आम आदमी...

बेमकसद हौसले, लापरवाह कदम
बेवजह शिकवे, बेपनाह बेकार ग़म |

अधपके कुछ ख्याल, आधे अधूरे कुछ ख्वाब
कुछ कर गुज़रने की तलब, मगर वहम बेहिसाब |

भीड़ में खोया हुआ चेहरा, वही जाने पहचाने कुछ राज़
फ़िजूल सोच, सस्ती जिंदगी, ख़ुद ही से नज़रंदाज़ आवाज़ |

मैं - एक आम आदमी
मेरी आखें कभी देखना बंद नहीं करतीं
अंधेरे में भी मुझे मेरा अक्स दिखता है
रौशनी कभी मेरी रूह को छू भी नहीं पाती
और मैं ख़ुद की परछाइयों से डरता हूँ |

stray thoughts...

It's been a while. I had nothing to say. I was listening. And observing. As if out of some divine order, I was supposed to just listen and observe. Mind didn't have enough space to think and speak out or write. For a change (for better), I can say I was busy listening.

Watching the world through my eyes, understanding through my experiences and expressing through my opinions, I had had enough of it. Well, everyone thinks - what he says, thinks or does is right. And he will do anything, fabricate any reason to justify the righteousness of his words, thoughts and actions. But then suddenly some day, something changes when you look at the world from inside someone else and you find that it's a completely different place. Strange place.

I had had my views and my opinions. I wanted to see someone else's views and understand someone else's opinions. But could do only the first part. Was too arrogant to accept or perhaps even understand the other half. Well, it's not enough to know what a person thinks. What makes that person think that way, where are those thoughts arising from, what is the source of those ideas - without knowing answers to these, understanding is not complete.

People disagree even though they are right. People agree even though they are wrong. We often misunderstand different points of view as disagreement, a scalene geometry of thoughts - incompatible. Thinking 'in' different directions and thinking 'from' different directions are two different things. Thinking in different directions broadens the horizons of thought, and thinking from different directions strengthens the base of an idea. Now whether this is a strength or weakness really depends on how the formula is applied.

It's instinctive trying to possess something dear. Letting go is tough, when time snatches it away from you. That's the test of large hearts - how much, how big, how dear they can let go without getting bothered. The cliche goes 'Rich is he who has nothing to lose' - theoretically. But we all have something dear which we never want to lose - a person, an idea, a place or a laptop or an iPod or even our lives. Divided into these things, people, places and ideas - we cannot let go and it's hard for us to recover from their loss, which is the inevitability time makes us confront one day or the other.

मंजिल...

वो मंजिल
जिसके लिए तुम जी रहे हो
हर रोज़, हर घड़ी
हर कदम, हर साँस
उसकी तरफ़ बढ़ रहे हो |

जिसके लिए तुमने अपना सब कुछ
दांव पर लगा छोड़ा है
जिसकी आरज़ू में जितना भी
तुम तड़प रहे हो थोड़ा है |

वो मंजिल
जो तुम्हें तुम्हारी सरहदों से
बहुत दूर खींच लाई है
जिसने तुम्हें दौड़ाया ज़्यादा
मगर प्यास कम बुझाई है |

नींद से जागो, आखें खोलो
और ज़रा देखो के वो मंजिल ख़ुद
कई रास्तों में उलझी हुई
किसी और मंजिल को ढूँढ रही है |

ज़रा ठहरो, ज़रा साँस लो, ज़रा समझो
जो भी रास्ता तुम चुनोगे
जिस भी ओर तुम बढोगे
वो मंजिल तुम्हारे साथ आएगी |

face it...

you think you can escape
just run away
from all this pain
and it will go away?
you think there is a place
home, or somewhere
where you can feel safe?
you think there is someone
who can always keep you safe?

wake up,
if you cultivate your weaknesses
fear is what you will reap
there is no way out of it
but yes, sometimes
there is a way through it

and, if you want to be fearless
first give up your weakness!

शब्द...

शब्दों को मत पढो
शब्दों के पीछे
छुपे हुए इंसान को देखो
वो किस तरह
टूटता जुड़ता गिरता संभलता
एक शब्द बना है, उसे समझो

शब्दों की कड़वाहट
शब्दों की मिठास
शब्दों की घबराहट
शब्दों की प्यास
कच्चे पक्के शब्द
अच्छे बुरे शब्द
कहे अनकहे शब्द
भूले हुए और
भुला न सकने वाले शब्द

सभी,
जीवन का एक गुज़रा हुआ क्षण थे
जो आया और चला गया
मगर अपने पीछे इन शब्दों को छोड़ गया
जिन्हें तुम आज देख रहे हो |

भ्रम की खोज...

