "Actually, it's a specialized branch of mechanical engineering, somewhat close to production engineering.", I replied.

" I don't know why Snigdha had put it in the list of choices in the counseling. Now this is the only option available to her", he sounded confused and dejected.

"Its Ok, uncle. The branch is related to management studies, too. It isn't a bad choice to pursue., I tried to elevate his spirit.

"Oh! Is it ?", he seemed to feel better on hearing the buzz word 'management'. He then asked me about the scope, the placement, teachers, etc to which I answered whatever I knew. Finally, he asked 'What is this grading system ?', and I immediately felt sorry for his daughter. I tried to explain him the CGPA formula but it seemed all Greek to him. "Why don't you explain it over to Snigdha ? She's good at maths. And also inspire her to work hard so that she can switch over to electronics." , he said after which there was a pause and a father-daughter argument.

"Hello, is it Avishek ?", she said.

"No, I am his father", I replied, and I heard her giggle.

"You seem to be curious about CGPA", I said.

"Yes. Its not very clear - the credits, hours, etc", she replied.

"You've not even joined as of now! Everyone learns with time. So will you.", I answered. "But I can join only when I explain it to my father, and I promise that I'll work hard for branch change."

"Ohh, Weird !.", I laughed.

"Yep, can't help !", she laughed back, and I liked the rhyming.

I explained her in layman terms, and asked, " So, what else do you want to know ?". "Many things. I'm very excited !", she chirped. Indeed, there is certainly an excitement when one is joining a new college. But I had a notion that the despair of going away from home generally overwhelmed the excitement. Maybe it was the opposite for girls, perhaps, as it was a chance to get out of the confines of their homes, plus the fact that they are always on the lookout for 'exciting' things in their life.

"Ohh ! Aren't you sad as you're leaving home for the first time ?", I was curious. 

 "Of course, I am. I cry for half an hour every day", she said, as if it was a part of her daily routine. I couldn't help laughing.

"Are you laughing ?", she pretended to be angry.

"Yes I just inhaled nitrous oxide.", I quipped.

She giggled and said "I inhaled it, too." 

"So are you going to ask everything today itself ?", I asked.

 "No....no. I won't waste much of your precious time. I'll call again later... Thanks."

I told her that it was my room-mate's mobile and therefore, she should preferably mail me, until I bought a mobile phone for myself.....I felt as if I had talked to an old friend after a long time. On waking up, Kanishk noticed this and asked me why was I in such high spirits. "Nothing...just a nice sms in your mobile !", I said as I deleted the call log.

That day when I went to 'C' lab, I forwarded to her id, some nice mails sent to me by my friends. Apparently she was online that time, and she replied asking 'the list of subjects, and books' for the first year. I was peeved but I sent her a list from whatever I could remember. It reminded me of some school mates who used to cover next grade's syllabus before it started. I sent her the link to download yahoo messenger, but she replied saying her internet connection was too slow. So, the mail conversations continued. I would send her some forwarded mails every 2-3 days, and sometimes she would sometimes reply, to which I would reply back. To my utter surprise, I came to know that she attended my school, Don Bosco Academy for two years and she was in the same bus route as mine. It meant that we might actually have met everyday. And now, she was about to join my institute. What kind of a coincidence was this ?  In one mail she asked me if I had a girl friend, and I described her the sad state of affairs in the mechanical engineering department. About schooldays, I confessed to her about a girl Manisha, a year senior to me, whom I liked. She said that she knew her, as they were from the same bus stop, and then teased me. Once she asked me to call at a particular time in the evening, as she had some questions. I called from the phone booth, and we had some general talk. She asked about movies. I said that I was no movie buff, but we could go sometime, 'if she was interested and if the movie was good', thinking about 'Koi mil gaya' , a blockbuster.  Talking to her made me feel that life is meant just to keep smiling always. It was very different - effervescent. "Probably I should call her every 2-3 days", I told myself and smiled. But, I didn't.

