Archive for the ‘Literary’ Category
एक याद पुरानी आयी मुझे
एक याद पुरानी आयी मुझे,
एक किस्सा भूली बातों का,
जब चाँदनी छन-छन रोशन,
औ गुस्ताखी माफ़ आखों की|
नज़रों के पहरे साफ़ हुए,
चुनरी में लागे दाग हुए,
चादर का कोना ओढे वो,
संग गिनती करते पूरे सौ|
छुप छुप के मिलना सब से,
पहरों का ओझल आँखों में ,
बातें भी ख़तम ना होती थी,
रातें भी सितम न खोती थीं|
उन उलझे उलझे बालों से,
उन लाल लजाते गालों से,
खिड़की पे बैठे सवालों से,
एक याद पुरानी आयी मुझे| |
Destiny is what we build
Why I feel lost so much,
Why I am holding a grudge,
Where has the direction gone,
What is it that I mourn.
Seasons change round the year,
Phases of moon obscure clear,
Why I feel am in slump,
What is it that I grump.
I hate to make people sad,
I somehow feel myself bad,
Where do I find the way,
What is it that I betray.
Root of it all is in me,
Pathetic shield I cannot see,
Like a ship on auto mode,
What is it that I unload.
I have to get myself out,
Won’t help just to shout loud,
Bear in mind it might be tough,
Take a stand, enough is enough.
Day and Night, Night and Day,
Act now, don’t just sit and pray,
Destiny is what we build,
All dreams to be fulfilled.
Fly, sky high
When the sun shines light,
With the chirping so sweet,
And the mood is so brigh’
You just wanna fly, sky high.
When there is dew in mornin’
With the moist air so pure,
And zillions of things to try,
You just wanna fly, sky high.
When the breeze is too mild,
With body and mind at peace,
And tensions around are nigh’
You just wanna fly, sky high.
When the rain is a drizzle,
With rainbow at horizon,
Out comes an optimistic cry,
You just wanna fly, sky high.
When night is ever young,
With work to do never done,
Future too bright, O My!
You just wanna fly, sky high.
When time to kill is nilch,
With lots of miles to go,
And going without a sigh,
You just wanna fly, sky high.
When the sun shines light,
With the chirping so sweet,
And the mood is so brigh’
You just wanna fly, sky high.
Love smells funny
Oft’ heard love is in the air,
Never told what the smell is,
Dark of night to mornin’ sunny,
I bet love just smells funny.
Oft’ heard No Sorry in Love,
Why Greeting cards to Say Sorry,
No Sorry, can lead to mutiny,
I bet love just smells funny.
Oft’ heard love makes one poet,
Never told it’s the heartbreak,
Makes one to gamble, to rummy,
I bet love just smells funny.
Oft’ heard, Love at first sight,
Never told about sights thereof,
If it were all just lust honey,
I bet love just smells funny.
Oft’ heard No substitute for love,
Never told of those who tried,
Replacement bought from money,
I bet love just smells funny.
Oft’ heard Most Alive when in love,
Never felt we were dead all along,
It’s rumor spread by dead bunny,
I bet love just smells funny.
Oft’ heard Love is endless,
Never told Love is too short,
Forgetting it is long agony,
I bet love just smells funny.
Sahitya Akademi: Political slavery of the worst kind
An interesting drama has been unfolding at Sahitya Akademi, a Govt. organization founded in 1954. More than dozen writers have returned Sahitya Akademi awards to protest against the intolerance engulfing the society. Most of these writers accuse the central Govt. of vitiating the atmosphere and fanning communal fires.
From the media reports I gather Kalburgi and Dadri cited as two primary reasons for this sudden move by the awardees. I find it amusing and sad at the same time to see a literary organization going political. But then when was it otherwise?
It’s their right to protest and no one can argue with that. But what I argue with is the hypocrisy.
Not much people would have heard the name of this organization. It’s due to the fact that it has done nothing worthwhile all these years. Their awards always have been under the scanner to be politically backed. Current episode seals that argument.
No one returned awards when there were allegations of corruption and wrongdoings against Akademi. No one returned awards after Sikh riots, Muzaffarpur riots. No one returned the awards when India witnessed most shameful corruption all around. No, they were fine with that. I am not here defending the current Govt. Maybe they are vitiating the atmosphere for all we know.
