रात यूं दिल में तेरी खोयी हुई याद आयी,
जैसे वीराने में चुपके से बहार आ जाए,
जैसे सहराओं में हौले से चले बाद-ऐ-नसीम,
जैसे बीमार को बेवजह करार आ जाए।
(फैज़ अहमद फैज़)
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Kaka Hathrasi
Vinod has recently started a blog on Kaka Hathrasi's creations. Here's my (literal) two cents ... two compositions as my personal tribute to Kaka's legacy, in his signature style.
The first one was written during the Hindu festival of Karva-Chauth in 2007. Picking up from the usual Kaka-Kaki nok-jhonk, here's how it goes ...
काका से काकी कहिन , हमारा खूब बनाया मेल,
मैं भी खेलूंगी इस बार करवा-चौथ का खेल।
करवा-चौथ का खेल, रखूँगी मैं उपवास,
उम्र तुम्हारी लम्बी हो, जेहि है मेरी आस।
सुनते ही काका की बुद्धि ऐसी चकराई,
सज़ा-टाइम की EXTENSION भला किसी को भायी?
कहे काका कविराय हाथ यूँ जोड़कर, “काकी,
इतना जीवन कम था क्या, कुछ कसार रह गई बाकी?”
... and the next one struck me on the day I got to know about this blog. Here's how that one sounds like,
एक हमारे बन्धु भये, उनका नाम विनोद,
काका की कवितायें वो नित दिन, लायें खोद खोद।
लायें खोद खोद, करें हम उनसे विनती,
अपने रचनाओं की भी, कभी करो भाई गिनती।
कहीं काका कविराय मजा तोह तब आवेगा,
ब्लागस्पाट.कॉम जब दद्दू-गीत गावेगा।
Here's a hick-a-doo to Kaka Hathrasi, the nuffiest poet known to man.
Hickkk-A-Diddle-Dooooo!!!
The first one was written during the Hindu festival of Karva-Chauth in 2007. Picking up from the usual Kaka-Kaki nok-jhonk, here's how it goes ...
काका से काकी कहिन , हमारा खूब बनाया मेल,
मैं भी खेलूंगी इस बार करवा-चौथ का खेल।
करवा-चौथ का खेल, रखूँगी मैं उपवास,
उम्र तुम्हारी लम्बी हो, जेहि है मेरी आस।
सुनते ही काका की बुद्धि ऐसी चकराई,
सज़ा-टाइम की EXTENSION भला किसी को भायी?
कहे काका कविराय हाथ यूँ जोड़कर, “काकी,
इतना जीवन कम था क्या, कुछ कसार रह गई बाकी?”
... and the next one struck me on the day I got to know about this blog. Here's how that one sounds like,
एक हमारे बन्धु भये, उनका नाम विनोद,
काका की कवितायें वो नित दिन, लायें खोद खोद।
लायें खोद खोद, करें हम उनसे विनती,
अपने रचनाओं की भी, कभी करो भाई गिनती।
कहीं काका कविराय मजा तोह तब आवेगा,
ब्लागस्पाट.कॉम जब दद्दू-गीत गावेगा।
Here's a hick-a-doo to Kaka Hathrasi, the nuffiest poet known to man.
Hickkk-A-Diddle-Dooooo!!!
Thursday, May 22, 2008
And then the old man said ...
Post Note : This is a one-time note. I am never going to write something like this again, and for no one else.
Like the archetypal character in Vinod's fantasy novels, each one of us in our lives has a "wise old man". He comes in different forms for different people. For some, its their fathers, for some its their uncles, their grandfathers, their neighbourly elder or someone. I found such an old man for myself in the early months of 2008. We immediately hit it off. He was about 3 years older to me, a man of principle and character. He was, so to say, someone whom I would like to live my life as sometime in the future.
In this place of "quick-to-change ethics" and magic words like "adaptability" and "fending-for-your-own", I had finally found someone who was "old school", who had the insight and the patience to look into the details, who used his homegrown intelligence to solve problems and someone who was oozing with confidence. He was someone I had once wanted to become. He was someone who made me realise that it was possible to live a life like that, someone who showed me how contentful it is to live likewise. He was someone who gave me hope.
Yet he was no superman. He was weak and vulnerable, just like me. I connected with him because I could. Very few could. But I was lucky. I was lucky to spend time with him. I was lucky to share thoughts. As much as I realised that it was only a tip of an iceberg that I could relate to in such a short time, it was still enough for my agitated mind. He could give me a sense of relief subconsciously which I had somehow lost in the past couple of years at IIT.
