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

तल्ख़

रहे हम पास भी तो फासले दरमियाँ रहे  ,
ज़मीन से दूर दूर जैसे कि आसमाँ रहे .....

हर रात जागा  है ये सोच के आँगन मेरा .....
कभी चांदनी भी  घर  मेरे  मेहमान  रहे ..

ये  नहीं  कि उसे माँगा नहीं है रात दिन ...
पर मिले जब तो  मुझ सा ही कुछ परेशान रहे

रहें तेरी यादों के साये साथ अगर तो यूँ ...
कहीं दयार-ए -गम , कहीं दर्द का कारवाँ रहे

शायर की महबूबा

आप  कहेंगे  हर  बार   बात  घूम  फिर  कर  एक  ही  point के  आस  पास  चक्कर  काटती  है , वो  है  life में  लड़की . पर  जहाँ  खड़ा  होकर  मैं  देख  रहा  हूँ  वहां  से  बुरे  भले  ज़िन्दगी  के  सभी  रास्ते  इसी  एक  बिंदु  की  ओर  दौड़ते  हैं , कहे  दुनिया  चाहे  जो  भी . जो  पा  गए  , वो  छा  गए . जो  रह  गए , वो  बह  गए .

मगर  मैं  आज  बात  लड़की, या  सुन्दर  लड़की  से  थोड़े  ऊपर  के  level की  करना  चाहूँगा, वो  है  life, या  शुद्ध  हिंदी  में  कहें  तो  जीवन  में  सौन्दर्यबोध  का  होना  या  ना  होना . यहाँ  यदि  कविता  या  ग़ज़ल  या  शायरों  की  नज़र  से  बात  तोली  जाये  तो  लगता  है  दुनिया  में  सूखे  पत्ते  से  लेकर, उड़ती धूल  और  पेड़  पौधों  से  होते  हुए  माशूका  के  दुपट्टे  की  डिज़ाइन  तक  सब  कुछ  कहर  ढाने  वाला  है .  इससे  थोड़ा  आगे  जायें  तो  माशूका  के  बदन  की  तराश, पलकों  का  उठना  झुकना, जुल्फों  का  अँधेरा ( जिसमें  बिजली  विभाग  का  कोई  हाथ  नहीं ), etc etc , किसी  गोश्त  की  दुकान  की  तरह  अलग  अलग  परोस  कर  रखा  जाए  तो  मानो  क़यामत  सिमट  कर  दो  हाथ  पाँव  लेकर  चलने  फिरने  लगी  हो .
और  जितना  मैंने  जाना  है , इस  मायाजाल  को  खड़ा  करने  में  उर्दू  बहुत  बड़ी  गुनहगार  है . शब्दों  की  संरचना  और  वाक्य  ऐसे  बंधते  हैं  कि  हाड़  मांस  का  बदन  मानो  खुदा  को  भी  जलन  से  acidity  का  मरीज़  बना  दे . अब  अहमद  फ़राज़  कि  ये  lines लीजिये .

सुना  है  उसके  शबिस्तान  से  मुत्तसिल  है  बहिश्त  
मकीं  उधर  के  भी  जलवे  इधर  के  देखते  हैं  

[शबिस्तान =bedroom; मुत्तसिल =near; मकीं =tenant, बहिश्त = heaven] 


किसे  नसीब  के  बे -पैरहन  उसे  देखे  
कभी  कभी  दर -ओ -दीवार  घर  के  देखते  हैं  

[बे -पैरहन =without clothes] 

इसको  अगर  ठेठ  हिंदी  में  translate करूँ  तो  फ़राज़  कह  रहे  हैं  कि  , 'वो ' इतनी  सुन्दर  है  कि  उसके  bedroom की  खिड़की  से  उसकी  सुन्दरता  को  आसमानी  फ़रिश्ते  भी  ललचा  के  देखते  हैं . अगली  दो  lines में  वो  कहते  हैं  कि  भला  किसे  नसीब  है  कि  'उसे ' बिना  कपड़ों  के  देखे , वो  तो  बस  उसके  घर  के  दरवाज़े  और  दीवारों  के  नसीब  में  ही  है, वो  भी  कभी  कभी .

भाई  हद ही  हो  गयी  so called अश्लीलता  की . मगर  साहब  यही  तो  talent  है  शायरी  का, शायर  का  और  उर्दू  का. जो  चीज़  बोलचाल  की  भाषा  में  असभ्यता  दिखती  है , वही  बात  शायरी  में  'aesthetic' या  'artistic' value ले  लेती  है . हमारे  conoisseurs कहते  हैं  ना , नंगापन  तो  pornography में  होता  है , art में  बस  'nudity' होती  है .

