Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Life of a Pappu in Delhi!

"कमेटी आ रही है... गिराओ  रे तम्बू ! " (Committee is coming.. pull down the tent!)

He shouted at the peak of his voice as he saw the MCD (Municipal Corporation of Delhi) vehicle approaching towards his tea-stall.  In a flash went down the bamboo dragging down the tent along. Our eyes pervaded in anxiety - Will he survive the day?

Cluttered with thelas and redis stormed the vehicle towards Pappu's stall as my heart throbbed, "Please! Save it .. just for today."  In a gaze of fear and hope stood Pappu as the vehicle neared; it had slowed down. Fortunate for him, the vehicle passed away unstopped.  "पप्पू, बच गया तुम्हारा दुकान आज..!"(Your stall survived the day Pappu!),  I shouted in joy! Pappu straightened his bamboo up, smiling. It was tense!

I sipped another cup of his refreshing tea as I read the newspaper apprising us of the various tales of the legendary actor Dev Anand who passed away a couple of days ago. In  another section of the paper, in a corner, appeared Markandey Katju's article. The former Justice of the Supreme Court and the present Chairman of the Press Council of India, Mr Katju, resented over the front page coverage of Dev Anand's death. He contended - "Are the lives of the hundreds of farmers committing suicide on a daily basis inferior than Dev Anand's life"?  I could make sense of his contention now.

Me : " कितने दिन पर आती है MCD  की गाड़ी ? " (How often does the MCD vehicle come?)
Pappu: " हफ्ता-दस दिन में... " (Once in a week or ten days)
Me :" कितना देते हो? " (How much do you pay[bribe]?)
Pappu: " 100 -125  , दिन अच्छा रहा तो 70 तक में मान जाता है!" (Rs. 100-125 , 70 on a favorable day)

Welcome to the life of a street vendor of the capital city of India! An industrious man who gets up as early as 5:30 in the morning in an ice-cold Delhi to serve us with that morning tea.  A man striving to provide to his family the daily bread, leave aside education and health! But belied he stands, of all the promises made in the preamble of his Constitution.

Sounds like a typical scene in a typical Indian movie, ain't it? Only with a slight difference - here, the State is the mafia!


Tuesday, December 6, 2011

वो सनकी

वो सनकी ख्वाबों के बोझ  तले दब जाता है
अपने मरे शरीर के आगे घी के दिए जलाता है
गा कर , हंस कर अपना मातम मनाता है
आंसू भरे भगोने से गंगा जल पिलाता है
अपेक्षाओं की मार से लहू लुहान  देह को
समाज से मिली उलाहनाओं का कफ़न ओढाता है
"राम नाम झूठ है.."  इसके नारे लगता है
अकेला ही खुद को शमशान पहुंचता है
वो सनकी अपनी मौत का जश्न मनाता है
अपनी चिता को वो खुद ही आग लगता है!

Of Dreams

खंजर से छुभने लगे ख्वाब जब
आँखों का लहू तब  दिल में उतर गया
सीने में लगी ऐसे आग तब..
पानी भी उसमें जलने लग गया
जी करता है खुद को भी जला दूं उसमें
कर दूं भस्म, हो जाऊं सती
लहू का कतरा कतरा बहा दूं उसमें
बहने लगे मन की ठहरी नदी


Monday, December 5, 2011


Strangled in the fibers of life
I assess, I ponder
Of the losses and the gains
And of other things, I brood over.

I chuckle with delight
at the times that were good
Contrite at the others
I delve into a pensive mood.

As I dig deeper
I hear countless cries
Piercing my rooted soul
Watering my dessicated eyes.

Incarcerated for ages
In the ring of the rings,
The infinite cobweb
Imploring freedom from their cages.

In horror grim and furor
I shut my eyes and ear
And throw myself away
To the vicious cobweb, its prey.