Uncle Sinha called 3 days before they were supposed to start off. He inquired about what to carry and what not, and then asked about accommodation. I informed about the institute guest house, and I said that I could try to book it for them, though it was pretty late by then. I submitted an application mentioning that I needed accommodation for my uncle/aunt who were coming for my cousin's admission, but they said they could inform me only after 3 days. I sent a mail to Snigdha mentioning the directions to the institute and other do's/dont's. The first thing to greet you in Jalandhar is the over-cordiality of auto-rickshaw drivers. They would say 'Aa...jao..ji. aa jao...(Come, come, welcome)" even if you look at them by mistake. But they would blankly stare, as soon as you said "NIT", which would end only when you mumbled the full address. Then they would laugh out at you saying "Oh....REC", smirking at your 'naivete'. They were still unaccustomed to the nationalization of erstwhile regional institutes by the Indian govt. On the admission day, I found from the guest house that there was no accommodation available, and messaged it to Uncle Sinha. I advised them to stay at the railway retiring room or a hotel, for the time being.

I had a busy day, and got the time to call them up only in the afternoon. Snigdha picked up the call. By that time she had got admission as well as accommodation. I asked about the journey and how she liked the campus. She seemed happy. I said that I was sorry that I couldn't get an accommodation for her parents, but we could still try once more. So we decided that we would meet at the institute guest house at 5.00pm. I was there on time, after my Machine Drawing class, drafter on my back like a quiver. I greeted Uncle and Aunty and asked if everything was fine. I said 'Hello' to Snigdha and she just smiled in reply, looking even more cherubic. Uncle Sinha said I looked familiar and claimed he had visited my house once. I was about to say that Snigdha looked familiar to me, when she said 'Shall we inquire at the guest house?'. I said 'Yes' and entered through the gate. We walked quietly, perhaps, both of us thinking how to break the ice, although we'd talked before on phone.

"Does uncle know that you were in the same bus as me ?", I said without much thought. She was a little surprised, and replied "He didn't know, but I told him in train.".

"Ohh !", was all I could say.

"Why ?", she asked. "Nothing, just curious ! ", I muttered.

When we finally discovered that there was no way out at the institute guest house, she said "What are other options ?".

 "Well, there are no good hotels nearby as our college is in the outskirts, so they'll have to goto city, preferably before night sets in", I replied. She didn't say anything, but her sadness was apparent.

 I thought for a while and said, "There is one way out. Aunty can stay with you, and Uncle can stay in my hostel. I can adjust, it doesn't matter for a couple of days.". "That is much better. But in such a case, you must go to your hostel, immediately and take a permission.", I continued without waiting for an answer.

"...seems better", she said, and we went and explained it to Uncle and Aunty.  We walked towards the DS (departmental store), and had snacks.

"What about ragging ?", she was more curious than scared.

 "It is banned, any one caught indulging is rusticated", I replied.

"Ohh ! So it means as long as no one is caught, it's Ok ?", she was coming back to her jovial self.

I smiled, "You need not worry. Just don't stare at seniors, which I'm sure you wouldn't, nothing will happen. And then....I'm there,anyway". I said reassuringly and continued "But I've heard some shady things happen in Girls hostel, be careful, as my influence ends at its gate.", I said and laughed. I wondered what my final year seniors would say about what I had said.

She joked "But how will I know if the guy I'm staring at, is a senior". She was smart, and seniors rarely liked smart juniors. The dumber the junior was or at least pretended to be, the easier was his way through first year.

"Just don't stare at anyone, at least for an year, to be on the safer side !", I cautioned.