लेकिन  दिक्कत  इन  सब  बातों  की  नहीं  है , दिक्कत  है  कि  इन  सब  ऊँची  ऊँची  बातों   को  पढ़कर  मेरे  जैसे  छोटे  दिमाग  में  जो   खलल  पैदा  होता  है , उससे  निजात  पाना  लगभग  नामुमकिन  सा  दिखता  है . अब  यदि  अहमद  फ़राज़  वाली  लड़की  किसी  middle class household की  शोभा  है , तो  लानत  है  हमारी  ज़िन्दगी  पर  यदि  उससे  कुछ  कम  पाया  तो . अब  ढूंढते  फिरो . और  फिर  रहे  हैं  झुम्मन  मियाँ  जैसे .

माफ़  करियेगा , झुम्मन  मियाँ  को  इतना  लेट  introduce करने  के  लिए . झुम्मन  मियां   मेरे  बहुत  करीब  के  हैं , और  गज़ब  की  शायराना  फितरत  के  आदमी  हैं . पढ़ाई  लिखाई  की  उम्र  से  ही  मानो  माथे  पर  बर्बादी  लिखवा  ली  खुदा  से . दिमाग  की  जगह  मुक़द्दर  दिल  पर  हथौड़े  चलाने  लगी . यहाँ  चोट  खाई , वहां  चोट  खायी , इधर  दिल  टुटा , उधर  सर  फूटा, मगर  झुम्मन  मियाँ  ना  हारे . दिल-ए-नाकाम  ने   शायर  बना  डाला . अब  हालत  ये  हुई  कि  अपनी  ही  एक  हाथ , एक  पाँव  वाली  शायरी   में  जिस  महबूबा  का  तसव्वुर  लिए  अपने  दिन  रात  सान  डाले , उसको  झुम्मन  मियाँ  अपनी   हकीकत  से  अलग  ना  कर  पाए . मगर  खुदा  की  कुदरत  देखिये , वही  जानता  है  कि  किसे  कब , कैसे  रुलाना  है ,  मिटाना  है  , सताना  है . झुम्मन  मियाँ  ने  पड़ोसियों  के  दूर  दूर  के  रिश्ते  की  बहन बेटियों  से  लेकर  , ऑनलाइन , ऑफलाइन  , ये  dotcom  वो  dotcom सब   कुछ  छान  मारा , किसी  भूखे  गिद्ध  की  नज़र  से . मगर  हुजूर  को   'उनकी ' वाली  ना  मिली . कहीं  height कम , तो  कहीं  weight ज़्यादा . कहीं  हिंदी  ख़राब  तो  कहीं  आवाज़  कहर . झुम्मन  मियाँ  की  हालत  अब  यूँ  है  कि  हमसे   मिलते  हैं  तो  यूँ , मानो  ज़िन्दगी  एक  भद्दा  मज़ाक  कर  गयी  उनके  साथ . जैसे  मानो  सगी   साली  आपको  भैया  बुला  दे . झुम्मन  मियाँ  का  दर्द  देखा  नहीं  जाता .  मगर  जी  रहे  हैं  तो  बस  जी  रहे  हैं .

मगर  खुदा  का  शुक्र  है  कि  झुम्मन  मियाँ  की  खस्ता  हालत  और  तन्ग्नसीबी  हमारे  लिए  बड़ा  सबक  बनी . बहुत  मन  मार  कर  आखिर  में  दिल  को  समझाया  कि  देखो  गुरु  ये  हरे  भरे  खुशबूदार  सपनों  के  garden को  दिमाग  में  इतने  जतन  से  पालने  की  कोई  ज़रूरत  नहीं  है , इसको  लगाओ  आग  और  आँख  खोल  के  दुनिया  देखो . अब  यदि  ये  खुशबूदार  और  बहकाने  वाले   मंज़र  दिल -ओ -दिमाग  को  भिगोते  भी  हैं  तो  हम  भीगे  कुत्ते  की  तरह  खुद  ही  अपने   दिल - दिमाग  को  सुखा  लेते  हैं  और  फिर  से  'life is good if not great'   का  मंतर  याद  कर  के  खुश  रहने  की  कोशिश  करते  हैं .

