Some questions are better left unanswered

At times I wonder why I've stopped writing...
Attributing it to being busier is a lie I keep telling myself. But deep down inside, I think that I'm just not foolish enough anymore.

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Hindi

हिंदी दिवस के अवसर पर यह सोच कर अच्छा लग रहा है, कि मेरी पढाई एक हिंदी भाषी स्कूल में हुई. इससे मेरी अंग्रेजी कमज़ोर नहीं हुई, पर हिंदी ज़रूर आज तक मज़बूत है.

आज भी मैं हिंदी उपन्यास पढ़ती हूँ, हिंदी अंको को पहचानती हूँ (कई लोगों को यह मुश्किल लगता है), और हिंदी की बारीकियों को समझ सकती हूँ. हिंदी कविताओं का एक अलग आनंद है. साथ ही, इससे उर्दू समझने में भी आसानी होती है.

इसका बहुत सा श्रेय मम्मी को जाता है. एक ऐसे समय में, जब हर कोई सोचता है कि अंग्रेजी स्कूल ही अच्छे हैं, उन्होंने एक स्कूल के माध्यम से ज्यादा उसमें पढाई के स्तर को अहमियत दी. साथ ही लगातार हमें हिंदी और अंग्रेजी दोनों भाषाओँ में ज्यादा से ज्यादा पढने के लिए प्रेरित किया. 

साथ ही मेरे स्कूल, 'सरस्वती शिशु मंदिर' और बनस्थली विद्यापीठ को बहुत, बहुत धन्यवाद. उनके सिखाये हुए सिद्धांत उम्र भर मेरे साथ रहेंगे. 

What do you REALLY love doing?

Last night, after a really long time, I spent some time listening to music. It was a beautiful night, with the winter setting in. Each whiff of air (with just a hint of cold) carried with it the light scent of tulsi and mustard oil (used to light the evening lamp). A perfect after-Deewali night of North India!

As I strolled on the terrace, the music created such a magical feel, that I wondered what indeed has come between me and my love of music? Looking back, I realized that I spend almost 2 hours every day watching TV (9-11 pm). This is a relatively new habit. Having only DD-1 at home when growing up, and thereafter being in a no-TV university for 8 years ensured that I never fell into this habit.

So, with almost 12 hours (8 am - 8 pm) spent in and commuting for my job - followed by these 2 hours - I am left with only 10 hours a day. And I sleep for 8 hours out of these 10. Where is the time for things that used to be me? Where is the time for music, dance, books, movies, sketching - all these things that as a student I used to call my passion?

The point I am trying to make to myself is,

(i) I should probably shift to a place relatively near to the office (commuting for job accounts for 3-4 hours a day - WAY too many!) - but I love our current apartment just too much for that :(

(ii) I should cut back on watching TV. (Wish they showed really bad shows on Star World too, just like on almost all other channels)

@Everyone: Do you find time for yourself? If yes, how? If no, it is time you started thinking about it too.

PS: I was listening to songs by Gulzar.

Transition

Life has suddenly become so different. I foresaw some changes, but not so many, and not so drastic, and definitely not for the worse :(

I sincerely hope things will get better with time.

(PS: For all those who are reading between the lines - This is about a job change, and certainly not about my personal life.)

Futility

How hard you tried to fill your empty life with big words!
Too bad the words were hollow.

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Kachche Dhaage

Kuchh rangeen rishton ke dhaagon se sili hui
AaDhi-teDhi, patchwork si zindagi
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Ten Years

It was 10 years ago that I left home for studies.
I completed my higher secondary school, graduation, post graduation and 2 years of working.
I failed, faulted, learned and unlearnt. Lived, loved, lost and moved on.
Got spectacles. Got a job. Got appreciated, loved and hated. Got above it all.
Changed cities, my life and myself. From Rewa to Jaipur to Noida to US. And back.

There's so much still to come. So much more to see. To discover. To be done.

[And after all this time, what I feel I need the most is some peace of mind.]

Jaipur Blasts

'Why?' was the first thing that came to my mind. I've never seen a more peaceful / peace-loving city. In fact, why any place at all?

[And National Handloom (Johri Bazar) was the last shop I had been to on my last trip to Jaipur :( ]
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It's only words!

The room was dark, damp, empty. And the words, fluorescent, floated in the air. She sat in a corner, face buried in knees, trying to lose the sound and sight of the words.

