The spectrum of life...

The unusual things I did in past few days:

Bird-watching at Lodhi Garden
Gardening and pruning trees
Watched a snake cross the road in front of my car

Photography
Teaching history
Reading Ambedkar, Lohia, and Golwalkar
Yoga
Exercising with tread-mill
Cleaned up house 

Experimental Cooking
Witnessed a Bulbul and Robin fighting for a juicy grasshopper

Planned an international vacation

Air Travel for apparently no reason
Food walk in mid-night market
Attended stand-up act
Got myself a new credit card

Poetry recital without getting hooted
Put up a night out (almost)

Cracked jokes which nobody understood

Scolded people in public
Found a snake hiding behind a dustbin

Ate at Subway

Read some horoscopes

Got one research paper accepted

Raided hostels and penalized students
Hosted Antakshari on stage
Ramp walk 

Fighting with some jackasses 

Presented Bouquets 

Inaugurated a fest

Gifted books and got the book-gifts

Delivered an inaugural lecture 

Drove with full speakers on

Ate a 2 kg papaya

Listed all unusual things I did in past few days

ऊधौ मोहे ब्रज बिसरत नाहिं

Spotted three trucks on a highway yesterday... all three had Lucknow registration number. And well, then I realized how Krishn would have had felt when he said to Uddhav the following:

ऊधौ मोहे ब्रज बिसरत नाहिं.

Lucknow, after all, is where the life was, is, and will be....

जाने-आलम मोहिं लखनऊ बिसरत नाहिं 

Economics and Poetry

When my mind and heart both run towards economics and poetry both, in no particular order, I get more insane than usual. Wrote the following verses in such a state at different times...



One for Microeconomics of demand and supply:

तेरे गुस्से की सप्लाई कुछ इतनी ज़्यादा है जानाँ 

तेरे गुस्से का भाव दिन-ब-दिन गिरता ही जाता है 

And one for macroeconomics of inflation (first two lines are for setting the tone only):

मौला मेरे ऐसा कर दे
उसको मेरे जैसा कर दे

इन्फ़्लेशन बढ़ जायेगा गर तू 

मिट्टी को भी पैसे कर दे 

And one for socialism:

जिनके बच्चों को रोटी मयस्सर नहीं 

उनको सपने दिखाये बदामी सुनो 

एक नज़्म माज़ी के नाम

लिखने पता नहीं क्या बैठा था, लिख पता नहीं क्या गया। जो लिख गया वो, हमेशा की तरह, समझने वाला एक ही है। और अब उसकी भी कोई खबर नहीं आती। खैर, इसी बहाने लेकिन एक नज़्म तो हुई - उन पुराने दिनों के नाम - 

