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Saturday, December 31, 2011

फिर एक नया साल बनाएं...


आओ कुछ  दिन इक्कठे करें फिर...  फिर एक नया साल बनाएं...

कल के सूरज में नया ढूंढें कुछ.....  फिर रातों में नए दीप जलाएं ... 

बच्चों की हंसी फिर से सुने.... चिड़ियों की आवाजों से नए गीत बनाएं ..

कुछ दोस्त नए इक्कठे करें ....  कुछ नए शेर और सुनाएं .. 

बातें सुने कुछ तुम्हारी.... कुछ अपनी बात बताएँ.... 

नयी बारिशों में भीगें.... गीली मिटटीओं की खुशबु फैलाएं ..

आओ कुछ  दिन इक्कठे करें फिर...  फिर एक नया साल बनाएं...




Friday, December 30, 2011

बहुत ठण्ड थी.. उस रात....


एक पुरानी सड़क है... टूटी सी...  मैं रोज़ उस सड़क से ऑफिस जाता हूँ.... कुछ दूर उस सड़क पर एक चौराहा है... एक छोड़ा गोल चबूतरा है... ठीक उस चौराहे के बीच....


एक सफ़ेद बालों वाली बुढिया (शायद "बुढिया" शब्द भी उसकी उम्र के हिसाब से छोटा हो).. उस चबूतरे पर अपनी पीठ टिकाए एक पोटली में कुछ पुराने कपड़ों के टुकड़े, रोज़ टटोलती है.... चेहरा पूरा झुर्रियों से भरा पड़ा है.. आखें बहुत छोटी हो चुकी थी.. बहुत थकी सी दिखतीं थी.
मैं रोज़ देखता हूँ उसे...  उन कपड़ों के टुकड़ों को टटोलते हुए.. मानो... उसे ये चिंता है.. की कहीं कोई कम तो नहीं....?

प्लास्टिक की एक पुरानी पन्नी में कुछ बासी खाना और पुराने कपड़ो की पोटली... उसके बगल में रोज़ रहती..  अगर कोई ठीक से न देखे... तो चौराहे पर तीन पोटलियाँ नज़र आती.... दो छोटी.. और.. एक काफी बड़ी...

ठंडी का मौसम था... मुझमें कार की खिड़कियाँ खोलने  तक की हिम्मत नहीं थी पर फिर भी उस चौराहे पर अनायास ही आँखें रोज़ उस बुढिया को ढूँढती, बंद खिडकियों के पीछे से..

शायद उसे ठण्ड का एहसास नहीं था. सही बात तो है.. भूख का एहसास, हर एहसास को मार देता है.

मैं शाम को जब ऑफिस से घर लौटता तो वहीँ, उसी जगह पर बैठी मिलती,ठीक उसी जगह.
कई बार मन करता की कार रोक कर, उसे कुछ पैसे दे दूँ. कभी कभी तो जेब तक हाथ भी गया, पर जब तक ब्रेक पर पैर रखता, पीछे वाली गाडी का होर्न जोर से कान में गूँज जाता.

मैं कभी अपनी गाडी रोक नहीं पाया. कभी नीचे उतर नहीं पाया. पर हर बार  इसका कारण वो पीछे वाली गाडी को होर्न नहीं था.

ठण्ड रोज़ बढ़ रही थी. कार के बंद शीशे भी, अब ज्यादा कुछ नहीं कर पा रहे थे.

अब उस बुढिया के हाथ कापते नज़र आ रहे थे. पैरों में फटे मोज़े आ गए थे. एक पतली सी चादर भी थी.
रोज़ की तरह मैं, उसे देखता हुआ निकल जाता.

एक दिन शाम को घर पहुँचने ने के बाद टीवी पर देखा, ठण्ड ने कई सालो का रिकॉर्ड तोड़ दिया था. १८३ लोग मारे जा चुके थे शहर में.

मैंने एक छोटा स्टूल उठा कर पुरानी अलमारी के ऊपर पड़े कपड़ों के ढेर में से एक पुरानी रजाई निकाल ली. थोड़ी फटी थी,पुरानी भी, पर शायद उस बुढिया के लिए काफी थी. टीवी पर उस समाचार पढने वाले को भी नहीं पता होगा की उस की इस खबर का,  किस पर क्या क्या असर हुआ है. मैंने  कार की चावी उस पुरानी रजाई पर रख दी ताकि सुबह जाते वक़्त कहीं रजाई भूल न जाऊं.

