उसकी ऑंखों ने झूठ बोला था

You know how, there are times when you idolize someone and then... you don't! Well, I've been that fallen idol and I have had a few as well. 

Driving to my office today, a Gulzar song was playing these lines:

लिखते रहे हैं तुम्हें रोज़ ये मगर,

ख्वाहिशों के ख़त कभी भेजे ही नहीं....

I felt that. 

You know how, there are times when you idolize someone and then... you don't! Gulzar is one such fallen idol for me. Although I still like a few scattered lines and thoughts by him here or there, mostly I feel like resenting. And how do you resent to a fallen idol? By a retort perhaps. Like it happened the other day, I read a couplet by Gulzar:

ऑंखें थीं जो कह गईं सब कुछ,

लफ्ज़ होते तो मुकर गए होते। 

and retorted as follows:

उसकी बातों का गिला क्या करते,

उसकी ऑंखों ने झूठ बोला था। 

The year of Brutus

As the year dies, I decided to have an evening that would put some make up on the wound that the year has left.

I sat in the balcony with my camera and a book. I finished a bottle of wine. I imagined my utopian worlds again. I reminisced your touch again. I heard my favorite voices again - of Regan, of AB Vajpayee, of Kishore Kumar, of birds, of yours, of mine.

It was a good ending to a terrible year, albeit a week too early. As I lay in my bed, half drunk, half asleep, half hurting (for, you know by now, I'm more than one man)... the only thing still hurting is that knife. Can you please take it off my back now?!!

हाय ये तक न कहा मैंने कि "ब्रूटस, तुम भी?!!"

मेरे दिल में ये रहा दोस्ती बदनाम न हो।

बैठ कर देर तलक सुनता रहा ख़ामोशी,

इस इरादे से कि इसमें तेरा पैग़ाम न हो।।

After 20 years

There was this O. Henry story in our class 12 textbook, where two friends decided to meet at the same spot after 20 years. Inspired by that, I proposed to some close friends to meet again. At that time, 20 years seemed too long, so I proposed a date of 14 years later for all of us to meet. Thankfully that was immediately shot down by an importantly close friend because within 3-4 years, I did not want to meet almost any of those "friends".

I got reminded of that 20 years deal because tomorrow, it will be 20 years of a significant event. 20 years ago, a friend met an accident and the car causing that accident was badly thrashed by us, the university boys. While that accident was scary and unfortunate, that was also the beginning of a different bond for some of us. So important a bond that the main protagonists of that story got married eventually. 

And today, when I look back, those 20 years seem to just fly by. When I was 17, the period of 20 years seemed scarily long beyond a foreseeable time horizon. But now, 20 years seem a small time. It has been almost 20 years of that evening talk, which turned me from business to higher studies. It has been more than 20 years for some friendships. It has been more than 20 years since I saw Emma for the first time. It has been almost 20 years since I saw Emma for the last time. It has been almost 20 years of so many loves, crushes, flirts, romances, losses, breakups, betrayals... and what not! 

Some day, it will be 20 years of another love. Some day, it will be 20 years of another loss. Some day, it will be 20 years of another romance. Some day, it will be 20 years of another betrayal. Today, 20 years seem scarily long. And I don't want to go there anymore, where another 20 years seem a small time.

Exactly like 20 year ago, Jagjit Singh is singing Mirza Ghalib - 

क़ैद-ए-हयात-ओ-बंद-ए-ग़म  

अस्ल में दोनों एक हैं

मौत से पहले आदमी 

ग़म से निजात पाए क्यूँ 

दिल ही तो है न संग-ओ-ख़िश्त 

दर्द से भर न आए क्यूँ !

मैं मरूँगा नहीं

ज़िन्दगी और मौत ऊपर वाले के हाथ में हैं जहाँपनाह और उसे न आप बदल सकते हैं और न मैं। 

When Rajesh Khanna said these immortal lines in Anand, you know... He was talking about me too. And today, I rewrote his monologue in my life. 

Today, I sorted some 2 GB or about 500 photographs, I planned some travel, I booked some tickets, i took a long walk, I picked up a new book to read, i enjoyed a large peg, and I wrote two poems. One of which was anchored on the line and the thought - मैं मरूँगा नहीं।

I refuse to die. I choose to be happy. I reject your world. I survive your backstabbing. I am an idea whom you can't kill. मैं मरूँगा नहीं। 

He never knew that

Remember I told you those four things, without which, I once said, I would not be able to live? I would not be me anymore? Well, I know you don't. It's okay. Even I have forgotten me a lot. 

