siine me.n jalan aa.Nkho.n me.n tuufaan saa kyuu.N hai

usual 'festival time' packed trains... the difference between usually packed and 'festival time' packed is in its commuter crowd, during ganpati, ramzaan, navratri, rakhi, diwali, mountmary fair, people travel in families (don't they get tired of long queues, not working coupon machines, delayed trains, jewellery, kids, tantrums, sweat, etc etc? anyway. i salute people's enthu) with bags, kids, costumes, giggly crabby loud noises et al. (yes yes looks like am getting old as well...) anyway... so one of those days...

time is around 10 pm, place - 2nd class women's compartment in a badlapur train... crowded, no place to sit except an occasional fourth seat... kids standing in most of the windows looking straight poking out for fun and "reverse in" for all the reassuring glances from their mommies... it is already late ALL the women...

one woman gets in with her kid (heads for window like a good boy) and she tries to squeeze on the fourth seat... there are two women standing having aconversation with the other seated three... till this point they are all the same, always-slightly-irritated-but-trying-to-look-at-the-brighter-side working middle class women managing their families, festivals, jobs with great difficulty and greater courage...

in a flash, the usual "aap thoda sarko na" "aap thik se baitho na" "eisahi chalna padna hai" sort of squabble becomes a religious, swear words laden full fledged war of words... the three properly seated and two standing muslim women pounce on the latest very hindu looking entrant saying horrible horrible things to her... as retaliation to something she mumbled under her breath as a part of her fourth seat angst... clearly a casteist racist sort of remark which comes so naturally to anyone these days... "we will show you what we are" "get down at mumbra" "what do YOU think you are bitch" were among the milder ones...

they discussed everyones lineage, legitimate and otherwise, while they were shouting, she was mumbling, not in a scared vulnerable way but reproachful, disapproving, trying-to-garner-suport from other travellers sort of way... as the fight became not-easy-on-anyone, especially kids, the hindu woman got up and moved over to another door and left the group... the muslim women got off at mumbra and train stopped longer than usual so that everyone could watch them narrate the incident to their male counterparts... the hindu woman got back to same (!) seat and started one of those "these-women-i-tell-you" talks... of course followed by supporting "i-know-i-tell-you" type of discussions...

a simple fourth seat quarrel had so many prejudices surface and with such venom and vengeance on both sides... where do we get this misdirected hatred from? how many of those had actually interacted with members of any other community let alone religion... how long can we go on discussing the socio-politico-economic-religious reasons for such a scary chasm...

the confused scared kid in his "reverse in" position staring at the elderly expletives flying around comes to my mind more often than not these days...

siine me.n jalan aa.Nkho.n me.n tuufaan saa kyuu.N hai

shahryar

siine me.n jalan aa.Nkho.n me.n tuufaan saa kyuu.N hai

is shahar me.n har shaKhs pareshaan saa kyuu.N hai

dil hai to dha.Dakane kaa bahaanaa ko_ii Dhuu.NDhe

patthar kii tarah behis-o-bejaan saa kyuu.N hai

tanhaa_ii kii ye kaun sii manzil hai rafiiqo

taa-hadd-e-nazar ek bayaabaan saa kyuu.N hai

ham ne to ko_ii baat nikaalii nahii.n Gam kiivo zuud-e-pashemaan

pashemaan saa kyuu.N hai

kyaa ko_ii na_ii baat nazar aatii hai ham me.n

aa_iinaa hame.n dekh ke hairaan saa kyuu.N hai

woh samundar ho jati hai...

people say one should always preserve oneself in any life situation. it's a noble thought. but i have my doubts and metaphors. here's my first one.

loving someone with adequate self preservation and without really wholeheartedly plunging is like walking in the rain with windcheaters and raincoats on. the happiness you get out of both situations is of having protected yourself against a potential possible hurt or cold or fever. not of getting drenched, soaked and absorbed. i know it is stupid romantic, but as drishtidyumna dhumketu barishkar says in thoda sa rumani ho jaye,

do ghato ke beech ek nadi hai jo samundar se milti hai,
ghat ghat rehte hain,
wo samundar ho jati hai...

