Question of the day:

What is your Favourite Game ?

The Game of perfect Geometry : Carrom

I realised I have not played enough games. But with serious digging my favourite game happens to be carrom. I reckon practicing it so hard that i used up all boric powder from our house. My Index finger screamed before each hit. My nail had turned blue from pink. But I was determined. I had to defeat my grinning cousin. I don’t want to admit, he was excellent! He was excellent in carrom and excelled in grinning. If he made the first strike, the striker stayed with him. I hated him for his skill. Yet today its a fond memory. I improved alot with the game. And because of him i understood “Carom is all about the perfect Geometry.”

Ten jamuns for 50

As a kid I reckon eating jamuns straight from the trees. So when I last saw ten pieces of Jamun for 50Rs in Mumbai, I was in a state of culinary and monetary shock. My desire of celebrating to the purple sweetness faded. And I and my daughter, standing next to the vendor, waited for our turn for our limited source of joys.

A locale with her daughter inquired the rate and looked at the jamuns thoughtfully. Her daughter was about six years old. Like my daughter, her daughter had also pulled her to the vendor. Mumbai shopping culture is not very bargain friendly, so the delay in purchase convinced me, that the lady was short of money. She looked at her daughter who was still admiring the purple beauties. Just like my daughter. For a moment I thought to share ours. But the vendor agreed to give a few pieces for ten Rupees. The little girl carefully cupped the berries and smiled content.

I wanted to write so, but in fact the vendor offered something in Marathi, the lady denied and before I could offer, the lady and the girl where lost in the crowd. Those I bought that day where the most bitter jamuns of my life.

That whole evening I only wondered about my childhood and the beautiful trees around our house.  Amrood, imli, Ganga Imli, aam, jamun; we had grown up with them. I reckon, we never bought Amrood or Ganga Imli from market. They were just next door. And aam was always stolen. It was a popular belief that stolen and parrot bitten mangoes are the sweetest.

How can a childhood exist without these sweet pleasures of nature. Shouldn’t Such joys be uninhibited……… Free?

Trees are sources of livelihoods and not business growth modules. We don’t need to be great social workers to provide happiness to our kids. But our passive attitude towards deforestation is limiting lives. Fruits from a mall can never inculcate nature love. Only one who has spent himself in the shades of a mango tree and sucked the heavenly yellows right from the tree can understand the precious ness of these trees. Lets bring back trees to childhood. Let them have them for free. The decor plants or Palm trees alone can never serve the purpose. Let’s bring jamun, Amrood, Aam back for our kids. Let’s do it!

The statue of freedom

Despite some interesting episodes, this one came in late.

-I discovered, my kid had the power to turn our downstair’s neighbor into a monster, simply by stomping.

-Met two inspiring travellers who appeared more like saints in skiing suits.

-A father, brother and a son who wanted the world to think positively about organ donation.

-A woman who could have chosen SPF 30 with the perfect shade of foundation over road dust and icy winds…. inspired me with her simplicity and humbleness.

-I was overjoyed to find coriander in The great market hall after a search of two months. And instantly ‘I love you-ed’ the shopkeeper. Love at first bite!

-And the statue of freedom that stands upright on gellert hill in the Buda side of pest. This blog is mostly about this statue.

She is bronze and lifts up a palm feather. I always see her from the great market hall or when passing through the bridge. There is something very special about her. Just stand still or get that moment when you can see her….. only her.

You will actually feel her hair and her dress flowing with the wind.

Get the chill.

You know she looks like a sunrise to me and I can watch her for long, admiring, feeling.

It must have felt zealous, people would have cried and cheered when she was raised. I wikied, the palm leaf was not the first idea. There should have been a baby. Nevermind, the leaf has done the justice. Now she z not just a mother but a girl and a woman…. most of a man.

While most of the other statues one can find across Budapest symbolize power or grief, coz of the sufferings, people went through. She stands tall over others inspiring to rise….

‘O…………. hope is gentle as a feather, let it fly in the winds

Coz freedom, is not a matter of chance, but a consequence of blood and minds’

She is special to me coz she was raised in 1947, the year India became independent. Miracles happened at two place at the same time. Don’t call me maniac…. I am in love with a statue.