So those four things were - writing, reading, traveling, and photography! And you know what? It took me so long to forego and forget. But I finally did. Writing was anyway becoming rare and is totally over now. Traveling - I did some recently after a long pandemic-induced hiatus and found myself utterly withdrawn from the world. My traveling shoes are also tired now. Photography - well, that is over at multiple levels and for multiple reasons. And reading? The 6 bookshelves full and several devices may not reveal that but I don't read anymore. I mean I do but not books. Yes, perhaps from any random place. Like the other day, I was traveling in Gujarat and in a restaurant, I read this. 

In that moment, I realized - I was always so homeless and never even knew that.

Stressed no more

One thing I like in people (and by people, I mean myself) is the constant self (often critical) analysis. So I was watching myself doing a few things for a few days and I asked myself, why am I doing those things? 

As I have said earlier (like everything else, but well... I quote myself often and you know why!), I live in the past because most of my life is there. So I started taking a dip in the past to understand all the times when I did that and how... And I realised this.

How do I destress? Some people do it with music, some with shopping, some with food, and some with talking. I? I destress in four ways. Long back, when I sat in Papa's business, I often took long walks. Like really long walks. I walked for 2-3 hours at a time. That was when I discovered my first method of destressing. 

The second method of destressing was a little after that. That was the era of university days and the thoughts of future. That was when I started to write. I wrote diary. I wrote notes. I wrote poems. Writing was a great decongestor of thoughts and a great destress device for repeat readings also. Even today, one of my favorite things to do is to read my own old writings, right from blog to diary to facebook posts to random notes. 

The third method of destressing was cleaning. I cleaned my room, I cleaned the furniture and fan, I cleaned my almirah, and I cleaned my phone. Cleaning old numbers, old gifts, old memories, and what not - that did help. That does help. 

And today I discovered exercising as a destressor. I exercised. A lot. It helped in sweating myself so much that there was no space left for sweating over stress. And I just noted - I have used 3 out of the four destressors today. What was stressing me so much? Well...you know the secret of being a bore is to say everything!

अपने सब यार नाम कर रहे हैं

बड़े-बड़े शायरों को तो बहुत बार पढ़ा होगा इधर...  आज कुछ उनको सुनो, जो करीबी दोस्त रहे कभी।  उनकी कलम, उनके इमोशंस, उनकी बातें ज़्यादा अपनी लगती हैं।  

God send thee

consolation,

when you tear 

yourself apart

and find him

missing...

ये आनंद सर ने कभी लिखा था। क्यों लिखा था पता नहीं। हमको क्यों याद है ये - ये पता है।  लेकिन तुमको तो पता है कि हम बताएँगे नहीं।  

वो लड़की लौट कर आए अगर तो बोलना उसको

वो लड़का आख़िरी दम तक तुम्हीं को याद करता था

तुम्हारे नाम उसने सर्दियों में ख़त भी लिक्खे थे

जिन्हें वो ख़ुद ही पढ़ता और इक बच्चे सा रोता था

वो लड़की लौट कर आए अगर तो ये भी कह देना

वो लड़का बेवफ़ा था आदतन ये सब वो करता था

ये पीयूष मिश्रा ने लिखा था - माने कम फ़ेमस और ज़्यादा अच्छे वाले पीयूष ने।  पीयूष की लिखी कई बातें डायरी में छुपा रखी हैं हमने (और कई दिमाग़ में)।

और "एक ख्वाब सी लड़की" थी, जो दोस्त बनने से पहले ही चली गयी।  उसने कभी ये कहा था : 

हमें बिंदी नहीं चूड़ी नहीं, कुछ भी नहीं जँचता 

हमारा हुस्न है सारा हमारी आँख का काजल

कई आँखों ने देखे थे हमारे लम्स के सपने

फ़क़त उसने ही देखा था हमारी आँख का काजल

ये अंतिम शेर क्यों पसंद आये ? क्योंकि उस आँख का काजल.....

