poem

तू रहे , मैं रहूँ और ये जहाँ रहे ,
आँखों में नमी कुछ पैरों में थकान रहे

यूँ तो मसलहत से रहे मजबूर दोनों ,
पर क्या है ये जो अपने दरमयां रहे

और कुछ छीन भी ले ये दुनिया लेकिन  ,
तितली को फूल यहाँ परिंदों को आसमान रहे

मिट्टी के इन घरों में हया सिमटी है ,
दुआ करो खुदा इनका निगेहबान रहे

आये मुक़ाबिल जो तक़दीर तो उस दम ,
कि सुबह  में रात का कुछ निशाँ रहे

जैसे

ये चाँद कई रातों में जागा है तनहा ऐसे ,
किसी मज़ार पे रखा हो कोई दिया जैसे

मिलती है ज़िन्दगी हर मोड़ पे अब यूँ  ,
किसी फ़कीर के हिस्से की दुआ हो जैसे

 है वो आशना मुझसे कुछ  इस तरह ,
जाने है सब और कुछ भी न पता हो जैसे

गुज़रे हैं दिल पे हसरतों के मुक़ाम ऐसे ,
 दर -ऐ -क़फ़स से गुज़रती सबा हो जैसे



Note :
आशना = acquainted
क़फ़स = prison
सबा = breeze

दुआ

इलाही मेरे जुनून को कभी आराम तो दे ,
राहत ना सही, इन बेचैनियों को कोई नाम तो दे  ...

मुद्दत हुई कि आरज़ू भटकती रही इस दयार में ,
आगाज़ ना सही, इस सफ़र को कोई अंजाम तो दे ...

ज़िन्दा लाशों की भीड़ है हर सिम्त यहाँ  ,
इस शहर के नसीब में कोई कोहराम तो दे ...

नन्ही कलियों की खुशबू जहाँ महफूज़ रह सके ,
मेरे चमन को ऐसी सुबह -ओ -शाम तो दे ..

मेरे हौसलों की बुलंदी तू परख ले मगर ,
हसरत-ए - गुनाह को मेरी उम्र-ए -दवाम तो दे ...


Note :
उम्र-ए -दवाम = eternal life
..

poem

सूरत-ए-यार है कि निगाह से हटती नहीं ,
रात लम्बी तो नहीं मगर कटती नहीं ....

सजदों के आंसू हों कि बच्चों की हंसी ,
ये जागीर है ऐसी कि बंटती नहीं ...

अँधेरी गलियों में लोरियां रोती हैं इस बात पर ,
भूख बच्चों की अब उनसे मिटती नहीं ..

चाहा कि उसे खुदा से माँग लें मगर ,
वो नेमत किसी दुआ में सिमटती नहीं ...

समोसे कहीं नहीं गए

लोग मुकद्दर पे यकीन नहीं करते। मैं करता हूँ और अक्सर मेरे दोस्त मेरे नाकारापन पर हँसते हैं। पर आज जो हुआ वो बात कहूँ तो छोटी है मगर मुझे सुकून दे गयी।
मैं जहाँ रहता हूँ उससे थोड़ी दूर पैदल ही सेवालाल जी की चाय की दूकान है. वो कभी कभी समोसे भी उतारते हैं और मुझे उनकी चाय और समोसों की लत सी है। मगर समोसे हमेशा नहीं बचते। खपत ज्यादा है। आज भी शाम को जब दुकान गया तो पूछा ," अंकल जी समोसे हैं ?", बोले  " दस मिनट देर कर दी आपने। " उनके बोलने तक मेरे मुंह से निकला " हाँ देर तो कर दी। हमेशा ही मुझे देर हो जाती है। जहाँ पहुंचा हूँ देर से ही पहुंचा हूँ। " इतने में एक आदमी दौड़ता हुआ आया और कहा " चचा हमारा पैकेट दे दो। " सेवालाल जी बोले "कबहीं से बाँध के रखे हैं। अब पूछत हो कि पैकेट दे दो। " तब तक समोसे ख़तम थे और मठरियां उतर रहीं थीं। उसको जाने क्या सूझी कि बोला ," जो ताजा है वो दो। " वो जैसे जल्दी में आया था वैसे ही मठरियां बंधवा कर निकल लिया। उसका पैकेट बंद वहीँ पड़ा था।
सेवालाल जी मेरी ओर देखे , पैकेट खोला और बोले, "तीन लेंगे कि दो ?" मेरी हंसी छूट गयी। "मुकद्दर खराब नहीं है मतलब। समोसे मिल गए। "
तभी मुझे दिल्ली के एक टीचर की बात याद आ गयी। उन्होंने एक दिन हमसे कहा था " जो आपका है वो आपको मिलेगा ही। और जो आपका नहीं है वो आपको कभी नहीं मिल सकता चाहे आप कुछ कर लें। जो आप कर सकते हैं वो इतना है कि  हर दिन अपने आप को कुछ और बेहतर बनाने की कोशिश करें। इतना बहुत होगा आपके लिए ।"
मैं बहुत दिन बाद ऐसे  हंसा हूँ। शायद वाकई में मेरे हिस्से के समोसे कहीं नहीं गए।
वो बंद पड़े हैं और जब मिलेंगे तो गरम ही मिलेंगे।

