Seeking Humor

People go on living lives adhering to reason, to purpose, to find and define themselves and a lot more of such serious shit. In doing this, I find our sense of humor to be a very essential element in how the world around comes to us and how in turn we respond to it. Having been around for a good thirty years now, and blessedly being in the company of good Samaritans of this art, I try my level best to not miss on this element of life.

In an average day of some 16 waking hours ( could be lesser for some ) I have found that I only need to look around and listen and watch closely, and that was enough to bring a laughter or a happy thought in my head. There have been many such instances, some deliberate some accidental, which I shall try to put before you.

Generally when I walk on road I find it difficult to exchange pleasantries when people cross by because I am never sure as to when I should start to stretch my lips into a fake smile and a meek utterance of " hello ... " followed by a hand wave. On good days, it comes naturally and I can report an average optimal distance of 5 -7steps and a fake smile interval of 6 seconds, until the cross-over happens. But on a bad day, it ends up with a really weird prolonged smile and it becomes weirder if the other person is a lady. So I generally choose to stare on the road, head down, memorising some urdu couplet looking like a perpetual wool gatherer. But then there are days of fun, for there are good faces and nice people(if you know what I mean). This is what I do then. We both start at 20 paces away, and I start to look. And by looking I mean a fixed gaze, not budging, to the point the person finds it weird enough to break the ice with a courtesy filled acknowledgement and I think " Dwivedi 1... ladki 0".

There is humor in conversation also. But then one has to be very careful not to hurt anybody's feelings, at which I fail most of the times. So I have started to imbibe silence whenever I want desperately to say something about something. Instead I come back, light a cigeratte, look out the window and laugh like a mad guy on dope.

Recently there was something called a Vigilence Week celebrated in some governement establishments. I happen to be studying in one of these . So I came across few gentlemen sipping tea and couldn't stop myself from asking, " ye Vigilence wali chai hai .. ? " to which in an instant reply was(and in a UP accent), " nahi National Unity day ki hai.. ". 

I need not say more.

In another such conversation, my incompetence in sensitizing myself to national concerns enraged a dear friend. I had heard of some cultural fundamentalists creating problems for some harmless people expressing their love somewhere against which a pan India uproar culminated into a kissing revolution. I in sheer ignorance had the audacity to comment over a picture that was circulated in cyberspace, of a couple tonguing each other and a sad looking sixty something man next to them, staring in deep space, without reason, without hope. That made me deeply sad, for I too have a heart.

Then I said something which I cannot say here, to which my dear friend blasted at me - " So you think all those people were out there just for a frenzy of kissing spree. Is this how you look at it ?".

Being shameless, I still kept a point of view that it would have been nicer if everyone returned happier. Well, to say the least we decided not to discuss this issue any further. But it still haunts me to think of that old guy's face and the sadness it carried. 

Well, I don't deny I have serious problems with my head. But if it makes me laugh and hurts nobody then I guess all is well.

Right ?

यूँ हो

इश्क़ में तेरे ए यार ज़रा रुसवाई भी हो ,
दिल भला सही ये मगर, कुछ बुराई भी हो

सबसे निभी है यूँ तो रस्म -ए -जहाँ लेकिन ,
ये दुनिया कुछ अपनी कुछ परायी भी हो

कहाँ सबको यहाँ लुत्फ़ -ए -ग़म -ए-यार ए ज़हीन ,
इस ग़म से किसी दम मगर रिहाई भी हो

किसी दश्त-ए -वीरान में ले चल ए बेखुदी मुझे ,
ख्याल-ए -यार और कुछ तन्हाई भी हो 

Beckoning

of souls wandering
lost and found
of hearts beating
under the stillness of sound
of shores unseen and reaches unfathomed
of words unheard and unspoken
there is a story to be told
for amidst the tides of longing
and the withering echoes of memory
beyond being and becoming
there lies still
what forever was mine.......

