किस की आवाज़ सुनाई देती है? वो जो दूर है या वो जो पास है? जिस की कौड़ी या मधुर आवाज़ है? जो आवाज़ सुनाई ना दे, क्या वो भी आवाज़ है? हर वक़्त इक शोर है, लोगों की बातें धीमी या चिल्लाते गाड़ी स्कूटर ट्र्क का एंजिन, कुत्ते का भौंकना और जो कन्स्ट्रक्षन का नीरस साज़ है क्या जो सुनने में ना आए, वो भी आवाज़ है? पड़ोसी के घर में मार पीट, अपने दिल का धड़कना क्या सुनाई देता है इस पेन्सिल का काग़ज़ से लिपटना चीक, छींक, पाँच बार मस्जिद में जो नामाज़ है पर सिर्फ़ जो सुनाई दे, क्या वो ही आवाज़ है? और अगर मन में सुनो तो? काम पर टाइप करते हुए दिल में गुनगुनाना फिल्मों में बिना कहें कुछ कह जाना, जो आँखों से बात है क्या चुप्पी भी आवाज़ है? जो वो तुम कहते रहे कानों में वो जो मैने अनसुना कर दिया, मौज में मनमानी से या जो कभी कहा था पहाड़ो से, एक हवा में बहता राज़ है जो अनसुनी रह जाए, क्या वो भी आवाज़ है? बोलो किस की आवाज़ सुनाई देती है? वो जो दूर है या वो जो पास है? जिसकी कौड़ी या मधुर आवाज़ है? जो आवाज़ सुनाई ना दे, क्या वो भी आवाज़ है?
Posts
On Unambitiousness Firstly, this post has a lot to do with meanings typically assigned to the words mentioned here. As an example, 'love' has many meanings but often when we talk of it (unfortunately) we seem to be only speaking of romantic love. Aise hee, ambition for me has had many meanings over a period of time. In school it meant getting good marks (or at least trying to) and to get into a good college. During graduation the purpose was to learn lots of things but this got turned into 'ambition', I guess, when there was a desire to get awards of certificates for things. I don't know when, but 'ambition' in terms of work was this desire to be extremely passionate about work ("find what you love and let it kill you"), to work day and night, and to be recognized for the efforts I'll be making. In these terms and according to these definitions, I am not an ambitious person. I do not see myself as a leader or as someone who is at the forefront...
a tribute to ordinary there is nothing about the circles of a fan, the flight of leaves, or in a bird's wings nothing in hairy thighs, a sweaty spine, thirsty lips, and underarms in the bumps of a road, in roti or ghee, or me that screams of extraordinary the only thing that screams are my insides, trying to deal with the sheer simplicity of who i am funny, but not too little not too much occasionally melancholic occasionally kind occasionally nothing ambitious and lazy, lazy and driven where do we drive to? look at my face, i say to the mirror so ordinary, i sigh worried about such surface things, this ordinary mind occasionally a flicker of fire occasionally a snowflake occasionally a dew but more often than not, just an ordinary you as ordinary as toothpaste on a toothbrush in my mouth once in the morning once at night on Monday, another face in the crowd it could melt me away another one at work, am i a cog in the wheel? am i enough? my silly typing speed...
An Ode to Sadness Where does all this sadness go? First I thought it passes on to someone who needs it more; Then I tried forwarding it, like a Diwali gift - unopened and unneeded But true to the nature of an unwanted gift, it found home in me again; For a while, I wondered if it can be converted to laughter By some scientific formula that was yet to be discovered; Is there a recipe to turn it to minimum biodegradable waste The kind I can use to make better things? Or will it run and and break dance inside my veins Till I turn to stone and crumble to the ground? Ya phir shareer ki tarah ye dukh bhi bhasm ho jaega Poof, and it vanishes to nothingness? Where, dear sadness, do you go? Tell me, for this fool does not know. You came to me after so long, like a romance At first I thought we shall ball dance So I entwined my fingers in yours, and smelt the musk of your chest Let you grab me by the waist and put on a slow song We moved slowly all nig...
My heart skips a beat and then stops at the sight of you and just as quickly Goes back to beating normally again My body does not know what to feel about you Neither does my brain Or my heart Kyunki sometimes you are walking magic with sunshine in your eyes You warm me up and give me light And some days you are just too far, a fainting star even though bright Kya kare ye dil, tum kuch bolo toh sahi Aur bina lafzon ke yakeen mujhe hoga nahi Do I get to hold you when we see each other And can our lips some day meet? Can I do to you what spring does with the cherry trees? Bolo tum, You potential partner My Schrödinger's lover
From the Waiting Room: The Void of Romance
For the past two years, Fatima has been through a lot – she had nights of sleeplessness, couldn’t properly or think clearly, and felt restless. It is interesting that while the therapist may, after further questions, diagnose her with an anxiety disorder, our dear old Bollywood love songs may call these the “symptoms” of a blossoming romance. Aisa lagta hai jo na hua hone ko hai Aisa lagta hai hosh mera khone ko hai Warna dil kyun dhadakta, saansein kyun rukti Neendein meri kyun ud jaati? Fatima knows it is not a new romance, she has been in pain for a while. I ask her about her story – how she started feeling this way, what helped, and what did not. Despite all my best efforts to let the conversation flow, I have a set format for these conversations (some would call this history taking). I wonder what we would talk about if I just let the conversation be. She traces back to her life, an unconventional woman coming from an orthodox family where she would...
National poetry month Day 11 – why humans speak (in 50 words) Because all noises and any sounds are better than none the quiet would force us to listen to the beating of our broken hearts and to hear the screams hidden in silences that are so much easier to ignore and because words can, often, help hide what we really want to say.