Girls Hostel had a gate timing of 7.00pm which was followed to the letter, much more strictly for freshies. She bid goodbye to her dad, and we were on our towards my hostel, at the other end of the campus. I asked Uncle if he wanted a tour of the campus, but he seemed tired. He asked questions about the college and about my studies. "Grewal's maths, Bhatt's EGD and Thereja's electrical, are classic books since ages", he said when I told him about the first year books. He added he was worried about Snigdha, but the fact that I was there in the same campus was a solace. "Your concern is genuine, but you need not worry about anything", I replied, "Everyone gets used to it with time". Luckily, I had cleaned my room the previous Sunday. Kanishk seemed surprised to see us but when I told him about the circumstances, he just smiled at me wryly. There was some talk on Industrial Engineering, in which Kanishk contributed more than me. He had got this opportunity, after much wait. I allowed him the privilege as he had consented for Uncle's stay without me asking for it. It was an unsaid rule - Room-mates need not ask to borrow toothpastes, buckets, music-players, deoderants, and many such things. Kanishk made sure that he joined us the next day when we met for lunch, and he kept stealing opportunities to talk to Snigdha. He emphasized again and again that he was a senior in the same branch. Snigdha kept mum most of the time, just answered the bare minimum. In the evening, we went to the campus temple, and Kanishk was desperate to pretend being overly pious. I asked him, "When was the last time you came here, last semester, or the one previous to that ?" He stared at me and lied, " I come here every Sunday." Snigdha realised the situation and laughed, just the way she used to, on phone. I looked in her eyes, and then looked at the temple Goddess Durga's eyes carved beautifully. They appeared the same.

Just then Uncle Sinha blurted, "Day after tomorrow is an auspicious day. Snigdha doesn't have any siblings, and since, you have done so much for us, she wants to tie a Raakhee (sacred thread) to you". I didn't know how to react. I just looked at Snigdha expecting her to say the same, but she looked somewhere else. Finding me at loss of words, Uncle continued, " She bought it in Patna, and I told it to your father, didn't he tell you ?"

 "No, he didn't. That is day after tomorrow. We can plan one day at a time.", I blabbered something, while feeling enraged at my father. I called home as soon as I could, and found my father wasn't at home. I left an urgent message for him to call me back, and just waited till he did. "What did you say to Uncle Sinha ?", I inquired without even greeting him.

"What? When?", he couldn't understand at first.

"About Rakhee"

 "Ohh, that ! Yes, yes. I forgot to tell you. He said that since you've helped them so much, she should tie a Rakhee, and I agreed since you don't have any of your sisters there."

 "No body has sisters here, and it doesn't mean all have to get one. Does she want it or not is more important, which no body cares.", I said and continued "Ok...I've to go and study, bye". I tried to keep the thought out of my mind for most of the day. I was lousy in machine drawing class and got rebuked. Kanishk noted my mind's pre-occupation and asked. I didn't want to tell him, as he would laugh and tell it to everyone. But when he forced, I told him only after he swore not to share it. He couldn't contain himself, and continued laughing for a minute. So much that I almost laughed with him !

 "So what're you going to do now ? Run away or pretend to fall sick ?"

 "No, that will show I've something fishy going on in my mind, and I don't want that. I just want to know what she wants. If she really thinks of me that way, I don't have a problem."

"Dude, how can you say that ? You really don't have a problem ? Are you sure ?", Kanishk teased me.

 "Yes, but only and only if its her choice, which I'm quite sure isn't", I said and added, "I'm not like you, trying to encash every opportunity of scoring a girlfriend".

 "Don't pretend to be a saint, I know it very well. You may not say it, but you face says it all."

 "What does it say ? Tell me ? Since when did you become an expert on reading faces ?", I said and rushed towards him. He ran to escape until he saw Uncle Sinha approaching our room and everything was hushed.

The next day, I left early for my classes. During lunch-break, Kanishk told me that the family had planned to go for shopping in the evening, and that Uncle was asking when would I would return from classes in the evening. I didn't reply and continued eating. At about 4.30pm when I had came out of class for water, Kanishk came with a mobile in his hand, and said, "Call for you", and went. It was Uncle.

"When will you be free after classes ? Could you come over to the DS ? Talk to Snigdha.".

"Hi!", she said.