असर

रात ये इशारों में कुछ कहती रही ,
कोई हसरत रह रह के संवरती रही

एक तसव्वुर -ए -यार और ये चाँद भी ,
देहलीज़-ए -सेहर तक शम्मा जलती रही

इन परिंदों को है आसमान का खौफ बहुत ,
हसरत -ए -परवाज़ थी कि बस पलती रही

अंधेरों की गिरफ्त बढ़ती रही ख्याल पर
आसमान पिघलता रहा रात ढलती  रही

शौक़-ए -तलब

जो गुज़री जैसी गुज़री, ये सोच ज़रा हम रो लेते हैं,
ख्वाबों के मसीहा ठहर ज़रा, कुछ देर कि हम भी सो लेते हैं

ये दाग थे दामन के, सो धुल ही गए एक दिन ,
एक उम्र रही है बाकी, सो वो भी जी लेते हैं

एक खेल अज़ल से है जारी, खुदा तेरी इस कुदरत में ,
आप कभी वो पा लेते हैं , हम कभी जो खो देते हैं

The sophistication in Language

One cannot deny the fact that certain expressions find a way of being more strongly expressed in certain languages. The most direct reason can be the richness of vocabulary that these different languages carry, to allow one to convey a certain sentiment in most accurate and direct manner.

The above argument is rooted in many conversations that I have had with people in a professional or social  context.

For me the only two languages I can call myself modestly conversant in, are Hindi and English(real bitch I tell you). The other two languages I am very fond of are Bhojpuri and Bengali, and proudly admit to have mastered the expletives and colloquial terms in both. But beyond that I can only understand the routine exchanges in them and no more. For example in bhojpuri, 'mehraru' is 'wife', and 'gadaraya' is somewhere close to 'voluptuous'. Well I guess you get the idea of how I learn.

Coming back to the comparison of conveying a sentiment in the two languages I am comfortable with, I find that for obvious reasons Hindi always has helped me to connect with people when I didnt have to bother about the element of sophistication or propriety of articulation . In short, Hindi gave me the dude quota in my friend list. This is the language between friends, the nurturer of empathy and trust and understanding that brings two troubled souls close and makes them connect. This is how one can open up to a friend saying, " Abe yaar meri waali ko wo Mech wala pasand hai.. abe ab nehli nahi aayi to kahan se laayein.. ", and you go like, " (mother sister invocation.... ) jaane de be.. gayi to gayi.. tu daru lega ya beer ?" .. Now imagine this conversation in English, and you will appreciate the distance that comes in, for the fact that even after giving GRE twice and practically swallowing Barron's GRE guide like a potion, you still find yourself fumbling in your head for the right word to come at the right moment, and by that time the moment is gone. Phrases like " Man, i can understand.... life is tough... it is what it is.. Bugger !!!. ", sound too incongruous or farcical in such situations.

It is not just in personal encounters that Hindi has been merciful, but also in many professional encounters it has been a saving grace. In many such exchanges of which few I can remember, whenever I had to confront a person of a far reaching insight and academic wisdom, I had to resort to being the desi rustic to convince him of my ignorance. One such case is whenever I am discussing a technical issue with my teacher(s), they would get very passionate and emphatic about the topic and start throwing jargon like cannon balls, and cannon balls hurt like hell I tell you. So if he starts to go like , "..yeah the natural way in which such invariances manifest in a theory are the result of certain symmetries... blah blah blah... " , I answer with a very honest and modest, " Sir,  ye root 2 hoga ya minus root 2.. ?", and would keep looking at his face with the curiosity of an imbecile. Such moments of glory would leave the other guy pretty much baffled and frustrated, for I can see the look on his face, a look of pity mixed with surprise at the sheer level of incapacity at display. But all is well that ends well, for he now has to come down from the higher rungs of enlightened genius to tell me.." minus hone se to galat ho jayega.. isliye plus hoga..". And that would be my eureka moment. 

But all this is said not to belittle the virtues of English. English is the language of the elites and more importantly pseudo elites. If you have read Camus, or Kafka or for that matter wiki quotes on Camus and Kafka, start farting your interpretation of them wherever and whenever you can. English is the only language in which you can talk about the ' vagaries of life' and the ' element of anguish in human existence' to the dame sitting cross legged before you, mistaking you for a street romeo, before you start hammering her confidence and judgement with words like ' counterproductive' , 'incognito', or 'insinuation', if you can remember all these.

