Yayaver….

Yayaver, a wonderful blogger, writes a blog with the name Sparsh. Sparsh is one of the earliest blogs to which I came across during my initial days of interaction with the world of blogs. Yayaver is also one of the inspirations that propelled me to say something on my own and speak it out.

Yayaver had written a post on May 19, 2010: “Eat, Drink and Sleep. Is this a life ? “

I had taken question from his posts, made some questions as questions of my own life and let the others remain as his only. I had tried my own answers of those questions and posted them as comments on his post…. Revisiting those questions and answers I thought of reproducing them here again, offcourse after removing those typos:

Yayaver: If I am thrown out of my job with no family support, could I achieve my goal then?

Me: First of all it depends on what are your goals. And anyway you’ve earned your job and it’s not any kind of favour done to you. If you are thrown out then you’ll find another one, perhaps if you want.

Yayaver: I always feel like an old soul in a young man’s body….So what is this idea of living in an eternal recurrence of hate and love?

Me: It’s always good to feel like an old soul in a young man’s body, but you should have a heart of a child. About idea of living in an eternal recurrence of hate and love, I’ll only say that till the end of civilisation there will always be duality of hate and love. We should always try to maximise the love part of it but we can’t eliminate the other fully. And if ever that happens then that time the idea of love and hate itself will undergo change for sure.

Yayaver: Every Jack has Jill. But I am not Jack.

Me: NO COMMENTS. Sometimes I don’t believe. Sometime try out with all your heart and if you fail thereafter again, please post it then again.

Yayaver: I want to be free from obligations, bonds and relations.

Me: Many times in life we feel like breaking the shackles of relationship, bondage etc. That is where, if I say personally, comes the very crucial question of marriage, whether in case if we want to do something in life and that something is not the one well trodden paths but something different then what will be the role of marriage in our lives.

Yayaver: Also, there are really dark memories too and I don’t go there. So much overburdened by guilt feeling. Does saying sorry amend the wrong doings?

 Me: There will always be guilt feelings pertaining to past. Saying sorry may not amend things always but some sort of solace it may provide atleast.

Yayaver: “In solitude, my writing has become better.” & “Solitude is the blessing that comes with the curse of loneliness.”

Me: I’ll quote something by Thoreau here “I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. To be in company, even with the best, is soon wearisome and dissipating. I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.”

Yayaver: I had said and written many wrong things about girls in the past. I realized now how wrong and arrogant I was. New insights can’t change past, but hoping for forgiveness from everyone.

Me: Don’t you think there is a lot of contribution of the way we have seen in society women being treated a lot to do with what you’ve said and written earlier about girls. But as we grew and got a chance of interaction with the world in large and enlightened ourselves with the ideas and thoughts of greats and other civilisations we came to know about meanness of our past thoughts. The only way to amend those acts is to erase completely the slightest of sexual bias in our thoughts and deeds and also to propagate the idea of equality irrespective of sex.

Yayaver: I am avoiding the concept of success or failure as it. I wanna be a living lesson that while slow and steady may not hit the target always, it sure does make the ride worth taking.

Me: Success and Failures are relative terms and as such should not hold a great meaning in our lives, the only thing that should count is the nobility of our thoughts and deeds.

Yayaver: And all of us know expectations hurts.

Me: Very True, that’s all I can say. Many times felt and experienced myself.

Yayaver: Where is the life I have lost in living? The closer I feel to death, the more I realize as alive.

Me: For this I’d take something from Paulo Coelho – “I know its not a topic anyone likes to think about, but I have a duty to my readers, to make them think about the important things in life. And death is possibly the most important thing. We are all walking towards death, but we never know when death will touch us and it is our duty, therefore, to look around us, to be grateful for each minute. But we should also be grateful to death, because it makes us think about the importance of each decision we take, or fail to take; it makes us stop doing anything that keeps us stuck in the category of the ‘living dead’ and, instead, urges us to risk everything, to bet everything on those things we always dreamed of doing, because whether we like it or not, the angel of death is waiting for us.”

Manzil aur Safar….

Ho jab haseen itna safar..
To nahin hamein manzil ki arzoo..
Jise ho talaash adab ik manzil ki wo jaane..
Mujhe to hai besabab ik safar ki justzoo….
~Self

Absurdities

Absurdities may manifest in many forms and manners,

Religion sprouts many of them many times.

Thoreau is back….

It was the Christmas morning, to be precise December 25, 2011. I had to catch the early morning flight to New Delhi. Had asked the cab to be there at 4’o clock in the morning. I always remember last year’s missed Chennai-Mumbai flight. And thereafter I have always been extra careful in reaching airport well in advance.

I went to sleep at 12 in the midnight setting the alarm for 3:30 AM in my mobile.

