Aar Kichhudin Tarpor Bela Mukti

There is an old-old and not so well-known song by Majrooh and Kishore Kumar - 

Chand roz aur 

meri jaan chand roz,

tere gham ke din

mere gham ke din

chale jayenge, kaha maan

chand roz...

One shouldn't visit old places, shouldn't read old diaries, and most of all, not search old mails. Look what I found today: 

A mail from an old student, replied in great detail, with an old favorite song, copied to an old favorite... weather has been very moist in Indore lately. It rains any time without warning. Before I say more, listen to what Anjan DUTTA is singing to Bela Bose - Few days more Bela, and then there is freedom - Aar Kichhudin Tarpor Bela Mukti !!

Go away and come back 24 years ago!

 You know a sure shot sign of old age? You start remembering a lot of your days bygone. I guess I have always been very old. And yet, I get older each day as I reminisce the past more!

And lately, I have been thinking which was the best year / period of my life. As 2023 was ending, I was certain that this would not be the best year despite my best publication record thus far, good investment decisions, and lovable travels to almost every corner of India. I think the past two years were marked by a lot of material or worldly gains but a lot more inner turmoil, a sense of loss, and getting past many personal attachments.

Well, I kept scanning the life for a patch of an year where I would want to go back again and again, nostalgically at the least if not with a time-machine too. Maybe 2016 with a lot of international travel and teaching in Thailand? Or 2018, when I got a lot of what I could ever ask for? Or 2014 with mental peace, promotion, and political wishes fulfillment too? Perhaps none of these years!

What about IIMA days? Despite the nostalgia painting those days in a lot of happy colors, I am certain that I do not want to re-live those days again. And neither the school days, which I enjoyed a lot but the childhood trauma also never left my side. 

Finally, I could zero-down on one year / period which I would love to go back to. It was around 2001, when I was in Lucknow University. The study load was low and expectations were even lower. I was sitting in business with Papa and had more money than I needed. I had little responsibility in business so I had enough carefree time too to read all the books and to hangout with all the friends. Early morning walks, daily Ganjing with Gunjan, late night beside Gomti with Parimal. I was in the prime of my health. Lucknow was easy going and easier on our two-wheels. Love life was nowhere on the horizon and that was also great in a sense, because there was nobody to worry about.

But you know what? I think it would be true for everyone. Not 2001 precisely. Duh! But perhaps the age of 18-22. That is when, after all, your life path is decided and you make all the good and bad decisions and you live with all of those. Perhaps its not the year that I miss. It's the age. 

The Beautiful Strangers

This post is pending for very very very long. I should have not written this post. I should have rather found those beautiful strangers and thanked them in person. But then, they won't remain that much of a stranger. Will they? So here are some stories from my life, when I met them for the first and the last time in life. The time, when those strangers were kind enough to do something that made them so beautiful forever, at least in my memories.

***
Those were the beautiful days of teenage. I had just gained permission to watch a movie - ALONE. I ran to the nearest theater and to the earliest show. It was the matinee show of the newly released Kareeb at Sahu cinema. However, the movie and timing and place were all irrelevant. I reached the place some 20 minutes before the showtime. Excitement, you see. So as I sat in my seat somewhere in the middle of the hall, two young guys - 8-10 years older to me - sat next to me. I was looking around and observing people and so were the two guys. They were also in a great mood, looking around and making witty commentary. They caught me smiling at their jokes and we exchanged glances, smiles, and some words of niceties. That was all the introduction we had.

After a while, all the lights lit up and intermission flashed on the screen. The two guys ran out for something. I sat there only and looked around for a patty plus cold-drink guy - the matinee luxuries I had promised myself. However, the vendors were difficult to spot and call from the middle of the rows. The audience was back in the hall by now. The two guys were also back in their seats, with patties and cold-drinks. I sat patiently and promised myself that treat will come at the end of the movie.

Just then, the two guys had some eyes roll between themselves. One of them ran out of the hall again. I couldn't figure out why but well, I was more focused on trailers for now. In few seconds, the running guy was back with additional patty and cold-drink in his hands. For me. He handed it over to me with such brotherly authority that I couldn't refuse. With great hesitation, I tried paying them. And one of them told me, a little angrily - apne bade bhai ko bhi paise doge kya?!! I had a heavy heart and the greatest ever snack of my life. So great that even 25 years later, it is fresh in my heart! 

Perhaps there are more stories. Perhaps there are more beautiful strangers in my life. There are many more beautiful acquaintances. Some day, maybe, you will read their stories too!

Unbeing dead isn't being alive

So, like each year, this year's course of international trade ended in August. And, like each year, students asked if I will be offering more courses. And, like each year, I told them what all I can but I won't offer. But unlike each year, our conversations didn't fizzle out. Some students made a WhatsApp group and we continued our discussions on *life, the universe and everything* - from geopolitics to batch politics, from economic gap to generation gap, and from campus food to *the restaurant at the end of the universe*. 