Sunday, December 4, 2011

Of Mistakes - A narration [Part -2]

contd.. from Of Mistakes - A narration [Part -1]

The latter question is a no-brainier. Every human being needs a companion , who better than your wife who can gratify you physically apart from looking after your mental steadiness and household affairs. My  father did not think differently. I might want to accuse him of his self-oriented need of a bahu (daughter-in-law) who can look after him, and especially my mother during ill health or aging. Somewhere, it might even turn out to be true. But largely, it was not the case. I was sure.

It takes us to the first question then. Why did not I want to marry?  My father obviously thought that I had an affair with another woman and that is why I was refusing all the proposals. As furious and ashamed he would be if this were to be true, he still extended the offer to accept that woman as my wife. It made me extremely irate. "I don't have any love affairs! Why don't you understand?" , I would shout. My father would yell back at me - "Then why don't you want to marry?". It grew extremely uncomfortable, not just for us, but for the whole family.

In the three years of work before I got married, I lived alone in a city that was 1500 km from my hometown. In the name of company, I just had Raju. He would stay only for half an hour to cook my food. And I would be on my own again. I enjoyed isolation. During the weekends, I visited ISKON, a religious and spiritual group. The bhajans and mythological stories of Lord Krishna made my happy and their spiritual sermons made me confident. I met people who after earning coveted success and financial asset, abandoned everything and joined ISKON in search of spiritual happiness. My belief in a solitary life got strength with each visit.


Friday, December 2, 2011

Of Mistakes - A narration [Part -1]

I glared at her picture through the smoke rising from the joss sticks alongside.I still couldn't believe it. A part of me knew that she was gone, but I refused to agree. One by one, all my friends left.  And here I was, with my head sunk deep into despair. I wished I had the slightest of courage to face my family, especially my father.  It had been a couple of years since we talked emotively.
My marriage was not one of those moments that ought to be cherished, by me or by my family. In fact, it turned out to be an event to fulfill the obligations on our parts respectively I married because my father would be saddened to see me unmarried. He got me married because he felt obligated to do so by virtue of a good father. It was akin to a funeral given the lull and ire that accompanied the whole ritual.

I remember my elder brother's marriage. I had never seen my father that excited and my mother that energetic in the 27 years that I had known them. My grandmother oozed with exuberance, after all it was her eldest grandson's marriage. They had all come - tauji, mamaji, mausaji, fufaji etc. and their respective families.
It was more of a festival than a ritual! For them, not for me however. I was charged with so much responsibility and work that I hardly had the time to relax and rejoice the fact that my elder brother was getting married. My cousins would tease me as I rushed in and out - "Dewar ji! Get something for Bhabhi too!"  Indeed , it was a festival.

A year had passed since then. And it now knocked my door - the dread of marriage. Even before my elder brother's marriage, I had proclaimed aloud my averseness to it. And I reiterated it vehemently when my father first mentioned a marriage proposal to me. With each passing month he would come up with new proposals and new ways to persuade me, and it irked me more and more. Half a year had passed in this exercise and the temperature had started to rise on either sides. My father was getting tired of my obduracy and I hated his. Both of us thought the other to be stupid. There were questions that had to be answered -

Why did not I want to marry? and Why was it so important to my father that I get married?


Tuesday, November 29, 2011

एक और बुलबुला

बुलबुले में कैद ज़िन्दगी
उड़ चली
जिधर को हवा चली..
राह में मिला एक और बुलबुला
संग चल पड़े दोनों
ज़िन्दगी दोगुनी हुई..

Sunday, November 20, 2011


मैं भी तो बुलबुला हूँ..
जो उड़ना चाहे, ऊँचा और ऊँचा
इतना की कभी ज़मीन को छूने न पाए
इतना की पेड़ों से टकराने न पाए
अपनों से मुह मोड़ कर
इस ताने-बाने को छोड़ कर
घुटन भरे सालों से प्रिय
मुझे आज़ादी के कुछ क्षण
उनमें ही जी लूं
आत्म-रस पी लूं
कर लूं स्वयं से साक्षात्कार!