I haven’t yet clicked her so please help your self.

A Liberated woman…

During my early days in Mumbai when I was looking for a job, I decided to drop into an old boss’s office.

Nobody had told me this, but a 30 minutes wait followed by his busy schedule ………blah blah blah slapped on me

“Hello! Anybody, simply doesn’t  drops into anybody in Mumbai.”

Never mind, that day I met a woman, 40 plus may be. I thought she was crazy.  But today all my assumptions have gone wrong. She sat alone munching something on Andheri malls food zone. It was lunch time for most so I ended up sharing table with her.

Conversations resulting out of such interactions are most interesting. Unaffected by the opinions of past and fear of future, sometimes we end up discussing our own life. So when she knew I am looking for a job, here’s what she said.

” अभी कर लियो जॉब जी भरके, लेकिन बच्चों के बाद गलती से भी जॉब न करना। तुम्हे क्या लगता है, हुस्बैंड काम में तुम्हारा हाथ बटायेगा? अपनी चड्डी भी नहीं उठनी इनसे।”

I tried to tell her about how supportive my husband is and he himself wants me to choose but she interrupted.

“माँऔ ने तो पहले से बिगाड़ रख्खा होता है इन्हें बाकी कसर हम पूरी कर देते हैं……

आओ हम प्रेस कर देते हैं शर्ट,  मैं कर दूंगी आप रेस्ट करो। गर्म गर्म खाओ।

Though strong opinionated, she had the warmth of a mother so I tried to explain her about my idea of liberation but…

बिलकुल गलती नहीं करना, बच्चों के साथ जॉब करोगी न, सारी दादी नानी याद आ जानी है। और उसपे बच्चे ने कुछ गड़बड़ की उसकी भी ज़िम्मेदारी तुम पे। और याद राखियो, अगर ऐसे में कोई रिश्तेदार घर आजाये न तो सोना तो भूल जाओ।

Liberation की अम्मा आनी है घर में रिपोर्ट लेने?

अगर ज़रुरत नहीं है तो इतनी मथ्था पच्ची करके कोई फायदा है भला, ऊपर से ऑफिस में बॉस की सुनो। बच्चो को अच्छे से पालो और अगर लगे तो बाद में जॉब कर लियो।

My mother never told me all this. she always insisted us to study n do some good job. I could not understand how to react, but her unwanted advice could not be ignored. After all she held a good post in some airlines. She had her reasons to justify.

It’s been six years now. I am a mother to a 4 year old lovely daughter. And I still remember her. She sounded funny but she wasn’t lying.

She redefined the word Liberation for me.

खीज

मेरा पांचवां पोस्ट – मेरी मम्मी ( सासु जी) ने एक बार मुझसे कहा था ” बहु और बेटी में बहुत अंतर होता है” उनका विचार निरपेक्ष है, क्योंकि उनकी बेटियां नहीं हैं लेकिन बेटियों का सुख उन्हें उनकी बहुओं ने ही दिया है। बेटी से बहु तक के हिंदी और अंग्रेजी के सफर को वो मुझसे बेहतर समझती हैं। आपका सच चाहे कुछ भी हो, मेरे लिए तो उनका सच सत्यवचन है। स्त्री और पुरुष के बीच के अंतर के समान बहु और बेटी के बीच के अंतर को कोई कभी नहीं मिटा सकता। ये आत्मा का भेद नहीं समय का भेद है। कई बहुएं समय के इस भेद को पार कर के सास के समीप एक सखी की भांति खड़ी हो जाती हैं। लेकिन उस स्वाभाविक मिलन के पहले कई हंसी, मज़ाक, क्लेश, द्वेष और मातृत्व प्रेम की कहानियां बनती हैं , उनमे से है आज की ये कहानी। मैं काल्पनिक कहूँ तो आप मानेंगे नहीं, क्योंकि ऐसा सबके साथ होता है। इसलिये केवल ये समझिये की पूरी और खीज की असफलता मेरी है और पात्र सारे काल्पनिक। मेरी ये कहानी, मेरी सासु माँ के लिए और मेरे स्वयं के लिए। ईश्वर हम सबको ऐसी सास दे जो अपनी बहू के गुणों का गुणगान अपनी सखियों से करे।

खीज…..