And we were not limited to WhatsApp only. Like an old man, ^no one should be alone in their old age^, I thought. And hence, we met every once in a while. And as the boys were exhausted after the last CAT, we met on the following Monday. At my home. With Snacks. From Adda. And coffee. Home-made. And we had free-wheeling chat for, maybe, 3 hours. Or may, a decade. I don't know. But we talked a lot. Or rather, I talked a lot and the guys were sweet enough to tolerate me for mere samosas! 

Anyway, our discussions drifted from CAT and career prospects to culture at IIMs to country's culture! And perhaps many other things in between. And in that flow of discussions, someone asked - Why do some people drift away? In that moment, a thousand thoughts and a million memories whirled away through my mind. I answered him something. Perhaps something like - well, people grow apart. Sometimes, their use for each other comes to an end. Sometimes they get too busy in their new life. Sometimes, they want to get rid of their old life. Sometimes people burn the bridges. Sometimes their own "karma" burns those bridges. Sometimes, relationships are killed actively and sometimes it dies of that passive disinterest. 

Maybe I didn't say any of it. But I thought of it all. And then I thought of something even worse. You know, it is good that sometimes, people drift away. You know, it is worse that sometimes, the relationships die and yet, people do not drift away. We just keep walking with a dead relationship on our shoulders and keep dying each day with a dead relationship on our heads. Perhaps it is better to drift away than to die each day. And yet, here I am with so many of them.

P.S. - To make sense of * and ^, you may want to read, respectively,  The Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy and The Old Man and The Sea.

Teacher's Day

 2010 - Day of Convocation from IIMA

2023 - Sir's visit to IIMI

18 years of knowing Sir and glad to inform that his energy, wit, and wisdom have only grown to inspire us more! 

करोगे याद तो हर बात याद आएगी...

आज की रात हमको कहीं और होना था। इस ज़िन्दगी और इस शहर से, इस जगह और इस वुजूद से बहुत दूर। शायद, बीस साल दूर - वॉकमैन पर, भूपिन्दर की आवाज़ में, ये सुनते हुए कि "करोगे याद तो हर बात याद आएगी" (https://youtu.be/W7d34RW_P9Q).

पुराने घर की छत पर लेटा हुआ मैं। अपने घर के अकेले तख़त पर अकेला लेटा हुआ मैं। Emma के दौर का मैं। वहाँ से कैसे 20 साल गुजर गए, पता ही नहीं चला। कितने शहर गुज़र गए, समझ ही नहीं आया। और हज़ारों शहरों से परे, लाखों लम्हों के बाद, यहाँ फिर से एक कमरे में अकेला लेटा हुआ मैं - Emma से लेकर तुम तक भटकता हुआ मैं। Bhupinder is still singing - निग़ाह दूर तलक जा के लौट आएगी...

ओले से मतलब, बातें बेमतलब

This blog is for writing, the other blog is for photography. What happens when you want to post a photo there with a small caption and that caption extends itself to a whole poem? Do I post the poem here without the photo and the photo there without the poem? Why not post both the photo and the poem in both places? After all, I listen through photography and I paint through poetry!!

उस दिन जो घिरा था बादल 

कैसे टूट के बरसा पागल 

उसने फिर बरसाया ओले 

जैसे कोई दिल को खोले 

मेरे हाथ आया इक ओला 

ठंडा गीला, मुझसे बोला 

मैं तो भंगुर, बना बरफ़ से 

आता हूँ मैं उसी तरफ से 

जिधर गयी थी प्रिया तुम्हारी 

जिसकी याद ना तुमने बिसारी 

वो भी थी तुमको ही रोती 

थी जीवन के सुख क्षण खोती 

सुनो तुम्हे तो सब ही पता है 

उसकी फ़ितरत, नहीं खता है 

तुम ही कर लो उसको कॉल इक 

रिश्ता फिर से करो अलौकिक!

थोड़ा चकित हुआ मैं, बोला 

सुन, तू तो है भंगुर ओला 

शाश्वत प्रेम का तुझपे असर क्या 

रिश्तों की गर्मी की खबर क्या 

फिर से उन आँखों में खोना 

मतलब बेमतलब का रोना 

जिसने तोड़ा मेरा भरोसा 

उसको न कोसा न बोसा 

अब जा पिघल, तू फिर से जल बन 

नदियों में मिल फिर बादल बन 

उसके घर की तरफ तू जाना 

तो उसको फिर ये बतलाना

रस्ते बिछड़ के फिर नहीं मुड़ते 

दर्द पुराने यूं नहीं उड़ते 

रखेंगे उनको यादों में

लेकिन उनसे अब नहीं जुड़ते!!