Nothing looks interesting .. not even being alone

Nothing seems to be interesting right now. nothing helps to take away my attention..

कोई सागर दिल को बहलाता नहीं।
बेखुदी में भी करार आता नहीं।

मैं कोई पत्थर नहीं, इन्सान हूँ,
कैसे कह दूं गम से घबराता नहीं,

Dont know when ...... maybe some more time...

It is getting darker. I do not see light.

बड़ी सूनी सूनी है,
जिन्दगी ये जिन्दगी,

मैं खुद से हूँ यहाँ,
अजनबी, अजनबी।

Why do I feel so alone, I have no reason to feel so.

No reason

No reason

Yet .... lonely.

जाने क्यों।

La persistencia de la memoria - The Persistence of Memory

The Persistence of Memory is the famous 'melting clocks' painting by Salvador Dalí, It was completed in 1931 and is one of his best surrealistic works.

When I see it, it makes me feel even more relavant today.

Look at the way the time melts and droops ...

Another of Dali's work that I have liked is 'The person in the Window'. Today I was reminded of this paintiing when I heard a mention of watching out of a balcony, on a lone, peaceful, personally owned day.

This painting is .. amazing... spellbinding....

I am leaving this post half way.... as thoughts feel choked... Just watching.

Infinite Happiness - अनंत सुख

Another night, another ghazal. Tonight, it is the voice of Begum Akhtar singing the soulful ghazal of Sudarshan Faaqir - Rone Na Diya. A classic in all aspects, Faaqir has penned the restlessness of those why cannot show out a tear. Those who cannot cry.

Many of us, so many times, feel like leting a tear down, letting the cry come out of the dry throat - but -- no. Not done.

इश्क मैं गैरत-ए-जज्बात ने रोने ना दिया।
वरना क्या बात थी, किस बात ने रोने ना दिया।

The hounour of the emotion did not let me cry; or what else could it have been that did not let me cry out. What stops me to shout out? Nothing - just the hounour of an emotion. What else - nothing.

आप कहते थे रोने से ना बदलेगें नसीब,
उम्र भार आपकी इस बात ने रोने ना दिया।


रोने वालों से कहो, उनका भी रोना रो लें,
जिन को मजबूरी-ए-हालात ने रोने ना दिया।

तुझ से मिल कर हमे रोना था, बोहत रोना था,
तंगी-ए-वक़्त-ए-हालात ने रोने ना दिया।

एक दो रोज़ का रोना हो तो रो लें - 'फाकिर',
हम को हर रोज़ कि सदामात ने रोने ना दिया।


--

Recalling another line.. somewhere in the mind...

Yoohin muskuraaye jaa........

I know all that my ears have heard is truth, bare and strong.
If I can take it well, then I would walk straight for long on the new path, else, I would see what I will do.

Afterall, we all have different destinations, just like paths.

What is mine? - My journey is my destination.

What next? God Knows.

And when it comes to my khushi?

Remebering some old line from what I read in my middle school...

मेरो मन कहॉ अनंत सुख पावे
जैसे उड़े जहाज़ से पंछी,
फिर जहाज़ पे आवे।

pigeonhole existence

This morning, I feel my feet are cemented in my eternal living grave and my hands are stretching towards the sky. I want to break free. I know this is impossible. The only way I can fly is to chop my my limbs.

I feel too timid to cut of that piece of my flesh and blood which has a part of my soul in it, from my body. But I just cannot live the way I am living now. It is getting too dark everyday.
Its not that I don't have a sky to fly. It is that my life is so bloated with my fixedness that has been a part of my identity since ages. I have lived in a cave world, and I shall continue to do so, till my feet get freed. I am afraid, by then, it will be too late and I will have no sky left for me to fly. I don't know if my sky will wait for me. Guess... only time has the answer.
Depression is building up and so is my migraine. I have always said that everything is a phase and shall pass away, but I guess this phase I am into, will pass away only with my life. Another few decades to live this way. Once the birds will have wings, learn to fly, and shall fly off, I might too.

The day has started in a rotten way, and I don't know how the rest of it will go. In a few hours, I shall try to live a little more again, pumping fuel in me to work through my day. And then return to my pigeonhole existence. Just like a pigeon who closes the eyes believing that no one will see him.

ROFL

may i live as long as .....

Was looking thru the pages on the net, looking for some old ghazals, and saw this one... by qatil shifai. Each couplet is said in such simple words, that it just seeps inside, making the feeling come out easily..


वो दिल ही क्या तेरे मिलने कि जो दुआ ना करे,
मैं तुझको भूल के जिंदा रहूँ, खुदा ना करे।

May sound a little exxagerrated, but the next couplet balances it out..

यह ठीक है नही मरता कोई जुदाई मैं ,
खुदा kisi को मगर किसी से जुदा ना करे

May no one ever get this separation, ever.
but i dont know will my life will be faithful enough ??

