The last leaf of the tree

Today, when I came out in my balcony saw some dense fog blanketing all over the place. The slow wind was blowing, reminding the most of the winters that I spent in this place. The balcony witnessed so many changing moments of the life of mine, be it times from smoking a puff of cigarette to meditating in the midst of whole noise around here. I always believe that time is not real, it is as imaginary and superficial as the flame of the candle, it is there, but it is not there. For everybody including me time is different and run with a different pace. Its behavior is better observed when sit on railway platform and see some people struggling to get into the train and some already got into it or can better be observed when stand beside the highway and see different vehicles moving with different speed with the convenience of the people sitting in those, some are fast, some are slow.

Every time I go into my balcony the tree in front of my house makes me stop for a while, gives a gentle and warm welcome, saying “here are you again”. I and this tree started some of the journey together. When I came here the tree was very small and was making an effort to grow, survived all harsh weathers and seen the most heated gloomy sun lights. Five years after tree has grown, its branches are slightly away from my balcony and I am very sure sooner or later it is going to touch the iron pipe on which I lit the candle in diwali. This summer the tree has shown some unusual behavior. Like every summer, this summer it did not drop its leaves. I was quite surprised, but at the same time I was happy, because this summer I wanted that it should protect my balcony visible from the market just in front of it. Sometimes nature behaves quite strange and gives surprises that we all deserve.

This morning, when I saw that tree, I found that tree has stared shedding its leaves. Almost thirty to forty percent of leaves have already been shed, gave me an indication that now people or a person can stand in market and see my balcony. But no worries at all, even if somebody will intentionally try to find me in my balcony or try to remember the peanuts moments, I’ll not be here accompany for those moments. With each and every falling leaves my time to leave this place is coming closer. By the time all the leaves will be gone from the trees, from the market you’ll find an empty balcony or somebody else residing here. After more than five years, the time has come to say; “Goodbye Gurgaon”.

My Last night dream

I remember, in my school days just a night before my Math’s exam I used to see a dream. The dream goes like this: I have my Math’s exam today and I wake up, I see the watch and its five minutes late. I come out of my bed hurriedly and run towards my toothbrush, am not finding it – In the whole scenario I did not find my mom to help me out and I am fighting with the situation alone – somehow the race against time is on. I manage to find out my toothbrush and take my shower. I manage to pack my bag for the exam, again I see the watch its time, time to begin the exam and I am still at home. I don’t want to fail in my Math’s paper, so I come out of my house and somehow manage to get an auto. Auto gets down and it starts killing my time, I start running and running and running. In the whole process of running I find that my distance is increasing and my school is going away from me. I push hard and increase my running speed and somehow reach to the school. At the gate of the school I find everything is silent except me. I run to my classroom and get the answer sheet and question paper, I know all the questions, I begin writing the paper – the flaw here is that every time I come late for my Math’s exam I am allowed to sit and teacher don’t throw me out of the examination hall – I have only 30 minutes to finish the paper and suddenly I find that there is no ink in my pen. I choose different pen, but there is no ink either. Time’s up, paper finished teacher snatches paper from me and I did not even answer a single question. I hear the warning bell of exam and it sounds like alarm of my table clock. Alarm rings and I wake up, things are absolutely fine I reach to the school on time, get my question paper on time, there is a sufficient ink in my pen, and I finish paper on time and pass with flying colors. But, I always used to see this same dream before my math’s exam.

Last night my dream was pretty similar, I found myself in college again as if I bunked the class for so long and returned back to my classroom. I saw a known face on the teacher’s seat, she knows me, and I also know her but my mind did not recall where I saw her. She welcomed me in her class, the same pressure was there, notes, class, and off course exam. Some fellow classmate asked me; “where have you been, exam is starting in few days? I asked myself where have I been, and how come I don’t know about this exam?  Did I lose my memory? What had happened to me? How come I am so careless to forget about the exam? I found some known faces reminding me that don’t worry; we are going to help you for your exam. I am stunned, I know everybody here, and I don’t know anybody here. Teacher is smiling at me. Classmates are looking at me. I come out of my class and start running, I run and run and run and by the time I reach the examination hall the paper is finished. I fail to write the exam again. I woke up and saw there is nobody to take my exam. I neither registered for a course nor is my exam scheduled. I tried to recall those faces but I feel I never saw those faces in my life. But, I found some good friends in my dream. They were really good.

This morning, in my cab, while going to office I found it was my “fear”. But don’t know fear of what?