तो  अब  होता  यूँ  है  कि  सड़क  पर , दुकानों  में , रेलवे  प्लेटफार्म  पर , बस  अड्डे  पर , इधर  उधार  जहाँ  कहीं  भी  तलाश  कूद  फांद  करती  है , मैं  देखता  हूँ   तो  शायर  कि  महबूबा  अक्सर  दिखाई  नहीं  देती . दिखती  हैं  तो  रूखी  मुरझाई , थकी  सी  सूरतें , मानो  जैसे  राख  के  पुतलों  में  किसी  ने  जान   फूँक  कर  जीने  की  सज़ा  दे  दी  हो . भीड़  भाड़  में  भीख  मांगती , अपने  बच्चों  को  पीटती , गाली देती , construction sites पे  मजदूरी  करती  औरतों  को  ध्यान  से  देखने  की   कोशिश  करता  हूँ , तो  सवाल  उठता  है  कि  क्या  ये  सब  खूबसूरती  और  नजाकत  के  हिस्से  से  अपने  लिए  कुछ  चुरा  के  ना  ला  सकीं ? जिस  हुस्न  कि  दौलत  से  सजकर  शायर  कि  माशूका  का  बिस्तर  उसके  आशिक  को  तरसाता  है, क्या  उसका  एक  भी  हिस्सा  हमारी  दुनिया  के  गुम  अँधेरे  कोनों  में  अपने  'आदमियों ' ki 'भूख' से  हारी  लुटी   औरतों  की  ज़िन्दगी  में  उतरता  होगा ? इन  रूखे  बालों , फटे  तलवों , अधनंगे  बदन  और  बदहाल  ज़िन्दगी  को  ढोती  औरतों  में  क्या  किसी  के  शौक़  को  जगाने  का  हुनर  कभी  आ  सकेगा ? या  हुस्न  और  इश्क  सिर्फ  middle  class या  upper middle class  या  affluent  class  के  हिस्से  ही  आया , जहाँ  आप  intelligent and beautiful दोनों  हो  सकते  हैं . Dove साबुन  से  नहा  सकते  हैं , 'freedom of man' पर  भाषण  दे  सकते  हैं , classical music सुन  सकते  हैं , और  लच्छेदार   शब्दों  में  बात  कर  सकते  हैं .

कभी  कभी  लगता  है  कि  शायर  चालाक  निकला .

मैं  नहीं  कहता  कि  दुनिया  में  हुस्न  की  रंगत  नहीं  है . वरना  झुम्मन  मियाँ  और  मुझ  जैसे  नाकाम  आशिक  कहाँ  से  होते . मैं  ये  भी  नहीं  कहता  कि  खुदा  का  इन्साफ  झूठा  है . मगर  क्या  है  कि  झुम्मन  मियाँ  अकेले  हैं , सोचते  हैं , और  मैं , मैं  आज  भी , बस  देख  रहा  हूँ . 

poem

जहाँ गया हूँ कि लोग शहर पूछते हैं, नाम पूछते हैं,
कोई बाज़ार है कि  हर शेह का यहाँ दाम पूछते  हैं

उनसे बात हो भी दिल की तो किस तरह,
मिले हैं जब भी तो कहो क्या है काम पूछते हैं

कहाँ भूल आये जीने का ढंग वो ,
कि लोग दिल के सौदे से पहले अंजाम पूछते हैं

इस क़दर तन्हा हुआ है ये सफ़र कि ,
मंजिल को छोड़ अब मुसाफ़िर , आराम पूछते हैं 

On Hypocrisy, Sex and almost Everything

Whenever I have tried to take sides on issues about which I have delusional perception of knowing them, my father has patiently again and again reminded me that it is yet too early for me to have opinions and that too strong ones on anything and everything. In the light of this confession the reader must try not to jump towards being judgmental about the depth of my knowledge and insight, but allow his or her opinion to be juxtaposed to what is said below, and see if there are any logical connections . If yes, I would be happy to say the least, if no I would be happier.

On the issue of hypocrisy I have to admit, I have a bitter memory of the conversation when in a heated debate which ended inconclusively, I was termed and proved a hypocrite by a close friend. Those were college years, times of wisdom flowering and shaping up, but even with best of my abilities and almost desperate attempts to prove him wrong, I couldn’t put a counter argument . And since then I have , with great difficulty come to accept that I am a hypocrite.

But a little solace was to come my way, as in the years following that day, grappling with the mundane issues of day to day life, and allowing my reason to flourish and become more inclusive, I have come to notice that this hypocrisy seems to be an all-pervading, omnipresent element in our value system. It almost takes its place as an unavoidable element of our collective being, stemming (as I have reasoned) from a clash between our efforts to chase the element of elegance and beauty/piety and the inherent drive of existence or nature , whatever you call it to be. Looking around me,i I find ourselves being torn between these two almost irreconcilable pursuits, trying to become more than something that we are, or are told or still worse, feel to be.

If I put it a little non seriously, nature I feel has got only four commandments for us- eat, shit, fuck and die-that’s it. That is all nature wants from all living beings to allow her workings to keep going on. But we could not accept that and we invented society, then culture, then values, and value systems, and whole other load of complexities that we felt were necessary to see ourselves as something more than flesh hunting, perennially copulating beasts with no sense of ‘why are we doing, what we are doing’.I guess those must have been the times to envy, when reason had no reason to be.