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Good Morning Sun

Saffron bright, He
Rises up from the laps of the ocean
"Good morning Sun!", I say
He chuckles, ambling on his way
His face glows
Like a kid, all smiles
He runs around you and me
Lighting, guiding, revealing
The beauty of his mother, Nature
In his youth, perpetual
He rests never ever!

Friday, November 18, 2011

Of lies

Dear Reader
I have a revelation. It is possible that you might never visit my blog again once you come to know about it. Many of you who know me personally might raise eyebrows as well. But I got to say what I got to say.

All this while I have been lying to you, and more importantly, to myself. Here is the truth - I don't enjoy writing. No, I do not. In fact, I fake my writings. Most of the times, I am not exactly in the moment and the world I am writing about. As I start penning down my thoughts, my mind wanders, and very often  I lose the sensation before I can complete. Rest of the words, therefore, are mere fillers.

Often, I "innovate" to make my poetry rhyming. I try to find "nicer" synonyms at times as well. There is nothing wrong in using appropriate words, but like many other writers(I am sure many writers do that), I try to fit in the lesser used words in my writings.

I am a person who likes to see your comments and Likes. I may argue that your feedback motivates me to write further and write better; it definitely  does. Call me a narcissist, and I am one without doubt. It is not that I always write for your comments. In fact, most of the times I am propelled by an instinct, an urge to write. But as I mentioned earlier, that urge is very difficult to sustain.

I wish I could be completely truthful  with you and my writings. And I  beseech you for your blessings that my want be converted into genuine feelings, of this world or utopian but not fake, so that you appreciate my writings for what they actually are. More than that, bless me so that I can appreciate them too.

Yours truly

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Of Burdens

You see the stains on my shirt?
Mother(Momma), I am bleeding
Hurt by my own desires(aspirations)
Don't know where's this leading
See the scars on my face
Mother, I am shattered
Sick and tired of this race
Tell me, I am pleading
Why do we have to fight this war?
Why is it going on and on?
Why do we have to live this life?
Can't we just not be born?
Look, my breaths abandon me
I want to tell you Mother
I fought the war
Fought it real hard
And time shall tell
That your son was brave
But tell me Mother
before my conscience escapes
Why do we have to fight this war
Why is it going on and on?
Why do we have to live this life?
Can't we just not be born?

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Of Simplicity

It is the month of November with its cozy coldness; The sun wakes up later and milder than always as if not wanting to come out of its slumber. I stand at a small khatal (small dairy farm like set up in Patna) waiting to get some milk. My family prefers fresh milk over the packaged one. I see a calf, beautiful light brown with a white mark on its forehead that gives it an angel like look. As I touch it with adoration and it moves its tail sideways, this thought occurred to me - The most beautiful things in this world are simple.

Yes, simplicity is the hall mark of beauty. You may doubt it , even laugh at it, but you will have to believe it.
Simplicity lies in the redness of the morning sun. See the  droplets of dew playfully resting in the bosom of green. Nature boasts of it aloud. What can be more blissful than the redolence of jasmine rushing through your nerves along with the soulful breeze? Or sound of a river gushing through the rocks?

Simplicity dwells in truth. You tell one lie and there piles up a heap of lies one over another.  It lies in the courage needed to relinquish the artificial glamor; in the hymns of the saints.

It rests in Wordsworth's 'Daffodils' and in Tagore's 'Lotus'. Simpleness embraced Kabir and Tulsi, Gandhi and Kalam devoid of the falseness of caste, gender, race and nationality. It belongs to the Saptasura (seven notes of music).
Simplicity is found in the innocent cries of the new born baby as it moves its tiny fingers and soft feet. It is depicted in the numerous stories of the elderly. Simplicity creates life, nay, I say, Simplicity is life itself.

Still doubt? See your mother!