बहु ने कढाई में लाल मिर्च और जीरे का बघार लगाया और चावल के आटे का घोल डाल के खीज के पकने का इंतज़ार करने लगी। पूरी काण्ड के बाद उसने अपने सासरे के सारे पकवान सीखने की ठान ली थी। लेकिन उसे क्या पता था, खीज कोई इंस्टेंट मैग्गी नूडल थोडी थी, वो तो एक बहु की धैर्य क्षमता का मापदंड थी। मइके से लाये उसके संस्कारों का सिटीफिकेट थी। सास ससुर के आने में अभी समय था लेकिन नाश्ते के बाद सब चाय तो लेंगे ही, इसलिए बहु ने दूसरे स्टोव पे चाय भी उबलने के लिए रख दी। कुछ ही देर में सास ससुर भी आ गए। सासु माँ ने स्टोव देखके खीज के कहा ” भई आज तो नाश्ते में टाइम  लगेगा” बहु को कुछ समझ नहीं आया,” मम्मी खीज तो बस तैयार है, मैं प्लेट में लगा देती हूँ” बहु ने कहा।

“बहु, खीज के चेहरे को देख के लगता है, की अभी अगले एक घंटे में भी इसका रंग नहीं आनेवाला। “बहु को कुछ समझ नहीं आया। आये भी कैसे, खीज कोई उसके मइके में बनती थी क्या? लेकिन फिर भी उसने कोशिश तो की, मगर उससे क्या फर्क पड़ता है। नई बहू, वो भी दुसरे समाज की, उसपर जॉब वाली, गृहस्थ संस्कार की कचहरी में कठघरे पर खड़े करने के लिए केवल ये तीन गण ही काफी थे। खैर, सास ससुर ने ब्रेड बटर लगा के खा तो लिया लेकिन अनसुनी बातों में कई बातें हो गयीं। आखिरकार खीज एक घंटे में तैयार हुई और ठीक दो दिन बाद कानपुर से काकी सास ने उसकी खीज की असफलता का सर्टिफिकेट फ़ोन पे दे दिया “क्यों री बहुरिया, तुम्हारे घर में खीज नहीं बनता था क्या” घर ही घर के बीच इस अदृश्य संचार निगम से वो अबतक परिचित हो चुकी थी। उसे आज भी याद है जब पहली बार सास ससुर उसके घर आये थे और उसे पूरी का आटा लगाना था। ……माँ तो हमेशा सबके लिए एक सा आटा लगाती थीं। अब रोटी और पूरी के आटे में भी कोई फर्क होता है भला। आटे की लुगदी के संस्मरण को दिमाग में चिपकाये उसने अपनी सासु माँ से पूछा था “मम्मी, ये पूरी का आटा कैसे गूंथते हैं? रोटी जैसा ही होता है न?

अरे ये क्या पूछ लिया पगली, उसके मन से आवाज़ आयी थी। सासु माँ ने कुछ नहीं कहा, वो कहती भी क्या ?आखिर वो भी तो नई नई सास बनी थीं, लेकिन उनके हैरान चेहरे को देख के बहु इतना ज़रूर समझ गयी थी की उसने अपने पैरों पे कुल्हाड़ी नहीं बल्कि पिछली दिवाली की बची हुई लड़ी जला के छोड़ दी थी। और ये लड़ी रह रह के फूटने लगी। एक दिन अचानक कानपूर से काकी सास का फ़ोन आया था। वैसे तो वो जले पे नमक छिड़कने, लोगों के बीच आग लगाने और दरार पड़े रिश्तों में हथोड़े मारने जैसा काम मे महिर थीं, लेकिन जीवन रुपी इस चित्रपट के नाटकीय अंको में तालियां बजाना और चुटकियां लेना वो अपना जन्म सिद्ध अधिकार समझती थीं। और जब से उनके यहाँ एसटीडी फ्री हुआ था तबसे उनका आधिकारिक क्षेत्र कानपूर से फैल के मुम्बई तक पहुँच गया था।

ट्रिंग ट्रिंग ” …. कैसी हो बहुरिया, हम तो आज पूरी बना रहे थे न, तो तुम्हारी याद आगई, हमें भी कहाँ आता था पूरी का आटा गूंथना …”