The Chacha Chowdhury Generation

Yes, this is the term I have coined for the people born in early 80s and still stuck there in their heads, and I am proud to confess I am one of them. But please do not think I am merely referring to the “only Doordarshan Age”, or before the “Liberalized Economy” days. This is not going to be just a treatise on nostalgia out poured but I wish to write on the psychological side of it.

I am 29 ( a little happy and more sad about it ), and I read Chacha Chowdhury and the other Pran Gang members ( Billu , Pinki mostly). It was after I had collected more than 10 fat ones of these in the past one year, that I thought about it as to why I am suddenly doing it after so many years of reading Entrance Exam books, Question Banks, Newspaper Editorials(Ohh the horror !!!), the (pseudo)intellectual volumes based on the “Indian context” , having love, sex, lot of big sentences uttered while having sex, religion and what not . But I guess I can put up a few reasons here.

1. The world still seems fathomable : Yes. To me this struck as the biggest and the most important one. If you will ever care to look again at the drawings and illustrations in these cartoons, they have a certain flavor of bringing to you a city, a neighborhood with which one can relate to. The buildings shown, the shops, the streets, the houses all remind you of something which has always been a part of your growing up. There is shown a world where unlike “bigger the better”, small and cozy is the everpresent theme. May be it is just a personal take, so dont contend because i am not stating a theorem. For me it has to do with the fact that my childhood was spent in such a middle class small neighborhood where right from the milkman to the breadwala to the juicewala, and the tikkiwala, everything seemed to carry a sense of a mundaneness and familiarity surrounded with which you feel happy and can resonate with the same. In short, no element of surprise and none needed.( Thrill will kill).

2. The People : This is the second element which one can put up to comparison with the way we relate to each other now. The people in these comics are very much in connect with each other, be it in the on goings of their daily lives or be it in sharing the moments of happiness and sorrow. They all relate in a very close and tight bonded community. They share their morning newspapers, they share their vehicles, children small or teenagers spend time together, boundary walls stand witness to housewife gossips, men chatter on cricket heroes and office schedules and a lot more. Not just this, but the festivals are for everyone, Rahman plays Holi, Ashfaq buys Diwali crackers sold by Haneef, Raman goes to eat siwai to Asif's house during Eid and other instances which exemplify a life much simpler and totally aloof and untouched by the concerns howled over and over again by the “intellectuals “ present nowadays almost everywhere.

Now coming to the psychological part of it , I will take things on a personal level. Being a typical case of this “ Chacha Chowdhury Generation “ effect, I feel I haven't allowed myself, or more precisely my perspective and my mannerisms to evolve and mature enough to suit to the times .

And this has cost me rather heavily.

Being accustomed to a small town, less crowded life, I find myself time and again, incapable to adapt to the rush and chase of a city clamor. I don't know whether it is safe and decent enough to stand 6 inches close to a girl in a crowded bus or better to move back and smell the sweaty armpits of the College dude behind.

At big restaurants, some which I was fortunate to visit , (thanks to my urban desi friends), it became a problem for me sometimes to decide as to how I was supposed to use my napkin( before the finger bowl or after it), or how to correctly tip the waiter(sign on the receipt or leave some cash in the register) . Not that it was a big problem, but what i feel troubled with is why it ever had to be one.

Till recently(count almost a decade) I lived with the categorization that my childhood thrust upon me. Married women -“AUNTY”, married woman with kids- “AUNTY for sure” , single girls senior to you : “DIDI” ( doesnt matter if in your fantasies you want to knock her father out and run away with her, she all smiles and mushy and coy over your macho charm. Yeah whatever, go ahead judge me. ). I have to thank my college seniors and English movies for their welcomed and unwelcomed tutelage which taught me to snap the bloody moral fiber and gave me an escape route in Madam, Sir(gone were uncle ji and aunty ji other than for too familiar to take risk cases) and “ take the name and append an “aap” for safety” for the senior dames. (DIDI gone DIDI gone !!!!)

But talking on broader scale, one can easily see the old patterns and ways slowly fading out, with the 'big' replacing the 'small', the 'fast' taking place of the 'slow', and the few of us still clinging to the 'old ways' and 'good times' desperately seek an escape route in life midst this mayhem.