My sleep broke, saw the watch…oh man, its 1:30 AM only…one more time…this time 2:30 AM. Finally I was out of my bed by 3:15 AM (didn’t require alarm) and was ready to go by 3:45 AM. Cab fellow called me at @4 am and by 4:05 am he was there…

Reached airport. While checking-in, I wanted to take my trolley bag as hand baggage with me.

The jet airways fellow, “Sir, only baggage upto 7 Kg are allowed to be taken as hand baggage.”

“How much is this?” I asked.

“Sir, its 12 Kg,” he said after weighing.

“Ok, let it go in luggage and I’ll collect it at Ranchi,” I said.

“Yes Sir.”

Boarded the flight.

I was carrying two books with me including ‘Walden and “Civil Disobedience” by Henry David Thoreau’. I think Thoreau’s book is having as much flying hours experience as me. Almost always the book has been with me during my flight journeys. I took out Thoreau from my bag and started turning pages, but lack of sleep the previous night made me feel drowsy. I kept Thoreau in the back-pocket of my front seat. And I dozed off.

Flight landed at New Delhi Airport. People hurdled towards the exit door, rushing to be out of the aircraft. Everyone was in a hurry to be out, as if they have been released from the captivity of some terrorists hijacking the plane.

 “Now it is 8:25 AM; next flight is at 11:45 AM; security check will be there; New Delhi Airport will be crowded; I have to meet a friend; by what time I should positively be back etc. etc.”, my mind was involved in multiple calculations while disembarking from the plane.

I called my friend.

“Take the metro from Airport and come to New Delhi Station,” pat came reply.

“Ok, will be there soon,” replied I.

I was cantering my way to Airport Metro Station.

I was at platform waiting for the Airport Express service of the metro. In another 1 minute metro will be there.

“Oh, fuck man…!!!!!” (multiply the exclamatory “!” n times where n→∞)

“Oh, fuck man, I left Thoreau in the aircraft itself !!”

Metro had arrived at the platform. Reluctantly boarded.

“Whether Thoreau will be back with me? How to get back Thoreau? Off course, I can order another copy of the book and it will be delivered within a couple of day’s time. But I had developed some sort of relationship with the pages of the book.” Multiple questions and thoughts came to my mind.

Nostalgia engulfed me. I went back 4 years in time.

I read about the book in one of the editions of Literary Review, The Hindu. I remembered the euphoria and excitement that I had felt when I had found the book after much of search in Chennai 4 years ago. I remembered the bewildered look on the faces of the book shop managers when I asked about the book. Finally, I had found it at Landmark, City Centre, Chennai.

I thought that once I am back at New Delhi Airport, I will register the information regarding missing of Thoreau at any of the Jet Airways’ office.

Reached New Delhi Station. It takes approx 19-20 minutes from Airport to New Delhi Station by Metro.

Met my friend. Had some light breakfast. Had some chat. And once more I was on my way back to airport.

“Sir, 1 ticket for New Delhi Station,” I asked at the counter.

“Sir, this is New Delhi Station only,” the guy at the counter said.

“Oh fuck, sorry…!! I mean 1 ticket for Airport,” I said in bewilderment and hurry.

“It’s OK, it happens,” he said.

I missed the 10:18 AM Metro towards Airport just by a whisker, next was at 10:30 AM.

Boarded 10:30 AM metro. It took approx 20 minutes to reach Airport Metro Station. By 10:50, I was there. Again I was cantering my way towards Airport. By 11:00 AM I was in queue at security check. Queue was quite long. Now my heart beat had started pacing upward.

“Still there is enough time,” I consoled myself.

By 11:20 security check was over. I put my laptop back in bag arranged things in hurry. I was not aware that where is the boarding gate. I saw the screens where departure information was being displayed.

Flight No. 9W 2291, RANCHI, Gate No.48, Final Call

“Where is the Gate No.48,” I asked someone.

“Sir, it’s upstairs, I mean all the boarding gates are upstairs at first floor.”

“Ok, thanks”

I was running, the airport time showed the time 11:23 AM. I remembered the rule that ‘Boarding gates will be closed 20 minutes prior to scheduled departure time’

In first floor, an arrow sign showed gate nos. 32 to 67 this side.

I was running. People were looking at me.

“Today, I am gonna miss my flight for sure.” I thought.

By the nick of time I reached the boarding counter at Gate No.48 and Ahhhh… a sigh of relief.

Aircraft was almost full. I was sweating in that Delhi cold. The person sitting beside me asked, “Beta, why are you sweating in this cold”

I smiled and said nothing.

“I had almost fucked up my flight journey” I said to myself, instead.

 

“Welcome to the Jet Airways’ flight to Ranchi. This is Captain XYZ. With me my second flying officer is ABC,” the captain announced.

“Who cares what is your name, until unless you have not obtained pilot’s license by screwing up the System. Just take me to Ranchi safely without crash landing the flight in some river or forest.” I thought.

