Words

its a gamble with life
a little bit lost, a little bit won
how do i know, if its only the pain
or, your memory again
image courtsey: www.corbis.com

Steve Irwin ‘The Crocodile Hunter’
1962-2006

“Crikey!” will stay with us forever. Farewell mate…

Steve Irwin posed with his wife, Terri, and their daughter, Bindi Sue, in London in 2002.

salet

bachpan accha tha
salet jaisa
jo bhi likha jata tha
mit jata tha asani se

ab accha nahi kuch
ration-card ke form jaisa
tera naam likh diya hai
mit-ta hi nahi


an attempt at translation…

slate board

childhood was good
like a slate board
whatever used to be written
got erased easily

nothing is good now
like a ration-card* form
have written your name
it doesn’t get erased

* one of the many essential documents of government life in India. one of the proof’s that you are who you are!
image courtsey, corbis.com

socho

socho agar blue-lines waqt se chalne lagein
aur DTC har stand par rukne lagein
socho agar sadkein bante hi khude nahi
aur bacchein unmein gire nahi

socho agar pani waqt se aane lage
aur bijli time-table se jaane lage
socho agar sab ko rojgar rahe
aur shaher mein koi bhooka na beemar rahe

socho agar sochne hi se ho jaye asar
sochne se sham, sochne hi se sahar
socho agar sochne hi se sab hota yahan
toh swarg na ban jata apna ye jahan

socho agar, sochne se ab hota yahan
toh hum alag huye hote kahan

Contemplating Man on an Island; Image: © Images.com/Corbis; Creator Name: Garif Basyrov


attempted translation for Starry & others…

think

think, if *blue-lines would move on time
and **DTC’s would stop at every stop
think, if roads won’t be dugged-up right after being laid
and children wouldn’t fall into them

think, if water would come on time
and electricity would go with (adhere to) a time-table
think, if everyone will have a job
and no one in the city will be hungry or ill

think, if thought would make all the effect
an evening by thought, a morning by thought
think, if thinking would have made the difference
this world of ours would have turned into a heaven

think, if thinking would have made the difference
then, we wouldn’t have been apart today

*blue-lines: private buses in delhi, notorious for their almost stationery traveling.
**DTC: government buses in delhi, notorious for their not stopping on designated bus stops 😉
everything else is a tribute to the civic authorities of delhi, who would dug up a road for wires, severs and all only after it has been freshly inaugurated. like, the always touchy power or water supply and the general job market.

one of the office moments

this is me trying to catch a snap of rashmi dahling, with neeru looking on sleepily

lafz, mausiki,
shayari, bariki,
school, padhai,
yadein, tanhai,
bachpan, jawani,
khwab, kahani,

aur ek lamba sa khat
aur ek choti si judai

kya kya nahi hota tha un khaton mein,
poori duniya simat aati thi un palon mein

aaj laga,

kitne chote the woh khat
kitni badi hai yeh judai

aaj subah, uske wohi khat yaad aye

and translated for starry & others, flawed as always.
could somebody help me with this? pheebes? hagrid?

words, rhythm
poetry, depth
school, studies
memories, loneliness
childhood, youth
dreams, stories

and one more long letter, one more little separation

what not was there in those letters, a whole world used to converge in those moments

today, it felt

how small were those letters, how big is this separation

today morning, those letters of her were remembered

Needed

a soul-mate who’ll…
eat words for food,
drink promises for wine,
pillion-ride on the bike of desires,and
live in the house of dreams.

sadak (road)

kehte hain, sadkein chalti nahi
khadi rehti hain ek jagah
log chalte hain aur pahunch jate hain manjil par
paidal, gadiyon mein, dheere ya tez

(it is said, roads don’t move
stay put at one place
its the people who travel and reach their destinations
walking, through vehicles, slow or fast)

main nahi manta
sadkein toh chalti hain, behti hain nadiyon ki tarah
aur baha le jati hain inhi logo ko
apni-apni manjilon ke kareeb

(i don’t agree
roads move, infact flow like rivers
and sweep these people away
to their individual destinations)

sadkein chalti hain, chalati hain
behti hain, bahati hain
koi toh sadak hogi aisi bhi
jo uske ghar tak le jaye mujhe

(roads move, and move you with them
roads flow, and flow you along
all i wish is for a road
that’ll take me to her place)

m more blue than i thought possible.
its the happy kind of blue, shadows.
sorry bugs. sorry dudo.

Meadowlawn Road: Afternoon by Gerrit Greve; Image: © Gerrit Greve/CORBIS; Photographer: Gerrit Greve; Creator Name: Gerrit Greve; Date Created: 1991

it was a long night.

left office at 2:30am, a presentation was to be completed for a new pitch we attempted today. the whole creatives, strategy and a bit of media too. in the end it turned out to be not that great. efforts down the drain. still, we’ve a second chance.

so, at 3am on the 24th of august 2006, bugs visited me again. did she leave me at all?

she’s a moon to this planet adi. a silent spectator of whatever goes on in this life for the past half decade n more. well, errr not that silent maybe…

bugs aka autumn aka bhavna sharma.
how much more a part of my life than i usually agree to. and this is her introduction to my world. and when i remember her, i dont have the words to say what i want to. actually, i don’t even know what to.

“how will you introduce bugs, alok?” how will i? how can i?

“palkon mein har khwab chupate huye
har sitam ko hansi mein udate huye
har arman ko us par lutate huye
uska nahi,
khud apna dil dukhate huye
aaj phir,
dil se bahane tak ka safar tae kiya
kuch dus sadiyan aur char kadam”

the sparrow

for me, bugs was always like this little summer sparrow visiting our house. because they tend to create lot of kachra (mess) around, we would try to stop her. try to stop her from building a nest above the ceiling fan’s socket or in some corner window or some ventilator of the kitchen.

but, she being adamant, would build her nest eventually and we were left with no choice but to let her be. an utterly unwelcome but slowly turning to be an adorable member of the family. this brought a new fear also. the socket of a ceiling fan is not very safe for a flying feather ball. we would all take turns in watching her movements, the fan will have to stopped to her needs & callings. slowly, a new family would emerge from the twigs and threads, with hungry chirping of new-born members filling our days. and sometimes our nights too.

and one calm day, all this would cease. the noise, the mess, the flurry of activities… all would come to an end. leaving only the empty nest behind… and some empty ears ‘n eyes.

but the story doesn’t end here. bugs the summer sparrow has not left my home. she was not an unwelcome visitor, but not that important too. also, i’d some other memories to build that time. i was too preoccupied with my own dreams to see the ones she weaved around us. and i’ve still not looked into the heart of the dream.

“HOME…n the day u enter it, right on the doorstep, before u do, close ur eyes n remember me. send the message, let it waft thru the air n knock at my heart, inform Bugs tht her dream has been realised….

band ankhon mein,
andar jane se pehle
meri tasveer ko bhi talash lena
yaad rahe tujhe bhi
ki tera har khwab
meri palkon ke chilman tale basta hai“

this is the little sparrow who has come uninvited to my house. and has stayed on despite being treated with all the unwantedness possible. this is the girl who loves me like love.

but, this is the girl whom i can’t love in return. i can’t love anybody now. all that i say, write or dream are lies. love is nothing but a poet’s tool for me. an excuse to continue doing what i’m doing, to live…

“pyaar ek bahane se badh kar kuch nahin
zinda to uske bagair bhi hain hum
tham gaya hai waqt, be-manjil hua safar
bus dus sadiyan aur char kadam”

hope, i’ll find my destination someday.