Thankfully, in our country there are still pockets and places where life still hasn't as yet caught up to the pace of it all. One can still sit down in places and order a tea sitting with the “bhaiyas” and “didis” and dwell into and amuse oneself with the slow, meaningless chatter about “ Ramesar ka gaiya beemar hai... dudh kam ho gaya hai.” or “ Ka pandaayin, Pandit dikhe nahi aj subah... sabere nikal jaatey hain ka ? “ and even before the Pandayin can answer, the questioner shall get busy scratching his balls worrying at the same time about his roof needing repair.

It is at places and times like these I find that my God hasn't deserted me. He still is watching over me, knowing in the heart of hearts as to where that ounce of solace and refuge this lost soul of mine craves, is hidden, and in his mysterious workings takes me to those places and people to be as I say,

“Lost in love, lost in time, forever and ever.”

Ka Pandaayin ?

जज़्बात

गवाह करूँ तुझको और मैं अपनी ज़ात लिखूं ,

यूँ ही अपने दिन लिखूं  मैं, यूँ ही अपनी रात लिखूं 

घास की चादर पर रात के आंसू बिखरे  हैं,

मैं कि हँसता चाँद लिखूं  या तारों की सौगात लिखूं 

किसी पुराने कागज़ पर, याद मिली कुछ मैली सी  

आते आते रह गयी जो होंठों तक वो बात लिखूं 

खामोश दरख्तों पर शाम ने आँचल डाला यूँ  ,

ज़र्रा ज़र्रा बिखर गए , ऐसे वो जज़्बात लिखूं


ज़ात = person/self/personality
दरख्तों = trees

उलझन

कौन कहता है  उजड़े दिलों में चाहत नहीं होती
ये और है कि बुतों की हमसे इबादत नहीं होती

बहुत लम्बा है खामोशियों का सफ़र अपना  ,
सच कहने की मगर अब  हिम्मत नहीं होती

उलझे रास्तों का धीमा सफ़र है
ज़िन्दगी शायद और खूबसूरत नहीं होती

चाँद सितारों की, जुल्फों की बात करते ,
ज़िन्दगी मगर तुझसे फुर्सत नहीं होती

Chacha to Chacha

This is an emotional tribute to a normal, multifunctional middle class gem of a person from whom I have learnt most of the wisdom to go by in my life and which needless to say has rendered me socially inept and dysfunctional and surprisingly happy and at peace with my life. So, I bow my head and surrender my conscience to one and only- 'Chacha'. May you be the guiding light of wisdom and common sense to the world as you have been for me. Let the lives of those who need you be touched by that enlightening wisdom that God can dare bequeath to the gifted and chosen ones as rare as you.
So here goes Chacha.

1) Chacha  as Friend : Chacha is a friend you can only win through prayers. Personally Chacha is Chacha to me and I am Chacha to Chacha. So you can see it is close and complicated. I say Chacha is a good friend because when he befriends you, his friendship sheaths your life completely, whether you want it or not. He just cant stop from worrying about you so he tries to know you, fathom your secrets, your worries and what not. He isn't just a presence in your friend list, he befriends your other friends and your girlfriend too.And why so? Because he cares. Even  when you cant find time for that nagging , possessive dame of yours pestering you 24x7 for attention and everything, Chacha intervenes like a Godsend miracle. He talks to the babe, and before you know, the babe is talking more to Chacha than to you. And this at times worries lesser mortals who are insecure and spineless, thinking Chacha is sucking the happiness out of their love, incurring the wrath of God upon themselves for they have doubted one of his own- and results turn out to be predictable. After a while the poor chap tells Chacha that he and the dame have broken up, making Chacha feel sad and clueless as to what might have gone wrong in such a beautiful relationship.
But that's just Chacha with a big heart, for he cares.