The words were not accusing, or at least so they claimed. Some said they were here to help. Why then wouldn’t they let her be? She felt she must sleep, but with eyes shut that hard, sleep wasn’t possible.

And then there was silence. An almost ominous silence, she thought. There also was a sudden chill in the air, as she thought she felt the words closing in on her, silently. She also thought she could feel them breathing - on her arms, her shoulders, on her neck.

She was afraid to scream or protest, ‘coz that would mean adding more words to the clamor. The air was getting colder, and she wondered if she would die. But, of course, words don’t kill. She felt them oozing, seeping from the ceiling, the walls; crawling on the floor. The air hung, heavy and humid, barely breathable, almost liquid.

She wondered how longer she could resist them, and would it be better to let them feast upon her heart, brain and soul. They said it was painless. She thought of robots and zombies. Then she knew.

She walked out of the room, her room, into the sunshine. The words followed, but out here they didn’t seem ominous. She thought they looked almost ridiculous. The sun winked at her from behind a cloud, and she laughed back.
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Safar

Yun lagta hai ki sirf chalte rahne ki dhun mein is safar ke maani kahin kho gaye hain. Bas, chale ja rahe hain - kabhie aadatan, kabhie majbooran.
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Satyameva Jayate

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'Truth Alone Triumphs'

[or, does it?]
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Games You Play

Dear Lord,
I don't like being yet another insignificant one in your world of crores. My dreams are tired, and I don't have an answer when they look at me, hurt.
It's easy for you, isn't it, making and breaking dreams, hopes, empires, hearts...? Does it matter to you if someone gets killed on his way to ur temple? Do you like it when in turn his relatives call upon you to render him peace in heaven? Isn't that sadistic?
Do you and your mates up there laugh at us, when you see how we're trying to be in control, while you have the remote-control to our destinies? Do you feel gratified when someone seeks your blessings? Do you grant wishes only when we beg for them?
Do you have an algorithm for time-slicing your resources, like an OS? Is everything random? Or is everything predestined?
Are you up there, smiling? Do you die? Are you ever going to grow up, and stop playing games?!

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The Story of the Desert

"Let's play a game!", he said. "Let's pretend you're the princess of desert and I'm the knight from across the seas."

So that's what she became, the princess of desert. Surprisingly, the otherwise unyielding desert agreed to play along. Together, the desert and the princess waited for the knight.


Very early every morning, they dressed up in molten gold and pretended to be angry half the time, remorseful the other half. Bored in a few hours, the sleepy desert half-opened its sand-dune eyes, and went back to its afternoon nap.

"Winds from across the seas will bring my news", he had said. And she thought she could hear waves crashing against the shore. But the winds never brought any news. (Though sand in her eyes hurt like held-back tears, and it had a curious pungent taste, too.)


So they waited till sundown, and the desert draped her in a dusky red velvet. "Even stars will celebrate the day we reunite". (This was her best dress, and red was his favorite!) Every night, stars gathered for the celebration and sighed in silent mourning as another night slipped by. The chill in night-air was unmistakeable.


Moonlight in her dreams always made the desert look like a giant crumpled bedsheet. She felt herself decaying into the sand-sheet with time. Perhaps it was just in her dreams, funny as they are, that it became increasingly difficult to identify herself from the desert. "Come on, you're the princess around here!", she shouted at the top of her voice. But the stars looked on in amazement, as they thought they saw a sudden whiff rise and die away, from a single sand-dune.
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Demons

Some unanswered questions - unanswered, and uncomfortable - chasing you round the clock, staring at you silently (pretending to be dead, yet very much alive) - demanding their answers.

And answer you must. You don't want dead questions following you like dogs, do you? You don't want to relive their death, do you?

And yet answer you can't, because they expect words. A teary-eyed you - devoid of words, with a lump in your throat and sleepless nights by your side - can do nothing but annoy the Gods all the more. Devotees are most welcome, so long as they're not emotional fools.

Your existence is questioned, and that you're alive is no proof. Someone who's been suicidal for years can't possibly be alive, they say.

The walls of hope give way, and your own questions seep through. Assuring you of a death no worse than you deserve. A death of drowing in the waters of suspicion. Of doubts that others invented, and you lived with. (And will die with)



Mood: Indignant/Confused/And now tired
Music: Ek khyaal ke bagal mein kaise saari zindagi guzaar dein?