People, Cheat, Chance, Choice

One of my friend is having this status on her chat profile: “people don’t cheat by change, they cheat by choice”. It sounds weird at first instance just because, first it needs courage to put such status on wall and second whosoever is going to read this will imagine all sorts of tits and bits of life. Why people put such sentence on the wall which gives different picture altogether. Is it because He or She lacks the courage of speaking the truth on face or He or She belongs to the same genre of people which this line reflects, cheater people.

This is a story of a boy, whom I used to teach 3 year before. Today at 10:30PM when i was just being comfortable after having my dinner somebody knocked my door. This was pretty unusual for me because neither my family stay nearby nor I expect somebody to poke me at this period of time nowadays. I shouted from inside;”Kaun Hai” got no answer. I thought It might be water bottle man who use to supple water bottle to me or someone to whom I owe some dues. But the next moment I thought neither I ordered for the water bottle nor I owe someone any dues because Its 09^th of the month and I paid all the dues well in advance. I opened my balcony door to see who is so eager to meet me at this point of time. I saw a skiny boy having dark complexion wearing red t-shirt and a knee high jeans waiting to see me. At first glance I failed to recognise him and thought who the hell this creature is. Next moment boy told me I am Suraj. Who Suraj? You use to teach me 3 years before. My mind went into flashback. I started remembering those days, when I caught this guy in market begging for the plate of Chinese dumplings with his brother. Time has changed, he has also changed and became more thin and stylist having thick ring on his hand with some red and black auspicious threads.

What are you doing here at this point of time?

I came here to see you; this sounded weird to me because except my father nobody has ever given me a surprise visit and told that I came here to see you. I might be the last person on the planet earth whom people wish to see by chance.

The next question I asked; what do you do these days?

I work in a street hotel, wash dishes and blah blah some stories.

I smelled something fishy. He stuck like a chewing gum without any reason. I realized that He is just passing his time and trying to kill my time. He was making some stories about his families, work. My belief became stronger when he told that I want to study again. Unbelievable. I never found any boy, who wants to study, when he tasted the blood of money and that also 5ooo/- pm as he said. Though I said; “Ok! I f you want to study, then come tomorrow evening, properly dressed and washed. He left my placed and I thanked god.

I started doing my usual stuff. After 30 minutes or so I realized that I need to buy something to make a good coffee. I was planning to go to market to buy that. The moment I opened my door the scary moment was waiting for me.

A body was lying on my floor mat of the front door. God that was really scary.

Same guy was in deep sleep.

I woke him up and said; “what are you doing here?”

He replied; “I am waiting my one of my friend to come”....another lie.

I thought now its a high time to know the real issue. I called him in and asked; “Did you had food?”

No!

I found something in my fridge but there was nothing.

I gave him two Rusk to eat and he kept that in his pocket. He did not eat that.

Then I thought I will be disgraceful if I ll not give him something to eat. In the dilemma of cooking and buying food I chose later one and I took him to a restaurant and tell him to order whatever he wants. He ordered Shahi paneer and 3 nans. I was surprised to see him ordering 3 nans, but it was fine with me. After hearing his real situation that his father did beat him with press and he ran away from his house after the big fight. I told him to eat at the restaurant itself but he denied that offer and wanted to pack the food and wanted to consume at my place. For me It was fine because till that time I was feeling terrible for his situation. I took him to my place with food. On my way to my home he said his brother might be searching for him and he did not want to get caught.

I offered him a plate to eat and I just wanted to help him just by assisting some counselling. Later on I wanted to drop him to his place and also wanted to speak to his parents regarding the issue.

He finished 1 Nan and said; “I am done, my stomach is full now”

Then why the hell you ordered 3 nans. Idiot.

He finished food, rolled remaining nan for tomorrow. he asked a glass of water, which I gave him with all respect.

And then I started counselling him and made him agree to accompany him to his house and a word with his parents. I dressed like a gentleman, like a counsellor.

He took the remaining food and went down of my staircase before me,I locked my door and went down. I saw here and there there was nobody.

He ran away.

I followed his direction, but found nothing except a feeling that I have been cheated again. This reminded me my last relationship. A girl, some love, some care, some feelings and in the end the darkness in the “gali” where that boy ran away after delivering some fake stories, playing with my emotions, taking food for tomorrow and reminding me my ex-relationship.

People,Cheat, Choice and Chance. These are not just words. The moment you start thinking for goodness of the people, they cheat because, People are made up of convenience. The moment their level of convenience starts loosing they cheat, whether by chance or choice. But whether by chance or choice, they don’t leave either a chance (to survive) or choice (to believe) for us.  

