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 !