Monday, September 12, 2011

Of Wind

Wind blows

Through the window

Through the doors

It flows

Into the wild, green

Into the lands unseen

It glows

Lighting ablaze a wildfire

Jeering at nature's cruel satire

It throws

The mighty banyans aground

Like pebbles swirling around

Composing its own prose

Raising waves in the oceans along

Like a pianist, in her rhythmical song

It flows

Into a breeze peaceful and lull

Inspiring the cheerful and dull

Wind blows!

Sunday, August 14, 2011

भगत की व्यथा..

कल तुम मेरे नाम के नारे लगाओगे,

ढोल-नताशे संग..

खूब जमाओगे रंग

आज़ादी के गीत गाओगे

आनंद में तिरंगा लहराओगे

पर क्या फायदा , जब..

परसों मुझे भूल जाओगे...

ग्लानी होती है , दुःख भी होता है..

तुमको वो दिया जिसकी तुम्हें क़द्र नहीं

शायद वो भी, जिसपे तुम्हें फक्र नहीं...

आंसू तो सूख जायेंगे

पर उनके दाग किधर जायेंगे?

पूछते हैं मुझसे वो सब..

भगत, कैसा है मेरा देश अब?

अस्सी वर्ष हो गए झूठ कहते हुए..

"अब सब ठीक है,, चैन लो यारों"

" उन्नति है, समाज में सुख है, मेरे प्यारों "

वो सुनते हैं, मुस्कुराते हैं

दाग देखकर, पर दिल में घबराते हैं

मैंने तो हँसते हँसते सूली को गले लगाया

तुमसे आज़ादी का वादा किया था, सो निभाया

पर तुम भूल गए अपना वो वचन

"सर्वरूपेण समानता का बनायेंगे वतन"

ऊपर बैठा वो आताताइयों का गुट

हँसता है मुझपे

"भगत, यू फूल!"

दिल में चुभता है एक शूल

जी करता है तुमसे अपनी शहादत वापस मांग लूं

तुम्हारी तरह मैं भी , नपुंसकता का चोगा टांग लूं

क्यूंकि तुंम ६४वी बार फिर वोही दोहराओगे

अगले दिन फिर अपना कहा ही भूल जाओगे..

Saturday, August 6, 2011


व्यर्थ में ढूँढता हूँ अर्थ..
सौंदर्य में, संगीत में
स्नेह में और प्रीत में
भूमि में, आकाश में
सूर्य के प्रकाश में
...जन्म में विदित है जो
मृत्यु में जो है छुपा
क्षण - क्षण में जो बदल रहा
कण - कण जिसे निगल रहा
मस्तिष्क के वो है परे
किन्तु मन में बस रहा

हाँ, व्यर्थ मैं ढूँढता हूँ अर्थ!

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Of Green and Purple

It fell from the trees
Floating, rambling
On the roads unseen
Out of fervor
and not insipidity
For it owns the brio of Green
Like you, the sons
Of that divine cosmos
spirited and serene.

The breeze, it touched me
Embraced me, engulfed me
With the fragrance of the purple flower
And with that pervaded
Her majesty, her soul
"You are mysterious, O nature!"
Rushed through my veins
Her boldness of red
And humility of blue,
Inspiring, arousing
A life brand new!

Friday, May 27, 2011

Of Stars

It sets itself on fire
Night and day
It burns
Ceases not
the incessant immolation
For you to see the light
Guiding with a glitter of hope
To inspire
To desire
Of Stars, and their radiant love!

Thursday, May 26, 2011


कोयला जलता है
तो राख छोड़ जाता है
दिल जलता है
तो जिन्दा लाश छोड़ जाता है

To Almighty and Us

Lets shed tears together
Lets cleanse our soul
Lets pledge on this wonderful day
Lets give love to all!

Lets join hands together
Lets look at the sky
Lets spread our wings wide
Lets all take a fly!