शून्य के अथाह आकाश को
अस्तित्व के धरातल से जोड़ता
समय का धुन्दला क्षितिज
एक भ्रम
और इस भ्रम के ऊपर खिंची
हर पल बदलती कुछ रेखाएं
जिन्हें मनुष्य ने जीवन का अर्थ समझा और
सब कुछ भुला कर वह निकल पड़ा
क्षितिज का पीछा करते हुए
धुएँ से लिखे एक अर्थ की खोज में |

arrogance of an egotist...

Disclaimer: Ideas presented are personal and prone to changes.

In an ordinary day, when emotions are dull, instincts are blunt and senses are over or underused, we are headed straight towards self destruction. We are afraid of being alone, we think that we are the unimportant footnotes of life, but still we isolate ourselves from the outer world thinking we are different from others. All the desires, all the ambitions to raise ourselves from this life of continuous suffering are hollow. Something more fundamental, very basic is missing in our existence. Dreams of attaining absolute freedom, economic independence are nothing but illusions of a mistaken identity. Not a single moment is passing without this perpetual emotional tumult, this agony of making simple life choices.

What is our life anyway. We are one among hundreds of thousands of ordinary people like us who are a mere vulgar accident of evolution. World doesn't need us and in all probability doesn't want us. We need the world for ourselves to survive. We are the disposable samples of humanity which world uses everyday for its experiments with life. Still we try to console ourselves with the illusions of purpose, of goals which are no more than a few steps in no direction in a dark road. We build our life based on tangible, transient things. Our job, our family, our friends, our bank balance, our material possessions, our beliefs, our ideas out of which only a few come from direct experience, rest are the result of vicarious feelings, second hand experiences. They define our existence.

Then one day the moment of clarity happens, the epiphany, and suddenly we realize that these things can be snatched away from us in less than a moment. And immediately, we stick harder to them, because if we lose them, we lose our life. But that doesn't help and sooner or later, the thing or the idea or the person through which or whom we were trying to find ourselves is lost. A relapse, a shock, alive but no sign of life.

And then we realize that we are not all these things. We realize that our existence doesn't depend on these things. We are only that part of our existence which cannot be taken away from us. Ever. Suddenly heart sinks in, complete chaos, like whole existence being sucked into vacuum, reality which was built in years shatters down in just a second. A search begins for that indestructible part of our life on which everything, 'everything' stands. Everything else loses its meaning.

We realize, we don't need our job, our bank balance, our family, our friends, our partners - we need a guiding light which can take us out of our suffering, the daily unstoppable suffocation inside. Despite every choice that we make in life, ultimately everyone, regardless of his/her status race creed or cult, has to face this truth alone that life is nothing but a preparation for eternity. [Rick Warren]

मामूली...

कुछ सपने, कुछ हकीकत
कुछ डर, कुछ ख्वाहिशें
थोड़ा दर्द, थोड़ी खुशी
कभी रास्ते तो कभी मंजिलें

सीने में दबी सिसकियाँ
होठों पर थकी हुई मुस्कराहट
कुछ ढूँढती हुई सी आँखें
साँसों से लटकी हुई घबराहट
चेहरे में दफन एक तलाश
लिखावट के ऊपर लिखावट

जिंदगी की भारी किताब के इस
मामूली से पन्ने को
न जाने किस बात का गुरूर था
जिंदगी ने तो इसे कभी पलट कर देखा भी नहीं

कभी कुछ लिखा तो कभी कुछ मिटा दिया
कुछ बातें याद रहीं और बाकी को यूं ही भुला दिया
फ़िर एक दिन ऐसे फाड़ कर फ़ेंक दिया
जैसे ये कभी ज़िन्दगी का हिस्सा भी ना रहा हो |

यतीम...

मासूमियत बचपन भी पूरा न देख पाई थी

जब उम्मीद जिम्मेदारियों के बोझ से टूट गयी
रिश्ते वक्त के खिंचाव को बर्दाश्त न कर सके
और प्यार, बीते हुए कल के
किसी बदनसीब पल में ज़ख्मी पड़ा है
इस सबके बाद जो जुस्तजू बची थी
उसे समाज की रस्में निगल गयी
और अब बचे हैं मैं और मेरी आवारगी
हर लम्हे ही जद्दोजहद में अपने
वुजूद की तलाश करते

वो चेहरा...