Coffee Cup - II

Night always gives me a motivation to write and somehow I have a special connection with the moments of no sunlight. Everything looks standstill, sleepy and sober in pure natural form. The night becomes more special when it gets wet treatment from some rain drops. In the glow of golden smoky street light, when parking is almost empty, when few shops run on half of their electricity consumption and when dustbin are completely filled with the trashes, the city becomes absolutely natural. The clock pushes the needles to touch the moment of midnight and to finish the identity of previous day. I personally like to push accelerator of my car to drive to the nearest coffee shop and take the last order of the day, a paper cup of hot cafe mocha with two sugar pouches. Often I find the chairs and the tables completely silent touching each other and reminding the chit chats they have witnessed throughout the day. The conversation of some deal, gossip of institutions and the love talks of couples come to an end, which was never ending business with each cup of coffee in day time.

This love has not developed in a day, being an engineer, me and some of my friends, who are now busy in their life, were the partners of night riding club. For us taking the first order of “Poha wala” with a cup of a tea was a favourite act of the whole day. This was not the only place, where we use to find the life. This love took us to different level of discovery, some of the places we came to know from our seniors and some we discovered. The range was from a truckers place on a national highway to one of the biggest railway station of the central India. This whole discovery of finding places developed an amazing bonding with the night.

Today, also when I drive with my car’s headlight on I find the things around me are more open and acceptable. The songs seem more melodious and the pendulum motion of the key chain appears livelier. I reach to the coffee shop and greet to that handsome well dressed boy of coffee shop with a smile and without asking me anything he just starts the preparation of Rs99 cafe mocha.Though life has changed from a Rs6 Poha and Rs3 Chai to Rs99 Cafe mocha, first order of poha chai to last order of CCD, the ecstasy of night remained same. He give extra attention to his last order, blends the coffee perfectly with the milk and put sugar by himself and prepares an awesome coffee. With that cup of coffee most of my memories gets life and starts blending with me, silently I take sips and find those moments lively in front of me. I feel the memories are not stored in the head, they stay with those places, every time I visit those places find them alive standing in front of me, just as waiting for me. Every sip of coffee plays with me and my memories of ex companions, who are now part of someone else’s life. The things, which is still with me is my words that became blog now, my wallet and my car having no. 7120(Saath Ek Doosare ka Shoonya tak). In the circumstances of gloomy light, cup of coffee and my past memories every time I find fast moving ambulance or a car passes me to a place called “Cradle” where a new baby gets new life after hours from the moment I finish my last sip. 

Coffee Cup - I

A monk in white robe, having an umbrella in his hand keep on walking and walking and walking to the destination of immortality, in spiritual term we call it liberation or enlightenment. He could have taken a bus, or any medium to reach to the destination, but his inner strength did not allow him to do that, no short cut for the enlightenment. So, in whole movie he was walking in silence or silencing in discourse. That means we are bound to see the long stretched roads in the midst of the traffic or field of wind mills. I am talking about the character of the movie called “Ship of Theseus”. The movie is shear piece of brilliance, the panorama of art, the result of perfect blend of art and intellect. At one instance when conversation reach to the utmost level of intellect where two people discuss the difference between a normal human being and the monk – For you all human beings are same, for him(monk) all beings are same. The line reminded me on stroke of masterpiece of a master. Spirituality is a journey from nobody to somebody and from somebody to everybody.

The monk is not the only character of the movie. There are two other characters also on which the camera gets pan – A blind young lady photographer and a young money minded share broker having the genes of “kranti”. In the end movie portrays that all three has become one just because each one has got the transplanted body parts of the same man defining the contradictory question of “Ship of Theseus”, whether an object will remain same if all the parts are replaced with new one?   

The movie leaves some real life situations intact. These situations are the sense of attachment of to the old habits, even though new has been introduced. The girl gets new eyes and can see the colorful world now but she lost the inner instinct of photography, which she had when she was blind. She chose to blindfold herself to get the same instinct but didn’t get. As we are so accustomed to the blindness poverty, corruption and untruth that even though someone donates the hope, we choose to blindfold ourselves.

Second instance is perfect example of attachment in the name of detachment. We choose spirituality to liberate ourselves but at the times when spirituality itself becomes the attachment. The monk who was fighting for the non-violence captivated himself in doing violence to his own body by not taking medicine for a chronic disease. This also reminds me the boundaries that we have created around us in the name of religion and now the walls are so high that we became prisoner of our own prison. The religion became religious suffering and spiritualism became spiritual parasite. Whenever I visit to someone’s I prefer to see the place of God in that house. Surprisingly I find that smaller the house bigger the picture of god and also the number of pictures are more. People living in that house has got very high faith on those posters, contrary to that the allotted space and size of picture remains comparably small in bigger houses. I call it the inversely proportional acquisition of god. I am still confused who the god is…lol.

