आहट सपनों की !!

सपनों की आहट अब भी गूंजती है कानों में ,

हर खनक दिल के हर कोने में,

एक पलभर का दस्तक दिया होता

अगर कमबख्त एक तिनके भर मौके ने,

तो सिमटी न होती ये ज़िन्दगी ,

इन माचिस की डिब्बियों के 6 * 6 केबिन में !!

हौसलों की तो बात नहीं है ,

जान शायद सपनों में ही कम रही होगी,

अल्फाज़ अगर  खो भी जाते कहीं , फिर भी

इस बेकरारी की ग़ज़ल पेश हो जाती,मगर
धुन शायद मेरी आवारगी की मंद रही होगी !!


झूलते शमियाने और टूटते  पैमाने ही रह गए हैं
जिसे देख लगे ये भी कभी आशियाना रहा होगा
पड़ी जो परत वक़्त की इस्पे,

लगता है ये शायर भी कभी परवाना रहा होगा !!

When sweat & Thoughts go hand in hand !!

The sun had almost settled. The sky was crimson red. Birds were flying back home(i guess). My watch read 17.45 as i entered the round,swivelling gate of Salt Lake stadium, my heaven for the last 4 years. Ever since i joined college and moved to Kolkata, this place has been my mecca. Here ,i cry, i laugh ,i jog , i walk & i talk to myself.


The stadium bristles with athletes throughout the day, but at this part of the evening when everyone returns back to the YMCA hostel after a day long of intense practice, there are only few who start theirs. I happen to be one of them and its out of choice not compulsion. The stadium is outstandingly picturesque at this hour of the day.

I did some pre-jogging exercises, punched my stopwatch and started my jog. Some of the passing athletes gave me a cold look, and it took me a while to realize that its not because of my weird hairdo or wacky beard but because i was jogging anti-clockwise. Well, this is a long established habit due to some innane psychological reason. Its only, after i see the ramshackled hotel 'the Stadel' that i realize i have come come half way through my 1st lap. the next half is naturally beautiful. But, here i felt my breaths becoming heavy. I realized that i have come to the first hurdle.

1> The first hurdle, is the first feeling of numbness and weriness when your body has utilized the avaiable oxygen and now requires you to breathe heavily to satiate the need,(nothing scientific, its my logic :O).The best way to cross this hurdle is to just neglect it. The body adjusts itself to this need and soon breathing heavy becomes the norm. Just before my completion of the 1st lap, i came across the picturesque hind side of the 'Hotel Hyatt'. The brightly lit edifice with the green untrimed grasses at the back seemed to be a palace hung from the (yet)blue sky.

After 1 and half laps the first trickle of sweat came rolling on my cheeks through my temple. This gave me a tingling sensation. I love to push it further only after i see the changes. And the beads of sweat on my forehead just give me the thumbs up to go. I come across many evening walkers and a few joggers too, and somedays if i am lucky, i have a few girls hitting the road and passing innocous whispers and giggles.

2> I was comprehending my speed and timing when i came across the figure that i so greatly admire. I don't know her name but i know the serial number of her wheel chair by-heart. After all i have been reading it from behind for the last 3months. She has the sweetest smile i have ever seen, she is a married lady of about 40 years of age. i don't know if she belongs to the stadium or is an outsider exercising her arms rotating her wheelchair. But, whatever, i love to wish her good-evening to which she gives me her priceless smile. It is when i see her pushing her wheel-chair and yet managing to smile an ear to ear that i consider myself to be immensely lucky and all my anguish vanishes. Life is beautiful as long as i can feel my lungs gasping for air while my limbs work their way.

3> I completed almost 3 laps and my stopwatch glowed 29.58 when i had to open my mouth to take a mouthful of oxygen. My landmark had come and i had completed my pre-destined 3 laps. But,here again my brain toggled between 'rest' and 'the best'. i wanted 'the best'of workout and so i continued. I was breathing through my mouth and increased my speed. The sweat beads had by now coagulated and were continously flowing down my spine. My t-shirt was soaked, my limbs were numb, my heart was beating very fast but i could'nt care less. I came across all the distractions i have mentioned before, but i did not even notice. It was only when i could not carry anymore that i stopped and after frantically panting for about a minute i realized that i was 5 steps ahead of the landmark. Yipee!!! 4 laps,well within 37minutes, was an all time best feat.

this last lap taught me 2 things: 1>Determination and2> aiming high( I believe your destiny flows in a projectile motion, so always aim high to claim a little lower).