ख़ैर, आखिरी नज़्म हमारी सुनो - 

तुम्हारे इश्क़ में 

पागल था 

जब,

तो ज़िन्दा था।  

आदमी ठीक हुआ 

जब 

तो मर गया आखिर।

सब कुछ सीखा हमने, ना सीखी होशियारी

All children, except one, grow up. That one child is buried deep inside my soul. I miss him a lot. Like Jaun Eliya says:

साल दर साल, और इक लम्हा

कोई भी तो न इनमें बल आया।

ख़ुद ही इक दर पे मैंने दस्तक दी,

ख़ुद ही लड़का सा मैं निकल आया।।

So that young chap does come out often, these days more so, as I keep talking to, who else but, myself. All it requires is a random trigger.

 Sometimes, that trigger is an online post about Lucknow, sometimes that trigger is a talk about architecture of school buildings, and sometimes it's a book on child psychology. I have done a lot of psychological analysis on my childhood, reasons of a lot of people's behaviours, insecurities, my responses, coping mechanisms, and a lot of bruises. Well, I don't think I have the power of writing all that without a nervous breakdown. So let it be! Coming back to triggers!

Today, it was Antakshari event under the "Hindi Diwas" at the institute. Our team won the first prize. And as I was enthusiastically discussing with chhoti didi all those possible songs that we could have sung, didi recalled a Mukesh song. 

I generally avoid listening to Mukesh - Raj Kapoor songs. They remind me too much of my Nanaji. I think, among all the elders of my family, I felt closest to him. He often sang Raj Kapoor songs to me, when I was 6 or 8 till about I graduated. Thereafter, his voice started shaking too much to sing. I talked to him a lot, learnt a lot from him a lot, and loved him a lot. He was not a great parent but tried being a good grandfather, to me at least. I wasn't there in Lucknow the day when he passed away. I had classes that morning when his last rites were performed. I didn't even feel the need to try to be there that day. In fact, I didn't even saw him in his final few years.

But since then, I have missed him often. I always remember his birthday although I don't remember his last day. Anyway, he remains one of those few, who gave me varied perspectives in life. Not all of those were in form of long talks. Some were simply a Mukesh - Raj Kapoor song. One of those is in the title of this post, but his forever favorite was:

आबाद नहीं, बरबाद सही

गाता हूँ खुशी के गीत मगर,

ज़ख्मों से भरा सीना है मेरा

हँसती है मगर ये मस्त नज़र

दुनिया मैं तेरे तीर का 

या तक़दीर का मारा हूँ

आवारा हूँ....

चुप जो रहते हो...

I read somewhere that if you ever wonder like - "does it happen to me only?" - the answer is most definitely NO. So I am sure that it has happened with you too and not only once!

Do you remember how there was a time, when you used to talk to someone... daily.... for hours... about nothing? Do you remember how there was a time, when your day was not complete without talking to them.... daily.... for hours.... about nothing? Do you remember why you stopped talking to them? This is where our stories might differ. 

I don't know why I (or they) stopped talking to them (or me). And it always went from daily to never, or in some cases, almost never. And more than that, the real problem is that in some cases, I know. I know what happened. And why. And maybe it was the same for all the cases, one way or the other.

Anyway, I'm old. I'm tired. Of this rollercoaster. Of coming close. Of moving on. Of reminiscing. Of forgetting. So now, I just talk to myself. Seriously. I record my own poems, blogs, thoughts - all in my own voice and listen to myself. Maybe that is one voice that will not stop talking to me... daily.... for hours.... about nothing! 

Anyway, do you want to know what I figured out? Do you want to know what I know? Do you want to know why? Do you want to know who? Well, why don't you talk to me.... once again! 

तुम आज मुझसे ख़फ़ा हो तो कोई बात करो,

चुप जो रहते हो, मुहब्बत का गुमां होता है !

Naguva Nayana Madhura Mouna

Aeons ago, I remember, when I was teaching for the first time and a student told me about a trick to solve some queueing in operations questions. I sat with him for an hour to learn about it and he was amused because I was readily accepting of not knowing something and was willing to learn from him, a junior by a few years.

I suddenly recalled this a few days ago. Reason - because some students requested me to discuss a random assortment of topics in an open-ended session. I did. The final question was that why would I know such random things. I couldn't answer that then, so as always, I made up an answer then and there. However, later on, I wanted to go back and tell them that I am always curious and never ashamed of learning. Never ashamed of learning from anyone, even if that is a junior, a student, a friend, or a passer-by through my life. 