Third instance portrays a confused happy mind. A person for him the definition of happiness is money and enjoying the materialism of life but his own DNA which came from her “Nani ma – a revolutionary lady, fought for freedom and social justice”, push himself for something good. He chooses that way and tries to help a poor “Shankar (God’s name...again lol)”. After some success, when he was about to reach the final destination of the justice, “Shankar” compromises with the other party of 6.5 lakh rupees. And this man remains like an isolated boat in the midst of the river, depressed, dejected and disgraced. In the end her nani-ma tells him: “Itna hi hota hai (Only this much happens)”.

The movie is based on a paradox that if all the planks of a ship will be changed than whether the ship will be the same or new, but for me it gave different reflections of life such as the development of our point of view is more or less based on our comfort, Sometimes even the thing which we needed the most cannot give us the expected joy and we became frontier for someone, we fight for that person, we make efforts for his or her happiness but on the finishing line when we look back we don’t find the same person with us. Because…“Itna hi hota hai”

तुम्हारी डायरी से ...

"फ़राज़" अब कोई सौदा कोई जूनून भी नहीं 

मगर करार से दिन कट रहे हों यूँ भी नहीं 

लाबोदेहन मिला गुफ्तगू का फन भी मिला 

मगर जो दिल पे गुज़रती है कह सकूँ भी नहीं 

न जाने क्यों मेरी आँखें बरसने लगती है 

जो सच कहूँ तो कुछ ऐसा उदास हूँ भी नहीं 

मेरी ज़बान की लुक्नत से बदगुमान न हो 

जो तू कहे तो तुझे उम्र भर मिलूँ भी नहीं 

दुखों के ढेर लगाये हैं के लोग बैठे यहाँ 

इस दियार का मैं भी हूँ और हूँ भी नहीं 

"फ़राज़" जैसे दिया कुर्बत - इ - हवा चाहे 

वो पास आये तो मुमकिन है मैं रहूँ भी नहीं 

Maine

Aaj fir woh galati dohrayi maine

Jo ik baar haath jala chuka tha mera

Fir na jane kyon woh chingari jalayi maine

Mere aansoo sookh chuke the aankho ke kone me

Gira kar unko fir se dil ki aag bujhayi maine

Usake jaane ka gam hi kaafi tha mujhe kamzor karne ke liye

Ke sehat ke saath izzat bhi gawayi maine

Iss baar aaya tha  woh doosare ka naam lekar

Na jane kyon fir saath baitha, pee aur pilayi maine

Kambakht kitna besharm hai chala aata hai baar baar

Main bhi kam nahi jo usaki gathari uthayi maine

Ab to dikhta hai to nazare jhuka leta hai

Aakhir unn nazaro se nazare hi kyon milayi maine

Woh kitna khoob samjhata hai apne aap ko

Aaya tha to usaki shaql aayine me kyon nahi dikhayi maine

Beraham hai, jo waydo ko shabd samajh kar bhool gaya

Unn waydo pe bharosa karke kyon neend udayi maine

Ab to thokaro ko bhi hum khood ki galati samajhte hai

Galatiyon par bhi doosari galati aazmayi maine.

Woh yahin rahta tha yahin sota tha, ab chala gaya

Usake jaane  ke baad hi nayi chadar bichayi maine

Koi kah de use jakar ki achaa hua jo chala gaya

bhanwar se naiya khud hi paar lagayi maine.

The grand daughter...

Are you proud being a "Bihari"?

I said: Yes

Are you also proud of the fact that Biharis are doing rape?

I was speech less.

I was speechless not because i did not have the answer, but i was speechless because the level of thinking a common man have. How easily we tag the identity of an obscene crime to cast, creed and community. I was silent not because i could not answer the question, but i was silent because how comfortable we are in calling muslim a terrorist and bihari a rapist. How about thinking like this, we all are rapist, because we just read the headline, a content(specially where the tagging has been done), discuss with 4 friends, finally make a conclusion...iss desh ka kuch nahi ho sakta. Is it not the rape of to the soil where we born? Is it not the rape to our "matribhumi"? In "Mahabharata" people were equally responsible who witnessed the "Draupadi cheerharan" (saree pulling act of draupadi - for those who don't know draupadi  and her cheerharan)

I personally can be indifferent to the question, which has been raised. But i am bound to write this because one fine morning 6 am I went to a tea stall to enjoy my morning tea. I saw a boned structured old man having so many wrinkles on his body, completely tanned- sorry! Not tanned- burned in sunlight, was discussing with her little grand daughter in his local language. He was having tea and his grand daughter was asking for a  cookies. He checked his pocket he had only 2 rs in his pocket. Finally she couldn't get the cookies just because it was of 5 rs. She setteled her desire of eating cookies with a 1 rs "matthi". The man saved 1 rs but couldn't save the desire of her grand daughter. Finally both disappeared from my eyes on a  bicycle rick-shaw. Grand daughter was behind and the old man was pulling the rickshaw. He was a rickshaw puller and a bihari. He left behind one question; what if everyone start hating him just because he is a bihari and stop using his rickshaw, Can his grand daughter will ever buy a cookies for her? 

