Mujhe raatein zyada pasand hain...

mujhe raatein zyada pasand hain..
yehi wo waqt hai jab keyboard ki jagah pen hath mein aata hai..
jab scroll karne ki jagah panne palte jaate hain..
jab music ko earphones ki zaroorat nahi hoti..
jab sapne dekhne par koi hansta nahi hai...
jab khayalon ki feasibilily nahi dekhi jaati...
jab khushi aur udaasi dono aapki apni hai..
na koi sawal poochne wala..
na main jawabdeh...
haan...mujhe raatein zyada pasand hain...!!

Unfolding Night

With every passing moment as the night unfolds
it holds some secrets waiting to be told...
will it carry dreams or bring a cheer
will it carry hope or dismal despair...
or bring along a long forgotten verse
who knows for better or worse...
or maybe a song that am still to write
awed by this pensive lost moonlit night...!!

Chaand Milne Aaaya Tha...

Aaj raat AC band karke jo khidki kholi..
to dekha raat ki ungli thaame chand mujhse milne aaya tha..
naraaz tha thoda..
naraazgi ne kha liya tha use..
pichli baar kuch dus din pehle to ekdum gol-matol tha..
mujhe bura laga..
par khushi bhi thi..
mujhse na milne ka kisi ko gam tha itna..!!

Daayra

Aaj khud par zara yakeen kam hai,
pairon ke neeche ki zameen kam hai,
Apni jin baaton par dil khush tha kabhi,
aaj unhi par gamgeen bhi kam hai

Mere hi aas-paas ban raha ek daayra sa
yun lagta hai ki aaj phir kisi ne ek patthar uchhala hai...

बारिशें...

ये बारिशों की बात ही अलग है
ये हर नए साल, पुराने सालों को साथ ले आती है

अजीब है आदत इसकी
वो हर भूली हुई बात ले आती है
जिन्हें छोड़ आये कहीं पीछे
जो अब ढूँढने से भी नहीं मिलते
वो बीते हुए लम्हात ले आती है

अजीब है फितरत इसकी
जब बाहर सब धुंधलाता है
अपना अक्स हर उस दिन साफ़ नज़र आता है
हम तो सूरज को तेज़ समझते थे
पर हर बरसात में वो मात खाता है

अजीब है रिश्ता इससे
मेरी सब यादें ये बारिशें संजोती हैं
क्या सब की इसे इतनी फ़िक्र होती है
मेरे कुछ ग़म, थोड़ी खुशियाँ, ख़्वाब और चंद उम्मीदें
इसकी हर बूँद मेरी कुछ अपनी सी होती है

अजीब है फलसफा इसका
ये शायद मेरे लिए ही आती हैं
राज़दार होने का पूरा हक़ जताती हैं
ये जानती हैं ये वाकिफ़ हैं मुझसे
इसलिए कभी आस्मां से, कभी आँखों के रस्ते आती हैं

आज शाम ये फिर आयीं हैं
देखे आज कौनसा साल साथ लायीं हैं...

‘Sampark’ reminded me……

It’s long past the midnight hour as I pen down these lines. And I am myself amazed that instead of knocking on the doors of dreamland, I am exploring the literary ‘genius’ (sarcasm intended) in me…!!

So then, I actually think hard that what is it about ‘Sampark’ that urges a sleep-lover like me to sit up and write?? My mind comes up with various alternatives (guess it’s getting used to my profession) but my heart finally settles for this one –

I write for ‘Sampark’ because it reminds me of my school magazine. It might sound funny to some, may get ridiculed by others or if I am a fortunate enough, maybe the reason would get empathized by some…..But then, this is the truth – plain and simple.

I write for ‘Sampark’ because it reminds me of my school magazine – ‘Navchetna’. A repository of prose and poetry written by adolescents who had just barely begun thinking. Articles penned down by numerous students like me offered a myriad of perspectives shaping up a new soul with a voice of its own, honouring the apt name for the magazine.

With each year that passed in school, this bond grew stronger and reached its epitome with me becoming a part of the editorial board. The feeling of providing direction to someone else’s thoughts by way of a magazine can’t be expressed in words and hence I shall not even attempt doing so. (Just the fact that I still retain a copy of each year’s ‘Navchetna’ would give an idea of my fondness for the same)

And then one day, I was out of the school, thrown into the world that had its own measuring scales. Busy in measuring up to those parameters, somewhere I forgot writing and worse still, there was nothing that reminded me of things forgotten….

‘Sampark’ reminded me – of ‘Navchetna’ and of the writer in me…..who was absconding for a while but has now resurfaced. It has refreshed the manner of expression which had lost its way in the by-lanes of time. And hence, I try and be a part of it in my own way, whenever and wherever I can….!!!

And I have something to say…….

“Beneath the rule of men entirely great,
The pen is mightier than the sword.”

I can’t agree more…. With Smitha’s mail requesting for articles for Sampark staring at me……. to come out of my cocoon of laziness, judging me on my ability to express myself, ridiculing me to for not being able to think of what to write, sneering at me coz I am already running late by a good twenty four hours than the deadline (hey…I guess a day sounds a little less)…..surely its easier to fight a war rather than jotting down a few black dabs on that virgin sheet of paper.

So then, a suggestion came to write about incidents from my field visit to Orissa. It sent my mind reeling backwards in time…..I could write about the interesting experience of seeing villagers using cutting-edge technology of biometrics and smart cards to transact on hand held devices signaling the genesis of what can be a banking revolution….I could write about Orissa with its multi-hued tapestry of history silently engraved in the sandstone of numerous temples….I could write about the sun temple at Konark, an architectural marvel designed in the shape of a chariot with seven horses…..or I could write about the sunrise beaches of Puri (off course, me and ankita didn’t witness the sunrise part of it)…..or I could write….

But they say don’t write because you want to say something, write because you have something to say. So I finally thought of writing about a small incident which probably is so trivial that it would go unnoticed by most of us. As we waited in the lobby at Bhubhaneshwar airport for our flight to get announced, we were enjoying the scenes from some time-pass bollywood flick which was playing on the television. Suddenly, a person (seemingly belonging to the “well- bred, educated species”) who was sitting at the fag end of the lobby came and switched it off. For a few seconds, everyone thought that he had come to make an announcement. And then without a word of request to the co-passengers watching the television, without a faintest trace of apology and courtesy, without a hint of what was taught as manners in childhood, he left as unceremoniously as he had come.

For the next five minutes no one amongst atleast thirty odd people got up to switch on the television, nor did anyone go and tell that gentleman that what he did was probably not right, atleast in a democracy. (And that includes us too……we eventually did switch on the television but didn’t take the effort of giving that person a piece of our mind…..and I guess that was also more so because we wanted to watch the television for lack of anything better to do)

Maybe it’s a trivial incident…..to be honest even I didn’t think much of it at that time….although for some reason it remained at the back of my mind. Then one of the rare times when I was having an intellectual discussion with couple of my friends, one of them asked a rhetorical…..How often do we stand up for things ???

P.S. - Article penned down for the office magazine Sampark