"So do you have plans for Rakhee ?". I asked, feeling relieved that I had got a chance to listen it from her. There was a pause, after which she said, " I brought it from home."

"Ok, fine, we'll meet at the DS at 5.30pm", I said without thinking.

At that moment, my mind was somehow convinced that it was her choice. I tried analyzing her statement again and again. She didn't reply in 'yes' or 'no'. And she couldn't have refused it, too. It would raise questions. So I was again unsure if it was her choice or an imposed one.

"How does it matter ?", I asked myself.

One half of me answered, "It doesn't. You aren't in love. Are you ?".

The other half replied. "It does. You may become a laughing stock if people come to know of it. And then you may not love her, but you like her as a friend, not as a sister ?"

" Yes....but friends can be like siblings, and siblings can be like friends. So how do things change ?", the first half asked.

"We choose friends, but we don't choose siblings.", pat came a reply.

Then the whole thing dawned on me. Perhaps Uncle had sensed something going wrong and was taking a precautionary measure, or perhaps he wanted me to take a responsibility. I already knew he wasn't comfortable leaving his beloved child away from home. He had already seen in campus, so many couples walking hand-in-hand. I was very much aware of the orthodox mentality that prevailed in our society. There is certainly an added responsibility with a relationship, of whatever kind. One can fight with friends and ditch them, but that isn't so easy with siblings. But that is what makes friends even more special.  I finished my tutorial work and found it was 5.25pm already. I thought of taking a different route so as to be inconspicuous to everyone. I took the road through the back side of textile department, which meant I would have to walk more. On my way, I convinced myself that the decision was hers. By the time I reached a corner from where a right turn would take me to the DS, I found it was 5.35pm. I saw her from far. She was sitting on the iron bench, back towards me, looking at the usual route. She was wearing the same pink colored kurti that she wore on the first day, and her hair was tied in with a cute little pink hair-band.  "Girls and their fascination with pink !", I said to myself. I thought of startling her from behind but decided against it.

Before I could say anything, she turned, perhaps having given up on me, waiting. We both were startled. I smiled, and she blushed, having revealed her surprise to me.

"I took a different route. So you were going back, weren't you ?"

 "I thought you wouldn't come.", she said.

 "C'mmon.. I'm only 10 min. late. Perhaps you're not yet familiar with going late to lectures. You'll learn it soon.", I tried to joke.

"Hope so", she didn't find it funny, which was unusual.

 "You look glum. Is it because parents are leaving tomorrow or something else ? How was your first day ? Made new friends ?", I fired a volley of questions.

"No. It will take some time getting used to. The day was good. Not yet, they're all so weird", she answered all like one-mark questions.

 "Let's go to the back side of the DS, near that ambulance. Where are your parents ? I'm surprised they've left you alone.", I couldn't help being sarcastic even in those circumstances.

 "They're getting ready. We've to go out for shopping.", she said negating all the sarcasm. I went straight to the place, and she followed. I extended my right hand, just the way one does for the holy thread at the end of a (puja) holy-ceremony. She took out the sacred thread from her bag with a teddy-bear face. It was a usual one, the one with lots of shining stones and laces embroidered making it look like a marigold.  She then tied it, ceremoniously. Not a word was said. Then there was a pause, a killer one.

"My parents would be waiting. I should go. I have their mobile, you can call me at this number.", she said and gave me a small chit of paper.

"I should gift you something. What do you want ?". Silence. "If you don't say something, I'll gift you a book.", I said. She just smiled and started to leave. She seemed in an unusual hurry, and I thought it'd be unwise to prolong.

"Ok, as you wish. See you, bye", I said but wasn't sure if she heard it. She really was one unpredictable character, kind of like me ! I looked around to check if someone had watched the entire episode, but there was no one in vicinity to my relief. I walked back to my hostel, my right hand deep into my pocket. I had thought I'd be able to make out from her body language what was in her mind. But I couldn't. Indeed, women are masters of concealment !

