Kal-Aaj-Kal

aaj phir kal ke kuch pal udhaar le liye,

aaj kee dor ko dheela chod,kal kee patang ke peeche duar pada mein,

kal ke hawai mahal aaj ke makan se nazuk par sundar

kal kee sadken,umeedon,khushion se liptee huee dikhtee hein

Guzra kal kee mittee liptee huee hai aaj ke aieene par,

Saaf hota nahin,ya shayad karna nahin chahta

lipta rehna chahta hoon guzre kal ke kambal mein,

aankhen moond ke unhee purani kahanion ke alag alag manzar jo dekh sakta hoon.

Dono hee kal kee suraton mein,kyon akela hoon lekin?

Shayad jo aaj saath hein, unko peeche chod aana padta hai,

Par kya bewkoofi hai,aaj ke aage-peeche hee zindagi baithee hue hai chup kar,

Pukar rahee mujhe,dheere se keh rahee,jo bhee hai,keval aaj hai

Luggage

We all feel that the kind of shit we are in today is unique to us,so much burden,so much pain,the guilt,the layers of hurt are the heaviest.
You don't know what i am going through is our war cry as we get up from our beds everyday and fight,fight for staying strong, staying sane and really try to find that elusive happiness.

For me this has been the case until I really saw that all the pain,the heaviness in shoulders and the heart , longing to be loved and accepted is there in each one of us and it exactly weighs the same in our heads.

Unless we open up and see,accept someones luggage ( not necessarily carry it, but just be open enough to see ) that they are carrying and i was surprised to see people carrying way way more heavy stuff than i ever have in my life.
But still they were trying,like all of us to find joy that is not some ephemeral, fleeting moment but just a way for being.

I still don't think i have really internalised what gratitude means but all i am sure of is that the load of grief and pain I carry has the same DNA as of the next person.It sure is lighter than his.

sab gam ko lekar chalte hein,
upar se muskurate,kahkahe lagate,
uth te,chalte,phirte hein,
girte aur sambhalte hein,
sabse door door rahen,lekin gam ka itr pehante hein.

kiska gam chota,kiska bada,bas apna hee Sabse bhari,
chote ka gam chota?ya garib ka gam halka?
gam toh sabka ek samaan,poora kala,apne hee jitna bhari,
utna lamba jitna kad,utna kheench raha jitne jiskee had.

bahut chalak yeh gam,saare raste maloom isse,
kabhee khatkhatakar aaye dil mein bahar se,
aur kabhee apnee hee factory mein manufacture ho kar ghar banaye.
sabka sathee hai par,chahe nange paon sadak pe,ya us chamchamati gadi mein.

bekhauf hai yeh,jab hamare dimag mein rehta hai,jaden mazboot,andar tak failee huee,

bas ek cheez se darta hai,sirf ek choti see cheez
koi aur agar doosre ka gam samajh le,
bahut chota ho jata hai yeh,aur kone talash karta hai,
koi agar muskura ke,dil se kisi se pooch le,"dost,baat karen?"
yeh bekhauf andhera,isse ujale se toh darta hai.

chalo thoda sa pooche,hath pakden,shayad thoda saath ro le,muskura lein
shayad dono ka bharipan thoda halka ho jaye,
lagne lage kee sab isse naav mein,gam,dukh,dard ko saath liye chal rahen hein,
utne hee bhari,utne hee dard bhare,par agar socho toh,utne hee shayad halke.

ek baar kisi aur ka basta kholte hein,
unkee bhari kitabe,copyion ko padte hein,
shaayad kuch aur ho na ho,par itna hoga,
sabka school ek hai,jahan yeh gam likha gaya hoga.

Unrooted

Unrooted.

It was time.
The time for them to take a decision that no one ever is ready for.

Time to slice off the roots and take the almost dead life as fast as you can from today to tomorrow clinging to a hope that that you would be able to revive it again.

Desperately searching for another place, the soil that would be welcoming to the small piece of dying plant that is their life.

Millions of them take that decision every minute and move to the frightening monster that we call cities.

Imagine living in a city with all the needs and wants taken care of.Things happen when you want them to happen, you get pissed at the uber driver who was a minute late, the coffee place which you swear is something that you cannot live without and the shopping carts at the spanking malls that are full upto brim. You look up to the skyscraper and navigate through it like a child's play.

And then I see those who come to this city and the city monster scares and scars the life out of them. Nudged in corners where we wouldn't be able to breathe, constraints which put on us today would nearly kill us ( having to go to work 365 days a year and doing whatever work comes across comes to mind ) , being forced to kill the desires that come from looking at those spic and spank cars moving around at the very high end to the ice cream cone that they see in someone's hand on a hot,sweltering punishing summer.

Not sure what killing off desires do to you on a sustained basis. If desires are rearing their ugly heads out of us on a daily basis, what happens if you turn them inwards everyday?
How much damage can those tentacles do specially when they have no release?

Next time you see someone "unrooted", help make the soil around this concrete ground a little softer for them, just try.

Is shahar kee lambee meenaron se daar lagta hai,
Jab upar se ghoortee hein, dekhtee hein,
Sadak bhee sawal kartee hein, kee jana kahan hein tumhe,
Badhawas se bade log dekh kar undekha kar rahe hein

Kyon aaya mein is sard duniya mein, jahan bulb tubelight hai par ujala nahin,
Jahan aankhen badee badee hein, par dikhane walee nahin, Nazar rakhne walee
Behosh hona aasaan hai yahan, hosh kee keemat auakat se bahar huee,
Par kambakth pet ko kaun samjhaye,bekhauf shahar mein nanga ghoom Raha hai,mujhe ghuma Raha hai

MJ

Remembrance

It's been exactly 10 years, Mols wrote.
September 22nd.