उस रात बहुत ठण्ड लगी, मुझे याद है. मैंने दो बार उठ कर देखा था की कोई  खिड़की कहीं खुली तो नहीं रह गयी है. दरवाज़े ठीक से बंद है.

बहुत ठण्ड थी.. उस रात....

सुबह उठा तो ,हाथ पैर सब ठंडे पड चुके थे, किसी तरह ऑफिस जाने के लिए तैयार हुआ. सुबह टीवी पर, वही समाचार पढने वाला था, उसने भी आज मोटा काट पहन रखा था. कल रात ठंड ने पिछले ५० साल का रिकॉर्ड तोड़ दिया था.  रजाई... कार की डिक्की में डाल कर, मैं ऑफिस के लिए निकल पड़ा.

चौराहे पर पहुँचते ही, नज़रें उस बुढ़िया को ढूढने लगी,पर वह कहीं नज़र नहीं आई.
वो प्लास्टिक की पुरानी पन्नी (खाने वाली), और वो फटे कपड़ो का ढेर वहीँ था.

मैंने दो बार गोल चक्कर लगाये, पर वो कहीं नज़र नहीं आई.

पैर दो बार ब्रेक पर भी गए....पर ..

याद आया .. पिछली रात ठण्ड बहुत पड़ी थी...
उस समाचार पढने वाले ने भी यही कहा   था.......

मैं कभी फिर ... उस चौराहे के रास्ते से ऑफिस नहीं गया....
सच कहूँ तो ... उस दिन के बाद कभी हिम्मत भी नहीं हुई....

और वो समाचार पढने वाला... अब भी रोज़... टीवी पर .. ठंड की बातें करता है.....

रजाई... अब भी... कार की डिक्की में पड़ी  हैं.......

Photo Courtesy:
http://www.alexsohphotography.com/oldlady/oldlady.jpg

Thursday, December 22, 2011

वो रोज़ आता है....


वो रोज़ आता है...
झांकता है ... खिडकियों से... पर्दों में सुराख ढूंढता है...
मेरे चेहरे पे नज़र रहती है उसकी...  वो खूब निशाने लगाता है..
वो रोज़..   आता है...

मैंने कई बार मुह फेरा.. करवट बदलकर..
मैंने चादरें ओढ़ कर खूब उसे भगाया.. 
वो किसी अपने की तरह .. फिर भी मुझे जगाता है..
वो रोज़ आता है..

परिंदों की कुछ आवाजें.. टकराती हैं जब ठंडी मध्हम हवाओं से..
काली रातों की स्लेटों में .. वो लाल स्याही फैलाता है.. 
वो रोज़..  आता है.. 

चेहरे बदल जायेंगे  .. घर बदल जायेंगे ..
खिडकियों पे होंगे परदे नए
वो छप्परों में पड़ी दरारें ढूंढेगा नयी .. टूटी खिडकियों से .. फिर टकटकी लगाएगा..
वो रोज़.. हर रोज़ आएगा..


Sunday, December 18, 2011

हाँ ... मौसम की पहली बरसात थी...



हाँ ... मौसम की पहली बरसात थी...
कुछ दूर साथ चले थे हम....
आपस में कुछ बातें की थी...उन टकराती  उंगलिओं ने  ...
बूंदों ने न जाने... कितने घर बनाये थे.. तुम्हारे हाथों में...
सड़कों पे पानी बहा था.. वक़्त की तरह.....
आसमानों में रंग भर रखा था... काले बादलों ने..
 कुछ गुनगुनाया था तुमने... बिजलियों के संग...

हाँ ... मौसम की पहली बरसात थी...
कुछ दूर साथ चले थे हम....

Thursday, December 15, 2011

फिर दफ्तर निकल जाऊँगा..


रोज़ शाम को घर पहुँचता हूँ .... दरवाज़े के पीछे लगी उन खुठिओं में ... दफ्तर की बेड़ियाँ टांग देता हूँ ...
गला रोज़ की तरह आज भी तंग है... पैरों को वापस  जमी पर रखने का दम .. अब बचा नहीं....
नींद...  शाम से आँखों पर दस्तक दे रही है... हाथों की उन दो उंगलीओं में कलम के  निशान अब भी हैं...
मेजों पर पड़ी उन मुर्दा  फाइलों  की तरह.. मैं भी पड़ा हूँ अपने बिस्तर पर... कुछ सोचता हुआ सो जाऊँगा..
कल उठूँगा सुबह ... बेड़ियाँ उतारूंगा उन खुठिओं से... पहन कर ... फिर दफ्तर निकल जाउंगा...