Ideas, and the lack of them

Sometimes it so happens that I've had some idea for a blog for a long-long time, just the idea, somwhere in the back of my mind, that I mean to write about, and then when I have the time, it seems as if words always ditch me. (I guess writing such long sentences, with commas seperating them, is a bad idea - but then, I didn't want to go through it again, trying to correct it! I've never been in the habit of revising things, not even my exam papers.)

Anyway, coming to back to the point, it so happens that you never find the words you're looking for when trying to write something. And then the idea slowly turns itself into something much more severe, demanding all of your time and attention. And then you really wish the thing had never occurred to you in the first place! Gulzar has a wonderful poem about the situation, but I don't quite remember it as of now. I'll post it if I happen to find it.

So an Idea happened to me. And having heard somewhere 'An Idea can change your life', I sat down with the idea, trying to change mine. Well, my life didn't really change, but the idea did ;) and what I wrote was something quite different from what I intended to.
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Raat Ki Syaahi

Tumhari aankhein dekh ke, jaante ho, kya sochti hoon?
Ab tak aur na jaane kitni raatein qaid ho chuki hongi unmein!

Gusse mein toofaan waali ek barsaat ki raat,
Aur ek, jismein sharaarat ka ek sitaara chamka hoga
Murjhaaye patton waali ek patjhaD ki bhii!

Vaisi hi ek raat ki syaahi se jo misre likhe
Sapne kuchh berang se ubhar aaye

Abki baar jo aana, do mutthi waqt saath laana
Sapno mein rang bharna aasaan nahin!
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So, that's that. And as I said, it's not what I wanted to write, but since it's about eyes (they always fascinate me), I thought I could post this just as well. And now, over to you.

Chhoti-Chhoti Baatein

(Nanda Devi - Taken by RajaG)

I find it strange how, at times, something as simple as a photograph can make you feel. Well, in this case, this particular photo of Nanda Devi - other than making me want to go there - made me imagine (and think about) a whole lot of things (mind you, it's not a small achivement, given that of late nothing - no novel, no poetry, not a big amount of coding, no trees, flowers or smell - has made me think so much, and for so long. And I say 'so long' 'coz when you're all tired and exhausted, to lie in your bed thinking about a pic (and the place the pic was taken at) till 3 am in the morning, when you supposedly have a short attention span - it is.)

Anyway, to cut the long story short, it made me think of how the nights at Nanda Devi will be, how the moon will look - something on these lines. And I wrote a small poem about moon at Nanda Devi -

Chaand
Sanjeeda* pahaaDi ka
NaTkhaT sa beTa chaand
Barfeeli vaadiyon mein
ThiThura* sa gol chaand
Phir garm baadalon ke
Kambal mein dubka chaand
Baatein tumhari-meri
Sunta shareer* chaand
[Sanjeeda = grim; ThiThura = cold/shivering; Shareer = mischevous]
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And that, in turn made me want to write something about the mornings/afternoons as well. I wanted to write about sunlight in mountains, but it turned out to be something about sunlight in general-

Dhoop
Sooraj ka haath thaame
Bholi si beTi dhoop.
KhiDki ke chaukhaTe* se
Chupke se jhaanke dhoop.
JhrumuT* mein khel khele
Chhaaya ke sang dhoop.
Har saanjh hai jalaati
Chanda ka diya dhoop
Taaron ke chheenT* waali
Raat oDh soti dhoop
[KhiDki ka chaukhTa = squares of the window; JhurmuT = grove; chheenT = print]
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Well, there were poems in my mind about 'Nadiya' and 'MiTTi' too, but my thoughts were interrupted by a song on FM, a line of which said something about a guy standing on the kagaar (edge); and I, in turn, imagined myself standing on the edge of some high mountain, looking in the depths of the infinite valleys below. And here're the lines that came to my mind -

Gahraayi
Gahraayi ki kami hai mujhmein - yahi kaha tha na tumne?
Dekho, ab gahraaiyaan khud mujhe aawaaz de rahi hain!
Apna rahi hoon inhe, ab aur gile* mat karna.
[Gile karna = to complain]
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And that, when I'm faaar removed from any suicidal tendencies of any sort! :-p
Anyway, that was the end of it - of my thought-train, i.e. And the result for you all is, a rather long post by me at last! :-)

Girl-talk ;)

So, you've been this super-girlfriend who's ready to do anything for The-One-for-Her? A girl proud, a girl happy, a girl-who-thinks-she's-lucky to have found the right One? You think you're cool 'coz you've turned from the girl that you were to his girl?