I had no idea, I knew but I had no idea.
Thought it was October.

It has been a memory that has definitely shaped me. Not outwardly, but for sure some way.
It probably touched all of us in ways that we can't define.

I had only some phony anger against god. I don't think "god" mattered too much by then.Or it did, I don't remember.

I remember expressing some kiddish anger against the manager who wanted to call me to work the day we came back.

No matter how old we are, one can never be deal with loss with utmost dignity, and possibly that is how we are able to cope.

Only thing years have changed is how much of my thought has gone to his parents who were probably doing the job of being parents to us more than we being the grown ups being there for them.

That is how it felt to me that time.

I still don’t remember, whose tears were wiped,

Can’t recall , whose shoulders were they either,

For I was supposed to console, swallowing that grief, bitter

I recall, their shoulders, my tears, flowing through their grief.

I remember the stoic father, silently sobbing mother,

The frantic brother , holding on to hope,

Till the time , hope was no longer breathing,

We kept pressing, hoping against hope

I don’t remember who bawled, who was quiet

How big was the pain being carried, the force it exerted?

Remembering the awkward motions, unsure, terrified

Fearing for them, if they were strong enough, while masking our fears

I don’t remember, coming back sans one,

A part of me just vanished, and it was not fair,

Something in me must have turned black,lifeless,

For the memories are etched in fire, dead charcoal, still smoldering

Run forrest run

Not really sure what triggered this.
Has been a while since I ran.
But a movie sequence where I saw someone running through a jungle just stirred something.
And then saw couple of kids running on the road.
( It was not forrest gump - title is a little derivative , I know ).

What is it about running?

Why does it move something primal within us?

Whether that is a kid running with the most beautiful flow , legs moving as if in a symphony, absence of the knots , chains, bells that someone tied to our souls as we grew up.

It is as if the kid is showing the middle finger to the grown up.

Fuck the stance, posture, pronation, efficiency.

This what I am doing, says the kid, is being free.

Legs moving way ahead of body, almost like the mind, free to go where it wants.

Mocks the grown up, whose mind is blocked, timid , scared to go beyond the fences.

What is it about running?

I think because it is non judgmental, agnostic of rigid set of rules, destination, locus , forgiving and unforgiving at the same time.

Yes, some run towards their purpose, some away from it, some run towards the deepest fears, some as far away as they can from those demons.

Some run towards responsibilities, some run away from them.

Towards the unknown sometimes, the others running towards the cocoon whose warmth they so love.

While I ran towards the maze , I see someone dashing back to the roads they knew at the back of their heads.

To , from, towards, away, focused, distracted , exhilarated , hurt, scared runs.

In the end, the steps are not judging you, for the pain of the journey stays same.

Knees hurt, breath hurts, heck the mind hurts.

It is the choices we make, the runs we choose on this calendar of life.

Some really long that don’t seem long, some, just to the next block and boy does do they take a weird turn.

We are designed to run, loaded with a program just to run, the bugs of where,why,good ,bad,difficult,easy just crept up.

So as long as you run, and it is yours, who cares what anyone thinks.

Sweat is a currency through which we pay our dues in this world.

-->

And that is pure.

A little less I

Too much I.Too little us.
So focused on my inner self, others the really important ones are getting missed.

The best things happen when we feel we are a part of something bigger than us.

This is for all the loved ones I don't call,the friends who still care even when I am a jerk,my parents who rationalize why I call them so less ( he must be busy,must be tired ).

We get stronger once the purpose changes and becomes bigger.
Realized this when I saw the focus of my work changing to making something better for someone.

So hey, I brought a drink for the auto guy I was coming back with,since he was a teetotaler , the guard in my building was happy when I offered him one.

Hoping he has a good Saturday.

As I walked,I walked alone
Even with close ones around
Pondering over the deep gaping holes
Sans connect with the other souls.

For the heart was beating,
The sounds,hurts,pains were all mine
That little pump thumping,scared,faster
Playing me, that manipulative puppet master

But then I brought a beer,
Not for me this time,like always
Me was moving sideways,us barely sneaking
Offered it to a total stranger,that guard in my building

He was happy, so was selfish I,
Tonight was going to be a better for us,
For him,days rough, life a prison
Just a few minutes he had,a cushion.

The bubbles in our bottles joined,
Even the thoughts,hearts combined
I know my joy was still a little in focussed
But the drink felt a little more crisp, for it was externally locussed

Hero

Can I fight who I am,
My walls, inroads, traps
Lanes so deep, akin skin
Mocking me at each step, post the sin.

While I make a choice,
The "choice" was already made ,
Oblivious to pain tomorrow,
The Present , happiness, borrowed.

The true me knows, it tries
For the gluttony , it cracks me up
Funny, for I knew this,
I was ahead sometime, true was,my bliss.

The prose is weak,and so am I
But then I am strong, oh so strong
When I will,is when I win,
And shall recall, before every sin.

Yes,a human I am today,
A hero tomorrow and forever,
The torchbearer , force of nature
Never again, of my goodness, belittler, traitor