दरवाज़े पर ताला लगा कर... ख्वाइशों को  घर में  बंद कर... फिर दफ्तर निकल जाऊँगा..

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Only Three Allowed...


Year 3011, the trees have all vanished, the sky was now covered with a thick blanket of smoke and there was snow everywhere. Oxygen was now being supplied by pipelines to the houses. I got married 8 months back; dad was in govt institute so we got our extra quota of oxygen in the house. He was now not keeping well, was on oxygen supply mask and would talk less; he hadn’t moved out of his bed since weeks, would only move his eyes. I knew it was only a matter of few days.

My wife was pregnant, she was expecting in few weeks. Along with my father’s health I was now also worried about the new Govt rules, only three persons were allowed in a family, if you are already three, you cannot have a child or a fourth family member. Even I was allowed to marry when my mother passed away a year ago.

I had already received a notice when her pregnancy was detected, they had insisted for an abortion, my lawyers are still on it, but they say that I stand a very weak chance.
3011, my Dad, my wife and myself, only three could live. Times have changed they were allowing four a few years ago. Times have changed.  I had even thought of committing suicide, so that at least my child could live, but then it would be difficult for her to live alone with the child.

Today, she was uncomfortable, labour pain had started. I called for the ambulance it would reach in some time. I was confused, scared. The department people will be at the hospital surely, they would not let us have the baby. I called my lawyer, he said he was helpless. I kept gazing at the ceiling thinking.   

The ambulance reached, started honking at the doorstep. The nurse came in and took my wife to the ambulance. I just asked them for few minutes so that I can go tell my DAD that I will be back in some time.
I went to his room, he was still, in very deep sleep perhaps, it was 3 AM. The oxygen supply mask was still there on his nose. He had to be given pure oxygen, doctor had ordered it. I put my hand on his head, caressed his head and kissed on his wrinkled cheek. I would do this daily before going to office. I looked at the wall , the photograph was still there, me sitting on his shoulders, I was five then. My eyes were moist , tears dropped on the bed sheet, it missed his hand by few inches. With one hand still on his head, I moved my hand towards the oxygen valve and closed it slowly.

Sitting inside the ambulance, I went numb, could only hear the faint cries of my wife and the nurse comforting her. I hadn’t spoken a word after I sat in the ambulance.

As soon as we reached the hospital my wife was taken into the operation theatre. The doctor came to me with a form, along with the department people.

“You will have to abort this kid, you cannot have him”

I said,  I will have to call my father and ask him.

They allowed me one phone call.

I came back from the phone booth after few minutes and said.

“.....................................................He is not picking up”

We had a baby boy......... 

Sunday, December 11, 2011

अल्फाजों को मेरे...  डांट कर चुप कराती है...   खामोशी मेरी..... कितना शोर मचाती है..... 
वो इंतज़ार करता रहा...... करता रहा....... मेरी खामोशी..... मेरा जवाब था.....
कल तुम्हारी बातें की थी.. चाँद से .. आज आसमान में...कुछ तारें कम हैं...
सिर्फ मेरे होठों के कुछ अलफ़ाज़ देखे .... मेरी आखों की दास्ताने... न पढ़ी उसने....
वो खिलोने बेचने वाला.. खिडकियों से झांकती...  बच्चों ख्वाहिशें ढूंढता है...
ये सूखी पत्तियाँ रोज़ आती हैं दरवाज़े पर... शाम को..... तुम्हारा पता पूछतीं हैं....
सुबह टुकड़े मिले ... तकिये के नीचे... ख्वाब थे कुछ... जो रातों में टूटे थे ...
अपनी तनहाइ से इस कदर प्यार है हमे.... धड़कने ज़रा  तेज़ हो.... तो दिल घबराता है....
घर के बाहर , वो पुराना पेड़ बरगद का....  वक़्त को रोके अब तक खडा है....
मोबाइल के बटनों को दबा दबा कर.....  न जाने कितने रिश्तों की साँसे रोक चुकें हैं....,,
माँ.. धुआँ अब भी आँखों में लगता है... इस टूटे चूल्हे पर नज़र पड़ती है जब भी..
माँ तेरे बुने..... उस लाल स्वेटर में.... तेरे कुछ अधूरे ख्वाब नज़र आतें हैं....
आइना लगातें हैं जो अपने घरों में.... अक्सर.. खुद को नज़र नहीं आते...
ज़िन्दगी..... तू जो न मिली होती..... तो मर गए होते.... 
वही शक्श बैठा है  खामोश महफ़िल में....... जो दास्ताने सारी लिए बैठा है.....