बहु के कान सुन्न! यहाँ तो नेटवर्क एयरटेल से भी तगड़ा निकला। उस दिन तो बहु को लगा की रोड पे बैठा सब्जीवाला, उसके ऑफिस के दोस्त, शायद अमरीका में ओबामा जी को भी पता चल गया हो की उसे पूरी का आटा गूंथना नहीं आता। मम्मी ने मुझसे खुद क्यों नहीं कहा, उसने सोचा लेकिन रिश्तों की अस्पष्टता उसके लिए अब सपष्ट हो चुकी थी।

खैर, इन्टरनेट सर्वज्ञानी है, उसने दो तीन महीने में अपने सासरे के सारे पकवान सीख लिए। और मौका मिलते ही रिश्तदारों के लिए दाल बाटी, पुलाओ, और रायते बनाके तारीफ़ भी बटोर लीं। अब तक तो उसने मठरी, रोटी और पराठों के आटे के साथ साथ पास्ता, नूडल, और पिज़्ज़ा के आटों में भी पीएचडी कर ली थी।

एक दिन उसने बासी रोटी के टुकड़े करके उनका पोहा बनाया, सासु माँ ने अचम्बे से उस पोहे को देखा। खाते खाते अचानक उनकी आँख भरी आई और बहू की तरफ प्यार से निहारते हुए उन्होंने एक बच्चे के भांति कहा” ऐसा पोहा तो हमारी अम्मा बनाती थीं।” ऐसा भी प्यार होता है सास का। सास ने आँखों ही आँखों से बहु की कई बलइयाँ ले लीं थीं। बहु में गुण तो हैं, उन्होंने सोचा, लेकिन कुछ कहा नहीं, ज़्यादा प्रेम व्यक्त करतीं तो बहु सर न चढ़ जाती!

वैसे खीज बनाने की विधि उसे कहीं नहीं मिली। शायद किसी और नाम से हो! उसने कई और नाम ढूंढे लेकिन खीज तो अपने नाम सी है, खिजा के ही छोड़ती है। अम्मा से, देवरानी से, सासु माँ से और ससुर जी के हाथ से भी बनती देखने के बाद भी आज उससे खीज न बन पायी थी। लेकिन पूछने की गलती वो अब कैसे कर सकती थी।

दरअसल खीज एक बडा ही सरल व्यंजन है, लेकिन इसके बनाने की विधि बहुत कठिन। इसके बनाने के कई तरीके होंगे लेकिन जिस प्रकार सिलबट्टे में पिसी हरीमिर्च धनिया की चटनी, मिक्सी में पिसी गयी चटनी की तुलना में कई अंक सर्वोपरि होती है। मानो सिलबट्टे और हाथ के स्पर्श ने चटनी में सौंधापन घोल दिया हो। उसी प्रकार स्वाद के माँपदण्ड में कई मिनटों तक घोटके बनाई और कूकर में बनाई गयी खीज में बहुत अंतर होता है। धीमी आंच में पकते आटे के घोल को आप जितना घोटेंगे, खीज में उतना स्वाद बढ़ेगा। खीज बनाने का ये एक आदर्श तरीका है।  कारण सरल है,घोंटते हुए चावल में एक कसैलापन आ जाता है, कुछ चीन और जापान के राइस केक की तरह। और पकाने वाले की ऊर्जा शक्ति से इस खीज में स्वाद कई गुना बढ़ता है। लेकिन कई बहुएं इसे कूकर में सीटी देके बनाती हैं और सास नन्द को अपने आलस्य का एक नया प्रमाण दे देती हैं। इसलिए उसने ये खीज फिर अपनी देवरानी के संरक्षण में बनायी…. और जैसे उसके कान में किसी ने गर्म तेल डाल दिया हो। पूरी काण्ड की तीसरी वर्षगाँठ के समारोह के लिए बधाई सी देते हुए उसकी देवरानी ने उससे पूछा ” भाभी आपको पूरी का आटा गूंथना नहीं आता क्या?”

धन्यवाद।

The musician

Once upon a time, there was a musician. With lots of hope, filled with imagination.