But even after all is said and done, I still feel Hindi makes it close and intimate for me, just as anyone's mother tongue does for him/her. It is the medium to express and bare your troubled soul, not the charming and structured facade of a persona, but the real you. I cannot in my sane mind imagine one to be praising his wife of ten years  with words like " you look pretty in that blue sari..". No Sir. No can do. For me it has to be like, " Kya bulbul.. aaj to katal hi kar dogi lagta hai.." This is what intimate is to me. Honest and to the point. But as they say, to each his own.

Kyun bhaiya.. theek ba na ?

Of Learning Woes

As far as I can remember, since the start of it all, education has never been that big a thrill to me. The whole idea of 'getting to know stuff' never created a thrill in my mind. I tried hard, I mean real hard to find my way through life with knowing as little and being as much happy as I could with that.

My problems compounded due to the reason that if at all I ever put my mind to knowing or doing something, I tried to pursue perfection like a fanatic, and that Utopian ideal not getting realised, I gave up too soon every time I tried.

I clearly remember my days in kindergarten when we were supposed to draw a neat mango on a slate, just like the one in the book. And to put that book mango on my slate, I got maddened to the level that I was drawing mangoes in air for days and weeks after that. Scars don't heal that easy they say.

But slowly growing older and wiser I figured a way out- that of the escapist. I have the memory of my class 10th science viva, which amounted to 30 percent of our total in the subject, so we were all shaky and nervous to give our best. When my turn came, after a few hackneyed preliminaries, the invigilator tried to test my common sense. He gave me a drawing of the prism and mind you, a tilted prism- not like the good one in those damn science books, and told me to draw the VIBGYOR lines. And I still congratulate myself to this day for the cheap shot I played. I looked at the piece of paper, the prism all tilted to confuse my sense of up and down, so I rotated the bloody paper to make the prism look just like it did in books. And lo! he had his VIBGYOR in next 12 seconds . He was laughing, I was smiling- it ended well. That was science to me. But you know what I did has a fancy name- Active rotation is what I did for my 25 solid marks back then.

But this escapist business many a times saved my ass in classrooms even in my post graduate days. I remember sitting in those Stat Mech classes trying hard not to listen even to a single sentence lest my game of tic tac toe be disturbed ( some diligence I say ), when I would figure that me and my other sincere friend were being noticed for the attention we were doling out. It was in such moments that my rotten subconscious would come up with a question to the performer " Sir,.... why have you taken only a first order perturbation in this formalism ?" . Now this enraged the friend and mildly amused the teacher, probably thinking his theatrics were paying off, allowing me to return to my game or other such commitments in those class hours.

But sometimes you cannot escape. And the best way is to surrender and pray to the heavens. One of my good friends and senior told me one such incident when he was discussing combustion with his advisor. The advisor asked him a direct question " What happens in combustion? " to which the guy gave an honest answer " Raakh banti hai Sir..".

Now this ladies and gentlemen is honesty. Sheer blatant academic innocence which can result in a cardiac arrest or mild depression for the Questioner, but for what its worth as he tells me, the gentleman humoured him with another question, " Haan ...magar raakh kya hoti hai ? ". Beyond this I dont remember what he told, but I guess you get the drift.

So, if I have to speak for myself, learning has in most parts meant a resource for me. It allowed me to assimilate in my being a little sense of dignity, a lot of jargon, and a pseudo-intellectual craftiness which allows you to be a part of the bigger racket, without which one might feel lost, or who knows, one already is. 

सुनते हैं

वो हुआ आज यूँ है मेहरबान सुनते हैं,
बारहा मेरे ज़िक्र पर हुआ हैरान सुनते हैं

बदन के सौदे ये मोहब्बत के खेल सारे ,
लैला-ओ -मजनू  बहुत हैं परेशान सुनते हैं

ये किसकी आहट सन्नाटे को तोड़े है,
फरिश्ते रुक रुक के जिसकी जुबां सुनते हैं

आज ठहरा है मुक़द्दर में  इम्तेहान अपना ,
 है इंतज़ार में कोई संग-ए-आस्तां सुनते हैं