Well, how about you go get some life? How about being loved for what you are? How about being trusted, respected, cared for and not being governed? How about not being sorry about what you've said, done or been? Just once in a while, how about it?

When was it last that you were right in an argument? When was it that there was no argument? When was it that you had others to argue with?

And no, you're not being adviced to break-up/get divorced or something. But give yourself a break, girl! What's the hurry? You have the entire life to forget the way you wanted to live your life. But while you still can, why not remember that you can eat like pigs, dance like crazies and live like tribes? If that's your idea of fun, go do that!

Men and women are as different as they could be. Chalk & cheese, oil & water or maybe heart & mind. That they still have to live together is a blunder iGod made, and we put up with. If man can come up with an instrument that would help men understand women and vice-versa, that'd be the greatest discovery of our time. Till then, may there be peace.

And girls, "Live. Your time starts now."

______________________

PS: This post was mostly written out of frustration (so most of it is not how I feel all the time), but I'd still like to remember how I felt at that certain moment. Hence this blog, w/o any changes. :-)

Rainbow

Who stole the colors? Where’re the violets, indigos and blues? Why didn’t I notice the green fading away? Lost my yellow, orange and red somewhere along the way.

I see the world in a kaleidoscope of grey. The kid’s soft pink cheeks are now white. The pretty librarian doesn’t smile with her shining sea-green eyes anymore.

People don’t turn green with envy and purple with rage. Blushing red and gloomy blues are long forgotten.

I still see a silvery desert on a black moonless night, the golden sky above an ashen grey sea, and sparkling diamonds on pale, bleached faces – but, oh, where’re the colors?

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Everything's Fair in Love and War!

Let's leave the 'war' part for now :-p

And in love, well, loving each other is not enough. It may be the beginning AND the end, but there's a lot in between. Trust, for example. And this 'taken-forgranted' trust (or the lack of it) often decides the shape of a relationship.

It's all rosy in the beginning. Thing is, we don't care! It doesn't matter what the other person is doing. Or WHY. But as things move on, this 'why' becomes the most-used word in couples. Why didn't you call me? Why did you get late? Why didn't you let me know? Why're you talking to me like this? Why do you go to that restaurant? Why do you wear that? Why do you talk to XYZ? Why don't you like talking about ABC? Why don't you shave? Why do you watch that stupid channel? And so on and so forth. For every why there's a counter-why. And neither partner lets the other remain 'why-less' for long. And most of the time, it doesn't even mean anything. Most of the time, the question is irrelevant. It's the tone that tells the story.

And that brings us to another highly used tool in love. Sarcasm. Actually, it's as beautiful as it is intricate. It's not like a missile that'll go 'boom' and destroy everything, it's like burning coal that'll burn your hand - slowly - and hurt till it turns itself into ashes. And maybe that's why - it's mostly the weapon of guys (like crying is of girls ;) ).

In fact, people in relationships (both guys and girls) have even confessed to getting pleasure out of hurting their partners. "Just wanted to ensure I could still hurt you!" Ha, Nice! And it's not sadism, just "I'm still the boss" feeling.

Gee, I'm on the wrong track :D Am feeling like a 'Love Guru' :D Will post it anyway! :) And here's a link, just for fun ;)
http://www.funnyhub.com/pictures/img/a-happy-couple.jpg

Innocence

It is desirable, most of the time – expected, especially in girls.
I’m not claiming innocence; in fact, I confess that I’m not innocent – innocence, as in naivety. But then, what’s the big deal? Do only men have the right to be intelligent?
I want my freedom, my space, recognition, money, love. Or maybe, I want to be lost, be left alone. Whatever!
Or, leave my being ‘girl’ aside. Suppose I’m any X-Y-Z around you. Suppose I’m you. Now, isn't the right to 'want' something, or to 'not want' something else, a most basic one?
Why can't I be mean to others, why do I have to be mean to myself?
.............

[Oh, and this is not directed towards anyone. I mean ANYONE whosoever. Thank you!]