He wanted to make new music – beautiful as a swan But whenever he thought, his mind went blank

So went into a music shop, but the idea turned out flop. Coz he got a new horn, but he couldn’t make new music – beautiful like a swan.

He took a bubbly bath, and made lots of bubbles. Bubbles big and small. Yet, he couldn’t make new music – beautiful like a swan.

 

He heard other’s music and heard them one and all. Still, he couldn’t make his new music sound beautiful like a swan.

Then an idea struck. He got a haircut Do you think he made a new music – Beautiful like a swan? No! He made a sad face but no music at all!

So he went for a looo……ng walk into the forest. Next to the stream, over the hills, Where the sun gave earth the good night kiss.

He found a beautiful leaf, a naughty caterpillar, a colorful butterfly and a pigeon who pooped upon him and flew away. He forgot all about his music – music beautiful as a swan

He sat under a tree, grew his hair. And slept on some leaves with the caterpillar.

And then dear fella, When he closed his eyes, his heart opened and out came the music you have ever heard The most lovely song With music so beautiful – just like a swan

 

The girl who loved trees..

Once upon a time, there was a girl who loved trees

and made tiny boats with leaves.

She made a friend and offered him nuts..

but things came to an end, when the tree was cut…

So they sowed a seed, And gave what it needs. The tree came back, so did they.

 

 

Hiya,

When the urge to express something intensifies, it becomes art. And it completes when it unites with your emotions. It can be through anything, cooking, painting, photos etc.

I am glad to meet you here. Whatever I’ll post is what I have felt, thought and preserved. It has been my way of expression. You may admire it, hate it or live unaffected, but creating every piece of work has worked wonders for me. I have felt treated …… Content.

Let’s began an infinite journey of emotions riding over drawings and words. Let’s smile and regret, laugh and scream, coz what’s life that hasn’t been felt. There’ll be stories and poems, one liners and paras. Some incomplete scribblings….. Complete in many other ways.

You may find some short stories for children. I dedicate them to my daughter Hiya, who brought to me my childhood back. She loves reading story books and every story, that I have put, has passed through her scanner. I also dedicate the work to my own parents and sister who made my childhood beautiful, my mother who told me stories – of fancy and real and father who left me with beautiful memories. And to London that made me realize how beautiful trees are. My work, in depth, holds the fragrance of my Homeland, and my people.

And yes, thank you dear husband. The windows of our house always opened to a tree. Thank you making it happen and thank you for letting me be me.

“Let language be no barrier coz I  know none, but I have heard the heart beat that makes us one.Grammar is not my forte, I’ll err in every line. But touch your heart, coz I say the truth, you’ll feel not urs but mine.”

If you ever feel like you have seen it somewhere,” Remember! No art is original, but an influence of another…..of nature on music, of music on paper” Though, I have attempted to make the first manifestations, any error shall be the error in my craftsman ship.

Most work is not copyrighted, as I have come to believe in the impossibility of existence of original art but yes as a manifestation of another.However, if you wish to perform the story to your kid as your own you r most welcome. You be tickled back with surprises. Inspire and get inspired. Share the stories and read them in your own comfort.

You know what? A tea or coffee…. may be a glass of wine will be great to have on our way.

My old self…. Its been a while

If i have an option I would like to invite my old self. Its been a awhile it should have been reprimanded gently. Coaxed and fed with enough love. If not love then the possible self love. My now needs it.

Daily writing prompt

If you could host a dinner and anyone you invite was sure to come, who would you invite?

View all responses

Fatigue of a writer

The right idea stands at an arm’s length, waiting to be approved. The other right idea stays in the rear, waiting to arrive. And me stand in the edge of a sinking boat, where the client sits with wide opened mouth like a gaint whale. He wishes to suck me in with a grin. The ship slides in too, looks more eager than me.

Has there been a better hell!

An Ink drop just smudges the white sheet. What once happened to be a kiss, now turns into an unrelenting episode. How could it do that to my paper?

Naughty ink, it wants to make a story. But keyboard types client advts. Keyboards are more like themselves, more clear-headed then an ink. Ink can turn a letter to a creature. Sometimes deciding to take a stroll around the margin too, leaving behind a trail of doodles.

