ज़िन्दगी भी मस्त खेलती है —
मैं चलना सीखता हूँ, ये भागने लगती है;
मैं भागना सीखता हूँ, ये रुक जाती है;
मैं रुकना सीखता हूँ, ये बदल जाती है;
मैं बदलना सीखता हूँ, ये समझ नहीं आती;
मैं समझना सीखता हूँ, ये उलझ जाती है;
मैं सुलझाना सीखता हूँ — ये फिर चलने लगती है।
मैं फिर चलना सीखता हूँ…
Tag: Self
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ज़िन्दगी का खेल
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My Purpose, Her Smile
Just like another day, I was wondering about my purpose in life, and I lost myself into sleep with a deep thought — and woke to find my arms wrapped by another’s: though invisible, yet so invincible; though bitter sometimes, yet sweeter than any sweet. And I found myself in another complex — yet I found my purpose: her smile.
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An Outage of Sight
An outage of sight leaves me blind — but it opens me up:
to see, to witness; to feel, to know
what it is like, being loved and hated,
alone in a room of darkness,
counting my own possessions, and wondering at my life.How far the outcry; how seldom I try —
but on the closest side, I realize there is a hope, a light.
But where is it leading? How soon will it be another day,
with a new mystery, a self of a new realm?Still, on the corner of that street,
I am walking down, in the hope of catching her glimpse,
and whispering a few words;
and with the rain, I hide my tears —
seen, to unseen, I figure it out, another time;
but, overlapped and collapsed, here and there,
I am everywhere — but with the confusion, and despair, of a call. -
Life in If and Else
One peaceful Monday morning, having ravishing food and enjoying a big brand name, I drifted slightly from my sober sight, and tried to explore the real-life meaning of adaptability and acceptability.
And I drooled myself to sleep — only to be woken by office colleagues whispering that some senior was coming near. I woke with such a pace that I could have won a medal for it; I found my keyboard and mouse, and started staring blankly at my screen — at some import statements, instances, static members, and condition statements declared.
If, and else? I was astonished — our life is also like this.
Multiple ifs and elses: we call them planning, or restrictions. Instance variables are your relatives; static members are your family; and import statements are like education, degrees, friends, and so on. So our life is actually the execution of some code — in terms of if and else, deciding what will happen next — and problems arise with multiple executions, if multithreading is supported, and with all the advice, like annotations, directing our path.
Multiple ifs and elses: if money, then switch — buy item one; and if money is greater than some amount, then buy this. If money is… and so the code of life keeps running.
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Adaptability
It’s weird, but I find it logical to think about how we learned to work five or six days a week, waiting for the one day off that relieves us — and then, the same trained, programmed routine again. It sounds to me like a circle of things: back to where I started, screaming for the day off, living in hell under pressure — and soon, we adapt to it so well.
We cry about the boredom of routine and want change in life; yet the slightest chance of change tremors our so-called peace, and we want things just as they were.
So this is how I define adaptability — and acceptability.
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How It Feels to Love, and Be Loved
How does it feel to love, and to be loved?
Today I woke up early — unusual, for someone who sleeps late — and went for a short, brisk walk. People were still half asleep, dreaming dazzlingly of the past and the future; others walked beside me, for various reasons — health, schedule, office, and a few more. I took some steady steps toward a secluded road, to find my solace. I am not very friendly with the crowd around me, but the horses of my mind gallop like nothing else when I am in my comfort zone.
The day was beautiful, before dawn. It took me a few seconds to realize what I was doing here, and in which direction I was leading myself. I checked my cell — the devil — and there was her last message, with smileys and a few words of love. And I drifted into a sea of thought: how far I have come, from a single word in life — love.
The earliest love I remember is all about mother. Then, in the mid-90s, television played an important role in the upbringing of all of us 90s-born kids — the love of Aladdin, Popeye, Mickey and Minnie Mouse, a few films I can recall, and a few discussions in school. All these years, I have been trying to decipher love in my own words, in the world of my own thoughts; and crossing every individual’s perception, I developed my own: love is selfless, love is responsible, love is not flawless — and all that other talk.
I have personally had two encounters with failed relationships, and every ending brought me more complex thoughts, and a fear of falling in love again. The fear of falling, and failing, again — sounds like a loser, doesn’t it? Yes, I sound like a loosely built architecture of the philosophy of failure and the fear of the future.
But have I done justice by saying only this? I certainly say no. I found myself in the grip of love once again — and far happier than ever before; but this time, practical, and sensible. Still, the mind plays games. I thought, for a second: do we love by thinking of its security? Its future? Its feasibility? A big no.
I checked my cell — it was nearing 6:30. I couldn’t quite understand what I had been wondering about love for the last hour. I closed my eyes and walked blindly on the road for a minute, only to find myself so insecure in my steps that I reopened my eyes in fear — to find myself alive. But it was thrilling, and fascinating. And then my mind shot out this analogy with life: some days are risky, and you take the risk of doing something you never thought you would; you were afraid of it, unknowing of its future. But things change when there are two people now, both in the same state — eyes closed, walking blindly, but holding each other’s hands this time. And this time, it wasn’t so scary — because we trust the other person.
Love is all about this. The time will come when you will fear, when you will be scared, when you will regret your decision — but have you ever noticed how far you have come with that love alone? You may call it walking blindly, but together — and trust is the key.
But how did I come to write this down? A few months ago, I was scared of love — or rather, scared of walking blindly, alone. But one day, I was so close to love that I put my faith and trust in it, and committed my love. And then I realized: it is not about walking alone, but walking together, with trust in each other. We may fight, we may lose hope — but remember how far we have come together, with that trust. That is how love comes into life, and flowers into happiness. It is all about trust — and a morning walk, to write this down.
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Some Day
Some day I try to understand life;
some day I try to forget my mistakes;
some day I try to keep myself low;
some day I try to hide my happiness;
some day I just like to watch time go;
some day I stay back, and watch people go;
some day I look into my own eyes, and call myself a winner;
some day I forget what I am, and what I want to be;
some day I just destroy my every thought;
some day I want to hold my breath, and feel myself fading;
some day I want to fill myself with endless food;
some day, I just write for her. -
जाने क्या बात है
जाने क्या बात है, आज गुनगुना-सा मिज़ाज है;
बता पाना तो चाहता हूँ, पर न जाने क्या बात है, जो रोके जा रही है फिर भी।कुछ तो है इस वक़्त के दरमियाँ —
मेरी एक छोटी-सी और कहानी, लफ़्ज़ दो लफ़्ज़ की एक और जवानी।जाने क्या बात है, विरत-सा मन आज है;
चंद लम्हे ही तो थे, न जाने मन क्यों उदास है।रुख़ से, रुक-रुक के आते तो हैं,
पर ज़ुबान समझ नहीं पाती, क्या बात है।एक और किस्सा-सा लगने लगी है अब मुझे मेरी ज़िन्दगी;
जाने क्या बात है — याद भी है, साथ भी;
न कोई रूठा है, न जुदा;
बस, वक़्त के साथ दिल से एक ख़ुशी नहीं,
और आस-पास सब बेकार-सा है — न जाने ऐसी क्या बात है… -
Myself with Myself
With a silence of yours,
I sleep with my dreams;
with the end of the day, you —
I wake up, all for her.With a joy of yours,
I hear people singing aloud;
with an end of yours,
comes another day, to you.With every effort to understand you,
I surrender myself, deep into the darkness;
with every wonder of you,
it shines with the full moon, and turns magical.With every hour about you,
I am lost — of memories, and of mind;
with every cry of yours,
I lose myself, and become myself.