Later in the night when i was writting this article i realized, how many lessons a simple jog can teach you. Its only up for the mass to grapple.

So,next time ,have a happy and educative workout !!:)

Incredible NR(India)n !!

My train reached the station at 1030 hrs. as my newly acquired digital wristwatch read, a full 3 and half hours late. Some bengali 'kaku' and 'kakima's' were busy blaming 'mamata di',the Indian railway minister, who in turn might be busy blaming 'CPM' for the maoist infested areas and the blame game will encircle all the who's who of the country. But, pragmatically nothing would help except patience.
After alighting from the train we all started the rat-race to reach the 'Pre-paid' taxi booth. somehow my huge luggage did not allow me the speed and i reached to find a long queue. The taxi drivers came rushing asking for destinations and discussing schemes.
"kahan jaoge bolo, ekdum pre-paid ke daam lagega" was the most prospective one. After staying in Kolkata on my own for 3 years i have come to know the people who could be haggled with and won over. This was a sardarji and i knew i could trust him with my life, because he was so conspicous. How many sardarji's have you seen driving a taxi??
After 15 minutes of haggling, he settled for Rs.130 on share basis. Considering the long queue and the mismanaged 'Pre-paid'taxi system i agreed.
"ok ji aap wait karo, mai grahak dhoond ke aata hun" he muttered and vanished.
A gentleman standing next to me and eyeing me, now for a while, came up to me. His funny graffiti t-shirt had attracted my attention long before.He sported a french-cut beard and looked emaciated."Yes"i demanded.
"are you going to saltlake?"he asked in a heavily accented impressive voice. I nodded in response.
"actually, we have our reservations at 'Hotel,the sojourn' ,near salt lake stadium. The 'pre-paid 'taxi service is pathetic. The queue is not moving and i have a skin problem,i cannot stand in the sun." I was all sympathies. In the meantime the sardarji had spotted a half-firang talking to me. He came rushing, bumping into everyone on the way. I knew what was coming.
Before, the sardarji could blurt an exorbitant amount i budged in and started bargaining for him too. Why? i dunno. Perhaps, i did not want a foreigner to go back to his country and cull everything about India,as disgraceful, even the Indians. I knew that Rs.500 might not be a huge money for this old chap, but my conscience would not be satiated. Finally, after much haggling and a few scornful looks from the sardarji he settled for Rs. 220.
" i have another bag" the NRI said when we had trudged almost half the way.
So, when do you plan to bring it, in another life,dumbo."Why don't you bring it, i ll wait for you in the taxi." i replied and somehow managed a cool smile even in the hot &humid weather.
He handed me his bag and rushed back to get his remaining luggage. A smirk crossed my face, who leaves a bag in india with a complete stranger? and suddenly somehow i felt very proud of myself.
Sardarji was still furious over the alleged loss he had made on ferrying a half-firang, half way across the town for only Rs.220.
Mr.NRI returned with 2 heavy suitcases and a skinny woman dressed like she was planning on giving a presentation. But, she gave me a broad smile and her gratitudes for helping them and i immediately liked her. The engine coughed and we were on our way.
As soon as we left the station we were engulfed by the chaotic Kolkata traffic. My fellow travellers were awestruck. it took us almost 20 minutes to cross the Howrah bridge. Mrs. NRI was nagging all the time, sometimes to the extent that i was tempted to stuff my earphones and play some heavy metal, but hey, here i was the good Indian boy remember, so i stifled my emotions.
Once out of the town, she took me to be a travel guide and asked me about all the dilapidated buildings we came across. The sardarji could sense my irritation and gave me some wry glances. I ignored.
Later, she wanted to know everything about me. I restricted myself to the biographical details only, nothing personal. Then she stated telling me about herself and her family. Mr. NRI was very fond of India, he has a sister in Ranchi and hence they were coming in the same train as i was (for a second i was glad i never met them on train)as the flight they were scheduled for was cancelled.They have a daughter, studying in NUJS(law..aww) and immediately i was all ears:) they were going to stay in kolkata for a week then they would fly back (to where...i don't care). Then some more archaeological facts, some more nagging, some more queries until we reached their destination. I alighted from the taxi to see them off. The bell-boy came with a plastic smile and took the luggage inside. The lady thanked me earnestly,and for the second time in the day i liked her.
Mr.NRI handed me his visiting card which i slipped in my pajama-pocket, shook hands with him and bade him farewell. He handed the sardarji Rs.300 and said"keep the change" to which the sardarji drew a blank expression. It was only after i translated it that he beamed and gave me a triumphant look.
The sardarji dropped me home.
I reached my pocket for the keys when i felt the card.So,what could such a skinny,seemingly oafish but gentle man earn in a foreign land?After all if he could make it, it was cake for me.
I drew it out and glanced upon it. It read "Mr.(insignificant)" "DIRECTOR" :Orbit engineering consultancy""UAE".