If there is a moment before the  client’s burp, the Moon fades away, a fairy tale dies a silent death, and over the demise of a story writer, the idea is approved.

Time for another paid idea.

Dear Fellow Bed rester

Dear Fellow bedrester,

For whatever reasons and period you are lying; welcome to the gang. While it may seem taxing, it’s in the understanding that it will finish very soon and you are not going to come back to this again.

The last time when I was on bed rest due to a slipped disc. I behaved like I had a cancer, the period depressed me and that delayed the recovery. All day I stared walls and watched the broken love stories of Lizards, that lived in our house.

There were three of them, two male and one female. I think I am correct about the genders, as two always fought and followed the third. During One such fatal battle, one of them lost its tail; and I realized feminism sucks even with Lizards. There was now the tail less ‘majnu lizard’ with two lovers. I still feel bad for the loner sometimes. Their fatal encounters always scared me. What if they fell on me or my bed. But I think they pittied me and always stayed away. Moreover, they all had a regular path and routine. Loitering around tublight, catching flies, fighting with the other Males and chasing the female.

Recently, i again got to bed rest for reasons. Unfortunately, there are no Lizards in our house this time and spiders are too shy. But it isn’t about Lizards and Spiders. It’s about realising that the rest of your office is jealous of you and isn’t it the long break you have always wanted from work?

Bed rest is actually a tiring and very taxing affair. The immobility makes little things very challenging. This might lead to real depression. Feelings of ‘Isro launching another satellite and you are just being a potato’ roam around. Anyways you were not working on a satellite( Or may be). u hate it. Want to run away from it. The max you can do is, may be a twitch.  If you have people to take your care, look, this is the worst it can get. So now we can look at the positives.

Just remember, it will finish. And you are not coming back to this again. Is it not an opportunity?

Frieda Cahlo created master pieces from bed, you can do other things. Starting with the long list of movies n books you wanted to read. May be write. How about a life’s introspection. Have you heard about the joy called ‘ eating on bed’?

To everyones surprise, you can even dance while lying and this is very important. While the passiveness favours one part of your body, the immobility affects adversely on the others. N when you finally  stand your other body parts will decide to revolt. Movement is the key. May  be a toe, a brow or just heaving of chest with occasional lefts and rights of head and last but not the least tightening and releasing of which ever muscle you can feel. This will give you enough blood circulation to get the zing.

And when you get on those two precious feet, life begins afresh. It’s like you were chosen to cherish to knowledge of good health, nature and freedom. You start acknowledging everything mundane. You might start living again.

‘ O dear bed rester,

You lie for your self,

So make it a merry occasion

Some words with friends and maybe with your own self.’

Happy bedrest, Get well soon.

For the love of Bollywood songs – ‘Gori Tu Latth maar’

‘Gori Tu Latha Maar’ – Toilet

(Video source – YouTube)

For the love called Bollywood songs, songs from ‘toilet’ have their homes in our heart. Still wondering, was it a coincidence that ‘Bakheda’ found the earthy voice of Sukhwinder and ‘hans mat pagli’ got alive with the honey-sweet voice of Sonu Nigam. Could we ever think of getting musically correct with Akhshay Kumar’s raw voice in ‘Toilet Ka Jugad’. So correct! It aptly appears to be the voice of every common man, with a ‘lota’, looking for THE spot. This song happens to be revolutionalising patriotism with cleanliness.

Or the romantic song ‘Subah ki train’. Warm original lyrics steaming out of a hot ginger tea of an obvious tea loving writer.

‘subah ki chai mein Jaise adrak ghole’.

Or the song ‘ Hans mat pagli pyar ho jayega’ giving a melodious reasoning behind the baseless logic of the many failed love stories of our country.

‘Timid giggle = green signal from the girl.’

With a selfish personal choice this article happens to eulogize ‘ Gori tu Latthal mar’

From ears to eyes to heart, the song moves one inside out.

Can’t remember any other modern Bollywood no. portraying a post marriage romance. As Akshay brilliantly expresses the desperation of missing his wife in the most positive ways. Not physical or steamy, that makes the performance stand out. But a very real, eye to eye, situation between a husband and wife, when distance awaits love. It’s been like ages watching a song celebrating Holi with such humility. If there is flirt, it should be like this. While I still have faith in the good gentlemen from our land, this song is more like a gentle reminder of the goodness they still possess. Great choreography!

