Composed on Nov 07, 1992
------------------------------
मुझे घने अँधेरे में डर लगता है
इसलिये नहीं कि
इस अँधेरे में मुझे कुछ दिखायी नहीं देता
बल्कि इसलिये कि इस अँधेरे में वे देख सकते हैं ।
मैं जानता हूँ कि
जैसे जैसे इस अँधेरे की उम्र खिंचती जायेगी
उनकी आंखें और अभ्यस्त होती जाएँगी
उनके निशाने और अचूक होते जायेंगे ।
तब तो उस फकीर की बात किसी ने नहीं मानी
उसने कहा था कि
सूरज डूब जाये - जो कि डूबेगा ही - तो
ज़रा भी शोक न करना ।
बस अपने घर के दीयों को
जतन से जलाए रखना
उन्हें बुझने मत देना
उन्हें अंधा बनाने को एक दिया भी काफी है ।
और अब तुम सब बैठ कर रो रहे हो
यह अँधेरा तो पहले ही इतना भयावह है
पर मुझे तो दुःख इस बात का है कि
मुझे भी उस फकीर की बात सही लगी थी ।
और मैंने सोचा भी था
दिया जलाने के लिए
इंतजाम करने को
पर न जाने क्यों मैंने कुछ नहीं किया ।
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
She
Composed on Jun 14, 1991
-----------------------------
वह आज चुप बैठी रही
सुबह से - जब उसने दूध गर्म करने को चढाया
दूध गर्म हुआ, उफान आया, और फैल गया
वह न उठी ।
छोटा बच्चा उसके पास आया - वह भूखा था
वह न उठी ।
पति ने खाना माँगा
वह खड़ा रहा - कुछ देर - और फिर चला गया ।
बच्चा भूख से कुछ देर रोया - और फिर सो गया
सूरज धीरे धीरे आसमान में चढ़ा और ढल गया ।
पर वह यूं ही बैठी रही; चुपचाप ।
वह सोचती रही न जाने क्या
कहीँ मानो उलझ गयी ।
घर भी चुप है
दीवारें सहमी सी हैं ।
शाम हो गयी है ।
बच्चा जग गया है और माँ के पास बैठा है
पति लौट आया है
वह भी पास ही बैठा है ।
सब इंतज़ार में हैं
वह उठे और चूल्हा फिर जले
कि फिर घर बोल उठे ।
-----------------------------
वह आज चुप बैठी रही
सुबह से - जब उसने दूध गर्म करने को चढाया
दूध गर्म हुआ, उफान आया, और फैल गया
वह न उठी ।
छोटा बच्चा उसके पास आया - वह भूखा था
वह न उठी ।
पति ने खाना माँगा
वह खड़ा रहा - कुछ देर - और फिर चला गया ।
बच्चा भूख से कुछ देर रोया - और फिर सो गया
सूरज धीरे धीरे आसमान में चढ़ा और ढल गया ।
पर वह यूं ही बैठी रही; चुपचाप ।
वह सोचती रही न जाने क्या
कहीँ मानो उलझ गयी ।
घर भी चुप है
दीवारें सहमी सी हैं ।
शाम हो गयी है ।
बच्चा जग गया है और माँ के पास बैठा है
पति लौट आया है
वह भी पास ही बैठा है ।
सब इंतज़ार में हैं
वह उठे और चूल्हा फिर जले
कि फिर घर बोल उठे ।
Friday, May 11, 2007
Moments
Composed on Oct 22, 1994
----------------------------
अचानक
याद आ गए
बिछुड़े हुए पल
और ठहर गया मैं
राह चलते चलते।
टटोलने लगा
अपनी
पुरानी गठरी।
चारों तरफ
हो गए
इकट्ठे लोग
और पूछने लगे
कि -
यह क्या है ?
वह क्या है ?
पर मैं कुछ न बोला
और रख दीं
सारी चीजें
झाड़ पोंछ कर
वापस।
आख़िर
मुझे
आगे भी तो जाना है |
----------------------------
अचानक
याद आ गए
बिछुड़े हुए पल
और ठहर गया मैं
राह चलते चलते।
टटोलने लगा
अपनी
पुरानी गठरी।
चारों तरफ
हो गए
इकट्ठे लोग
और पूछने लगे
कि -
यह क्या है ?
वह क्या है ?