रहे गा प्यार तेरे साथ जिन्दगी बन के
ये ओर बात है मेरी जिन्दगी वफ़ा ना करे


May I live as long as the one .....

Desperation of circumstantial handcuffs

दम घुटा जाता है सीने में फिर भी ज़िंदा है
तुम से क्या हम तो ज़िन्दगी से भी शर्मिंदा हें

Life is getting too suffocating these days.

There are times when anxiety breaks me down , and then there are times when my inabilities devastate me.

कभी बेकसी ने मारा,
कभी बेबसी ने मारा,
गिला मौत से नहीं है,
मुझे जिन्दगी ने मारा।

Everthing seems so normal, so nice, so good, yet, where is my peace, my smile, my happiness.

Muqaddar pe kuch zor chalta nahin
Voh mausam hai yeh jo badalta nahin

जब गम -ए-इश्क सताता है तो हस ले ता हूँ,

Thats all one can do, I guess.

Smile over the pangs of distance, laugh over the boundries, and mock over my own limitations.

Red Riding Hood with Casper

Sometimes, a thought can be transformed into a visual that says just the right thing

nothing more.. nothing less.

One Tight Slap

Time slapped me once again today.

It was my mistake and I have no choice but to take it.

I am being forced to do things which I would have never done by choice.

I was supposed to be happy today.

I am.


An afternote: Just read somewhere

In detachment lies the wisdom of uncertainty...

In the wisdom of uncertainty lies the freedom from our past, from the known, which is the prison of past conditioning.

And in our willingness to step into the unknown, the field of all possibilities, we surrender ourselves to the creative mind that orchestrates the dance of the universe.

a quote by Deepak Chopra

Goodnite 40

Today, I am a loss of words.
Thoughts are flooding and I can hear only the gurgling sounds in my head.
So much to say - and everything stuck at the tip of my fingers, not passing to the keyboard.

Good Night 40.

Emptyful Yell

Feeling too edgy today। too eager to yell, too much in bad mood.

Life is slowly developing that bitter aftertaste; the taste that comes for a long brewed, well brewed and well aged drink. The pungent flavor of experiences is taking over my nerves, slowly and unsteadily.

The sourness of time is hitting my throat with guiltless pain, something to live with, till life lasts. The neck is acting too flimsy and delicate, as if it is refusing to take the balance of head any longer.

The eyes hazily look across everything around, and roll back behind the eyelids; half open, gazing out to nothing.

The covers of happiness seem to be peeling away, and the sadness tearing its way through the wrinkled, broken skin.

गम और खुशी में फर्क ना महसूस हो जहाँ,
मैं दिल को उस मुकाम पे लाता चला गया।

Right in the middle of the day, the sun seems to be setting, moving down to the sea, making way for the empty hours, before the night darkens it further.

The mind is silent, stuffed so much that nothing seems to move inside.

Stuffed and jam-packed, with no scope of movement, like a train compartment full of unknown co-travelers.

My own face looks somewhat comfortably unknown, comfortably distant, to my own self.

The eyes are unfamiliarly dull, and the smile – where did it go?

Intoxify

Remembering bachchan again today. No, not the senior or the junior one. The orignal one - Harivanshrai Bachchan. His words are resounding in the chambers of my heart, once again today. So, without any words of mine, I would let his words speak it ...

आज सजीव बना लो, प्रेयसी, अपने अधरों का प्याला,

भर लो, भर लो, भर लो इसमें, यौवन मधुरस की हाला,

और लगा मेरे होठों से भूल हटाना तुम जाओ,

अथक बनू मैं पीनेवाला, खुले प्रणय की मधुशाला

Tu Kya Hai - What am I?

Ghalib met me once again today, while driving. Just put in the music and a ghazal filled the car.

I dont know when and why ghalib wrote these verses, and what he would have felt, but the feeling in not really unfamilier at times.

हर एक बात पे कहते हो के - तू क्या है।
तुम ही कहो के ये अंदाज़ ए गुफ्तगू क्या है।

Not to tough to understand, when someone tells me - What are you? and I simply wanna ask - Hey! is this a way to talk?

ना शोले में ये करिश्मा, ना बर्क़ में ये अदा,
कोई बात कि वोह शोख ए तुन्द खू क्या है।

[ बर्क़ - lightening , शोख ए तुन्द -the sharpness of beauty, खू - behaviour ]

रही ना ताकात ए गुफ्तार, और अगर हो भी,
तो किस उम्मीद पे कहें के आरजू क्या है।

[ ताकत ए गुफ्तार - Energy to argue ]

Me, Anand and Taj tonight.

Was going to sleep, while switching channels and playing random numbers on the remote, and saw a familiar shot from yesteryears. Flipped back the channel and hey – this was Anand.
Anand – the movie that changed my perspective about life years ago. So much to learn, so much to feel and so much to understand. Yet, something I admired so much about it was the light hearted approach to adversities of life, is still something I have to learn.