On a Saturday afternoon, sitting in my office, trying to write something, and failing yet again! I opened youtube and let it take me wherever the music goes. Youtube took me to a song - Naguva Nayana Madhura Mouna. 

I know I heard this song earlier. I remembered the song because I was trying to learn something. In fact, I know that you know that I love songs of so many languages. Because I am always curious and there is always some reason to learn something new. In fact, just the other day, I picked up a thought from the unlikeliest of places. I learnt this from Instagram: 

I think this is enough learning for a Saturday afternoon! 

जिंदगी की ये बे निशान सड़क... आ रहा हूँ के जा रहा हूँ मै

 Yesterday, a friend mentioned this: 

Short questions, shorter answers, such deep ramifications. I don't have the energy or the will left in me anymore to say all that. I would rather let Jaun Elia speak!

कौन हूँ क्या हूँ क्या नही हूँ,

राज़ ये खोलता नही हूँ मैं

एक दिन अपने दर पे दस्तक दी,

और फिर कह दिया "नही हूँ मैं"! 

It sounds like that desolate

It's been days since I read or heard any poetry. Writing has been any way out of the question for a while now. In fact, I think, I have not even quoted a random verse during all my conversations. And not even had a "conversation" in a long while. How long was that? Perhaps a few months, perhaps a lifetime... who knows! 

There is a lot of nothing happening, so to say but well... before I digress, here is what finally triggered some thoughts a day or two back. A friend tried translating a verse of Meer Taqi Meer. I counter-translated some more verses and shared those with him. Well, imagine if this is the most happening and fun thing I did in a while, how was the boring part? I know you know that. Anyway, I digress. Don't guess, just read. Who knows if you will see the poet me ever again or ...!!! 

हस्ती अपनी हबाब की सी है

ये नुमाइश सराब की सी है

This existence - a bubble or a bait

All like a Mirage to demonstrate 

चश्म-ए-दिल खोल के इस आलम पर,

याँ की औक़ात ख़्वाब की सी है

Open the inner eyes, for this world 

Nothing but a dream desperate 

नाज़ुकी उस के लब की क्या कहिए,

हर एक पंखुड़ी गुलाब की सी है

What to say of her rosey lips,

like the fragile petals, so delicate. 

नुक़्ता-ए-ख़ाल से तिरा अबरू

बैत इक इंतिख़ाब की-सी है

That beauty mark on your eyebrow

like a rhyme, a rhythm too great

मैं जो बोला कहा के ये आवाज़,

उसी ख़ानाख़राब की सी है

As I bespoke, she says 

it sounds like that desolate.

I am fine!

I have said everything! 

And so many times! 

On this very blog! 

Whatever I say even to myself now, it seems like a repetition of the same thing, same thoughts, and same sorrows. Everything is stale. Every thought, every word, every idea, every sorrow, every pain. So here is a very very very old thought, and yet, by my memory of this blog, perhaps not stale, not repetitive, not already written about. 

When I look around, I find it surprising how people are so happy and so contended and so ecstatic. As I understand, they fall in two categories. One, who pretend well. Two, who have an animalistic existential level. But those, who are capable of deeper thought always have a trouble in this shallow world. They crave for something deeper always and the deeper they go, the shallower they feel. Ultimately, they strangulate themselves in the layers of those depths, they choke on their knowledge, they loose breath in the depths of their loneliness. 

Does it make sense to you? No? Right! It won't make sense to shallower ones. And to the ones in depth? Well, they are far beyond this level to bother. Nonetheless, just wanted to say from the depths of my sinking - 

P.S. - I have been trying to listen to classical music for a long while. However, except flute, I could never feel any deep connection with any other instrument. Listened to many, liked a few, but never felt attached to any except flute. Right now also, some flute is playing. Do you know why? No? Ohh...!! I thought you would understand me a little better from that distance. If ever you understand that, let me know. You know I am always there to listen. Even if I am not happy, I will be fine enough to listen.