पर मैं कुछ न बोला
और रख दीं
सारी चीजें
झाड़ पोंछ कर
वापस।
आख़िर
मुझे
आगे भी तो जाना है |
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Mother
Composed on Apr 29, 1994
----------------------------
माँ
दुनिया के इस कोने में
घर से बहुत दूर
मैं
अकेला हूँ
और
मुझे कुछ
कहना
है
जो
कोई नहीं सुनता।
थके हारे कदम लेकर
मैं
ढूंढता फिरता
थोड़ा सा सुकून
पर मुझे कहीँ भी
चैन नहीं आता
और मैं भटकता रहता
ले गीली आंखें।
तुम्हारे तवे की
वह गोल गोल रोटी
और वह डांट
याद आती है
हर रोज
और उठ जाता मैं
आधे पेट ही
देखता रहता
आसमान को।।
----------------------------
माँ
दुनिया के इस कोने में
घर से बहुत दूर
मैं
अकेला हूँ
और
मुझे कुछ
कहना
है
जो
कोई नहीं सुनता।
थके हारे कदम लेकर
मैं
ढूंढता फिरता
थोड़ा सा सुकून
पर मुझे कहीँ भी
चैन नहीं आता
और मैं भटकता रहता
ले गीली आंखें।
तुम्हारे तवे की
वह गोल गोल रोटी
और वह डांट
याद आती है
हर रोज
और उठ जाता मैं
आधे पेट ही
देखता रहता
आसमान को।।
River
Composed on Jun 20, 1990
----------------------------
जाओ छोड़ो भी
अब न सुनुँगा मैं कुछ भी
क्यों पिछली बारिश में तुमने
मेरी सीमाओं को तोड़ा था ...?
चंचल हो पर इसका यह मतलब तो नहीं
कि छोड़ दो तुम तटिनी कहलाना
मेघों को धरा से ही देखो
इस बार फिर भटक ना जाना।
ये बारिश है ही ऎसी
रोक न पाती मैं खुद को
जीवन का रस सुमधुर
हे तट मैं क्या करूं!
मैं नदी - प्यास बुझाती
पर फिर भी मैं जल की प्यासी
मत रूठो; लौट तो आती हूँ
इस बार दूर न जाऊंगी ॥
----------------------------
जाओ छोड़ो भी
अब न सुनुँगा मैं कुछ भी
क्यों पिछली बारिश में तुमने
मेरी सीमाओं को तोड़ा था ...?
चंचल हो पर इसका यह मतलब तो नहीं
कि छोड़ दो तुम तटिनी कहलाना
मेघों को धरा से ही देखो
इस बार फिर भटक ना जाना।
ये बारिश है ही ऎसी
रोक न पाती मैं खुद को
जीवन का रस सुमधुर
हे तट मैं क्या करूं!
मैं नदी - प्यास बुझाती
पर फिर भी मैं जल की प्यासी
मत रूठो; लौट तो आती हूँ
इस बार दूर न जाऊंगी ॥
Love
Love does not stop. Love does not agree. It does not listen, it only says "I love you." And then it glows in the eyes and flows from the lips...let the love spread!
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Silence
Is silence a fact or a feeling (?)...is it about acoustics or is it about aural capabilities...?
On a deeper thought...silence is all about cessation of vibrations...you could choose which one...!
In Sanskrit (संस्कृत) there is a word - 'spandana' (स्पन्दन) - which stands for quivering, palpitation, etc. and also connotes the beginning of life or the activity of the mind.
योगश्चित्तवृत्तिनिरोधः (yogah chitta vrtti nirodhah) - so says Patanjali in his Yoga Sutras. Vrtti connotes flutuations or movements. Chitta connotes mind, intellect, feeling of self - all inclusive. Yogah connotes union of the limited self with the supreme self - state of supreme bliss, peace, silence. Nirodhah connotes cessation.
So here lies the deeper meaning of silence and a hint to achieving the same by cessation of fluctuations, vibrations...
On a deeper thought...silence is all about cessation of vibrations...you could choose which one...!
In Sanskrit (संस्कृत) there is a word - 'spandana' (स्पन्दन) - which stands for quivering, palpitation, etc. and also connotes the beginning of life or the activity of the mind.
योगश्चित्तवृत्तिनिरोधः (yogah chitta vrtti nirodhah) - so says Patanjali in his Yoga Sutras. Vrtti connotes flutuations or movements. Chitta connotes mind, intellect, feeling of self - all inclusive. Yogah connotes union of the limited self with the supreme self - state of supreme bliss, peace, silence. Nirodhah connotes cessation.
So here lies the deeper meaning of silence and a hint to achieving the same by cessation of fluctuations, vibrations...
Sunday, March 11, 2007
A Summer in India
There in the north of India flow two very sacred rivers named Ganga and Yamuna. At the confluence of these two ancient yet alive rivers, lies a city called Allahabad. You could call Allahabad a deep-sea pearl in the waters of the civilization called India. Very beautiful, very rich.
Here, in this city of Allahabad lived a young girl named Prachi। She was beautiful and she was just eighteen with a bustling desire to live. Prachi’s father was a well known physician. Her mother was a homemaker - a bundle of joy and love on the move.
Prachi had a brown complexion, well chiseled face and she carried a thoughtful smile. Her father’s insistence on maintaining good health made her grow into a toned up figure.
This was the month of May. She had just got her twelfth standard results and she was looking forward to enjoying her summers. She had appeared for medicine entrance exams, and if it all went as planned; she would start her studies in a medical college in July this year, though, she was not averse to taking a year off with her aunt in Shimla and learn dance from her.