But to cite this as a reason for such cheap stunts, sounds fishy. My take is most of the awardees have been political. Akademi was criticized by none other than Khushwant Singh for awarding below-par and sub-standard writers. So for people who got awards due to their political alignment to previous Govt’s, it’s time to return the favors. Their action does nothing but malign the current Govt and in my opinion it is politically motivated.
It’s high time these people are not given any audience. If we look back last 60 years, India has achieved nothing much in literary space anyways. All thanks to such people who rose up the ranks and got awarded owing to their political alignments.
What we need is a new breed of writers who can take India to literary heights which we lost out on all these years.
Woman in the Mirror
It was chilly winter evening. The fog was getting thicker. I was out on my evening stroll. “I should have worn a thicker jacket”, thought I. The cold was bone wrecking.
I had walked a good distance from my apartment and I decided to head back. “A shot of scotch, is all I need”. Just as I was crossing the road, I saw a flicker in an apartment right ahead of me. It was the fourth floor, east facing flat. The suddenness and high frequency of flicker took me by surprise.
I forgot all about the chill. Took a step back to the pavement and looked up to the balcony closely. I could clearly make out the silhouette of a woman against the wall. “What was that?” I stood startled. A vertical ring of smoke? “No, it can’t be!” I tried to assure myself. But it was right there, staring at my face. The lady seemed to enter the ring, which now became clear to me, was like a portal. The shadow entered the ring and to my horror, the part which passed the portal, was not visible. I could see only half the shadow now.
A chill ran down my spine. What in the devils name was this? I counted; the apartment was 3rd from the corner. I walked up to the building. The gate was open. Even the cold could not stop me from sweating now. Terrified I took the stairs to the 4th floor. One, Two, Three. I was standing at the door of the devils apartment.
Should I or should I not? “I have to, I have to”. I buzzed. Nothing; I buzzed again. No response. Trembling I pushed against the door. It broke open. I entered, shaking in fear. It was pitch dark. I searched for the switch. Almost fell, as I hit something. I got hold of the switch and turned it, panicking.
Horror! The apartment was empty. No one was there. No woman, no portal. Nothing! Bedding was laid out neatly and rest of the room also looked unused. Near the end of my wits, I checked the wardrobe, under the bed, in the bathroom. Nothing!
Sigh! I smiled at my foolishness. All ado for nothing! It was indeed a figment of my imagination. I sat down on the bed and look a breath. Just then I noticed something. It looked like ash near my feet. A straight line of ash. I looked up. There was mirror. In the mirror, a lady. I jumped up. No one behind me. Just in the mirror. A lady struggling to get out. My heart skipped a beat. I dashed for the door and ran all the way home. Almost collided with few people on my way. Took a shot of whiskey and closed my eyes.
Next morning I saw news about a building that went up in flames. It looked familiar. I walked briskly to the place. I saw the building burnt to ground. “A man was seen running away from the building last night, just before the fire broke. Police are looking for him”, I heard a by-stander. I exited the scene terrified and confused.
It has been good twenty years. I still don’t know what happened that night. All I am left with is the haunting memory of the woman in the mirror.
I wish
I wish I was a charming prince,
But my mother says I already am,
I wish I was a handsome dude,
But my wife says I already am,
I wish I was the bravest man,
But my daughter says I already am,
I wish I was the funniest guy,
But then my pals laugh at my jokes,
I wish I was the role model,
But then junior want to be me,
I wish I was the happiest person,
And yes I do sleep in peace,
I think all my wish come true,
N I am the luckiest of them all.
White Dove
Gone are the days of blossoms,
Of roses, lily and cute possums,
Of rising sun and rise some more,
Of growl none but roar galore.
Gone are the days of merry,
Of apple cheeks n lips cherry,
Of silence at sea and ferry ride,
Of nothing red just peace white.
Gone are the days of beer n rum,
Of Sir sweetsalot, no cheeni-kam,
Of cakes bakes and milk shakes,
Of high octane n apply no brakes.
Gone are the days of give no hoot,
Of calmness none, emotions brute,
Of tiger jump and dragonistic fly,
Of crude anger and baby like cry.
Gone are the days of cigar rings,
Of hash leaves, delusion it brings,
Of dance wild like no tomorrow,
Of sipping away sadness n sorrow.
Gone are the days of diwali holi,
Of bursting crackers with the toli,
Of lighting candles, whole street,
Of enjoying more being indiscreet.
Gone are the days of count no sin,
Of standing up, taking on the chin,
Of tears out on losing dear love,
Of feathers cozy of the white dove.
