Few words...

इन बादलों की पनघट ने छींट चंद बरसाए तो थे आखों पे थिरक कर वो आंसू बन आये तो थे । हंसी को तलाशते ये आसूं बेह रहे  मदहोश-से हैं ज़िन्दगी को छोड़ ज़िन्दगी की आस में मेरे ख्वाब कुछ खामोश-से हैं । चलता हूँ जिस रास्ते पर हर पहर उस पर आज भी खडा हूँ जाना कहाँ है ये पता है फिर भी ज़िद पर अड़ा हूँ । ज़िद है तो हवाओं का रुख बदलकर बादबानों में जोश भरने की जिद है तो बुलंद उम्मीदों से अपने ख्वाबों में शब्द भरने की । ये ख्वाब ही तो हैं जो खामोशियों को ललकारते  हैं ये ख्वाब  ही तो हैं जो कल को पुकारते  हैं । उस कल के रास्ते पर कई रंजिशों से जूझना अभी बाकी है उन खामोश ख्वाबों से कई सवाल पूछने अभी बाकी हैं

It is time again to work those creative juices in my head. However, this is not something I need to imagine. This one is about re-stating a fact; this one is about noticing one of the most important ingredients of my life. This one is about the PEOPLE around me.  From the time I was born, to this very second, I have been surrounded by people - either in person, or in my thoughts. People have loved me, people have inspired me, motivated me; people might have even loathed me, hated me and I have reciprocated these feelings to the best of my abilities. It all dawns to one simple realization - out of all my emotions (positive or negative), all my memories (good or bad) - there are none that I associate with myself. They all go back and link themselves to the people who have been a part of my life. Come to think of it, I never see myself in any of my memories or dreams, all I see are the people. They have been and continue to be the driving forces behind the story of my lif...

I f I ask you to find one thing, just ONE, which we as the homo-sapiens race have enjoyed, do enjoy and will continue enjoying till eternity, what will it be? Something that has evolved with times as we have, is unique and can only be created, used and understood by us?  I was pondering over this very thought, whilst keeping my novel aside and preparing to sleep. Just before I turned my light switch off, it struck me. I took a good look back at my novel. The answer comfortably sat there on the table - Stories ! Yes, we enjoy stories, all of us, albeit in different forms and formats - some enjoy reading them, others enjoy watching them as movies and there are still others who would turn an ear to any piece of gossip, which is again - yes, a story. So I wondered, why is it so? What is so special about stories? Why are we so interested in them? This time however, I did not have to look around much. This time, I just stared at the mirror. I was looking at myself - the one pers...

आगे बढ़ते बढ़ते , कुछ पीछे छोड़ आये, ये कहाँ आ गए हम? पन्नों  को पलटते, जो कहानी भूल आए, ये कहाँ आ गए हम? रास्तों से लड़ते, जो मंजिल खो आए, ये कहाँ आ गए हम? दूसरों से मिलते हुए, खुद का हाथ छोड़ आये. ये कहाँ आ गए हम?

कुछ रंगीन धागों से बुनी एक दुनिया मेरी भी है कुछ हसीं यादों से जुडी  एक दुनिया मेरी भी है कुछ अनदेखे पलों के इंतज़ार में एक दुनिया मेरी भी है कुछ लम्हों के बाज़ार में  एक दुनिया मेरी भी है कुछ सच्चाइयों से जूझती  एक दुनिया मेरी भी है कुछ सवालों को पूछती  एक दुनिया मेरी भी है कुछ लोगों से जुड़ी  एक दुनिया मेरी भी है कुछ राहों से मुड़ी एक दुनिया मेरी भी है कुछ अंधेरों के बोझ में  एक दुनिया मेरी भी है कुछ उजालों की खोज में  एक दुनिया मेरी भी है

ज़िन्दगी की दौड़ में भागते रहो तो क्यों? ये भला कि वो बुरा सोचते रहो तो क्यों? इस असीम दौड़ की रेखा तुम्हे क्या दिख रही? या तुम्हारे माथे पर चिंता है कुछ लिख रही? क्या दो पल रुकने से दिल सेहेम सा जाता है? या की खुद से मिलने से  मन तुम्हारा घबराता है? दिल की सुनो तो कुछ सिक्के  तुम भी खो जाओगे मन की व्यथा में झाँक कर  भी भला क्या पाओगे? ये दौड़ है कुछ अजीब सी इसमें जीत भी कुछ गरीब सी कुछ पाने पर भी बहुत पीछे छूट जाएगा घडा है बना तो मिट्टी का आखिर ये टूट जाएगा  ज़िन्दगी की दौड़ में भागते रहो तो क्यों? ये भला कि वो बुरा सोचते रहो तो क्यों?

Mrs. Lauren White or Laura as she was called a few days back, before her marriage, sat down with her cup of coffee in a chair of an almost full waiting room in Terminal 2 of the JFK Airport. She liked to be called Laura, just Laura, because somehow the name ‘Lauren White’ that too prefixed with a ‘Mrs.’ made her feel old already, even at twenty-four. Travelling was another task that made her feel so and unnecessary delays, like the one in her flight today, even got her into that characteristic zone of irritation. But of course, she was in one of the busiest airports of the world and such delays should not make a responsible married woman like her irate. So, to ignore that undesired feeling, she picked up a newspaper. ‘THE WAR IS OFFICIALLY OVER’ was the first headline on the front page. ‘Who in the world cares for these political stunts?’, she thought to herself as she flipped over the page to read her favorite article on the latest fashion trend. She had just started to r...