Kanishk was chatting with some other guys near the hostel entrance. I hoped he hadn't divulged any details to others. I knew he would follow me to my room. I went to the balcony and stared outside. "What happened ?", Kanishk asked as soon as he entered. I smiled, and showed him my right hand. He shrieked, "How could you ? This is so damn cheap."

"I don't know. It just happened. I am not yet sure if it was her choice".

"Why didn't you ask her ?"

" I did, on phone, she replied vaguely, but in affirmative."

"But you could've asked again ?"

" I didn't want to hurt her."

" Hurt her ? You might have still hurt her, who knows ?"

" What do you mean ?"

" Forget it, now what ?"

" What, 'what'... I'm thinking what to gift her. I have a book in mind already."

He laughed again, "You're a psycho. Why can't you ask her what she thinks about you?" 

"Please don't share this episode with anyone.", I pleaded.

"Ok. But you know the guys around here. There is already a queue of junta lining up for throwing lines...Will you stop them all ?"

"Shameful !!.. I'll take care of it... I hope you aren't in the queue!.", I quipped, wondering if I'd said too much.

"It's not shameful. What you did was shameful. What will you do even if I say I am ?", he replied, went out without waiting for my answer.  I tried listening to music, reading some novel, but felt uneasy. The issue was resolved, yet unresolved. Just then Kanishk came in with his mobile, "Its from your home...Keep the mobile, I'm going for dinner".  My father asked, "Hello, son, how was the day?"

 "Nothing. As usual. What do you want to know about ? " I said to quell my father's excitement. Trying my best not to sound hysterical. I narrated him everything.

"Good. Now we won't be worried, and neither will Sinha. It's good to have people whom you know around you.", was the best thing he could say.

"There is no need to worry even otherwise. I can take care of myself. And I'm not exactly sure what you people were worried about. Whatever...you must be relieved now ! At least that is one good outcome of all this.....fine....I've to go for dinner, the mess will close. Bye", I said and hanged up. I wondered if I had been rude. I decided to call up home again after dinner, but then decided otherwise.

While changing, I found the piece of paper containing her number. And I decided to send an sms to her. I drafted a message, edited it, deleted it...and this continued for 10 minutes. I finally wrote, "Hi ! I just wanted to let you know that I thought of you only as a friend. But when I came to know about your intentions for today, I thought it won't be good to hurt you. I have great respect for the sacred thread and will respect this relationship". I re-read it a few times, and finally sent it. I felt somewhat relieved, and went for dinner. I hoped that the mobile was with her, and expected a reply any moment. Every minute seemed to pass like an hour. Even after an hour and a half when there was no reply, I tried to recall what I'd written. "Did it convey what I wanted to?", I kept thinking and reflecting.

Kanishk was out and would probably come back drunk again. A week ago, he got drunk in Bidhipur (the place which they called 'Heaven on Earth' as it was the only respite from mess food) and on provocation, had called up a batchmate girl in the GH whom he liked. He confessed his 'true love' but, was rejected with an expected comment from her: 'I never thought of you like that, I was your friend, until just now'. He cried, and yelled, got further drunk till he lost sense. He was 'carried' to room by his so called 'well-wishers'. The next day he swore not to repeat it. But there was no surity "At least he doesn't have his mobile with him", I thought. Just then, I heard a beep. A message from an unknown number ! I opened it with curiosity. It was from Kanishk saying that he's in someone else's room doing (read copying) assignments, and might have to put a night-out. My wait for her reply had to be longer. I was tired already, from the eventful day. Sleep was elusive with the chain of thoughts whirling in my brain. And then the mobile beeped again. I saw with half-asleep eyes that it was 12.00 sharp midnight. I was sure it was Kanishk bothering again but thought of confirming it. Unknown number again, but seemed a familiar one this time. It was from her: "Hi! You should have told this to me before. I, too never thought in such a way, but could not refuse it to my parents. I already like you as a friend, and now as a brother. Gn, tc." I felt simultaneous pangs of a motley of emotions - dejection, pity and anger. Soon anger overwhelmed the other two. It wasn't her choice, just as I suspected. I typed vigorously. "You could easily refuse it, or at least inform me in advance. There are certain decisions one has to take oneself. I hope you learn this soon. Bye". I clicked on 'Send' as soon as I finished. I was really angry....angry at everyone including myself, but most at the society we live in, and the way it forces us to give in. I stared blankly at the mobile screen, in retrospect, waiting for a reply.

