“60 years” – But nothing to be proud !

Independent India – out of the grips of colonial rule, is 60 years old, but I do see this period insignificant part of thousands of years of great grand Aryabhatta !

Today my Aryabhatta is a blend of Hindi & Urdu & English – Rock & Karnatic – Space shuttle & Bullock Cart – Jeans & Saari – Valentine Day & Karwa Chauth – Chess & Cricket – Google & Jyotish. Nothing wrong – I am part of it proudly.

 Imagining what if, if there had been no invaders / colonial rules here, had we remained the same? Perhaps, yes !

Celebrations.. Well I too did celebrate as there is a tricolor instinct inside, since childhood. But the fact is somewhere I do have a ‘pain behind this independence’.

Few questions keep revolving my mind! Why my country was dependent on / ruled by some other country for such a long time. These 60 years are still less then the around 200 years of colonial era. Why we needed to fight for the our own salt? Gandhi ji was great – but where does the courage missed in young generation of India, that time, such that we had to bring out Dandi march to make a memorable event. Though there had been Mughals and other empires too to rule our territory. There are socio-politico-economic and other reasons behind such things in case of a nation’s evolving process.

I have few regrets on our unconsciousness but still one burning question , I do search for an answer. That is, are we making a firm solid independent base for the gen next to stand upon? Are again we slowly allowing invaders to rule upon some or the otherway. Difficult question to answer ! But there is something Indian deep inside which loudly says – “No. “

To be practical, did this post of mine added anything for the national pride? If nothing much, its the freedom of speech – the only democratic backbone that ‘we re-attained’. It will revive its glory beyond ‘the freedom’.

My Song


Dreams floating in eyes,
The sandhill, I stand upon,
Wishes
In hands, the heavy blocks,
Tower, awaits my foundation.
Wishing, I don’t go wrong.

Strings are tied along,
Centered me and web around,
Or a some fisherman’s net,
Floating in the flood vast,
Wishing, I not get drown.

Journey is long,
To somewhere,
We all do belong.
Even if nothing goes along,
Wishing, just flows my song.

The Little Thing

One can have money + fame + education + beauty + personality +  maturity…..

And, perhaps everything is superseded by the small thing – A little wise gesture !

To Dear Friend

Today,
The very morning,
While you was lonely,
Near the spring,
You do know,
I was there,
And I did hear,
That you sing.

Today,Friendship Hands
Me, miles away,
I couldn’t buy gifts,
Nor the flowers,
Or a call in the air.
Even then,
Touching your fingers,
In air, I am there.

Today,
Many celebrate,
Hug and smile.
And like  them,
We can’t meet,
Even for a while.

Today,
Like always before,
Let us pray –
God bless us ,
We will celebrate,
Every new morning,
Happy friendship day.

Image courtesy : http://www.bartonprimary.co.uk

Respecting someone’s anger

I have heard about respecting friendship, love, elders, poor, sick and all the stuff. “Respecting anger” – a term though practiced many a times but in abstract words understood it for the first time during a farewell party.

In my recent home visit, I was enough lucky to be on the farewell party of my previous boss Mr. SPU , that was govt office. I have heard him speaking well in other officers’ farewell speech with good literary essence. On the day of his own farewell, he could not encapsulate the literary essence, being emotional that time. In plain words he acclaimed all his staffs, and praised the way they worked for the organization. The work in Finance dept. and specially in the state of Bihar, needs person like him for a better work environment.

Long ago, when I gifted him “The monk who.. “, right he was, when he told he is my like elder brother. He is a poet, editor and with a refined hobby of gardening.

Coming back to his farewell speech, his words were like.. “My staff have been cooperative. ….. at the times , I chided or even scolded them, as I could not hold my temper for the mistakes and process. And at the times, I had thought – loosing temper will affect the employee’s moral and repented myself. And I really felt sorry for that, I should not have lost that. But later on I found that as like my other words, they respected my anger well. And truly speaking, I am obliged to their respect. I have no words… “

Though I had never given him a chance of a slightest complaint, as in his words, when I resigned the job – “I was underemployed at the office” ! But about him, he is a emotional persona in fact. And at the same time, a perfectly balanced bureaucrat .

On Emotional Quotient meter, many of us fall in this category. And about respecting anger, the truth prevails, be it employer’s anger, or parents’ anger, friends’ anger or anger of a tired shopkeeper. To a very extent, we can bear it, as most of the time there is a valid reason behind a individual’s anger. Respecting a valid anger pays back – its the truth.

When you call me.

Whatever I am here, and I do continue blogging just because of some encouragements that came time to time from various bloggers. Today, when I was told to read this post on me, I could not believe myself.

“लगता है बिसरा दिया है। चिट्ठा से सगाई लगता है तोड़ दी है।”

चिट्ठा is a word coined by us for blog in Hindi.

They are true. Once upon a time, I used to be active in Hindi Blogger’s Community. That time there was not even 100 blogs in Hindi. I was even I asked to work for Nirantar team, but connectivity of net was not cheap and smooth those days. And today I don’t read Hindi blogs much around and today I do hop around mostly the English blogs. Even the Hindi write-ups I did keep on this blog only.