कुछ तो तौफीक़ अता हो तुझे ऐ सब्र  ,
कि अभी दूर बहुत है उसका मकाँ सुनते हैं

आप मैं और हम सब

बीते कुछ सालों में लगता है दुनिया बहुत तेज़ी से बदल रही है। सुनता हूँ कि लोग जाग गए हैं। सोच बदल गयी है और दबी हुई आवाज़ें विद्रोह और आक्रोश की चीखों में तब्दील हो रही हैं। अब भीड़ के पास ताकत है और वही नयी दुनिया का आगाज़ बनेगी।
मगर जब इस शोर शराबे से दूर हटकर जब मैं अकेले इंसान की ज़िन्दगी के लिये इन सब बातों का मतलब तोलने लगता हूँ तो बहुत कुछ अधूरा और बेमानी सा लगता है। अकेले आदमी की पीड़ा भीड़ का संघर्ष बन गयी और हमको जीने का मतलब मिल गया। मगर मैं यह सोचने पर मजबूर हूँ कि जितने आंसू गिरे , क्या यह सब चीख चिल्लाहट उनके लिए वाकई में न्याय में बदलेगी ? क्यूंकि अपनी मोटी बुद्धि में मैंने दुःख को बहुत ज़ाती जाना और समझा है। हमारे संघर्ष जो वयवस्था , कानून या सियासत के खिलाफ हैं और जिनमें हमने हर तबके कि आवाज़ को शामिल करने कि कोशिश की है या कर रहे हैं , वो हमें लड़ने की वजह दे सकते हैं और हमारे सरोकारों को और व्यापक बना सकते हैं मगर क्या वो सच में हमारे आंसू पोंछ सकते हैं ?
मैं इंसान के जागने के खिलाफ नहीं हूँ मगर इस बात को डरता हूँ कि कहीं ये उफान और शोर हमें उन छोटी छोटी बातों से दूर तो नहीं कर रहा जिनसे शायद वाकई में हमारा होना कोई मतलब रखता है ? कहीं सिद्धांतों के लिए लड़ते लड़ते हम ज़िन्दगी की रोज़ की धूप छाँव की अनदेखी तो नहीं करते जा रहे ?
मेरे अपने जीवन में ऐसे उदाहरण कई बार मिले जिन्होंने मुझे जीवन के इस कोमल पक्ष की ओर देखने का मौका दिया। मैंने बीते कुछ साल दिल्ली में बिताये हैं। वहाँ connought place में कई बार आना जाना होता था दोस्तों के साथ तफरी करने के लिए। उस बाज़ार कि भीड़ में अक्सर मुझे एक औरत दिखायी पड़ती जिसकी handicrafts की दुकान थी और विदेशी और हमारे लोग अक्सर ज़मीन पर बिछाये उसके सामान को देखने खरीदने को जमा रहते। मगर जिस बात ने मेरा ध्यान खींचा वो यह थी कि उसके आस पास हमेशा  6 ,7 कुत्तों की भीड़ रहती थी। उसने उनके खाने का , पानी पीने के बर्तन , सबका इंतज़ाम कर रखा था। यही नहीं जाड़ों के दिनों में भी वह उन कुत्तों के बदन कपड़ों से  ढके रखती थी। उसे देख कर मुझे बहुत सुकून महसूस होता और मन यह सोच कर हल्का हो जाता कि शायद ज़िन्दगी हर बार बड़ी बातों के लिए परेशान होने का सबब नहीं है। और मैं यह सोच कर खुश हो जाता कि कुछ बड़ा नहीं तो ऐसा ही कुछ छोटा करके मैं जीने की कोशिश कर सकता हूँ।
यह कहने के पीछे मेरा तर्क सिर्फ इतना है कि उसूलों और सोच के झगड़ों से अलग यदि अपने जीवन में हम अपने आस पास की छोटी छोटी बातों के लिए जीने की कोशिश करें तो शायद बहुत कुछ तब भी बदला जा सकता है। यदि किसी भूखे जानवर को 2 कौर खिला सकें , किसी सूखते पेड़ को पानी दे सकें ,किसी एक के भी आंसू यदि हमारी आँखों में उतर आयें तो मेरी समझ में ऐसी ज़िन्दगी किसी क्रांति से छोटी नहीं।
हमारा जीवन  हमारे निर्णयों का विस्तार है। यदि हम अपने निर्णय और न्याय को एक कर सके तो शायद ये हमारी बहुत बड़ी जीत होगी। तय यह करना है कि उस न्याय की शक़्ल क्या हो।