Sunday, February 28, 2010

अबकी होली चलो एक नया रंग बनायें
केसरिया को थोड़ा हरा रंग लगायें
मीठी गुझियों के संग कुछ सेवैयाँ परोसें
जमातों में फ़िर अपनी टोली बनायें
ऐसी पिचकारियाँ सरहदें जो समेटे
ऐसे फगवा के सुर जो सभी को मिलायें
बहुत जल चुकी सरज़मीं की लकीरें
अबकी होली चलो सारी नफ़रत जलायें
ज़ख्मी होकर बुझीं जो उम्मीदें कभी
चलो इश्क़ का उनपे मलहम लगायें
अबकी होली चलो फ़िर उम्मीदें जगाएं
अबकी होली चलो एक नया रंग बनायें...

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Paradise Regained!

Here is what happens when you (to be fair, 'you' needs to be qualified, but the information has been withheld for some specific professional reasons, and left for the reader to interpret) cheat on your diet, and eat dal-chawal with dollops of ghee and aaloo-beans bhaji, followed by some heavenly halwa, the taste of which, you fear, you shall soon forget:

a) You are blessed by your perpetually starved gustatory cells, and on a micro level, by the mitochondria (Because I did not wish to be a doctor, they never believed me, but I did take my Biology lessons seriously).

b) You bless the cook and try to remember as many adjectives as you can, both for the cook and the cooked (cursing yourself, all the while, for not taking Norman Lewis seriously).

c) You are transported to the class of 2006, where Dr. Christel Devdawson is teaching Milton's Paradise Lost. In your hallucination, you begin to comprehend those lines: "[A plate of ghee-laden dal-chawal, aloo-beans bhaji and halwa in] its own place, and in it self / Can make a Heaven of Hell, [and, in absence of the subject under reference] a Hell of Heaven!"

d) You find it difficult to digest (no pun intended) that Literary Theory can have such a lucid explanation: Indeed, Heaven and Hell are a state of mind as governed by the accessibility, or the inaccessibility of the aforementioned 'plate'.

e) You become a pro at time-travel, traversing psychological and real/chronological time (If alive, Virgina Woolf would have been impressed).

f) In the psychological spacetime continuum you relish the joys of the 'sinful' Heaven (Shhh...that's a blasphemous oxymoron), and like Dr. Faustus, feel: "Am I not tormented with ten thousand hells/ In being deprived of [this]...bliss [everyday]?"

g) Your over-enthusiastic use of the oxy-MORON (your word-power becomes powerful when it shouldn't) results in your fall from 'Grace'. You are confronted by the 'real' time as you plead guilty of the 'sin of gluttony': "How am I glutted with the conceit of this...that I tasted the joys of heaven?"

h) 'Stream of Consciousness' makes complete sense to you. NOW!

i) "Damn! Where was this ingenuity during the exams?" You exclaim!

P.S:

j) "To eat, or not to eat?" You realize, that is still 'the question' .

k) You ask yourself not to worry. You know that you are perfectly normal; You just happen to be a literature student grappling with a temporary existential angst.

Friday, February 5, 2010

सुनो...
एक काम करोगे?
अपने आँगन की
एक
मुट्ठी धूप,
और उसमें खड़ा
वो जो
नीम
का पेड़ है ,
उसकी
एक
चुटकी छाया
देते
जाओ...
इस बरस
सर्दी, गर्मी कट जायेगी...
तुम फ़िर डर गए|
नही-नही,
बारिश के लिए कुछ नही चाहिए|
शायद,
तब तक आदत पड़ जाए...

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

एक 'कहानी' और मिली|
टूटी-फूटी, दरारों वाली,
पुरानी लाल ईंट की
सड़क के मोड़ पर|
"नयी नही है" -
किसी ब्लैक एंड व्हाईट फोटो से
अभी-अभी निकली
पोस्टमैन चाचा की
चूँ-चूँ करती साईकिल
के घिसे पहिये
हँसते हुए बोले...