As the voice of Sonu Nigam melts in the ears, heart beats to the rythmn of this one song and Palak Muchhal sounds like a wind chime tinkle. Though every other song from this film deserves a standing ovation, before this gem gets lost in the Bollywood bubble, it is ‘once more’  ‘Gori Tu Latth maar’ in our fond memory of missing ones husband or wife, and having had a life lived in same era as the great actor ‘Akshay Kumar’.

ये गर्भ क्यों नहीं ठहरता?

समय थम जाता है

सांसें रुक जाती हैं

ये पत्तों की सरसराहट भी मेरे आने पे छुप जाती है

तुम जहाँ ठहर जाते हो

वहीँ मैं भी ठहर जाती हूं

लेकिन सफर क्यों नहीं ठहरता

ये गर्भ क्यों नहीं ठहरता?

कोपलें खिल रही हैं

मौसम बदल रहा है

चिडिय़ा के घोंसलों मे चूज़े चूं चूं कर रहे हैं

अब तो मेरे आंगन के

आम की बोर भी मुझे चिडाती है

‘ तेरे घर के आंगन से

किलकारी कयों नहीं आती है? ‘

कितने मूंगे खप गये

बैंगन भी मुंह छिपाते हैं

बृहस्पति और शुक्र भी अब,

मेरी भेंट से लजाते हैं ‘

दबी दबी आवाजों मेंं

बडे बडे कह जाते हैं

‘ अंग अंग है भर रहा, फिर

पांव कयों हल्के रह जाते हैं? ‘

सिल बट्टे सारे पूज लिए

घर के अपशकुनि भी बूझ लिए

सारे त्योरी चडाते हैं

मुझे ही अपशकुनि बुलाते हैं

‘रेगिस्तान के सूखे मे भी

हरे श़ाख दिख जाते हैं,

पर तेरे पथ के बाडे में तो

सूखे फल ही आते हैं’

मैं लकीरें उकेर के मुस्काऊं

सोचूं,

मुझसे कुछ तो हो जाता है

इन रंगों के मतभेद में

सब ईंद्रधनुष हो जाता है

देखो,

दो रंग भी मिलके

इक नया रंग बनाते हैं

फिर मेरे रंगे चित्र ही

क्यों बेरंगे रह जाते हैं?

पर रात कितनी ही स्याह रहे

सूरज फिर भी उगता है

आखिर, सीपी के संकोच भेद

मे भी एक मुक्ता है

जब तक मेरी आस है

ये मेरा रति प्रयास रहे

मैं ना जानूं जीवन बंजर

मेरी कला उर्वर उजास रहे।

मासिका अभिनंदन

धीमे से मासिक आऐ

पांव थके, कमर गठियाए

बूंद बूंद अलसाए

चुपके से मासिक आए

घोंघा बन बिस्तर में ऐठूं

स्नेह से मां सहलाए

इस एकाकी विलासिता में

कोई पास न आए

……..

मन भ्रमित, तन विचलित

क्या विज्ञान! ना बूझे गणित

इतिहास खडा खिसियाए

क्यों कर मासिक आए

लाली आभा, जान सखी मोरी

आढ बनाए कोरी

मैं मूरख, किसी द्रव्य तरल सी,

रोऊँ चोरी चोरी

मां बोली

हट पगली,

मैं तेरी, तू मेरी सहेली

वैसे ही सहती है

फिर क्यों नीर संग बहती है

सावन, हेमन्त, बसंत के बाद

जैसे पतझड़ आए

वैसे ही मासिक आए

……..

सत्रित्व की पहचान है ये

प्रकृति का वरदान है

नवजीवन को जनने का

ये अपना सा अभिमान है

ममता की धैर्य जटिलता का कुछ कुछ अनुमान कराऐ

बस ऐसे मासिक आए

…..

चल तेरा पंचांग बनाते हैं

कुछ केसरी चिन्ह लगाते हैं

तेरे क्षय के खाने का

समपूर्ण आहार बनाते हैं

………

इक बात हमेशा याद रहे

ये बटुआ तेरे पास रहे

तेरी श्रिंगार दानी में जैसे

कोई नवीन श्रिंगार आ जाए

वैसे ही मासिक आए

……….