Kanishk came in the morning and woke me up. I woke up wondering if I was really asleep. The entire episode appeared to be a part of one dream. I actually wished it was !

"Why are you sleeping like this clutching the mobile ?", asked Kanishk. I checked for an sms reply. It wasn't there. Just the last sms, which also proved it was not a dream. I gave it to Kanishk, and he read it with interest, and grinned.

"I told you so. What did you reply ?", I showed him my sent message.

"Fool. You forced her to do this. You could've bluntly refused, which she expected and probably wanted."

"Ohh ...so it's all my fault ? How was I supposed to know ?"

"Whatever.....don't you love her ?"

"How can you say that ? I've not even seen her more than 2 times, at least in near past. Don't ever say it again!"

"But you do like her. And she said she liked you."

"Maybe. But only as a friend. Just as I like other friends."

"Friends ? A boy and a girl of same age can never be just friends! ", he said.

"Are you drunk ?", I said, appalled at his extreme views.

"No. And this is not only my thought, it is the way our society thinks, at least where we belong to. Do you not understand this now ?"

"I'm not sure, but if it is so, is that correct ?"

"I don't know. Wrong or right is all relative.'"

"I don't believe this. You lost a good friend last week because you proposed her, when drunk. Remember ?", I debated.

"I never thought of her as a friend. It's not my fault if she did. At least I'm happy that I told her. And don't bring that episode now."

"It's no use talking to you.", I said.

"Same here. Now get ready, if you don't want to be late for class again.", he said and rushed. This was just another breakfast-table topic of discussion for him. As of me, I was confused and had now started feeling remorseful.

I waited the whole day for her reply, but to no avail. I imagined that she had felt bad. She might have told it to her parents.  "What right did I have to write in such a way ?", I thought and realized that I'd been rash. The week ended without any communication between us. When another week ended similarly, I decided to break the ice. I bought a book 'Code name God' and decided to gift it to her. I messaged her asking if she was free, we could go to watch 'Koi mil gaya' as we had planned before, along with any other of her or my friends. But there was just silence. This is a cruel vantage the receiver of a email or mobile message has. Months passed, and life got busy in other activities. Kanishk used to narrate instances of seeing her in her friend's group, sometimes alone at the DS with some guy, but I never showed interest. "It's her life.", I thought. He stopped doing it seeing no reaction from my side. My only cause of unrest was her silence. But we were both introverts, so I couldn't fully blame her. "But where is this shyness gone when she is alone at DS with another guy. Does Uncle Sinha know this at all ?  None of my business.", I thought.

In the next semester, once when I was coming out of the library with book bank books, I saw her at the entrance. I wanted to avoid talking to her, when I saw her looking at me. She just said 'Hi, how are you?".

"I'm fine. How are things ?",I replied.

"Fine. I was very busy with the courses.", she said.

"Good. I've a heavy load of books to carry. See you again sometime.", I said and left wondering if I'd been rash again. After a couple of days, I got a mail from her in which she said she was sorry for not being in touch, and asking me if we could just hang out sometime near the DS. I replied, "Don't be sorry. Be truthful instead. People have a right to choose with whom we want to interact. So do you.", I mailed it and then waited for her reply. "If she is really sorry, she would mail be back, and then the iceberg between us would probably melt.", I thought. She never replied.