“We regret to inform that flight has got delayed by 15-20 minutes. We have some guests coming by Chennai-Delhi flight who will be boarding this flight to Ranchi. The Chennai-Delhi flight has got delayed and is likely to arrive in another 10 minutes time. And you will appreciate that it will be inappropriate on our part to leave them.” The captain completed.

“So now I had some time. Why not try to find where Thoreau might be,” I contemplated.

I called one of the flight attendants. And let me confess, she was beautiful.

“Ma’am, I was flying today morning from Hyderabad to Delhi in Jet Airways’ 6:20 AM flight. I was on seat no. 7A and I have left one book there. Can you help me in any way to get back the book?” I asked the beautiful lady.

“Let me check out sir,” She said and went to her senior.

“Sir, can you tell the name of the book, name of the author and your seat number,” another beautiful air-hostess asked me.

“Yeah, I was on seat no.7A and book’s name is ‘Walden and Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau’,” I replied with some hope.

“Please write the name on some paper,” She said again.

“Can you help me with a piece of paper,” I requested her.

“Sorry sir, we don’t have, please write the name on the security check tag on your bag, and please be fast as I have to ask grounds staff,” She said.

I wrote the name in security check tag on my bag and gave it to her.

the tag

 

Oh surprise….!!!!

Within some 2-3 minutes time, came smiling the beautiful lady with Thoreau in her hand. She gave me Thoreau back.

“Thanks a lot,” I thanked her.

“Welcome sir.”

“Thanks once again,” I said once again.

She smiled and went.

I profusely thanked her in my heart. I thought that Santa has come today in Yellow attire rather than in usual red. So this was Christmas gift to me by beautiful Santa in yellow attire.

“THOREAU IS BACK…..!!!!!” I cried within my heart.

I turned the pages of the book and I was on page no.362:

“Not a drum was heard, nor a funeral note,

As his corse to the ramparts we hurried;

Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot

            O’er the grave where our hero we buried.”

[From “The Burial of Sir John Moore at Corunna,” by Charles Wolfe (1791-1823)]

And on page no.363:

“I am too high-born to be propertied,

To be a secondary at control,

Or useful serving-man and instrument

To any sovereign state throughout the world.”

[Shakespeare, King John]

ये साल अच्छा है…

नए वादों का जो डाला है, वो जाल अच्छा है…

रहनुमाओं ने कहा है ये साल अच्छा है…

दिल को खुश रखने को…ग़ालिब ये ख्याल अच्छा है….

For the sake of the journey….

In the end, it all came to one question

How much pain will you sustain?

Remember this before the journey began

Never in your hand, although, was the journey to begun

Take the journey for the sake of the journey

Take the thorns, and flowers,

And bee stings, and the honey,

And the rain, and the Sun,

And the elixir, and the venom….

For the sake of the journey….

मेरे दिल से मेरे चेहरे का समझौता मज़े का है

ये अन्दर कुछ नहीं कहता वो बाहर कुछ नहीं कहता…

~मुनव्वर राना

Pen on Paper….

One more time…pen on paper…

Search continues…

For words..

For sentences…

For paragraphs….

More than anything…

Search for the real me….

Beyond the cacophonous existence…..

Words intertwined with words..

Sentences entangled in sentences.. .

Paragraphs knotted with paragraphs….

Me with another me…..

Me with the real me……

Yet I find a blank….

A void……

An emptiness……

Yet, I put one more time pen on paper…..

Wishing to come out of this…..

Trying to find..words…sentences…paragraphs…

I am reminded of my limitations…

By the pen and…..

By the paper…..

The filled up ink in the pen…

And the blank paper…

Reminded me of my grim actualities….

Pen on paper…..Once again……

चल बुल्लिह्या, चल ओथे चलिए, जित्थे सारे अन्हें,

ना कोई साडी जात पछाने, ना कोई सानूं मन्ने…

~बुल्लेशाह

 

बुल्लेशाह, वहां चलो, जहाँ सभी अंधे हों..

वहां कोई हमारी जाति नहीं पहचानेगा, ना ही वहां कुछ विशिष्ट मानेगा…

 

What If?

“What if?”
Was that a question?
Was that a wish?
Was that a hope?
Was that despair in words?
Was that pain?
Was that joy?
What was that “what if?” which had come to my heart?
Echoing a thousand times, or a million times?
Don’t know.
Let that be, I thought.
Don’t brood over that, I said.
Again an echo, one more time, “what if?”.
“What if?”
“What if?”
“What if?”
A hundred times.
A thousand times.
What if this would have been like that?
What if that would have been like this?
What if things would never have been like anything.
A complete void. A nothingness. A silence.
“No more “What if?” please”…!!!, I screamed.
And then one more echo, a hundred more, a thousand more, a million more…