2) Chacha On Love : Ahh Love , Chacha's forte ! For my English never being commensurate to the standards of a genius like him, I used to ask my doubts in Hindi and Chacha taking pity on me used to explain his revelations partly in Hindi and English to me. So here is an excerpt of a conversation which throws light on the depth of his wisdom on human anguish.
Me: Chacha, yaar ek baat batao, hum jis umar mein hain, wahan yadi koi sundar ladki dikhti bhi hai to ya to wo already kisi bande ke saath ghuum rahi hoti hai ya shaadi karke FB pe photo laga laga ke hum jaison ki aankh mein mirch chidak rahi hoti hai. Aise mein hum logon ke liye kya raasta bacha hai ? Koi hope hai ya nahi?
Chacha : ( Smiles and a deep sigh and then a long pause for he has to change his bollywood actress wallpaper for the day after which he looks at my face, his gaze penetrative and fixed): Bhool jao Chacha... sab moh maaya hai. And if at all you have to know the truth, then know this and remember this till you breathe your last. We have known and seen people to fall in love, fall out of love, send e- cards on Valentine's Day, have night out sessions behind department corridors and more.  You know enough even if it is  not much. So after this whatever comes in your life , however glorious, would generate emotions in your brain much like a second hand stuff. For you will know how to react even before she puts up an act. So there isn't a possibility of a thrill, the so called spark in the so called love that you want and every damned soul around is craving for, like a zombie craving gore. So you see, while the Gods up there and the people around you try to throw shit on your face, you must try to hold on to something more tangible, more near and accessible and more omnipresent.
Me : And what is that Chacha?
Chacha : Well if 5 years of college hasn't taught you, then you need to be ashamed of yourself.
Me : Say no more. But there is one more question. How have you dealt with this haunting sense of ennui ?
Chacha : I play footer, watch chick flicks and animation movies, spending 250 on a movie which I could have downloaded if I had it in me to wait for 2 weeks and not succumb to the metro sexual instincts which i have struggled so long to inculcate, to prove to this cruel city that even I can fit in.
Also when I find time and an opportunity to talk to some babe , say in a bus or someplace quiet, which can be construed as a golden opportunity by those out there, I coax myself to fall into a deep contemplative silence, much like that of parallel cinema protagonist, who has nothing more than a dick left to speak of his manhood. But that is just me, pitted against the workings of this cruel world. You find your own path.
Me : As you say, shall be done.

Chacha on Food : Chacha and food go leg in hand. Chicken leg in Chacha's hand. Enough said.

Chacha on Art : Chacha has a thing for contemporary cinema and tries to experience a wide spectrum of visual articulation of human emotions in almost all languages, but has a soft corner for French and Italian and Latin American movies.I once had the honourable privilege of watching one such movie with him, the context or meaning of which I was unable to fathom, for I was totally into what Eva Green would do next, for she was doing all of what I could have asked her to do in a movie. In one such scene there were 3 characters, a woman and 2 gentlemen in a situation which in utmost modest reference should be described as compromising. I could guess one of them to be the boyfriend, but the identity of the other gentleman I couldn't make out.So I turned to Chacha for help, and again with a condescending smile which was filled with both pity and sympathy, he told in a rather nonchalant way,"..Ohhh wo... wo dusra wala ladki ka bhai hai.. ". Then and there I knew Chacha wasn't just eclectic in choosing his indulgences, but he had allowed himself to transcend the confines of reason, lest they interfere with his artistic musings.

So, there you have it. Chacha through my eyes. I fully acknowledge the ineptitude of this portrayal in describing a personality as magnanimous as his, but for what it's worth this is just a modest tribute. I feel honoured to have even attempted to do what I have done. But if we have anything to learn from mythology, we should know that a person of this glory was once before wronged in his time and landed up on a bed of arrows. All I can wish for is to not let that foolishness be repeated in these times. So gentlemen and ladies, to whom this may appeal, he is out there, single, available and much to your good fortune, still sane and healthy. So those of you who know him or will come to know him after reading this, please give yourselves a chance and that too for your own good.

All  hail Chacha !!!!

कभी

यूँ तो न था कि वो न थे हमारे कभी,
यूँ  रहा कि जीते कभी और हम हारे कभी...

अब ये गर्द -ए -सफ़र हुई  नसीब अपना ,
साथ थे जहाँ फूल खुशबू  चाँद तारे कभी....

नींद आ भी जाए किसी रात हमको ,
ख़्वाब इन पलकों से कोई उतारे कभी ....

देहलीज़ पर हमने एक चिराग रख दिया,
भेजे हवाओं ने जब भी इशारे कभी ....

मुन्तज़िर

मुन्तज़िर हूँ  कि कभी दर्द -ए -इश्क़ आज़माए मुझको भी ,
यूँ  भूला हूँ कि कोई तो याद आये मुझको भी

रह गयी हैं  क़ैद कागजों में  निशात -ओ -ग़म  की बातें ,
फ़साना-ए -हस्ती दुनिया  कभी सुनाये मुझको भी

दर खुदा का दूर महबूब का भी ,
कोई तो राह दिखाए मुझको भी

हो गया हूँ खुद ही से गैर किस क़दर ,
मिलते हैं यूँ तो अपने पराये मुझको भी

जल्वानशीं रहा वो किस अदा से चारसू
 क्या क्या ना जलवे दिखाए मुझको भी


note : 1) मुन्तज़िर = in waiting
         2) निशात -ओ -ग़म  = happiness and sorrow
          3) चारसू = in all directions