ArpitGarg's Weblog

An opinion of the world around me

Posts Tagged ‘competition

ठर्कीपन

with 2 comments

बात है उस दिन की, पैदा हुआ था मैं,
सफ़ेद लिबास में पुचकार रही थी वो,
उम्र न देखी, वक़्त न देखा, बस ली फिर्की,
नर्स को ही देखकर हो गया मैं ठर्की|

नर्सरी क्लास का है किस्सा यह,
आगे की कुर्सी पे बैठी थी वो,
खींच दी आहिस्ता से चोटी उसकी,
उसकी नन्ही जुल्फों में उलझा ये ठर्की|

चौथी कक्षा की टीचर जी,
हर बच्चा उन पे मरता था,
कितनों से लड़ा, कितनी तोड़ी बत्तीसी,
ब्लैक बोर्ड की लिखाई ने कर दिया ठर्की|

स्कूल के मास्टर की कोचिंग जाता था,
कुछ अपनापन था वहां, दिल को भाता था,
नंबर अब जो भी दे वो, बेटी भा गयी मास्टर की,
फेल और पास क्या जाने, यह मन तो है ठर्की|

बचपन का दोस्त था जो, एक दिन बोला वो,
नीले दुपट्टे में आई है जो, दिल ले गयी मेरा,
कहने को भाभी होनी थी, पर मर्जी इश्वर की,
समझा लूँगा दोस्त को मैं, न समझे ये दिल ठर्की|

कम्पटीशन का पेपर देने बैठा था, आर या पार,
दो सीट आगे बैठी थी, दिल हुआ बेकरार,
सलेक्श हो जाएगा अगले साल सही,
आज जी भर के देखूं उसको, हो कर ठर्की|

ऑफिस में तो सुधर जा अब, सीधा बन,
शिकायत करेगी, जायेगी नौकरी, होगी कुर्की,
जान दे, दूसरी मिल ही जायेगी नौकरी तो,
आज रोका तो बुरा मान जाएगा दिल ठर्की|

बचपन में सीखा था मैंने,
कैसा भूल गया यह ज्ञान,
अब ना भूलूंगा जीवन भर,
हर दिन जाप करूंगा, जी कर, मर कर|

इश्क में पड़ेगा तो जान से जाएगा,
ऐसा घुसेगा, पानी नहीं पायेगा,
जूतों से पिटवाएगी यह लड़की,
नज़र रख सीधी, मत बन ठर्की||

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Same Same but Different

with 8 comments

Last night I had this amazing dream. I woke up at night with lights flashing all over. A man with big mustache and vintage golden dress was standing tall, over me, and laughing loud. “Wake up, you lazy bugger, Wake up”. Sleepy and startled, my first reaction was to blame it on the overdose of Vodka that night. But soon the gravity of the situation or can I say the lack of it dawned on me. Aaj toh lag gayi Mamu!

He told me I was dead. Died of a certain Gastropathic attack. Gas! Couldn’t it have been something legendary?  Like being attacked by flying dragons while jumping of a plane which collided with a UFO. Leave it.  I died of Gas alright.

Here I was, one moment trying to realize my dreams, my future and the very next facing the shock of my demise. My whole life flashed before my eyes. Family, Friends, Future. What now? I begged, pleaded with my soul transporter. Let me live to make things work, make things right.

It’s hard to say that it was my lucky day, given that I just died. But he took pity to me which clearly didn’t seem to match his M.O.  “There’s one condition though”, said he. “Here it comes” “Give me a reason to let You live.  Hey it’s easy, “I have so much left to do in my life. Get married. Make a career. Have kids”. He gave me a smile. “You don’t seem to get my question. Why should I let You and not some other person, live”

I was just an answer away. Given that I have been writing exams all my life, it shouldn’t have been that difficult. But believe you me, however hard I tried, I couldn’t get an answer.

Have you ever thought? Trying to make a mark in life, a place for ourselves, we have ended up being clones of each other. Lost that very individuality that we have been craving for, fighting for. When I look outside my apartment all I see is blinking stars. Only they are not stars, they are other apartments. We are all boxed up. All flats look same. All work looks same. All roads look same. All blokes look same. How is my life any different to my fellow men?

Well, it only seems logical that we all be same. The funda of evolution revolves around learning and surviving. We learn from others, grab the best of all and apply to our lives. Thereby becoming a hybrid.

With the advent of cut throat competition, this cloning process has only hastened. Don’t you remember your mother/wife saying, “Pados waale Sharma ji jo TV laaye hain humein bhi wohi chaiye” Or a kid crying that he wants the new Play station which his friends have. You covet other mans wife, car, house, life.

If we look at it the other way round, “What’s the problem in being clones” After all we are all born humans. Same at birth. Same creator. Same creation. Why is the need to be different? Just that it doesn’t seem all that right to be part of a monotonous system. It just seem what can I say, unnatural.

The similarity doesn’t end with the lives we tread; it follows us to our grave. However hard we have tried to make our post-death ceremonies different, the truth is, after a certain point, nothing but dust remains.

Anyhow, I was not able to answer the question of the big mustached guy. Good that it was just a dream. Am not sure what I had done for real.  Not even sure I really do care to be all that distinctive. I might try now and then, something out of the blue to be different. Might also be successful at that for a while. Till someone decides to catch up and steal my thunder of course.

Life

with 2 comments

This is one of my first poems. Wrote it long time back.
During the phase when students bear huge burden of expectations on their back.

Why the life is so heavy,
Like an encumbrance to levy.
Challenges pouring in every hour,
Like thorns of a rose flower.
Which smells good,
But stings like wood.
Pressure building on all sides.
Not a moment to lay beside.
Like a complicated preparation of glycene,
With everyone so keen,
To uncover the unseen.
I think how good it had been,
If worries were not known and I with my fairy queen,
Striding along the path of my life,
Free from all strife.
No feeling to outshine others,
But a mind to follow,
And sooth others like a pillow.
With feeling of communism,
Sounding everywhere like,
Dum-Dum-Dum.

Written by arpitgarg

January 31, 2010 at 7:42 am

Posted in Literary

Tagged with , , , , , , ,

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