Author is not an alien

Author is not an alien
I write because we had deleted enough

Monday, May 26, 2014

कहानियां

बचपन में रात होते ही
घर की छत पर सोया करते थे
तब सुनी थी बहुत कहानियां
राजा- रानी की माँ से
शिव पार्वती की दादी माँ से
फिर किताबों ने खोली एक नयी खिड़की
मिली मुझे सिन्ड्रेला जैसी लड़की
रपुन्ज़ेल के लम्बे बालों के किस्से
और हर कहानी में हैप्पी एंडिंग वाले हिस्से
कुछ नॉवेल ने ,कुछ सिनेमा ने
पीछे छोड़ दिया दादी माँ को
महादेवी का अकेला जीवन
या अमृता –इमरोज़ का एकाकीपन
बच्चन को ना कुछ भूलना था ना याद रखना
मुक्तिबोध का अपने ही दूजे से लड़ना
निराला ढूँढ रहे थे अपनी “सरोज” को
और दिनकर अपने खोये ओज को
अज्ञेय की कलम चलती चली जा रही थी
और नागार्जुन को देश की चिंता मार रही थी
व्हिस्की और वुमन के साथ खुशवंत थे खुश
और नयी सोच वाले अपने नाम से नाखुश
ज़िन्दगी की समझ के परदे खोलते ये लोग
एक अनसुलझी पहेली सुलझा रहे थे 
इन कहानियों पर पड़ी गर्त हटाने की कोशिश थी 
या फिर अपना सच चीख कर बता रहे थे 
रिश्तों के मूल के बीच में 
किश्तों सी कटती है ज़िन्दगी
यह खुद देख रहे थे कि
दुनिया को दिखा रहे थे 
फिर जब उठाया उसी सिन्ड्रेला को
तो वो कुछ हँसती हुई सी लगी
'जीना ' और 'जीना' के बीच का फासला 
मुझे वही पार करा रही थी 
कभी fantasy सा लगता सच,या सच की तरह fantasy
किताबों से निकली कहानी बुनी जा रही थी 
कुछ खिडकियों पर पड़ती बारिश सा 
जो अन्दर ना गिरकर भी भीगा रही थी 
दूर सी ,अजनबी सी लगती वो दुनिया
क्यूँ खिसकती नज़दीक आ रही है
बचपन का nostalgia कहूँ इसे
या मोहब्बत हो चली है 


Saturday, May 24, 2014

I have a dad who happens to be my hero........

We are a pets crazy family n yes it runs in our genes (don't count my mom though ,she is a complete no no when it comes to pets) .This memory goes back to two incidents n so different in time scales .It so happened that it was raining for continuously two days n the roads, canals, everything was flooded, no electricity (the time when there was no face book ,so it didn't matter much ) .We were trying to float our "very bad in shape" paper boats to the canal that flowed at the back of our home n suddenly we saw three little kittens who were born just two days back clinging to a wooden piece which was just on the verge of floating with the stream and a cat, their mother trying to enter into water to save them but the strong water flow pushing her back, As is every child's habit ,we ran to Daddy as we always believe at that age he has the solution to every problem in the world n told him about the plight of kittens He came with us and after a brief thought ,he entered into water n let me tell u it was not a fresh water canal ,it was the main canal that took the waste water away from the town ,embedded in water till his stomach, he picked them up n brought home ,washed them with damp cloth and fed them milk with a small spoon, the cat looked at him adoringly ,so did we n mummy with anger ,as always obsessed with cleanliness she was instructing dad to clean himself, take a bath n then enter the house........till date neither has mum changed nor my dad


*Next incident of my crazy dad goes to the time when we lost our sweetheart puppy Tipsy.Tipsy was a pet dog ,she was THE MOST IMPORTANT member of my family (n yes this time my maa also loved her)she fell ill n refused to eat anything ,even when we tried feeding her chicken (okk,its a big thing in a brahmin family but for tipsy to eat ,we could have done anything ) ,even the veterinary doctors refused to do any miracle n those days our diner table was silentn only conversation we used to have was of cursing the veterinary science (not the doctor because he happens to be my uncle) n one sad day after coming from her veterinary visit, she was no more ,we were crying ,i took her in my laps n sat for hours n in the afternoon my dad came from clinic n when he entered home, he could make out that tipsy was no more he took her in his lap n looked at her with absolutely expressionless eyes .It was decided that tipsy would be buried in my brother's factory area so that wild dogs won't dig her up n eat her body ,we went ,the laborers dig up a big hole ,tipsy was gently pushed inside and the worker started to pour mud over her body and suddenly my daddy who was silent all this time, screamed "Don't pour mud over her face ,it would hurt her eyes" n yes he cried ,cried like a little baby who was lost in a crowd ,completely unaware of people around watching that its the same Dr Saheb whom we look up to always is crying .Next day our maid came to work and she said to me ,"In the slum colony, the talk of the day was ,how Dr Saheb was crying "
that is why i said YOU CAN CALL HIM CRAZY I CALL HIM DADDY



There you are standing as tall as an oak tree when I am small

You stand over me guarding my actions and catch me when I fall

When I reach the teens you are there
giving me your knowledge and wit

and although the times get tougher as i grow you never ever quit.

as I reach adulthood I start to do things on my own

wondering how you did it from the time I was born until I was grown.

Then I remember all you have done for me throughout the years

Remembering you were there for me through the happy times and the tears

I am happy you are my Dad

It makes my heart feel merry and glad.

no other person could ever take your place

And i realize this as i look into your face

This Fathers Day I want to honor you

For all the wonderful things that you do


I am writing about #MyRoleModel as a part of the activity by Gillette India in association with BlogAdda.com.

Sunday, May 4, 2014

याद है तुम्हे वो परछाई

वो उठता समंदर
लुका छिपी खेलती चांदनी रात
लहरें दौड़ती थी और लौट जाती थी
उस सपने की तरह
जो आँख खुलते ही धुंधला जाता हो
बीच का तूफ़ान
यूँ मिलने की तड़प
टूट जाना तुम्हारी बाहों के किनारों में आकर
और एक शांत सी आह
फिर वही आवेग वही बैचैनी
एक आधी अंगड़ाई जैसी
याद है तुम्हें वो परछाई
लहरों के साथ उठती थी पर गिरती नहीं थी
किसी चित्रकार के पेंटब्रश से निकली
अघड़ सी एक तस्वीर
दो आकृतियाँ एक ही आकार में  
याद है तुम्हें वो परछाई
जो सिर्फ एक लम्हा नहीं था
ना ही ज़िन्दगी की दौड़ से चुरायी हुई एक ख़ुशी
वो सच था
मेरा सच
तुम्हारा सच
हमारा सच