Alas, going down the road, screwing our happiness, we were on the way struck by the contradictions stemming out of our own creations.  We had to develop institutions, and then commandments to be adhered to, to maintain the sanctity of these institutions. Thus we gave ourselves family, religion, relations, and then rules to follow to be a part of the same. But look around, and observe the obvious. The scattered incidents which are on the least disturbing and challenging to the social order, do hint towards a rebellious instinct directed against these very institutions created by us, that has been there like a silent undercurrent finding such violent escapes. Incidents of gang rapes, honour killings, child abuse, flesh trade, prostitution(legal or illegal), domestic violence seem like contrasting singularities in the social order that was in the very first place expected to be symbiotic and inclusive.

As said before, I feel we have been victims of a self imposed strife. In chasing that element of elegance we have not yet found a reconciliation, or to say a sort of satisfying compromise leading to a sense of acceptance of our place in this natural order. As put earlier, in all her four commandments, nature has left no place for us to be elegant. You can’t find a way to shit or fuck elegantly. A really hungry man cannot be told to eat like in a corporate dinner and death for obvious reasons finds no parallel apart from poetic abstractions to be equaled to something elegant.

This puts before us a natural question, why did we need such a pursuit?- were we not happy being who we were, or are there deeper implications to this dichotomy?

Was this an inevitability or are we just trying to find clever means of lying to ourselves constantly, ages after ages, generations after generations ?

I shall be blunt to push forward my point- take for example sex. This is one idea that has baffled(in abstract terms) and eluded(in tangible terms)  me the most.To me sex stands as the centre of the entire dynamics of any social order. It is amusing to think that the genesis of an entire social order and the politics associated with it, starts in a bedroom, needing just two hormone crazed people. This is where a sense of identifying and ascertaining a claim of territorial sanctity begins. It is with a child brought into the world out of a conjugal union that a woman finds her motherhood to be complete. The idea of a motherly affection never propounds the need of exercising your womb exclusively to put forth a progeny. Motherhood transcends that, but we give squat to that transcendence.Yes, there are honourable exceptions, but they are few.

Secondly as an inevitable consequence of the institutionalization of the act itself your bodies become a sort of exclusive ‘ no trespassing ‘ territory of the other. The man claims the woman for himself and vice versa. This adjustment probably revolves around the idea that ‘you are allowed to go yabadababdooooooo, but no more than I can make you do’- this is a clear example of how desperately we are fighting to ascertain our ego, because if a partner can find happiness outside the relationship, the importance of the other is compromised and the other no longer remains  ‘the one’, because there are ‘more’, and nobody wants that.

So much for the divinity of love .

Another example of this dichotomy is how most of the religions have tried into integrate and continue to propound sex as a means to attain a higher plane of consciousness and enlightenment. Hindus, who on one hand acknowledge the supreme power as female deity, the mother Goddess or Shakti, somehow managed to invent the concept of Devdasis in their religious structures to suit their’needs’. Kama has been acknowledged as a force to awaken the kunalini. Even in sufi traditions there are passing references to such parallels where the devotion of a person to God is compared to the servile passion of a bride all decked up waiting for her love to paw her real nice and good. It is sad to believe that this is the highest level of metaphorical comparison we could climb to in our portrayals of divinity.

The above mentioned examples centered around sex do hint at how human kind has been falsely trying to defend what it desperately wants, understands it as a need and yet denies acceptance of it by trying to weave a cobweb of sanctions, morals and theories around it. The above mentioned clash of value premises pervades not just in our take on carnality but in almost all our choices, be it about being what kind of ‘ist’ we are, in eating or renouncing meat, in being a believer or an atheist, almost all our choices that have their roots in any kind of value system, automatically puts us in place where we are questioning not just our choices but the relation of our ‘self’ to such choices.

But as I said before, this all confusion and clash of values works out best for all, for we find things still running and happening smoothly, atleast on the surface. I found my own sick route to happiness in this as now when I visit temples and see ladies prostrating before Shiva and Durga and Krishna and Hanuman, I can’t help chuckling inside thinking only if these stones could talk, they would go like,” Kya Rani, khub hi kasrat hui kal to.” Or when I see people engrossed in the problems of nation, fighting over issues, big issues, small issues, theorizing, proposing ideas, defending views and creating all sorts of fuss and cry, I quietly imagine them to be going home, eating their dinner, and then asking their better half,” Dear, aaj mil jaata, to majaa aa jaata.” To me, that’s our humble self, the children of mother nature, believing her, obeying her, rest of it can wait.

             Shehr e jaana mein yun to hue hain nakaam kai

             Dil aey magar yahan aur bhi hain muqaam kai                      

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