दिल इतना भर चुका था के

किसी भी पल छलकने को
तैयार थी उसकी आँखें
कब से उसने ख़ुद के किनारे
कुरेद कुरेद कर
समंदर को अन्दर बांधे रखा था |

कब तक संभालती वो
आख़िर दिल टूटा उसका और
वो आँखें बरस पड़ीं
बहुत लम्बी थी वो बरसात
बूँद बूँद करके
उसका समंदर सूख गया
उसके चेहरे पर बची सिर्फ़
नमक की कुछ खुश्क लकीरें
जिनको छुपाने के लिए उसने
एक नया चेहरा पहन लिया |

उम्मीद का अकेलापन...

रात की सर्द खामोशी में

दिल की खुरदरी ज़मीन पर
विचारों के अनगिनत बीज
बेवजह बिखरे पड़े थे |

सुबह होने तक
उनमें से कुछ में
उम्मीद के अंकुर फूटे
और वो मिट्टी छोड़ कर
आसमान छूने को तैयार हो गए |

दिन शुरू हुआ तो
वो सभी खुदगर्ज़ पौधे
जो ऊँचाई की अंधी चाह में
अपने वजूद को मिट्टी से
अलग समझ बैठे थे
दोपहर होने तक
जद्दोजहद की गर्मी में झुलस कर
वापिस मिट्टी में जा मिले |

कुछ पौधे गुज़रते काफिलों
के कदमों तले कुचले गए
कुछ ने दूसरों के बहकावे में आकर
अपनी जड़ों को मिट्टी से अलग कर लिया
कुछ अपनी ही कमजोरी का शिकार हुए
और कुछ ने हकीकत से घबरा कर
खुदकशी कर ली |

शाम ढलने तक
सिर्फ़ एक पौधा बचा
जो दिनभर चुपचाप एक कोने में खड़ा
मिट्टी में अपने पाँव जमाए
सूरज को छूने की कोशिश करता रहा था
शाम तक उसका कद
पहले से कुछ बढ़ गया था
लेकिन सुबह से रात होते होते
वो अब अकेला रह गया था |

voices...

I am not me anymore
I am the world I see and reflect..

I am far away from myself
I am the conflict of my own reasons
lost, within my own boundaries
illusioned, by my own beliefs..

I try to hide what I want to show
dissatisfaction of my confused desires
the intensity of my unheard emotions
I am the fugitive of my dying spirit..

I eat my own vanity
to feed my wounded esteem
and still hunger for peace within..

I yearn to return
to my home, the real I
where I once belonged..

obsessions...

She had this charm, this joyful air around her he could not resist. How fickle! Soon, she took him away from me.

“Amit! Shall we go for coffee?”

“Oh sorry, you carry on! I am helping Suruchi with her review reports.”

“Amit! Can you drop me home?”

“Can you take an auto today? I will have to stay late. Suruchi has to finish her deliverable by tomorrow and lot of work is pending.”

“Amit! Where are you?”

“Suruchi and I are in a movie! I’ll call you back later.”

“Hi Amit!”

“Hey! Can you put Suruchi on line? I need to talk to her. I think her phone is switched off.”

This went on. For weeks. Or may be months. I don’t know. But, something was happening inside me.

This morning Suruchi asked me: “Do you think Amit likes me? Do you think he will propose to me?” I had said I don’t know. Later Amit had asked: “Do you think Suruchi likes me? Do you think I should propose to her?” I had said I don’t know.

I had been accumulating emotional ammunition. I had turned into an explosive filled with shrapnels of anger and obsession.

Later in the evening when I entered house, I saw her door was left ajar. I found them both in her room; they were lying naked in bed, sleeping, which seemed like after long hours of love making.

My mind went numb.

Suruchi was such a warmhearted person… irresistible… This spring she had arrived at the city, joined the company and was looking for a place to stay. We both were in the same project. I offered her to stay in the vacant room of my apartment. I remember when I asked her to stay with me she had exclaimed with joy... or perhaps surprise... “That would be superb, wow! Thanks… Thanks a lot…” with those big beautiful black eyes widening and her cute little mouth agape. Those eyes, her hair, and her tall slim physique - I had felt jealous the first time I introduced her to Amit.

There was a sense of foreboding from the beginning.

Amit was the technical lead of our project - charming, handsome guy – so outwardly sophisticated that any girl ordinary could fall in love with him at the first sight and so inwardly ordinary that anyone sophisticated could understand his true nature at first glance. I knew him more than anyone else. I knew him more than he knew himself. Staying late nights at office, dropping me home, those hours of talking on phone, hanging out on weekends – we were more than just friends but less than lovers. At least that’s what I thought, until she came. And robbed me.