The sky looked red…a summer storm might be approaching. The months of May and June in Allahabad had this unique feature of north Indian summers. Prachi was sitting in the first-floor balcony of her house. There was a palm tree right in front and the boundary walls of her house had shrubs lined up along them. The summer storm subsided after a while. The temperatures came down and there was a small shower. The earth smelled sweet. Prachi felt like humming – “बरसो रे बादल ... जरा झूम के बरसो ! (Baraso re baadal…jara zhoom ke baraso! - O clouds bring rains…O clouds, dance and rain!).”
The evening became pleasant. For a while Prachi thought what to do. She felt like going to the Yamuna bank. At Yamuna bank there was an old Ghaat (wide stairs leading to the river waters) named Saraswati Ghaat. There was a banyan tree, an old Hanuman (from the story of Lord Rama) temple. Morning and evening prayers were held without fail. Adjacent to Ghaat was an old fort – The Akbar Fort. A wall of the fort had collapsed and leaned over the river waters. It was fun to be sitting at the edge of the leaning wall. Prachi picked her purse and called up her friend Uma to give her company. Uma agreed readily. The girls rode their scooter to the river bank. The breeze passed by…it was feeling great. There was the roar of an aircraft flying over in the skies. The life offered a flight of imagination and the two young hearts were keen to dream...
Uma wanted to sit close to the edge of the leaning wall, however, Prachi desisted from doing so. The waters were deep right below the wall. It was silence spread all aound with the temple bells ringing once in a while. Sun was on the setting course. Uma asked, "Would you come to Lucknow this weekend?" Prachi said, "No."
...To Continue
Here, in this city of Allahabad lived a young girl named Prachi। She was beautiful and she was just eighteen with a bustling desire to live. Prachi’s father was a well known physician. Her mother was a homemaker - a bundle of joy and love on the move.
Prachi had a brown complexion, well chiseled face and she carried a thoughtful smile. Her father’s insistence on maintaining good health made her grow into a toned up figure.
This was the month of May. She had just got her twelfth standard results and she was looking forward to enjoying her summers. She had appeared for medicine entrance exams, and if it all went as planned; she would start her studies in a medical college in July this year, though, she was not averse to taking a year off with her aunt in Shimla and learn dance from her.
The sky looked red…a summer storm might be approaching. The months of May and June in Allahabad had this unique feature of north Indian summers. Prachi was sitting in the first-floor balcony of her house. There was a palm tree right in front and the boundary walls of her house had shrubs lined up along them. The summer storm subsided after a while. The temperatures came down and there was a small shower. The earth smelled sweet. Prachi felt like humming – “बरसो रे बादल ... जरा झूम के बरसो ! (Baraso re baadal…jara zhoom ke baraso! - O clouds bring rains…O clouds, dance and rain!).”
The evening became pleasant. For a while Prachi thought what to do. She felt like going to the Yamuna bank. At Yamuna bank there was an old Ghaat (wide stairs leading to the river waters) named Saraswati Ghaat. There was a banyan tree, an old Hanuman (from the story of Lord Rama) temple. Morning and evening prayers were held without fail. Adjacent to Ghaat was an old fort – The Akbar Fort. A wall of the fort had collapsed and leaned over the river waters. It was fun to be sitting at the edge of the leaning wall. Prachi picked her purse and called up her friend Uma to give her company. Uma agreed readily. The girls rode their scooter to the river bank. The breeze passed by…it was feeling great. There was the roar of an aircraft flying over in the skies. The life offered a flight of imagination and the two young hearts were keen to dream...
Uma wanted to sit close to the edge of the leaning wall, however, Prachi desisted from doing so. The waters were deep right below the wall. It was silence spread all aound with the temple bells ringing once in a while. Sun was on the setting course. Uma asked, "Would you come to Lucknow this weekend?" Prachi said, "No."
...To Continue
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Kaala Chakra - The Wheel of Time
dinayaaminyau saayam praatah
....shishiravasantau punaraayaatah
kaalah kriidati gachchhatyaayuh
....tadapi na mujncatyaashaavaayuh
________________________
....shishiravasantau punaraayaatah
kaalah kriidati gachchhatyaayuh
....tadapi na mujncatyaashaavaayuh
________________________
..............Aadi Shankaracharya (Bhaja Govindam)
The time rolls on…how(?).
Day and night, dusk and dawn, winters and springs keep coming again and again – like points on a rolling wheel. As if, while the time plays its game - lo and behold! The life has passed away.
One by one everything ebbs away…but, still…
One does not leave (how strange!) the desire (a breath full of expectations) for more.
The time rolls on…how(?).
Day and night, dusk and dawn, winters and springs keep coming again and again – like points on a rolling wheel. As if, while the time plays its game - lo and behold! The life has passed away.
One by one everything ebbs away…but, still…
One does not leave (how strange!) the desire (a breath full of expectations) for more.
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