Lets open our arms together
Lets embrace the world
Lets chant to this harmonious tune
Lets us dance and swirl!

Lets open our eyes to Him
Lets say no to fear
Lets open our hearts to Her
Lets go near!

हिंद के निवासी

हाँ, भाषा अनेक हैं..
धर्म भी अनेक हैं
जाति में बंटे हैं हम
सुन लो फिर भी एक हैं!

विश्वास भाव मन में है
सहिष्णुता जीवन में है
एकरूप राष्ट्रप्रेम
अटूट सबके प्रण में है!|

प्रत्यंचा ये अटूट है
सदियों से जो है बंधी
डोर भाई चारे की
टूट ये सकती नहीं

साम दान भेद दंड..
जितना जोर है लगा
'पिनाक' ये महाप्रचंड
रावण से कब ये हिल सका|

हिंद के निवासी हम..
गर्व है , अभिमान है
न थे मिटे कभी, न
मिट सकेंगे , तू ये जान ले!

Of Life Again

Life is but a wave
Of troughs, of crests
And a seesaw
Of worsts, of the bests!

Repent not, rejoice!
For it is a perennial strife
Live in the moment, hence
Celebrating the mysteries of life

Of Eyes, Of Life

Eyes tell myriad stories
Sweet, sometimes sad
Of the high and low
Times they had

Eyes sing ballads
Of glory, of joy
Dancing on the tunes
With mischief and coy

Eyes do magic
In a twinkle, in a blink
And Mesmeric illusions
Of which words dare to think!

Eyes cry rivers
Tears of gloom and gay
Invigorating the ocean of emotions
Forever, night and day

Eyes, they shine bright
With inspiration and hope
But your eyes speak to me
Of tenderness , of love!

Dedicated to the woman with the bewitching eyes....

Friday, April 1, 2011


करते नित जिसका स्नेह-वंदन
वो माता कर रही करुण-क्रंदन
रखने को वो अपना मान
कर रही तुम्हारा आह्वान

हे देश के नौनिहाल! करो
पुनर्स्मरण अपना वो कल
संपूर्ण विश्व जिस हेतु करे
भारत माता का चरण -वरण

वेदों से निःसृत ज्ञान की
ये भूमि है श्री राम की
जगद्गुरु यही आर्यावर्त
विश्व ज्योति का संवाहक

सब धर्मो का यही शरणालय
इसमें ही संस्कृतियों का विलय
ये स्थान कला-विज्ञानं का
संरक्षक है सम्मान का|

फिर आज उसी माता की आँखें
आंसू खून के रोती हैं
सब देख जान के भी पुत्रों के
ह्रदय द्रवित नहीं होते हैं..

ये कैसा हुआ वातावरण
अट्टहास कर रहा दु:शाशन
द्रौपती के भाग फिर फूट रहे
अधर्मी मर्यादा लूट रहे

कलयुगी रावण ये असंख्यमुखी
हो रही प्रजा फिर आज दुखी
कर रहे लोग फिर त्राहिमाम
कहाँ हो तुम लक्ष्मण ओ राम?

धर्म हो रहा छिन्न-भिन्न
लाज रो रही खिन्न खिन्न
पांडवों! तुम कब तक सोवोगे
उठ्ठो, वरना कल रोवोगे

हे राणा के वंशज तुम
क्या भूल गए अपना वो कल?
सुशुप्त वीर बजरंगी तुम
याद करो वो साहस- बल

हे भारत के शूरवीर!
रख लिया तुमने अब बहुत धीर
डंके रणभेरी बजवा दो
सेना सारी को सजवा दो

अधर्म विजयी न हो जाए
माता लज्जित न होने पाए
युक्ति-शक्ति -साहस भर लो
हे देवपुत्र! यह प्रण कर लो

"देवभूमि इस भारत को
देना है न्यायोचित स्थान
लौटना है मातृभूमि को
यश, गौरव और स्वाभिमान!"