How can she? How can he? How dare them?

They looked content and peaceful – Amit with his charming face and strong shoulders and she, with her hair scattered on Amit's thighs and black beautiful eyes staring right at me. Only those eyes were now devoid of life. I had killed them both. I took my kitchen knife, made its blade red hot on the gas burner and sliced their throat while they were asleep.

I had exploded, and they became victims. It wasn't easy for me. For them too...

changing times...

“You always have to have everything your cousin has. Don’t you understand that your uncle is a police commissioner and your aunt is a manager in the bank? Your mother is just a housewife and I am a junior engineer in the electricity board. We don’t earn as much as they do. We must save money for the future. We are not same! Don’t ask me ever again to get you something which you saw your cousin has! Learn to control your feelings!”

It was almost 10 years ago. Dindu had asked his father to buy him a computer to help his studies at the college. He always got similar answers - when he had asked for a cricket bat, video game or a fountain pen or when he had asked his father to take them to a new place for summer holidays instead of going to their uncle's house as they did every year. After that day he had stopped asking.

Dindu was lying on his back in a lonely corner of the beach - his eyes focused on the infinity of the sky, a cloud intercepting the infinity every now and then. Earlier that evening Dindu had a conversation with his father. His father called him from the village saying: “Look at your cousin. Learn something from him. He has got a better paying job, he married to a beautiful wife and now soon they will have children. I had saved some ten lakh rupees to spend on your marriage, but you never listen to what I say. You don’t care about your parent's feelings.”

Dindu didn’t know whether he felt surprised or betrayed. It was almost dark. He realized, it no longer mattered whether he kept his eyes open or shut. He picked himself up and started walking towards his home.

Ravi – Lost and Found...

From 2005, on demand by Dindu:

(Undecipherable noise… Many men talking at the same time…) ‘Excuse me friends! It is not making any sense. I must insist that we all stop talking together and speak one by one. That way we can express our individual views with more clarity and in the end whatever time remains we can comment on others’ views. (Noise continues…) (Shouting Angrily…) HERE YOU IDIOTS! (Sudden Silence…) You hear what I am saying or I will KICK the SHIT out of you all one by one!!! (Silence in the room…) Yeah, that’s better. Now listen! We have been given a topic to discuss here and we are supposed to express our views within this limited time frame. If all of us start talking at the same time nobody will be there listening. What we are supposed to do is, bring out an agreement on the subject given to us. Let me start by expressing my views and then clockwise we can continue expressing our views. Is that fine will your all? (Silence…) Mr. Assamese! Is that fine? (Assamese nods with a shiver…cooler voice…) Fine! I take that as acceptance. Let me begin then. (Pause…Lets out breath…) Gentlemen! My view is military training should be made mandatory for all the young people of India, who are physically capable of going through its rigors. This will bring discipline in their lives; they will be strong to face the real life and will take up their social responsibilities well. A sense of national responsibility can arise in today’s youth, only when one goes through the troubles of such trainings and serves his country for at least a small period of five years. And as our friend from Assam has earlier pointed out, it will make the world better. I have discussed it with Mr. President and he has given his warm acceptance to this idea. Facts, gentlemen, Facts!!! These are the facts I am telling you and there is no better solution than this to make our nation better…’ (Claps…Darkness…)

(Light… Interview panel… an interview going on…)
‘Mr. Ravi! Welcome to Rurakee campus. Tell us something about yourself…’

‘Thank you first of all. Well I am a complicated person. Till now even I am not able to understand myself. I am a person who lives on some basic terms and principles. The punch line which guides my life is “I don’t know where I am going, but I know where I have been. I don’t know what my vision is, but I know what I have seen…” Though I belong to a very modest background yet my ambitions are high and my instincts strong. I want to bring a positive change in the outlook of this world by taking up a work which can bring smiles to many faces.’

‘And what that work would be, Mr. Ravi?’

‘Well, I want to be my own master. I will start a food chain, with branches all over India or perhaps even world. I tell you gentlemen, there is nothing more satisfying than satisfying hungry people with good food.’

‘But I suppose you are currently working in an IT industry. How then you think you will go about it?’

‘Frankly speaking, joining IT was a big mistake. But as I have already said, I know where I have been. I learn from my mistakes and I learnt from this mistake. IT was not my cup of tea. I don’t say it is a problem in IT. There are people who enjoy that work too. But I didn’t fit there.’

‘What made you feel you were different from those people?’