And as a result, even today, when Anupji wrote a post on me, that too I did not read. I was informed by Jitu Bhaiya.

Though they told me to continue blogging several times and once Anupji even tried to scold me in one of his comment. But, today crossing everything these words of Anupji have lots of complaint.

“शायद और बेहतर रिश्ते मिल गये हैं।”

In fact, these words are paining me.

From now onwards all my Hindi posts will appear only on http://www.prempiyushhindi.wordpress.com. Please be there too as you have been here.

I shall try to pay back their love.

Headache…

Generally, I don’t have anything like headache or anything like it. But like few days back, today it again started despite a good night’s sleep.

I did called my Ma, sister, close friends.Picking up phone, Ma guessed out and told to put some mustard-oil drops in the nostrils, that may help my seasonal sinus problem. I tried, it helped me. But still something was there inside to recreate the headache. I called up some of my friends – with whom I felt easy at some or the other point of time.

Some phones ended with busy tone, some friends could not talk as they were busy in sunday afternoon and a few phones switched off. I kept calling – I needed to talk with someone – anyone, otherwise 1200 watts of music system and ready to play hundreds of sound-tracks was also not helping me out at all. I switched the music system off. Staying alone can be sometimes really difficult. And the shape of difficulty is dimensionless. Men don’t cry,but when inner turbulance turns out nothing but just unbearble, sensitive men too do cry. May that help me out. But I tried to abstain – because I am a man !

I called my old buddy – my friend cum brother – Kartickda. About him, I will write in more – that how one last bencher turn out as NET qualified professor. We talked about nice times. A lot of things. Co-incidentally the time I called him, he was also alone at the house.

The old buddies were talked about. How the things moved in past 4 years, were talked about. As I asked about Sudip, one short-heighted friend of him, with whom I have a group snap too. Katickda could not answer promptly – though he is more sensibly stable than me. He told me – Sudip is no more. I could not believe, as I was expecting something like his marriage and kids. First thing came to my mind was the snap, where I was standing near to him. He further explained – how in front of his eyes, Sudip left forever.His pancreas had some problem and it got complicated and Sudip, the Station Master could never see the green flag.

Though he complained, what made me ask about him but he must be pleased to know, how do I still recall his friends so well. Actually asking about him, his pains of loosing a friend get refreshed. We talked for few minutes more – and talked on how other things moved in life.

I got entangled into the thoughts of those many places of staying, so many acquiantances and so many relations weak and strong. What good thing did we carry forward ? – The love, we did shared once upon a time – somehow or other.

I got the answer of the question that revolved around my head to create the headache. To many people it may become again a headache. But today it became my medicine. I do carry ‘something abstract’ – beyond myself being a selfish creature. My headache seems mitigating…

प्यासी पगली

वह शुक्रवार का दिन, और कंपनी की टीम लंच-पार्टी । क्या पियेंगे आप- मिनरल वाटर, सोडा वाटर या और कोई कोल्ड ड्रिंक , मीनू देखिये और बस आर्डर किजिए जनाब , चाहे तो फलेवर वाली लस्सी और बटर-मिल्क भी है ।

उस दिन दोपहर का खाना था इसलिए ‘लाल-शरबत’ का आयोजन नहीं था । वैसे मैं पीता नहीं हूँ पर मैनें देखा है यहाँ पर, सोमरस बिना पार्टी नहीं होती है यहाँ । फिर भी मस्त पार्टी हूई थी । चुँकि अबकी बार हमारे नियमित रेस्तराँ से ये अलग यह एक नया रेस्तराँ था, इसलिए स्वाद जीभ पर चिपक कर रह गया । करीब 35 जनों की हमारी टीम में हमलोग गये थे मस्त से रेस्तरां में । हँसी-मजाक और टेबल पर पिघल रहे थे आईसक्रीम पर लाल-लाल चेरी। उस दिन भी सभी ने जम-कर खाया-पीया ।

और पार्टी के बाद हमलोग वापस हो रहे थे । लौटते समय भी अपने कैब में मैं आने के समय के तरह ही नहीं बैठा था । ऐसे समय में मस्ती मुझे भाती है । कैब का JBL सराउंड साउंड सिस्टम इतना मस्त था कि चलती कैब में भी मैनें नाचने की कोई कसर न छोड़ी थी । आते समय खुब नाचा था – अपने दोस्तों के साथ । अबकी बार लौटती बार में भी पेट भरा होने पर भी थोड़ा थिरक तो जरुर सकता था ।

अभी थिड़कना मैनें शुरू ही किया था कि, ट्रैफिक पर कैब रुक गयी ।

खैर मेरा मन हूआ कि थोड़ा बाहर देखुँ । थोड़ा झुककर बाहर झाँककर देखा तो एक पानी का टैंकर का पीछे वाला हिस्सा दिखा । उसके पास घुम रही थी एक किशोरी लड़की – पगली सी। उमर होगी कोई 18-19 साल या और कम पता नहीं लगा मुझे। उसकी पतली सी काली सी देह पर, गंदे से सलवार-कमीज । पतली रस्सी सी मटमैली पीली चुनर कमर पर बँधी हूई ।

