धीमे से मासिक आऐ
पांव थके, कमर गठियाए
धीमे से मासिक आऐ
पांव थके, कमर गठियाए
‘ 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’
ये एक परिधि तेरी है
यह एक परिधि मेरी है
इस प्रेम शाख की छालो पर, हमने खींची लकीरें हैं
तू मौन खड़ा बस ताक मुझे, मैं भी दो वेण बनाती हूं
इस दो वेणी की अवधि तक, कुछ मैं भी रास रचाती हूं
कुछ सुरभी बह जाने दे, कुछ कोपल मुरझाने दे
आ देखें ,आ देखें, क्या रह पाएगा
मेरे मोगरे की वेणी या प्रेम तेरा
A friend asked me “so how was it in London”
Here’s my reply.
It was good. It’s one of only few countries that has done what is read. Mainly because most books we read have come from them. It’s an organization obsessed city. Everything is organized parks, schools, Libraries, garbage …. to an extent I had started loving my messy room sometimes.
London is actually a city of dreams. We find those fairy tale beautiful people, well mannered and we’ll kept. However much overwhelming it felt at times, I cannot deny they identify beauty in simplicity. Coz I many a times came across women with just no make up. They had Perfect brows, not an extra hair on skin, well groomed hands, brushed hair, not too much color but bright enough to go with the hue. They were simply beautiful!
Houses built right out of those English novels and parks with infinite love trails. I bet you’ll come up with a symphony or a poem if you cross them. Nature thrives in the middle of a busy city. And sometimes it’s difficult to believe so.
Museums of what not. You can spend a lifetime exploring. I must say, they are the man made architectural possibilities of understanding the world. You want to understand digestive system? Skip the book and walk into the science museum. You’ll get your score. The museums are like alive books.
For libraries I would only say…. Unlimited! You gotta go there. Specially with a kid. My kid loves reading books because of London Libraries and I am indebted to them.
One day I saw a tall, very fair Lady. She wore a scarlet dress with matchi…. (Will be back.)
Someday I want to right on how bad it gets during periods post pregnancy. The phase embarks upon how well you have been eating all those years and resting. Hair falls like it always hated you and pain or numbness rules the pelvic mound.
You realize you were never in race. And the peace of stillness is most desirable.
Even if I look for the most painful words to define how it feels. They fail. It zeroes down to nothing. Understanding its movement doesn’t seem less then meditation.
Let’s go stone for a moment, wonderous is happening. May be something is sitting inside clearing and carving a new home for a new life.
It really feels sad sharing pic of kids gone missing. It’s so frequent, it can’t be blamed to parent’s alone. Kids vanish like magic, fly away like birds, turn around the pillars, in the crowds sometimes parents just turn their heads and kids are gone. My heart cries out to them. As I clutch my kids hand in public , my eyes screw on her when i free her…. She has be on her own one day… I panic infinitely when I don’t see her.
The world has really become big, and as a parent we can now identify the loopholes.
-Please don’t walk between a child and parent. Strangers help strangers. So please help. Don’t touch others kids however cute he is. You don’t want others to touch your kids. Don’t give chocolates to any, even relatives should not, without asking the mother or father. Let the child understand he can’t have a chocolate without parent’s consent.( There should have been a law laid out on this). I fail to understand, even educated us cannot get this. We have so many relatives hanging around, ready to feel bad all the time. Please understand, we have to do this to ensure child’s safety. I met one old couple in train, very stubborn to give my kid a chocolate. I had to be stern and rude. They thought I don’t have manners as I am not submitting to their demands. Please make grandparents understand, their world where everyone new the other is not the case now. Parents have to travel places. Kids are surrounded with strangers. Let them develop the talent of following what their parents tell.
-Don’t touch others kids, in anyways. You will never need to bother about teaching them what is a bad touch. Coz if a kid has only been touched by his parents and in the right way, he doesn’t need to be told about a bad touch. He already knows it. Kids are purest of souls. They are energy sensitive creatures like other animals. They know when something is wrong, just like that. If they say no. Please listen. You keep wearing them clothes, feeding them, doing things when they say….. No mumma. You are teaching them no means yes, do it, and we later make a movie saying “when a girl says no, it means a boy has to stop”. Please!
-Let the child sleep, let the parents sleep. I read somewhere, ” in Delhi a kid was stolen from next to a mother sleeping by the road.” Dear, the lady was a worker, working hard, without rest during the day. How could she be vigilant at night. These people don’t even have day cares or helpers like we have. Still they travel to remote places for work. They have to let their kids play around in the safety of strangers. I reckon the women folk in our town would bring kids with them and we wouldplay on the sand. It dznot happen now. Sun has been cruel on us, it has helped us differentiate between rich and poor….you can’t deny.