Freedom: Prologue
“Please state your name for the record”, the chairman of the committee asked.
“Harish Damble.”
“Mr. Damble, the purpose of this enquiry is to find out whether the allegations against you are true or not.” Damble was silent as always. His keen observing power without the urge to utter a word was what made him the best. Ex-NIA chief Damble. The head of the commission was no new duck either. This was his pond and he was a veteran. A person like Damble could have rattled someone else but not Srinivasan.
“Mr. Damble charges against are you as follows. Dereliction of duty; Destroying the evidence; Aiding a convict to escape thereby bringing shame to the whole dept. Do you have anything to say before we proceed?” The same probing silence. “Very well then, let’s begin. Mr. Damble you haven’t replied to the dept’s show cause notice. Can we know why?” No answer.
“This would make it very difficult Mr. Damble. You have to help us. It can’t be one sided. Not if you not want to be martyred. This committee has no pre-notions against you. But your stubborn silence isn’t helping.” Damble changed his posture as if about to say something but remained silent, deliberating probably. “So what’s it going to be Mr. Damble. The charges against you are quiet severe and the proof that we have seen is convincing enough. Would you like to tell your side of the story? Decide fast.” Damble silently smiled and nodded. “Very well then”, Srinivasan instructed his team to begin.
“On the charge of destroying evidence, what say you.”
“Guilty”
“On charge of aiding a convict, what say you?”
“Guilty.”
This settles it then. Srinivasan was relieved by quick answers. Now that this hearing would wrap up the case, he could take the pending visit to Tirupati.
Mr. Damble, do you need to add anything. Damble’s expressions changed. He sat upright. Lit a cigarette. Took a deep puff, closed his eyes. Slowly let the smoke out.
“Mr Srinivasan, I will tell you everything. Not because I want to prove my innocence. Not because I want to duck prison. No. I will tell you so that the person whom I helped escape may get the respect he deserves. I know the evidence against him is water tight but when the world will know his story…He took another puff and started talking.
Man from the Dark: Prologue
Late again, he thought parking the car. As he managed his tired body out, the night clock at town square hit a dozen. “Where is the key?” he grumbled. A min later and turning all the pockets inside out, he bent down and fetched the emergency one from under the mat.
He lit a cigarette. It was a modest one bedroom apartment, with not much furniture to speak off. There was an old sofa, couple of chairs and some dusty books on the book-stand. Few shoes spread across the floor. As he washed his face, his eyes stopped at the mirror. Twisted eyebrows that once made him fancy to the gang, seems to be mocking him. Sagged cheeks, bulging belly, drooped frame. Who could say he was just thirty-five.
He touched the mark just below the neck; it looked like a bullet hole. He dismissed it and came out. It was another lifetime. He quickly ate the dinner and hit the bed. Tomorrow again the day will start early.
A familiar sound woke him up. “No it can’t be, maybe just a dream”, he thought half asleep. Again the same piercing sound. How can it be? He regained his thoughts and moved swiftly to the door. “I couldn’t be mistaken. I have lived too much through this to be confused. It’s definitely a gunshot”.
He took out the revolver taped under the shoe rack, Not for such a situation. With caution, he peeped outside. Nothing in the gallery. The elevator gate was trying to close but seemed stuck. He was too well aware what it meant. He could see a lifeless leg stuck in between. He went to the back window and saw someone rushing towards the North Exit.
He slid through the railings and swung in action. With light speed and tremendous flexibility he was on the ground in no time. Straight from the 10th floor. He chased the figure, trying not to lose the sight. There was no dramatic “Stop or I will shoot you”, as he knew too well that it rarely helped. Also he had no appetite to shoot. Not anymore.
He followed the person through the alley into an abandoned warehouse. He was panting. It would have been 5 kms run at least, and it has been 5 years. Shaking off the slumber, he kept the concentration on. There was a small door towards the left with a shadow coming out. “Gotcha!” No sooner had he stepped inside than he heard the door closing behind him. He knew just then, his life was about to change. Again.
“You are a hard man to find Mr. Dev. He looked through the bullet proof cage, as the man with the pointed nose spoke to him calmly. I got an assignment for you. Before you say anything, I must add that it concerns your daughter.
“What is he saying?” Dev showed emotion, after a very long time, after that torturous night 5 years ago.
“She is alive and so is your wife”, he said putting out the cigarette. That very moment Dev knew this was an assignment he couldn’t say no to.
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