अब मेरे डांस वाले थिड़कते पैर – पता नहीं क्यों जम से गये । मैं देख रहा था, उस पगली की आँखों को । मुझे लगा वह कुछ खोज रही थी। शायद ढुँढ रही थी रास्ता या और कुछ । वह टैंकर के पीछे गयी । जहाँ टैंकर के पीछे से पानी नल से टपक रहा था, वहाँ वह खड़ी हो गयी । और जल्दी ही मेरी शंका दुर हो गयी । पता चला वह पगली नहीं थी – वह कान साफ करने के बड्स बेचने वाली थी । उसके हाथ में कुछ पैकट थे – कान साफ करने वाले सस्ते रंगीन बड्स के । जिसे शायद ट्रैफिक जाम में रुके कार के अधखुले खिड़कियों और हेलमेट से मुखड़े लगाये सभ्य लोगों को बेचती थी ।

पर उसके आँखों से साफ था कि वह अभी वह बड्स खरीदने वाले ग्राहक नहीं ढुँढ रही थी । उसने अपने बड्स के पैकेट को झोले में जल्दी से डाल दी । टैंकर से पीछे वाले जिस नल से पानी की बुँदे टपक रहा था , वहाँ पर पानी निकलने वाले हैंडल को उसने थोड़ा घुमाया, और वहाँ से पानी की पतली सी धारा बहने लगी सड़क पर । वह अपने हाथों से चुल्लु बनाकर पानी की धारा गटक रही थी । लग रहा था, महीनों से प्यासी है वह । बता दूँ कि पानी मुफ्त में नहीं मिलता है यहाँ बंगलौर में – और वह टैंकर भी कहीं किसी के घर में पानी बेचने जा रहा होगा । पर उस दिन खुले सड़क पर, वह पी रही थी बेचे जाने वाली पानी – मुफ्त मे । पर वह पी रही थी चोरी-चोरी – सबके सामने । कहीं टैंकर का ड्राईवर या खलासी देख न ले – वह गटक रही थी पानी उस तपती दुपहरिया में । उसके सलवार पर पानी के छींटे गिर रहे थे । पानी पीकर उसने उस बहती धारा में अपनी बाहों को आधा धो लिया । उसकी कमीज का निचला किनारा भींज चुका था ।

हमारी कैब की खिड़की से सब लोग अब यह सब देख रहे थे । टैंकर के पीछे खड़ी थी – होंडा सीटी कार । उसकी काँच के पीछे से भी चार आँखें उसे देख रही थी । उसने अब उस पानी से जल्दी-जल्दी अपना चेहरा धो लिया – थोड़ी साफ सी हो गयी थी अब वो । सारा कुछ हो गया करीब 1-2 मिनट में । अब शायद उसका समय हो गया था । ट्रैफिक का जाम भी अब साफ हो सकता था। अब वह टैंकर का हैंडिल बंद करते-करते अपने पैर भी धो डाली । नल बंद होते ही पानी की धार रुक गयी । उसका काम हो गया था ।

इतनी सफाई से टैंकर का नल खोलना और बंद करने से साफ हो गया कि हमारी पगली ऐसे कामों की अभ्यस्त थी । अब धोये हूए भींगें सामने के बाल, भींगें सलवार-कमीज के छोर । प्यासी की तृष्णा बुझ चुकी थी । उसकी चेहरे पर एक तृपती सी आ गयी । अब जल्दी से दो बड्स के पैकेट निकाल कर सड़क के उस पार चली गयी । मुड़कर भी नहीं देखा टेंकर की ओर या मुझ लेखक को ।

वह मेरी आँखों के सामने से ओझल हो गयी थी पर – भींग गयी थी बहुत सी चीजें – भींग गयी थी काली तपती सड़क, दो चार बुँदों से भींग गयी होगी – हमारी लंच-पार्टी की कैब की पहिए । भींग गयी होगी – एकाध पानी की छींटों से कार की बम्पर ।

ट्रैफिक सिग्नल की बत्ती हरी हो गयी । चल पड़ी हमारी कैब । चल पड़ी टैंकर । चल पड़ी कार । और टैंकर के पीछे नल से पहले की तरह से टपक रहा था बुँद-बुँद पानी ।

फेयरवेल

People do come and go. And this ‘and’, many of us believe, is just like a poem. May be the same reason, when everyone was writing wishes on the farewell card of my colleague friend Amit; from me, he personally wished that – I should write a short poem for him on the card. I am reproducing the same here.

आँखें तेरी साथ रही,
बातें तेरी याद रही,
चिंता नहीं थी बाधाओं की,
मित्रता तेरी आबाद रही ।

लिखुँ कुछ तुम्हारे लिए,
आँखें अश्रुपूरित मेरे हूए,
आज दुआएँ मैं करता हूँ ,
तेरा फिर नया सबेरा हो ।

आशीष भेजू, मेरे सारे ही,
और मंगलगीत, प्यारे भी,
सपने जहाँ पर सच होते,
वहीं तेरा एक बसेरा हो ।