‘Well, there is a lot of complacence there. Dreams are rarely seen. I found out that there isn’t greatness in being a buffalo-with-a-dream in a large buffalo herd. The owner will tell eat, you eat; he will tell drink, you drink; he will beat with stick and twice a day he will take away milk. And all you can do is just keep shitting around yourself. I can’t live like that. I want to be free… At my own… That’s my dream… To live free… To bring that desire to be free in everyone around me… Yes, I have been strayed. And I will start afresh. For that I am looking for an opportunity and I am sure you will consider my passion.’

(Healthy silence in the room…After a pause…) ‘Very Impressive! Congratulations Mr. Ravi! We offer you a seat at our institute if you are ready to take it up…’

In a fit of excitement Ravi jumped from the seat and fell on the table…

‘O Mr. Ravi! Please get up… get up… get up… get up…
(Darkness…)

(Light… Engine noise… People shouting “GET UP!!! GET UP!!!…)

When Ravi opened his slumberous eyes he was lying on the alleyway between the seats of the bus and passengers were shouting “GET UP! GET UP!” Bus was zooming at the speed of 70 mph and driver hadn’t bothered the speed breaker on the road. As the fast moving vehicle slid past the speed breaker, it flew into the air for a while and came down thumping, teaching a lesson on Newton’s first law of inertia to all the passengers inside. Ravi had fallen down from his seat unaware of the Newtonian force responsible for the fall. He was dreaming, and it took him a while to come out of his reverie and smell the humus. Had Sigmund Freud been given the task of interpreting Ravi’s dream, he would have jumped with joy, because this dream was totally in accordance with his wish fulfillment theory. Two different dreams joined together to indicate an unfulfilled wish. And the last moments of the reverie he would have attributed to the external stimuli responsible for the images produced in dream. But ironically, not for Freud, in reality everything which happened in dream had gone exactly the other way round.

Ravi was returning to Delhi after going through his GD/PI (Group Discussion and Personal Interview) at Rurakee College of Business Studies. After boarding the bus, he had taken a nap while the bus strolled slowly through the crowded city roads. But as soon as it had entered the open country highway, the driver unleashed the entire throttle which ultimately brought Ravi back from the world of dreams. It took him a little while to realize how fast the undulating sugarcane fields were running past him. Just half a day past his life was in the hands of interview panel, and now it depended on the right foot of the driver, who was showing no mercy on decaying frame of the bus. The bus crossed another three speed breakers at the same furious speed, and each time Ravi jumped so high from his seat that his hair remained just an inch below the roof of the bus. He called the conductor and said: “Bhaiyya! Driver KO thoDa acchhe se chalane KO boliye Na!” The conductor looked at him with surprise. Expression on his face was like that of a commuter of Mumbai locals to whom some new Mumbaite had asked not to push his way into the local. “Yahan bus aise hi chalti hai bhai sahab!” was all, that conductor could manage say to hide his surprise.

Under his shallow breath Ravi prayed to God for safe journey till Delhi. He kept his bag at one side and tried to return to his reverie which refused now to come back to his memory. That dream now became a sweet nostalgia, and for a moment Ravi wished if he could have really lived that dream. After all, he had nothing to lose. His waking consciousness was back and he started thinking about his future, his present and the deep dark valley in between. He wanted to do an MBA. These two years of IT life had sucked like hell. As a fresh graduate from a good engineering college he had dreamt many a dreams when he joined a prestigious IT firm. But as he got into the rabbit hole of IT reality, he found out that he is getting lost in some desert. In the beginning of career he worked during nights. Worked like a typist. He got so pissed off with his job that he could have done anything to get out of this. But the company had taken away that chance by making all fresher employees sign an agreement to work for at least two years. In case of breaking this agreement employee had to pay two lakh rupees. Well that was a big sum and two years were at stake. Amidst this dilemma of choices, ultimately he found himself trapped in a sort of cage where, neither he could like what he got nor he could get what he liked.

There were dreams of course. There were dreams of better life, challenging work and urge to do something important, something different. But during the last days of college, when the entire herd was running after big paychecks and big names, he was also taken over by the placement pandemonium. When someone starts running after something, at the same time he starts running away from something. Ravi realized he had been running away from himself all these months. And now time had come to stop running towards something which never existed for him. Time had come to revisit his foundations and realize his forsaken dreams. Time had come to ask himself the inevitable questions – “What do I want? How will I achieve it?” for which only he could find the answers. It was not late and he had lost only two years. He could start fresh, there was hope. He had come far from where he wanted to be, but he wasn’t lost.