At every stage of my life, I have enjoyed this movie, for different reasons. When I was a teenage kid, and I saw this for the first time on my black and white television, I loved it for the sheer pleasure of not so subtle, yet not so loud comedy. Very few movies have managed to stay balanced in comic moods. I enjoyed the concept to go ahead to talk to anyone you like, and if it clckks one could gain friends.
In the words of Anand – Koi accha laga, uss se do minute baat kii, aur kya chahiye, khushi mil gayi.

Right now, listening to its magical words ( by who else, other than gulzar )


छोटी बातें,
छोटी छोटी बातों कि हें यादें बड़ी।
भूले नहीं,
बीती हुई एक छोटी घड़ी,

जनम जनम से आँखें बिछायी,
तेरे लिए ही राहों में।

मैंने तेरे लिए ही सात रंग के सपने चुने,
सपने सुरीले सपने।

रूठी रातें ,
रूठी हुई रातों को जगाया कभी,
तेरे लिए,
बीती सुबह को बुलाया कभी,
तेरे बिना ही, तेरे लिए ही
दिए जलाये रातों में।

मैंने तेरे लिए ही सात रंग के सपने चुने,
सपने सुरीले सपने।


Just got the news on my sms that Tajmahal has been chosen in Seven Wonders of the world.
...... dreams unlimited.....
Got to see you soon - Taj. and this time - My Way.

A call from the core

This doesn't seem to be myself.

Somewhere inside, a restlessness is raising its head again and again. Sleepless nights are only adding to my woes. I do everything to stay away from that downward feeling, but when it strikes, I see myself sinking deep into bouts of depression.

I feel like closed and caged, in a low walled cell full of darkness, where I cannot even stand properly, and I keep on scratching the walls, groping in the dark, looking for a door, a window, an opening.

Tired, it puts me to sleep.

As mornings come, I cling to the only ray of hope that visits me and cheers my day. I murmur, come to me, my sunny morning, give me the light that will put this restlessness to sleep for some more time, and I can be myself once again.

Muddy Splatters

The worldly conscience tells me to be a little distant, a little away, a little more dignified in my approach, a should show my involvement to a lesser visibility. It says that it helps me gain attractiveness and maintain a balance. I am being taken for granted and this may be really bad because there would be no attraction left in me. One should ideally keep a good distance, to keep the interest going on for long. I know I am going overboard a lot these days, and this phase is leaving me quenched inside.

My heart says – No. Why the hell I would ever strategies one of the most wonderful feelings I have in me. I am happy for what I have, and I would love to have much more, and real soon.

I do not want this phase to pass by, leaving me more thirsty.

What stops me? Wrong timings I guess.

My emotions don't wear a watch.

Neither do my heart have a calender. It is just another eager kid wanting the most to himself, much more than the little hands can hold. It refuses to believe that my time is almost up. I keeps on forgetting that I am growing older with each tick of the life clock. It just refuses to grow up. Jumping with joy in the rain, splattering on muddy waters, and greedily looking at the sky for more.

What's wrong with this, specially when it comes so naturally to me.

And the world says - it is all wrong. Just Shut Up.

Newsreel Documentary about the Interval

In the time of the golden oldies, during the interval in those movies, a newsreel used to appear telling all the boring documentary stuff. I used to talk about all that no one actually cared to know, except the people who really wanted to know about it.

This day, a year ago, I started this blog. The reason was simple - plain news.

Just like the good old doordarshan in early seventies, the purpose was to make a window to myself. Slowly, but swiftly, it turned to be a mirror of my mind (and heart ... i guess). It started featuring songs and musical extravaganza of the life, as it flowed from one day to another.

Today, when I look back at this diary of mine, I see a large canvas spread over so many months, painted in multiple hues varying from romantic pinks to saddening blues, earthy browns of reality to lively oranges of sunny evenings, strictest whites to passionate violets – it is all out there. There is a definite learning curve, marked with so many unique experiences.

As I turn the leaves of this blog, I see hunger, and fulfillment; I see desire and satisfaction; I see journeys and destinations. Reading them all, it seems that this has been an eventful phase of time.

The journey continues .....

Another Morning of mixed emotions

Just picked the rhyme of a verse from another blog - and penned a few lines this morning..


Jiski tasveer khayalon se fanaa nahin hoti,
Uski aankhon mein ik aaina kyun lagta hai.

Sulagte hue ashkon pe chheente daal kar,
poochhte hai wo ke, dhuyyan sa kyun lagta tai

Aur wo jo kehte hain ke bhool jayen unhe,
Unke bina sab yahan soona sa kyun lagta hai.


Life is not about picking roses.
It is about plucking the thorns, one by one, from the roses I have in my hand.