-Now we have networked water to our homes and societies so well that these people have no natural water supply left for them… not to bath or drink. We have taken many things without knowing. We as self contained families, societies or middle-class or rich folks have gaped ourselves enough from cobblers, sanitary cleaners, small workers. How can we imagine turning to them for our help? Still we find instances of public and strangers helping on roads. This is a proven fact, however many contacts we make or friends we have, we stand alone in difficult situations, and strangers come to help. (I know it’s long but….)
-Please open your eyes to the world culture. In many developing countries Kids under 5 sleep by 8. Parents come home by 5/6/7pm. Parents have their Saturday and Sundays off with kids. What are we competing against. Kids are mostly with their parents after school. Some Mothers do work, but unlike here where she is trying to catch up career after motherhood, she works from home or takes breaks or just stays at home. (And this ‘she’ is also a maid. If by chance a day comes when every individual is educated, there will b no maids or toilet cleaners). She dznot have to worry for the towel lying on the bed. She dznot worry about liberation. She z liberated enough to decide that ‘She dznot want to work’. But when she dz, father has to share the responsibility. Fathers take father’s leave and look after the kids. As individuals we see mothers working in other lands, standing on the same platform as men. Feels good. But please look, she is there with either a family/husband/govt support. And the child is never left unattended. These mothers live around folks who know when to knock at the door. We are not that culture…. Seriously! So if at anytime if the child goes missing in all the chaos, it’s everyone’s responsibility.
When a parent has slept well, and is available for the kid all the times, still if the child is missing. Then it’s a problem to handle.
This is difficult to imagine when we have a pm who works really hard, but remember he dznot have kid. He has made us his family.
– Some of my friends instantly share missing kids pics. They are tender hearted people who believe in magics… No one wants kids to go missing. No one’s kids should go missing. May the missing kids find their way back home. May the path lit up with moonlight pebbles and your kids come back. Amen..
Today I came across a this beautiful girl in the bus to Thomas Istavan Utsa. What should I call her? The girl with hot chocolate dry hair, unpolished nails? Few where even broken at the edges. I could see the moon rising on one of her thumbnails. Maybe 11yr old. She looked thin……fragile. And that grew towards her eyes. I felt for my daughter. Such innocence wanes off with age. And this seemed a rare account.
Was she sad? Or kind? She was beautiful in anyways. Have I come across gentler people? I wonder. I felt like hugging her, cupping her face and telling her ‘betu, give me those hands, I’ll mend them for you. Let me braid those plain locks. Not, if you like them so. And give you a glass of water. It will help those chapped lips and dry skin. You know you feel like my daughter. And daughters are to be cherished and loved and kept well. May you get the best of a nights sleep. Your tender heart find its true love. And you have the best of meal every night. Bless you dear, feeling innocence is rare. May you live around people who are capable of acknowledging this attribute. Love you. Amen.”
It was cold. Winter was on its way and there would be snow any moment. She stood in her niche, she had found in the station passageway. There were a few more like her and she was one of them, homeless, cold and hungry all the time. But there was one thing that differed her from others. She was the most irate soul. She would mumble jumble some words and swear at her situation. After all she was a woman, at her age women visit parlors and grumble about overweight. For most 40 is a self discovering age, post maternity but for her there was nothing left to discover. She wore a worn out jacket, paired with something underneath, a hat with threads peeping out of tiny holes and a pair of sad boots hanging around two white socks.
It was difficult to walk in those boots. After every 10 steps she had to stop and adjust the boots. One held on tight but the other one had a big mouth. That gave enough space for her feet to slip offq. If she won’t walk, she won’t get enough money that meant less food. “How will I get through the winters” she wondered.
That night was colder then ever. Everyone was cozy and fast asleep in their pieces of blankets. She held her boots in her hands and climbed up the stairs. “There you are”. She looked at the moon hiding behind the thick cold fog.
She lifted her shoes up and closed her eyes. “Dear God, please, can you get me a pair of shoes.”
Luckily, that night God was listening to all the prayers from Kalvin ter. At close quaters a woman bought a new pair of boots for the winters. She took her old but still beautiful pair of boots n packed them for a Christmas present.
She opened her eyes and found a lovely pair of shoes packed specially for her. “With love” She whispered those words. She wore the boots and waited for snow. This time she would make big snow balls. She thought.