ai Khudaa ret ke saharaa ko sama.ndar kar de

Shahid Meer

ai Khudaa ret ke saharaa ko sama.ndar kar de

yaa chhalakatii aa.Nkho.n ko bhii patthar kar de
tujhako dekhaa nahii.n mahasuus kiyaa hai mai.n ne

aa kisii din mere ehasaas ko paikar kar de
aur kuchh bhii mujhe darakaar nahii.n hai lekin

merii chaadar mere pairo.n ke baraabar kar de

the in between time

Twilight

The time is in between. It has always been the time that links day and night, bright and dark, white and black. The in between time... Twilight time…

when people and sparrows begin their journey home… they are in between too… not at work… not home yet… coz everyone here lives 'far far' away… transition time… to put it clinically...

and to not to put it clinically, this sepia yellow light that just takes over everything, roads, skies, sea, traffic, people, trees... it has strange qualities… that it is romantic is established from scores of poems that talk about this time… but why do these moments make one restless… I can't sit at home around this time… can't sleep, can't read, can't be alone, can't be together, can't be this and can't be that…

but sometimes am on marine drive watching the sky play with sunrays and shadows and watching the sea taking it all in… and there are many taking a slice of this with them… many don't (there is many for everything here, na?)... in buses, in trains, on the roads as they restlessly take the journey home… soon it becomes dark…

the street lights start lighting up when it is only half dark…like a punctual, rather, just-before-time-this-is-my-first-job employee… they come on one by one… carefully, like a well mannered queue at a bus stop…
gracefully - allowing each one to light well, see the ocean and take a bow, so that the next one in line doesn't hog the attention the previous one would have got, like when aspiring-but- not-aggressive junior artists introduce themselves at an audition...

and then the sky lets the street light become the centre of attention, it becomes dark, the sea tries to become invisible letting “the queen's necklace” perform, except for it's mild waves which are lost in the traffic honks…only an occasional bird with my kind of sense of direction is circling around, sometimes worried, sometimes not…

the moment is over in no time… before you know it is night… before you know you have ended the day… before you know you have missed the moment... before you know you forgot…that the journey, the twilight, the in-between was beautiful too…

skies were vying for your attention while you ran for the train, bus, coz there were people, children, unclean rooms, half-cooked meals, last-minute-touches presentations, demanding the same you far more aggressively…

will we hurriedly sleep-walk though life and miss the play of colours? will we enjoy the journey and not just “yo-i-did-it” joy (or the “phew” of thank-god-i-made-it) of reaching the destination?

the bright blue skies now slowly turn into twilight colours, and that beautiful restless quivery moment slides onto the city, the waves, the trains, the crowds…there is going to be a huge traffic jam and I’ll watch a mad bird circling around as day becomes night…

dil bhii bujhaa ho shaam kii parachhaa_iyaa.N bhii ho.n

ahmed faraz

dil bhii bujhaa ho shaam kii parachhaa_iyaa.N bhii ho.n
mar jaa_iye jo aise me.n tanhaa_iyaa.N bhii ho.n
aa.Nkho.n kii surKh lahar hai mauj-e-suparadagii
ye kyaa zaruur hai ke ab anga.Daa_iyaa.N bhii ho.n
har husn-e-saadaa lau na dil me.n utar sakaa
kuchh to mizaaj-e-yaar me.n geharaa_iyaa.N bhii ho.n
duniyaa ke tazakire to tabiyat hii le bujhe
baat us kii ho to phir suKhan aaraa_iyaa.N bhii ho.n
pahale pahal kaa ishq abhii yaad hai 'Faraz'
dil Khud ye chaahataa hai ke rusvaa_iyaa.N bhii ho.n