From her second year onwards, she was in her department and would often interact with her senior Kanishk. But Kanishk never shared any details of their talk with me. I owned a mobile phone, now and we had moved into separate single-seater rooms in the third year hostel. I heard rumors about her having a boyfriend in college, some one from her class. Other rumors were about a boyfriend in Delhi. I wondered how the guys had so much information about the girls hostel, and sometimes even pitied them thinking they didn't have better things to do. In my final year, I went to IIT Delhi to participate in their technical festival. I was surprised to see her there with a guy who was perhaps, from IITD. It was even more surprising when I discovered that he was in the same competition as I, a robotic car-racing event. I avoided looking at her, but once saw her whispering something into that his ears, after which the guy stared at me. I stared at him back. Of course,  it was of no use, as I lost the event to him by 5 seconds. He had double advantages - one of his home ground, other of his friend at his side who was also my 'sister'. It was clear that the guy mattered to her more than even our institute. "None of my business", I told myself the hundredth time.

The month of August came as many times as the number of years we were in campus together. What prevailed was just a deathly silence from us both. A month before graduating, when the pressure of BTP(Btech Project) was huge on mind, I had a revelation in my dream. I saw the entire episode of my high-school, which happened seven years back, come to light. Now I could correlate the two episodes. "As you sow, so shall you reap", I had read this proverb many times. I was at the receiving end this time. It wasn't the fault of Snigdha. But was it entirely mine ? I still don't have an answer.

All characters in this story (except me) are fictitious and any resemblance to an actual event is purely unintended.

Pigeon-holes

In the pigeon-holes they abide,
nobody speaks to somebody.
They approach, look at you,
pause a second, at times a half,
verify your identity, inadvertently,
confirm if you're the same one
from yesterday, then pass-by
only to cross again by morrow.
Ants are much better, they greet
each other every time they meet.
Occasionally, a pigeon ends it all,
no sound, no protest nor any call.
condolences are offered, if at all,
much preferred silence, not a gall.

Restricted Access

The washroom's locked,
has to be keyed open
on every crucial visit.
Enter log or swipe card,
'n help provide data for
medical investigation.

Is this a provision
to build the pressure,
and release all tension
or is there a treasure,
a chest of snake pearls,
not supposed to be found.

Just imagine the day,
when the key to 'heaven'
is lost or gets stolen,
another of those moments,
and all hell breaks loose.



(special thanks to Mr Gaduparthi for the idea) 

You

First breath of the day,
the first rays of dawn,
first drops of rain after
a scorching summer,
the first snow, and
it's first shiver...
The first full moon,
and its placid image
in the silent pond..
The first few leaves
soft as velvet, their
fractal veins 'n the
fragrance of spring..
The first festival, and
its first harvest,
the first folklore...
The first guest Ganesha
and the divine Shakti,
the seed of all seeds.
I need not think,
of all these, no...
none of them,
if I think,
of you, only
you !


(inspired by the Euphoria song 'Tum')

500 days

We live at 500 yards
but we meet on 500 days,
it's a game of chance,
but reeks of connivance.
Both of us have questions,
those are best if they
remain just questions,like
asking "How did it happen?"
at somebody's funeral.
I blabber, you prattle,
pretenses of cordiality,
before I get an urge,
to end this. End this, like
a quick festival greeting,
wished every 500 days.

For whom the bell tolls

No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manner of thine own
Or of thine friend’s were.
Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.

-- John Donne

Poetry

And it was at that age ... Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names,
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind.

-- Pablo Neruda

A virus call

Our paths often coincide,
though I pray otherwise,
we cross, passing askances,
unintentionally intentional,
pretending to be strangers;
I look at banyan's boughs,
try to spot sparrow nests,
you gaze at the ground,
count same-size pebbles.
Things would be different,
with an unsent message,
or an unspoken word.
What would they be,
I can't imagine,
I don't wish to.

If only I could truncate
the seconds that mattered
or the minutes I cling to,
like the censored tapes.
Or at least I could erase
those parts of memory,
like old logs of virus scans.
Let a virus infect our brains
and eat away that data,
so that whenever again,
our paths coincide, we
save us the pretense,
to say the least.