There was a time when the same state use to be the land of intellectuals and spiritual peoples. The state has given first president to this nation, the place where Buddha got enlightenment, IASs and so many things. Now the same state is struggling to find his own identity. Why people migrate from there? Because of the same reason Punjabis migrate to canada, people from kerala migrate to arab countries. People migrate, serve the daily need of ours,  get nothing with respect to the amount hard work they do and get disrespect, humiliation and a tag of rapist. Let us imagine a day without a security guard around us or without a vegetable seller or a rickshaw puller or a construction worker. They come from a state where people don't prefer to call "tum/tu" to the person next to his or her. In migrated city they have to hear "tum/tu" everyday just because of a piece of bread and so daal. Nobody prefer to migrate or leave his or her family by choice its the circumstances, which force a young 24 year old paratha wala bhaiya to leave his 21 days old son back to his hometown.

This time i will not conclude anything but I'll leave few questions behind.

Are we living in a nation or a state?

Are we happy to become a "Delhi times" citizen?

Is our blood dry now?

डोर

कुछ उलझे हुए धागों का 

छोर ढूँढता हूँ 

सन्नाटा कितना गहन है 

कहीं शोर ढूँढता हूँ 

अब ना दिन चाहिए न रात 

थोडा भोर ढूँढता हूँ 

जो बिन बदल नाचे 

ऐसा कोई मोर ढूँढता हूँ 

इक बात जो हिल दे ज़मीरो को 

झकझोर ढूँढता हूँ 

नशे में भूल  मैं खुद को 

मदिरा सराबोर ढूँढता हूँ 

रास्ते की तलाश में, रास्ते पर 

खड़ा चारो ऒर ढूँढता हूँ 

कटी पतंग का छूटा हुआ 

वो डोर ढूँढता हूँ।

तुम नहीं हो, कहीं नहीं हो 

फिर भी ना जाने क्यों 

वोह ह्रदय कठोर ढूँढता हूँ। 

तुम हो कहीं

ये कैसी कोशिश में लगा है मन

अपनी परछाई पकड़ने चला है मन

जितना मैं तुम्हारे पास जाता हूँ

घडी दो घडी अपनी आस बढाता हूँ

ढूंढता हूँ , तुम मिल जाते हो 

तुमसे कुछ कहता हूँ ,

तुम समझ नहीं पाते हो

किस द्वन्द में रमा है मन

ये कैसी कोशिश में लगा है मन

कभी अपने को रोक लेता हूँ

कभी बिना रुके चल देता हूँ

कभी मुझे मिल जाती है पगडण्डी

तो कभी राह मोड़ लेता हूँ

वो  राह भी मुझे तुम तक पहुंचा देती है

ऐसा लगता है इस शहर की 

पगडण्डी और सड़के तुम तक ही जाती हैं 

ये किस राह चला है मन

ये कैसी कोशिश में लगा है मन

दो वक़्त मिल जाये तो तुम्हे पास बिठा लूं 

बिन कहे कुछ भी , सबकुछ बता दूं 

कहीं एक जादू की छड़ी मिल जाये

कुछ ऐसा जादू चला दूं

तुम्हारे मन को में आज में ला दूं

तुम्हे कल , आज और कल में अंतर बता दूं

एक ऐसा शीशा मिल जाये कहीं 

जिसमे तुम्हारा अक्स दिखा दूं

ये कैसी इच्छाओ के धुन्ध में खोया है मन

ये कैसी कोशिश में लगा है मन

दो वक़्त तुमने भी मुश्किलों के गुज़ारे होंगे 

वहां आंसूं के नज़ारे होंगे

दो तुक ज़िन्दगी का सिलसिला ही यही  है 

कौन जाने क्या गलत और क्या सही है

हमने भी देखे है, सबने देखे हैं 

समय पे किसका वश चला है

सूरज तभी उगा है जब पीछे दिन ढला है

ये मैं तुम्हे बताना चाहता हूँ 

ये कुछ पल की बात है दिखाना चाहता हूँ

ये क्या बताने और समझाने में रमा है मन 

ये कैसी कोशिश में लगा है मन .