Few words...

Eyes swept down a road this evening, a bit farther than usual. I could see the canopy, of clouds, trees and people, gliding, swaying and moving towards the past. It seemed as if it were inviting me, the sun a happier shade of orange at that end, as if the past were full, of only of the joys that I remembered, and the forgotten never existed.  The wind too liked that direction, for it carried my thoughts there. It seemed perfect, that past of mine, - a perfect story woven by an author of skill, a tussle between tragic interludes and merrier moments. A friendly tug pulled me back to the present, and reminded me that my past in all of it's glory, was nothing but a memory that I have, and that road too, would take me somewhere in the future, like all roads always do.

The mind categorizes... it sorts... things, events, emotions... people. The short, the tall, the slim , the plump.. it puts everything and everyone..  on shelves.. different shelves.. The mind categorizes... it segregates the friends.. identifies the foes... based on transactions it terms as love and hate.. It is a universe of oxymoron.. it judges those who judge.. and hates those who have malice with fury.. The mind categorizes... it also loves those whom it likes... switches off the rationale.. always conscious of it,  yet not relenting to it in the case of a certain few And yet.. The mind categorizes.

इस फाल्गुन मास में, उन अदृश्य उँगलियों की गुद-गुदाहट है, जो यादों को भी टटोलती है, लबों को भी।  मैं आज में चलता हूँ, और कल में खो जाता हूँ , आज में सोकर मैं कल में जग जाता हूँ।  और मुझे दिखता हूँ मैं, दुनिया से अपिरिचित हूँ थोड़ा-सा मैं , स्वयं में ही व्यस्त हूँ थोड़ा-सा मैं।   पलटकर भी मैं स्वयं को ही खड़ा पाता हूँ, मैं जो कि  अब उसी अनजान दुनिया का हिस्सा हूँ, मैं जो कि  थोडा सा खोया हुआ किस्सा हूँ।  फिर मैं खुद का हाथ थामकर, दिखलाता हूँ खुद को ये दुनिया खुद की नज़रों से, थोड़ी बातें फिर से सीखता हूँ, जानता हूँ।  तभी किसी आवाज़ से आखें खुलती हैं, और मैं सच्चाइयों से घिर जाता हूँ, बीते हुए कल के कल को मैं आज पाता हूँ। 

रात के खामोश अंधेरों में भी, सितारों से रौशन आसमान हुआ करते थे.…  भीड़ों कि भाग दौड़ के बीच खड़े, फूलों से सजे गुलिस्तां हुआ करते थे…  धड़कनो के बीच छुपे सन्नाटे को, सुनकर समझने वाले मेज़बान हुआ कर थे…  कभी सच्चाई तो कभी पागलपन से, मन को बहलाने वाले कुछ दोस्त हुआ करते थे… 

If I could sit up, with my favorite book, by that dense, shady tree a leisure, mea life, thou art be. If I could hum that favorite tune, as the river flows in rythm, with birds to hum along and birds to see, a pleasure, mea life, thou art be. If I could love, with bounds untested and unknown, without a care and just be free, a romance, mea life, thou art be. If I could travel, absorbing the magnificence, of high mountains and many-a-deep sea, a journey, mea life, thou art be. If I could taste, the different sugars and distinct spices, that sweeten and sting, much like thee, a delicacy, mea life, thou art be. If I could live, with tears more of joy than of sorrow, with smiles not attached to the fulfillment of a plea, mea life, well live, thou art be.

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...