Amidst the flying stunts of Uttaranchal Road Transport bus, he was thinking all this when suddenly driver slowed down the bus for a pleasant change. Ultimately he stopped the bus in front of a small dhaba. Driver and conductor got down. Ravi also thought of relieving himself from the pressing thoughts by paying off the nature’s call. The place was smaller than a small village. There were just a few shops standing parallel to the main road where vehicles were zooming past intermittently. Beside the shops there were sugarcane fields. The air was filled with the smell of sugar factories. If one inhaled too much of that air, he could even have caught diabetes. Ravi kept his bag on the seat, took his knapsack along with him in which he carried his certificates and got down from the bus. After traveling at almost quarter a mach (one fourth of the speed of sound) getting on the inertial frame of reference was a relief in itself. He felt that he had grown heavy. He stretched his body and headed toward the sugarcane field to micturate.

‘Why can’t I just run into these fields and get lost? Damn! This world is a big septic tank and I am a small piece of shit in it! Why can’t I live it my way? Why can’t I run away to a place where I breathe fresh air, eat healthy food and work something sufficient to satisfy my needs? I can live on chewing this sugarcane rather than eating over-oily tasteless curries in the city. Ah! Money! I need money! I need a lot of money to have financial freedom! Then I can think of such adventures. How will I get the money? Oh! I need to do an MBA for that! I need to do an MBA. But will that bring me money? Oh man! It sucks…’ He peed and wished these thoughts could also go out from his body along with the urine. Mind felt a little relieved now and he returned to the stop to get back on the bus.

The thin stream of thoughts still kept dripping on his mind as he returned. ‘Man! Everything sucks up here… Now this crazy driver… He is driving the shit out of… HOLY SHIT!!! WHAT THE HECK!!! WHERE IS THE BUS???’ The bus was gone, as gone as the proverbial horns on a donkey’s head, and for a moment he stood petrified, feeling his feet getting cold like Himalayan ice. He wished this too was some dream and soon it will get over with someone shaking him on a soft warm bed. But nobody came to wake him up from his dream and it turned out to be a living nightmare. The event of the whole day went flashing out of his eyes. How he was getting nervous before his GD, screwing up of GD, how he wished to punch that Assamese guy, the interview panel, their crazy questions, his crazy answers, finally that wicked smile on their face when they asked him to leave. And now he was standing like a frozen statue in a small village with his bag in the bus which had left him forlorn in this barren land. He rushed to one of the shopkeepers and asked where the bus was. Shopkeeper said as indifferently as it was desperate for Ravi: ‘Bus to chali gayee Saab.’

Ravi had to decide and decide fast what to do. So he rushed toward the middle of the road and like a mad man started making gestures, asking for a lift from almost every passing vehicle, sparing only the bicycle riders. Vehicles zipped past him, some with an indifferent horn, some shouting back the abuses ‘MADAR CH*#!!! MAREGA KYA!!!’ Time was running wild, and the bus would have gone at least 10 miles by now. He didn’t know the bus number but he knew that his new dress, new shoes which he had bought specially for the occasion were in the bag, which was also about 10 miles away from him. While keeping the major part of his waking conscience busy making gestures for lift from the vehicles, he roughly calculated his loss that came to around six thousand rupees.

Eventually a middle aged person stopped by him who was on a Bajaj Chetak. Thinking that it is better to have a kerchief of a running thief Ravi decided to chase the bus on the Humara Bajaj legendary stead. In a single breath Ravi explained his plight to this person, and pleaded him for the lift. The generous man agreed and Ravi started following the 70 mph bus on a 30 mph Bajaj Chetak. Ravi calculated that if he followed the bus like this for an hour then bus will move further 40 miles away from him. Neither dare he ask the person to driver fast nor could he keep himself from thinking about the Lee Cooper shoes which were continuously rolling away from him at 40 mph. ‘What if he asks me to get down right away? It’s already evening and after a couple of hours night will arrive. No! Let me win the race the turtle way’ he thought. Meanwhile he kept explaining to this person about what had happened. Those forty five minutes on scooter seemed like a whole era passing through his eyes. ‘Bus will be around 30 miles away from me now or even more’ he thought ‘but it might even be 75 miles away given we are moving away from each other!!!’ Preparation for MBA had made his math sharp and given him a habit of thinking about all possibilities. ‘SHIT!!! I NEVER ASKED THIS MAN THAT I WANT TO GO TO DELHI!!! WHAT THE HELL!!! AM I GOING BACK TO RURAKEE???’ But he didn’t ask the person because making mad gestures, asking for lift nowhere in the middle of the highway was the last thing he wanted to do.

