diary pages

may 23 2012
8:00 pm
interview
i sometimes feel that some pacific memories are chasing me.sometimes in dreams every night or sometimes in realities.after every day or two memories interview me.
dear diary
see, i tell you some sober lines i wrote this evening sitting on an embankment road that leads to the setting sun.
 यादों  का सपनों से साक्षात्कार ।
दिन और रात तो ढलते रहेंगे ;
इस्कजादे और शायर तो जलते रहेंगें ।
वक़्त की कहानी हम वक़्त से छुपा रहे हैं ,
प्यारी सी भूल हम  किये जा रहे हैं ।
जिगर के हिसाब में  मिली यादों के लौ का ,
वक़्त बे वक़्त हम  दिया जला रहे हैं ।
कागज जिसमे पोलिथीन की परत सी चढ़  गयी है ,
पत्थर जिसमे पश्चिम की धूल मढ़ गयी है ,
ये ताबूत, ये तम्बाकू, ये सुर, ये सुराही ,
हम गीत बुन रहे हैं
और ये  गाये जा रहे हैं ।
 यादों  का सपनों से साक्षात्कार।
कैसे व्यक्त करें हम आभार ।।
___________________________________________________
may 24 2012
8:17 pm
dear diary 
sitting on the embankment i think has turned out to be an inculcated habit.well the hot summer does never allow me to peep out in the day time...and whatever evening i can manage i cherish it with the embankment embedded with trees and fruits on the either side of the road.
dear diary
i love you.so i do tell you every thing big or small.To evening i was drowned watching the setting sun.the sizzling evening breeze was slowly accelerating.some leaves were crawling on the pitched road.the fluttering banana leaves were getting trisected...it was a complete surrender to the west wind.the same west wind that has covered my sangmarmar gifted stone, i told you last day.
a cyclewallah stopped almost a feet or two away.
"you are the guy undergraduating from IIT isnt it"
"ya "i said firmly.
"then what the hell are you doing here"
I was speechless.
dear diary
this is the typical middle class problem.if an engineering undergraduate is found sitting and talking to the setting sun,people assume him may be almost quarter crazy lunatic.......
Problem with the indian typical middle class is that its possesive.and then its afraid.it is always careful to preserve its catter piller .a preserved catter piller never turns to be a butterfly.
well i thought what the hell i am doing these days......
nothing.....
dear diary
i love you. so i do tell you what the hell i am doing these days...and to be precise i am loving it.


मैं क्या  करता हूँ ।।
रेतों पे लिखे निशानों को ढूंढता हूँ ।
आशिकी में डूबे आशियानों को ढूंढता हूँ ।
आशियानों पे बैठे कबूतरों को देखता हूँ।
बारिस में नहाते चबूतरों को देखता हूँ।
मैं क्या करता हूँ ।।
वक़्त  के फासलों को
स्याही से भरता हूँ ।
कोई और ना आ जाये
घबराता हूँ ,डरता हूँ ।
मैं क्या करता हूँ।।
कहीं दूर ढलते शाम को देखता हूँ ।
सड़क पर मचलते बेनाम को देखता हूँ ।
गिट्टियों पे रेंगते पत्तों को घूरता हूँ ।
हवा के थपेरों में अहं को चूरता हूँ ।
मैं क्या करता हूँ।।
_________________________________________
may 25 2012
8:12 pm
dear diary

today i am not writing from my study desk.my bus is trapped in a traffic disorder.the darkness is cruel.the environment is horrible.a women holding her husband in her lap was sitting on the mid road.the man was  fired with a stinger .22 magnum.it was lull except the local people's abuse there were kilometers of night trucks and buses in the east and west of that widow.she is on strike demanding her live talk and negotiation with the district SP on this very road.i hope the jam will be over by 12 night or 1 morning....

dear diary 

this is the way indian middle class works...to take the revenge of a murder they put a strike that in turn consumes many.some children in a bus in front of mine is crying out of hunger...yet who cares.

my little sister is sobbing out of headache..yet who cares..even i do not have an open option to take care.

dear diary

i am returning from a funeral.it was my nanajee.he took his last breath this morning.for me it was the last breath of a true philosopher...a prolific speaker.....for people in general it was a retired doctor.

i was standing in the revered ganga and seeing that body getting consumed in fire.the water waves were flattering my legs and getting disrupted.

dear diary

every scene in a little bit is flashing in my mind...

वो पैरों से टकरा के बिछुरती  ये लहरें ।

वो क्रंदन में डूबी खामोश शहरें ।

वो लपटों में खोती महरूम साँसें ।

वो अधूरी सी छूटी तेरी मेरी आसें ।

मेरा बस चले तो पुकारूँ कहाँ तू .......................

वो खामोश बैठी किनारे पे यारी ।

मरहूम सी वो सुरों की सवारी ।

ये रोती मुहब्बत ,वो रोती दीवारें 

बुना था जिसे तुमने अंगुल से अपने ।

बह सा गया आज सब कुछ तेरे संग 

तू और तेरे मेरे  एक से सपने ।

 मेरा बस चले तो पुकारूँ कहाँ तू ......................
वो नर्म आहटों के चादर  पे बिखरे
दो मोती कहीं पे
दो आँसू कहीं पे ।
वो छोटी सी चाँदी के चिकने  से सिक्के
कहीं पे परे थे इक्के या  दुक्के ।
तू जो  नहीं तो क्या है कहीं भी ,
तुम्ही से तो ये थे ,तुम्ही से अभी भी ।
मेरा बस चले तो पुकारूँ कहाँ तू ....................
हिस्से में आया मेरे बस किनारा
ये नदियाँ तुम्हारी ,ये सागर तुम्हारा ।
ये  अग्नि तुम्हारी ,ये आसमां  तुम्हारा ।
मेरा बस चले तो पुकारूँ कहाँ तू ....................
dear diary
my bus is still in the traffic tragedy .let it be
____________________________


june 6 2012
8:34pm
dear diary
last 13 days i was busy in different scheduled rituals.was a nice experience may be just out of chance.met a lot of brothers and sisters.talked a lot. slept very little.was engaged a lot in mental management.by this evening i returned back to home.
it was appearing to drizzle.still it was not a good heavy rain.the same embankment...the same setting sun....and this rain as bonus..i hope i am back to my life.......
my eyes were glued to one of the roof top...and i wrote.....
ये बूंदें  बारिस की तो आने से रही
आप छत पे आ जाएँ तो हम समझें ।
दुपट्टा तो सर से सरकने से रहा
अब बारिस ही भिंगो जाये तो हम समझें ।
उल्फतों के कायल तो हम होने से रहे
 दो नज़रें मिल जाएँ तो हम समझें ।