सुनो

एक बार कहीं पढ़ा था कि संसार में जो भी आवाज़ें होती हैं, वो कहीं जाती नहीं। सारी आवाज़ें हमारे आस-पास बिखरी रह जाती हैं। ध्वनि-ऊर्जा नष्ट नहीं होती। कई वैज्ञानिक ऐसे अविष्कार करने की कोशिश करते रहते हैं जिससे सारी पुरानी आवाज़ें वापस सुनी जा सकें। शायद उनमें से कोई एक, किसी दिन सफल हो।

तुमसे बहुत कुछ कहना था। तुम सुनने को रुकी नहीं। तुमसे बहुत कुछ सुनना था। तुमने कभी कहा नहीं। शायद मेरी आवाज़ कभी तुम तक पहुँचे। क्योंकि हमको जो कहना था, तुमसे ... वो कह दिया है आज। हाँ, अपनी जगह बैठे ही कहा है। हाँ, बिना रिकॉर्ड किये कहा है। हाँ, किसी के सुने बिना कहा है। शायद मेरी आवाज़ कभी तुम तक पहुँचे। उससे क्या होगा पता नहीं। उस दिन क्या होगा, पता नहीं। लेकिन जिस दिन तुम तक वो आवाज़ पहुँचे, शायद तुम्हारी आवाज़ हम तक वापस पहुँचे। तब तक के लिए ये सुनो -

Musings

This was the post mentioned above, recalled on the Holi day today. The message was from a long lost junior-turned-friend, who often told me interesting and mostly appreciative things about my writing. After the brief chat above, we had a 34-minute conversation and a plan to meet soon. 

I don't know where all I have left footsteps to follow, marks to inspire, or words of wisdom. I never felt or intended that though but I'm told so often. 

Long ago, there was a website (probably called internet2.0) which helped in erasing every mark of one's existence from the internet. It was, sort of, internet suicide. I wonder if there is a newer version available somewhere. Can you help?

P.S. And that friend sent a nazm a few minutes after our phone call, after my blog post. Here it is:

नज़्म

मैंने अपनी आप मदद की

मैंने अपने आँसू पोछें

मैंने अपने ज़ख्मों पर 

ख़ुद पट्टी बाँधी

मैंने अपने टूटे दिल के हर टुकड़े को 

ठीक तरह से जोड़ लिया है

मैंने कुछ फ़िल्मो के सहारे 

फिर से हँसना सीख लिया है

मैंने ख़ुद को वक़्त दिया है

मैंने अपनी अलमारी में 

पड़ी किताबों के ऊपर से धूल हटाई

बाल कटाये शेव बनाई

मैं अपने हर शौक़ को फिर से ज़िंदा करके 

उनको पूरा करने का भी सोच रहा हूँ

अब मैं अकेला नहीं रहा हूँ 

अब मैं अपने साथ खड़ा हूँ

ये सबकुछ एहसान नहीं है

कर्ज़ है मेरा मेरे ऊपर

और किसी से आस नहीं थी

ये सब मैं ही कर सकता था

वक़्त वगरना इन आँखों में 

ना उम्मीदी भर सकता था

इक दिन मैं भी ट्रेन से कटकर 

मर सकता था।

~बालमोहन पाण्डेय

तुम रहती थीं साथ मेरे जब...

कभी सुमित्रा नंदन पंत ने लिखा था - 

वियोगी होगा पहला कवि, आह से उपजा होगा गान।  

आँखों से निकल कर चुपचाप, बही होगी कविता अजान।। 

और इसी मानस में कभी पी. बी. शेली ने लिखा होगा कि "Our sweetest songs are those that tell of our saddest thoughts." या कि जिसको हरिवंश राय बच्चन ने सोचा था ऐसे - 

जिन नग़मों में शायर अपना ग़म रोते हैं, 

वो उनके सबसे मीठे नग़मे होते हैं।  

बड़े-बड़े लोगों ने कहा है तो सही ही होगा।  तुम्हें सामने बिठा कर लिखना मुश्किल था।  लेकिन तुम्हें सोचकर लिखना, वो भी इस मानूस-ओ-मनहूस तन्हाई में ... तख़य्युल के समन्दर में ज्वार है जैसे। 

ख़ैर, जो बड़े लोग दो मिसरों में लिख गए, वही कहने को हमको पूरी नज़्म लगती है। तुमको सुनाता ये शायद सामने बिठा कर, जैसे तुमको पसन्द था। लेकिन तुम सामने होतीं तो फिर ये नज़्म ही क्यूँकर होती। सो ऐसे ही सुन लो और मेरी आवाज़ में "इमैजिन" कर लो।  मेरी आवाज़ भूली तो नहीं ना ?