After a few minutes, when they reached a busy traffic signal where many vehicles were stopping, the man spoke pointing towards a bus ‘Bhai Sahab! I will not be going to Delhi, but this bus will take you there…’ Ravi jumped out of the scooter and rushed into the bus without even thanking his savior. Later he realized he owed gratitude for the scooter rider and to some extent for Bajaj Auto Ltd as well. He explained the whole story to the conductor of the bus and the conductor told that he could get his bag back given he knew which depot the bus belonged to or the bus number. Ravi knew neither of them and there remained only a bleak hope in his eyes for reuniting with his bag. By repeating his story to all the passengers aboard, he had aroused sympathy for himself among the passengers along with praise for the intelligence of keeping his certificates with him. One auntyji sitting next to his seat kept drawling time and again ‘BETA! Bhagwan kare aapko aapka bag mil jaye!’

Meanwhile Ravi was thinking what was more disturbing – losing or being lost? Was he worried because he had lost his bag and other valuables with it or was he worried because he was lost? If he had nothing with him at the moment he found his bus missing, would he have tried to stop every vehicle like a mad man? If he was all alone, wouldn’t he have ventured into the sugarcane field seeking an adventure? A person who has nothing to lose cannot be lost. A person who knows where he is heading cannot be lost. Well, it is possible that he can get out of his original track for a while but that doesn’t mean he is lost. Maximum a man can lose is his will to try again, to try one more time.

Amidst these thoughts he alighted in Noida and boarded another bus from there to ISBT. To give a final try, he looked for the bus which had forsaken him in a barren village. He asked the people at ISBT about where the buses coming from Rurakee stop. After a few directions he finally found the conductor and the driver, the bus and eventually his bag. There was no point in arguing with the two caretakers of the bus now and so he left them behind and started his journey ahead. And for the first time he heard something repeating within himself. The same lines which he had unknowingly spoken while giving interview in his dream:

“I don’t know where I am going, but I know where I have been;
I don’t know what my vision is, but I know what I have seen…”

readme...

This is a lot of pressure. Meaningless, but undeniable. I don't want to listen to anyone anymore, my anger is about to spill over my patience. Moments when I want to be heard but there is no one to listen to me. And I cannot make anything out of my own words. Mostly noise. I am cultivating a volcano with boiling words, blistering me from inside.


I paint graffiti of my thoughts - result of unheard, incomprehensible voices screaming inside. Desperate attempts to be free from this noise. I wonder - what's the purpose of words - to create noise, or to create silence...

only when words outperform silence...

why ravish the purity
of ignorance
with all the pretense..

why cover the sanctity
of silence
with prejudices of words..

why hide from reality
to escape the fear
and weakness of heart..

why borrow the noise
from the world
and make it louder..

why not just grow
with the elegance
of simplicity..

and speak out
only when the words
outperform silence..

the G-gap...

I don't know why am I feeling isolated and claustrophobic at the same time. These are those moments of emotional enigma when a person wants to just let himself fall wherever he is falling. When a person wants to lose all control, without losing his dignity. When a person wants to reveal all his dark secrets without any fear of getting judged. When a person wants to let go all his fears and vent off all his anger without being misunderstood. When a person wants to die without killing himself and with an assurance that he will be resurrected again. At these intense defining moments, a person wants to fall back on someone or something. And "family" is the first (if not obvious) choice. Lucky are those who can fall back on their families, who can share their thoughts without any hesitations. But if the family is like the safety net with a big hole, which you know if you fall back on, you are going to hit the ground, then what?

I am not very proud to say that I am not very proud of my family. I do owe every material necessity provided to me, but ultimately everyone realizes that life is more than just material. I can't understand them, they can't understand me. We are the strangers with the same blood.

Blame it on the generation gap. Youth is always in rebellion against the old. People always say - children grow up and become reason for the misery of their parents. But nobody asks why don't parents grow up with their children? Why do they still remain glued with their old traditions and principles? Why don't their ideas change with the changing times? Growing up is not the same as growing old, right? I refuse to live with a meaningless devotion. I cannot pretend!

May be it is the destiny of the bourgeois. They are doomed to live with their unspoken disagreements, which with time grow into generation gaps. The generation before me, hails from the times of fresh air of Independence and democracy, India-China India-Pak wars and state of Emergency. Those were the events which shaped their susceptible young minds. They saw India begging foreign countries for food, they saw Indian economy collapse, they saw their rights being taken away from them and people getting forcibly sterlized. They hardly left their families for study or work. Getting a job (with government) was the end of their struggle, that was all they wanted. They retired with their first job. They were emotionally and sometimes even financially dependent on their families. Every crucial decision of their life was taken by their elders. They virtually lived life designed by other people's decisions. Because they had too many of their relatives around all the time, they could never understand the importance of a family. There is no surprise that they believed (and sadly still do) in playing it safe all the time.