The rail-girl !!

The train was surprisingly overcrowded today. The only problem with pasenger cars is that uncouth plebians flood it with the stink of their breath and jarring cacophony of native songs. Somehow, Abhi & i managed a seat beside a crumpled piece of bones. My face was twitched in a sneer and i looked misreable.Suddenly, my glance met a pair of beautiful brown eyes. It was a little girl of about 5years age. She was staring at me,perhaps because of my typical grump, and i got mortified. Her mother was lying prostrate beside her. From their clothes and appearance i could make out that they were from a very poor family,yet no grouch and such a peaceful snooze.
The train sped away from the station.One pecularity about Indian trains is the train of hawkers that come selling almost everything. A couple of them passed by us,one with 'jhal-muri' &another with ripe guavas. The lil gal looked expectantly both the times but dared not wake her mother. Later, i bought 'mungfali',marketed as 'time pass'. We started cracking the shell and munching the nuts, when i saw the gal giving it the same expectant look. I felt empathetic and offerd her some. To my surprise she denied it with a refined gesture, and turned her face away from us. How can a 4 year old kid, born into such a family be so cultured and stifle the pangs of hunger and desire with such mannerisms.
I wondered what her life would have been, had she been born into a rich family. She would be dressed in 'giny&Jony' sucking on a lollypop while patting her barbie. But, here she is dressed in soiled clothes, held together by safety pins. God knows if she'll ever see the face of a school. Heaven forbid any abuse to such a sweet little thing,given her circumstances.
The silence of this gal was very poignant. Her age was about 4 years old but her psyche was that of a 15 year old. My cousin is 12 years old and he still needs chocolates in tiffin and horlicks in milk, things perhaps this lil gal has not even heard of.
How often do we appreciate the child of a beggar or a wage-earner. Seldom, perhaps never. But, the same toddler if adorned by gaudy raiments and smelling of baby powder,seems so cute.Even professional photographers use a poor child's face only when they have to capture a catastrophe.
The train slowed down as it reached its final destination. The lil gal woke up her mother.The mother did'nt even bother to wash her face. They gathered their belongings which were 3 polythene bags full of muri(puffed rice).She gave me a sweet smile before leaving. I felt so desperate to help her somehow. I wondered, how much love i would have given her had she been my lil sister.But, even before i could wave her or smile back she was gone, lost in the multitude.

Yeah i am an engineer !

First step in the campus & a blow without fist
seniors staring &gnawing their teeth
to pounce on the guy dull & lame
& grab a chance to impress a new dame

yeah i am an engineer and this was my fate
now i realized it, i think i am late!!

Soon i met strangers with a hi
with passing days it was with a broad smile
soon gotta know their likes and dislikes
her mania for lipstick, his passion for bikes!
cellphone nos. were the next obvious things
for rare calls and frequent messaging!

Late night gossips over cups of tea
seldom books and mostly movies
dozing off early morning in the class
god only knows how we manage to pass

teachers gripe over attendance so slim
and to top it our grades are grim
flak follows by the masks of sneer
but alas it falls on deaf ears!

yeah, i am an engineer and this was my fate
now i realized it, Gosh I am LATE!!

[i got this published in our college magazine 'GRAFFITI' and it got selected for in-house circulation of british library, kolkata. I have posted it in my blog to honour this otherwise highly condemned grad course B.Tech]