Monday, December 5, 2011

Twitter par tweet kar kar ke karna kya hai...


Twitter par tweet kar kar  ke .. karna kya hai....
Yehi jeena hai doston to marna kya hai...

Followers ki ginti ka hisaab....  roz kartein hain..
maa ko par roz... ek phone karne se dartein hain..

Unfollow hone ki chinta....  har pal sataati hai...
purane doston ki call lekin .. humesha miss ho jaati hai..

mentions baar baar check karne ki...  aadat si ho gayi hai....
bachhon se roz  hone waali masti  ..  jaane kahaan kho gayi hai..


Roz naye naye  hashtag banaatein hain....
Office chaahe.. late ho jaatein hain..


Blog par  likhtein hain... roz kuch naya naya .....
biwi ki puraani khwaaishein .. ab tak baaki hai..

faltu si har  tweet retweet kar detein hain...
par padosi ko dekh ke .. duur se hi hass detein hain..

TL ki raftaar roz badhi si  jaati hai......
Zindagi ki ruk si gayi hai  ... ye chinta nahin sataati hai...

Doston..

Twitter par tweet kar ke .. karna kya hai...
Yahi jeena hai doston ko marna kya hai...




inspired by : Lage raho Munnabhai...

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Shahrukh Khan

(Based on True Incidents and Characters)

Take this talk to him, talk to him please. I had no idea why she was behaving this way suddenly and why I needed to talk on the phone and with whom? Talk to him, as the tears rolled down her eyes. I had seen her cry in movies, sitting by my side holding my hand. I always used to carry a neat handkerchief whenever i went to movies with her, i knew her, I knew her tears. My handkerchiefs were a mess, but were clean white, crisp, folded neatly and unused, when I was with her in movies, always. I took care always but I didn’t have a clean one today, as we were not in a theatre watching a movie. But then I had to stop the tears. I had to....

With no idea in the world, I took the phone. SHAHRUKH KHAN... a kid’s voice almost sobbing, SHAHRUKH KHAN.... SHAHRUKH KHAN.... now he was almost crying... I stood there frozen. I had no idea why there was a kid sobbing at the other end of the phone, sobbing saying SHAHRUKH KHAN again and again.

SHAHRUKH KHAN... he repeated almost tenth time. Hello... h h h ee lllo.... I was not a good mimic, but I thought I could do a decent job for a kid. I didn’t know why I was doing this, but I said hello like the bollywood actor does in films. The kid at the other end came to life. SHAHRUKH ITS YOU ?? I said yes it’s me.... it’s me Shahrukh khan... who are you.....? Now I wanted this conversation to happen, I saw her sitting beside me, looking at me, still wiping the tears as i mimicked shahrukh. Though I was talking to the kid on the phone my eyes were still questioning her. They must have asked about 1000 questions to her and she didn’t say a word but the kid on the phone was answering all my questions now. I am Krunal he said. Oh Krunal, so how are you? Do you watch my movies, yes yes he said. I have seen them all, I want to meet you. Hey Krunal, cannot meet you, I am quite busy you know.

But we can talk, tell me about you, your school, your friends. My God !! I was doing a hell of a job as Shahrukh, perhaps the stage thing I did in college was coming out of hibernation inside me. The kid was not answering any of my questions, he had his own, I answered them all, and when i realised his questions weren’t ending, I told him I will call him back later, I had to go for shooting. He didn’t agree at first but then I promised to call him back and I said bye, as Shahrukh says in his movies. bbb bb yyyeee kkkkkk Krrrunaalll, he liked the kkkk rrruuu naalll part very much and laughed but the girl sitting beside me was still wiping her tears, damn the handkerchief. If only I had carried a clean one.

As I disconnected the phone, she started speaking as if she had all the reasons in the world, why this kid on the phone wanted to speak to shahrukh khan.

Was i ok ?? The out of hibernation actor in me asked, asked before she could explain anything.

Yes you were, you were perfect. I knew you could do this. That’s why I chose u didn’t I ? Then she told me, he was a boy, a small boy 8 yrs old, had severe autistic problems, had occasional fits and his conditions was deteriorating day by day. But one thing he was very close to his teacher, the girl I was standing right next to. The girl, who still had her eyes moist.

His favourite hero was Shahrukh khan and occasionally during those fits, he would repeat Shahrukh khan I want to meet shahrukh khan and one fine day, she promised that if he behaves well, she will make him speak to Shahrukh khan. And thus all happened. I seemed to have impressed him, he really thought that he was speaking to Shahrukh.