ये क्षोभ का कोप नहीं

सत्री धैर्य की वाणी है

दीदी, चाची, दादी, नानी

सबकी यही कहानी

नानी से मां से

मां से मुझसे,

मुझसे तू जैसे आए

वैसे ही मासिक आए

अक्षत, कुम कुम

हल्दी चंदन

ये मेरा तुझको मासिक अभिनंदन।

..।।।।।।

कविता का घर

“वो क्षितिज देखती हो? वहीं मेरा शून्य है, मैं वहीं से कवि ता लिखता हूं।

ये किचन का सिंक देखते हो? ये मेरा शून्य है। मैं यहीं से शुरू होती हूं और यहीं पे खत्म होती हूं।

इसीलिए तुम्हारी कविता नाली  में जाती है।

नहीं, समंदर में जाके मिलती है, तुम्हारी सोच जहां तक जाएगी तुम्हारी कविता भी वहीं तक जाएगी।

तुम्हें लगता है? कोई तुम्हें याद रखेगा?

मुझे कोई भूलेगा नहीं।

लेकिन तुम हो कहां?

तुम्हारी कविता में,

तुम्हारी ​क्षितिज में।”

गुमशुदा चांद

‘ ये काली रात है,

या मैं स्याही में झांकता हूं।

तुम्हारी तरह आज मेरा चांद भी गुल है

मैं खुश हूं,

या तुम्हें पा लिया है

खिलखिलाहट के अलावा यहां हर चीज़ क्या शोरगुल है’

 

मुस्कान

भंवरे को फूल से मिलते देखा है,

नदियों को सागर से मिलते देखा है,

चंदा को सूरज से मिलते देखा है

धरती को अंबर से मिलते देखा है

देखा है अनजानों को अपनों मिलते हुए

फिर भी जाने क्यों……

तुम्हारी मुस्कान तुम्हारी आंखों से नहीं मिलती….

GENDER EQUALITY- a misnomer

While others applaud over a lady officer, taking her Little daughter to night patrol, I stand with a flag of doubt. Was it safe for a kid to go on a night patrol?

First, kudos to the mother for being so dedicated and sincere. But secondly, i wonder what came as a compulsion for her to take her kid to the patrol.

If the stand was an individual inspiration, I am afraid this will inspire many other seniors to urge their junior/ fellow level women officers to take their kids on night patrolling. Or if it was a compulsion, why?

It questions the code and conduct in such working situations.

Are we blinded to see the probable dangerous situations with a kid on patrol? Are there no rules on – no kids in patrolling? When women can take two years leave, why the officer didn’t take the leave? I wonder. I understand the child might have cried to stay with her mom, and may be she had no choice. But, Why she had no choice?

There was one similar case in a foreign land where a lady brought her baby on feed to a board meeting. Well, a board meeting, during day time is lot more different then a night patrol. And yes, there is a world where mothers in jobs get a good night sleep every night.

As a woman and mother, I always question my standards of equality with men. But I always feel that we as individuals have failed to identify our differences and qualities. Yes, women can become great warriors, yes they can do everything that a man does. But when they are mothers they need rest. Their body needs at least one year of self recuperation, and with a growing kid she needs two years for herself and her kid. Kids need at least one parent after school hours and that is until theyare grown. And this is a fact. All justifications of equality fail here. If we keep crying the melodies of equality, ours and our kids lives will suffer. We are very different from men, and we need those differences to be sorted out before doing the same jobs. We double work to get same efficiency as men during our periods, our capabilities are affected. We cannot run for sometime after a delivery. And these are the most natural processes that can only be sorted after we acknowledge them.

In a country where development is the need of every moment, a child’s sleep has never been a matter of concern for anyone. Because we have bigger issues to resolve, Caused by a grown up kid with difficult childhood. So lets ignore the early years of a child, most important for its mental and physical growth. And lets fit into a system ideally designed for men, not women or father’s or kids or families.

I am still wondering, how many more night patrols the lady officer did and her child had to sleep in the car with her after her story.