***

तुम रहती थीं साथ मेरे जब,

दूर सही पर पास मेरे जब,

कितने सारे काम-काज,

झगड़े-झंझट 

और 

लोग-बाग सब - 

बीच में आ जाते थे अपने, 

मुझको बिज़ी कर देते थे

और

तुमको जुदा कर देते थे ! 

अब तुम मेरे साथ नहीं जब,

पास हो दिल में 

लेकिन मेरे 

हाथ नहीं अब, 

सारी दुनिया सन्नाटी है,

काम एक भी 

ना बाकी है,

ऐसे दश्त के वीराने में 

कैसे तन्हाई काटी है,

तुम्हें क्या कहूँ 

मुझे भी नहीं 

ख़बर ज़रा सी।  

इस बेख़बरी के आलम में 

घर के अंदर, 

कभी मैं बाहर, 

सड़कों पर 

या वीरानों में, 

भटक रहा हूँ, 

बेमतलब की बात बनाता 

लाइट जलाता और बुझाता 

नज़्में कहता और भुलाता 

ख़ुद ही ख़ुद को 

नोच रहा हूँ, 

सोच रहा हूँ - 

तुम रहती थीं साथ मेरे जब,

दूर सही पर पास मेरे जब ... !!! 

***

हम, आज, अभी ! 

हमेशा देर कर देता हूँ मैं

As you have always known, I live in the past, for most of my life is there. Now, even more so. And I analyse those things past a lot. So I have realised yet another aspect - an anomaly, if you may. I have done everything at the wrong time, mostly with a delay. Proof, you say? Well, here are a few! 

You remember those small medicine tablets? Well, I couldn't swallow one till pretty late. I think till class 9, I had to ask for a syrup or mom had to crush the tablets to powder form. Then, one fine day, I got embarrassed enough and I practiced swallowing the tablets with help of a bottle full of Hajmola tablets. 

Another delayed thing in my life was learning to tie and untie those knots of pajama trousers. I didn't wear one because I couldn't tie it well. Worse, I couldn't untie one in time for, you know, for what! I think this skill had to wait till my undergraduate years. 

Yet another one was learning calculus and matrices. I had business maths in class 12, which was very basic. Finally, I took a tuition to learn the calculus, matrices, and a lot of what everyone would do in class 12. I think this was around my post-grad, when I finally learnt sitting with class 11 students in the tuition. 

But you know, which delay feels the worst of all? Yes! That one! I have conquered the other delays albeit with a delay... but this one... I think I have got too late on this one! So let me fall silent for this one and hear it from Munir Niazi: 

ज़रूरी बात कहनी हो कोई वादा निभाना हो

उसे आवाज़ देनी हो उसे वापस बुलाना हो

                                                             हमेशा देर कर देता हूँ मैं

बहुत देरीना रस्तों पर किसी से मिलने जाना हो

किसी को याद रखना हो किसी को भूल जाना हो

किसी को मौत से पहले किसी ग़म से बचाना हो

हक़ीक़त और थी कुछ, उस को जा के ये बताना हो

                                                             हमेशा देर कर देता हूँ मैं

The cursed lover

I was a soldier once. I fought with valor and fought tirelessly. 

And I always won. I always won because there was a small fish of life within me. 

A fish of life, a fish of love, a fish with big eyes of luster and longing.

I traveled across the oceans and traveled across the mountains, I searched in the cities and searched in the skies, and everywhere I asked...

And when I couldn't find that fish of life and that fish of love, 

I couldn't even live. I couldn't even die.

And then, from nowhere, one fine day, one fine moment, a fish swam to me.

A fish of life, a fish of love.

The fish swam with me, the fish swam in me. 

I held her close. I lived for the fish. 

I loved her more, each day.

I lied for her. I ran for her. 

Heck, I even changed my plan for her.

And then, as I always feared,

And then, as I always knew,

Because I know I am a cursed lover, 

And then, it happened...

And here I am... 

Again, alone, as always!

Every time, I know, when I fall in love,

there comes a giant wave,

For I know, I am 

*The cursed lover*