I am a different generation. 9/11 is the darkest event marked in my mind. I know life is no longer safe and certain. India is no longer begging for food, India is the second giant in this huge race of scarcity and wants. India looks straight into the face of world and says what it wants to say. World knows India is the next super power in making. There are unlimited opportunities all around. I have lived my impressionable years away from the family, independent - emotionally and financially - with dreams of making it big one day. I believe in risking it all. Getting a job is just the beginning of a race for me, not the end. Today, there is always a long way to go.

When one generation fails to get into the shoes of the other - gap creeps in. Countless arguments follow from both the sides, and emotional burdens start getting heavy. Opinions get polarized and there are supporters on both the sides to fight till death for something which could have been resolved with a little open talk, patience and sacrifice. But Alas! We prefer to live with sullen resentments, disagreements mean animosity to us.

This cannot be changed in one day. This is the result of five decades. But may be at least I can prevent this rot from spreading down to my posterity. I would rather tell my son - 'Son, I am old, but I can take care of myself. Don't worry about me, I will be fine. If you need any help, let me know. But just remember, now I don't want to hear from you; I want to hear about you. I want people coming to me and telling stories about you. Go and do what you want to do, become what you want to become.'

understanding thought...

Questions I have in mind right now are:

1. Why thoughts come in my brain?

2. At times, why can’t I choose what to think?

3. Can this process of thought creation and propagation be brought under my control?

When I think, I don’t think linearly – which I presume is the case with most of people. Most of thoughts are jumbled. There is no absolute start and absolute end of a thought. Stories don’t always begin with ‘once upon a time…’ and end with ‘happily ever after…’ Definitions are the things which people arrive at the end of a subject.

After a lot of analysis I have come to the conclusion that my thoughts are basically of two kinds:

1. Ones which are the result of instant situations. E.g. I look at the clouds with a relatively blank brain and I become the thought – ‘Oh! What a nice weather!’ or ‘Oh! Today there is no work!’

2. Others which are the result of the previous ones. E.g. ‘I think it is going to rain’, ‘The wind is so fast’, ‘I was once caught in a storm’, ‘Storms are bad’, ‘Many people died because of cyclone in Orissa’, ‘Why do people die’ and so on…. Or ‘I don’t know what to do’, ‘Why am I doing this job’, ‘I never wanted to do this kind of work’, ‘So-and-so is working in so-and-so company’, ‘That company is far better than mine’, ‘Oh this sucks’ and so on…

Earlier I used to think that action is different from speaking and thinking. But now, I realized that thinking and speaking is just another form of action. The physical, tangible form of action that I see at the outermost level is a result of the actions (i.e. thinking and speaking) at the micro level.

At the bottom of every action lies a thought – conscious or unconscious. While walking in the crowd I never think that I should avoid hitting anyone – that comes instinctively or unconsciously. But while making a choice when buying chocolates or a mobile phone – I think consciously.

Now – what lies below thought? I don’t know.

I think, thought is another form of energy, E=MC*C, which can neither be created nor be destroyed, just transformed from one form to another. The food that I eat gets digested inside my body and becomes energy. This energy keeps changing forms and blood keeps getting pumped into the brain which in turn keeps stimulating the billions of neural links which are there. That in turn stimulates the area of my brain which knows that I am thinking and finally I realize that, one thought crossed my brain.

Now, this stimulation and realization process is pretty weak and without any control mechanism. Brain is like an overloaded hard drive and its operating system is filled with unnecessary processes. Ultimately what I see is a slow running system with highly uncertain, unpredictable behaviour.

Well, what I think is totally dependent on how I have formed my first thoughts about my surroundings throughout all these years I have grown up. My brain is a machine of stimuli and responses.

But then I think – ‘Is there an end to thought?’

They keep changing, with time, with surroundings, with people, with seasons.

Can I stop my brain from thinking?

I don’t know.

incomplete hunger...

is desire weakness,
is hunger a curse?

questions, desires, longings
unanswered, unfulfilled, ignored
turn into rebellion, greed and lust
or nescience, deficiency and doom..

and answered incorrectly
fulfilled carelessly
tendered without elegance
become
delusion, conceit and a senseless hope..

Ah, hunger wasted!

what is done
becomes the doer
the eater and the eaten
eventually become one..

knowing answers is not enough
learning their value is important
earning the desires is essential
buying them isn't all..

every moment of hunger wasted
is a chance lost to evolve..