The Shahrukh talked once or twice in a week and his voice was getting better and better,but the kid on the other side wasn’t. It seemed his condition was getting worse day by day. The “hellos” on the phone got a little softer and the questions fewer. But still Shahrukh had to talk, every time me and her met, Shahrukh spoke and trust me it was like a stage performance for me doing it before her.

I was now quite attached to the kid, the same way she was attached, I asked a lot about him. It seemed his training was going on well with her but he wasn’t doing that good, he would now cough between our conversations, would go mum, I had to now coax him into talking. I asked questions, but they all weren’t answered. Still his love for Shahrukh was there, the happiness in his voice that he was speaking to Shahrukh was always there, it never faded. It was the same when we first talked, and the best gift I got, while talking to him was the smile on her face, the way she kept looking at me, when I talked.

Then one day, she called, she wasn’t sounding good. Something had happened it seemed. One word she told me and it would like paragraphs for me, one word and I would know everything she had in mind. Even if she didn’t say anything I would read her eyes.

I knew, Krunal was not ok, there was something wrong. She told me he was now in serious condition and she wanted to see him. I picked her up from her home. On way to the hospital, a fifteen minutes drive, tears were rolling down her eyes. But she was not crying, but she was tough she was courageous.

We reached; she straight away got down and was on her way up. She knew me, she knew that I wouldn’t have the courage to face him, to see him. I was the weaker one at heart amongst us. I understood her silence and her way of exit. I parked the car and sat on a bench just outside the hospital gate. She knew how I weak I was, she knew me.

Thinking what would be going on up there, how was the kid, what would his condition be and would she be able to control her tears in front of him. She was his teacher after all. Teachers never cry before their students, never. I knew she wouldn’t. I kept waiting, kept thinking.

After ten minutes I could hear someone running down the stairs. The steps were fast, loud perhaps because of the silence in the hospital. The bench was close to the hospital gate, she looked at me, waved her hand, gesturing me to come inside. She didn’t look in my eyes, she just gestured. I got up fast and when I was just about to reach near her, she started running back towards the room. I held her hand stopped her and asked, what happened? Why are you running? She stopped, I looked in her eyes. We don’t have time, he doesn’t have time, he is sinking, he is almost unconscious, but he was mumbling shahrukh khan, that’s the only thing he is saying now, I want you to see him, do something. She said all this in one single breadth. I was silent now, what I should do, what I can do, I cannot face the child. Over the phone it was ok, but facing him? You know, I can’t, I just can’t, i am not as strong as you are, I am not...

Just be there, just come, she said with a stern voice, like a teacher. We reached the room, there were people standing outside the room, perhaps, relatives, hoards of them. He was there, on the bed, unconscious. His mother was sitting beside him, she was not crying, she was prepared, perhaps she had accepted what was coming. No one in the room knew me, besides her, no one…

I went near to the bed, she held my hand, held it very tightly. She knew how weak I was, she knew I could break down at any moment. She was the one who cried in movies, but she knew, how weak I was, how soft I was. She would always stare at me at traffic signals, when people used to knock at our car window to ask for money and when subconsciously my hand went to my pocket, she would hold it and say, you melt down so easily, you are too soft. I would listen to her as I knew she was correct.

But I really didn’t know how to handle this, there he was lying down. I had never met him before, never seen him before. But I was supposed to be his hero, Shahrukh the hero I was.

I stood beside his bed, his hand was still, with a needle inserted inside a small vein, and it was still, life less but the fingers still moving now and then. I felt her pinching me, she was still holding my hand standing just behind me, I looked at her, looked into her eyes. I understood, I moved my hand closer towards his, I touched his hand and as I touched his hand. I saw his eyes open. He looked here and there, looking for the one who was touching his hand and then he found me. He looked in my eyes, kept looking, I didn’t know what to say, what to do. I pressed her hand, she pressed mine. I again looked into his eyes, then his lips tried to move, tried to say something. I bent over, held my ear close to his mouth, to hear what he wanted to say, I kept waiting, to understand what he was trying to say, to hear what he was trying to say. I kept waiting, with her holding my other hand. I heard some voice, I put my ear closer to his mouth and I heard "Shahrukh Khan….. Shahrukh khan" then he was silent… silent forever. The Shahrukh stood there, looking at his closed eyes, the Shahrukh he created, the Shahrukh he wanted to meet, tears rolled down my eyes.

I looked back towards her. She was not there, the Shahrukh stood there alone, wondering, how he recognized me.

Years after.. I still wonder….