तुम्हे पता भी नहीं 

वो

तुम्हारे वास्ते 

सुबहों को 

लाता था पपीते जो 

तुम्हारी इक हँसी के वास्ते  

चुन-चुन के 

रटता था लतीफ़े जो 

तुम्हारे वास्ते 

भर-भर के 

पढ़ता था कसीदे जो 

तुम्हारे वास्ते जिसने 

बदल डाले अकीदे वो 

जिसे तुमने कभी अपनी 

कहानी का कोई 

फ़रियाल लिखा था 

कि जिसके कंधे पर 

सर रख के तुमने 

कुछ न बोला था 

कि जिसके सामने तुमने 

बिछा दीं बारहा 

तस्वीरे 

अपने माज़ी की सारी 

कि जिसके सामने तुमने 

सभी मासूम अपनी ख्वाहिशें 

ज़ाहिर करी थीं ना 

वही इक शख्स 

जिसकी इल्तिजा बस इतनी रहती थी 

कि तुम हँसती दिखो हरदम 

वही इक शख्स 

जिसकी हर दुआ इतनी ही रहती थी 

कि आसूदा रहो हरदम 

वही इक शख्स 

जिसका एक ही इसरार था तुमसे 

बनो ता-ज़ीस्त के हमदम 

वही इक शख्स 

अब हर शब 

तुम्हें यूँ याद करता है 

किसी दम दम निकल जाये 

तो शायद तेरे दामन तक 

कोई फिर रास्ता निकले

कि अब तो इस जनम के रास्ते सारे 

बस इक अंधेरे कमरे तक 

पहुँच कर 

खत्म होते हैं।  

4 अगस्त 2012 

नहीं लूजिये जी होप थोड़ा फाइटवा करो जी

Life has been terribly busy past few months. Admittedly, I have been entangled in way too many things too - birding, photography, poetry, writing, research, teaching, course designs, administering programs, debates, history, politics, and what not...!! To add to that already huge basket of interests and activities, two more things got added - HoD of economics area and Warden for student affairs. An avenue of solace, whether personally or professionally, has been as easy to find as an oasis.

The work schedule has taken its toll most on my own writing, whether blogs or research. I don't know how many blog posts have been written inside my head and forgotten. The new blog on eco-politic affairs I so often talked about is not born yet. There are songs and movies, policies and politics, books and authors, places and pictures I have been meaning to write about but free-thinking time is sheer luxury.

Anyhow, few days back, I heard these lines from Gangs of Wasseypur - II:

फ़्रस्टियाओ नहीं मूड़ा नरभसाओ नहीं मूड़ा  

जो भी रौंगवा है उसे सेट राइटवा करो जी 

नहीं लूजिये जी होप थोड़ा फाइटवा करो जी

And then, yesterday, I stepped on an old post of this blog - the one belonging to the time when I was in the final months of my affair with IIMA and started a fight against the system there. Find it here: Inspired again. This was the post that reinvigorated me all over again - the fighter me shall never be dead!!

The Owl that tried flying in the day

Sitting in my study today noon, I noticed the watchman crossing several times and then some ruckus. As I looked in that direction, there flew a large bird towards my porch. I thought that these watchmen are chasing and harassing some poor bird and ran outside barefoot. 

Indeed, there was a barn owl that was being chased, not for a sinister reason though. The watchmen were afraid that this (probably) injured owl, blinded by day-light will fall prey to a stray dog or cat. 

Slightly confused, more concerned, I snatched a curtain and gave it to the watchmen for catching the owl and leave it in a safe place. And they did that swiftly and softly enough. 

Within less than a minute, we were trying to put the owl on a branch high enough to keep it safe. The poor soul couldn't even hold the branch properly. Anyhow, it fell into the safe zone beyond iron grills and tried moving for few second blindingly.

I checked on it till late evening and it was sitting there peacefully. The eyes were opening better as the darkness dawned. However, the pic below was the last one that I clicked, as I was sure the wise owl was already tired and scared enough of his human interaction today.

P.S. - Just checked for it now at 10 pm. The owl is not there... hopefully it has flew away and having a happy dinner with family :)

मुझको फिर से गलत कहेंगे वो...

Since I abandoned my poetry blog some years ago, I never shared my poems on any other forum. 

However, last month I shared a ghazal through a Facebook note. Sharing the same here again: 

दौरे-हाज़िर में रह रहा हूँ मैं

किस कदर ज़ुल्म सह रहा हूँ मैं।

अपनी आवाज़ भूल जाता हूँ

कितना खामोश रह रहा हूँ मैं।

इक समन्दर है मेरे भीतर ही

और चुपचाप बह रहा हूँ मैं।

कभी उठा था आस्माँ की तरह

अब तो टुकड़ों में ढह रहा हूँ मैं।

ये जहाँ मात चाहता था सदा

और हमेशा ही शह रहा हूँ मैं।

जब वो यह चाहते थे वो था मैं

चाहिये वो तो यह रहा हूँ मैं।

मुझको फिर से गलत कहेंगे वो

फिर से कुछ उनसे कह रहा हूँ मैं।