When I was packing my bags at IIT to return to my home for good, he came round and offered to accompany me, on my taxi, for the trip. I think I shall forever live under the assumption that this event happened just so that we could spend some more time together for one last time in THAT mode. Here's a brief conversation we had during that trip, amongst a lot of other "meaningless-yet-profound" transactions. (P.S : Don't mind the profanity, just look into the meaning)
I must say I was lucky to have stayed back in IIT that one extra semester. I was lucky to have met this wonderful person, who filled the proverbial much-needed-gap in my life. Here's to you, Raj, and I would gladly say that for me you have been the closest one to being the elder brother I never had.
Like the archetypal character in Vinod's fantasy novels, each one of us in our lives has a "wise old man". He comes in different forms for different people. For some, its their fathers, for some its their uncles, their grandfathers, their neighbourly elder or someone. I found such an old man for myself in the early months of 2008. We immediately hit it off. He was about 3 years older to me, a man of principle and character. He was, so to say, someone whom I would like to live my life as sometime in the future.
In this place of "quick-to-change ethics" and magic words like "adaptability" and "fending-for-your-own", I had finally found someone who was "old school", who had the insight and the patience to look into the details, who used his homegrown intelligence to solve problems and someone who was oozing with confidence. He was someone I had once wanted to become. He was someone who made me realise that it was possible to live a life like that, someone who showed me how contentful it is to live likewise. He was someone who gave me hope.
Yet he was no superman. He was weak and vulnerable, just like me. I connected with him because I could. Very few could. But I was lucky. I was lucky to spend time with him. I was lucky to share thoughts. As much as I realised that it was only a tip of an iceberg that I could relate to in such a short time, it was still enough for my agitated mind. He could give me a sense of relief subconsciously which I had somehow lost in the past couple of years at IIT.
When I was packing my bags at IIT to return to my home for good, he came round and offered to accompany me, on my taxi, for the trip. I think I shall forever live under the assumption that this event happened just so that we could spend some more time together for one last time in THAT mode. Here's a brief conversation we had during that trip, amongst a lot of other "meaningless-yet-profound" transactions. (P.S : Don't mind the profanity, just look into the meaning)
He says, "You know what, you are a d**k."
I say, "Hmm?"
"Yeah, you are a d**k who is not interested in f**king."
"Hmm?" (BTW, this is the kind of response that I give to him whenever I want to keep him talking)
"Yes, and mind you, there are not a lot of people whom I consider d**ks."
"So what do you consider most of the people as?"
"Oh most of the people are c**ts. They are happy just getting f**ked. But you, you are the other kind, you are the one who has been made to f**k , but you're not realising it. You're simply not interested. Saumya Jain, work on this and you can really f**k the world. Realise your worth. You're a d**k and you know it!"
(I just smiled. At being called a d**k! And then he smiled, knowing that we both knew what had transpired in that heavily loaded Toyota Qualis speeding away on National Highway 91 on that scorching summer day)
I must say I was lucky to have stayed back in IIT that one extra semester. I was lucky to have met this wonderful person, who filled the proverbial much-needed-gap in my life. Here's to you, Raj, and I would gladly say that for me you have been the closest one to being the elder brother I never had.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Ek aawaaz si toh tumko aayi hi hogi ...
माना कि गूँज रहे थे सन्नाटे,
माना चीख रही थी खामोशियाँ,
जब आह भरी थी हम ने, तब न सही ...
पर जब दिल चटखा था, तब एक आवाज़ सी तो तुमको आयी ही होगी।
माना कि उदास थी बहार,
माना खामोश था यह चहचहाता आँगन,
सूनी गलियों मे छुप रहे घुप्प अँधेरे में ही सही ...
मेरी एकाकी ने अपनी एक झलक तुमको चुपके से दिखलाई ही होगी।
माना चुप्पी लगी थी इस ओर भी उस ओर भी,
माना भरोसे की किल्लत थी इस ओर भी उस ओर भी,
यह भी मान लिया दोनों ही का अहम बड़ा था, लेकिन ...
इन दूरियों ने तुमको एक दीदार की गुहार तो लगायी ही होगी।
माना कि सपना टूट गया,
माना कि रिश्ता छूट गया,
पर यह तो आज भी कबूल नहीं कि थे तुम बेवफा ...
हमारी ही वफा ने तुमको शायद कोई कमी जतलायी होगी।
माना चीख रही थी खामोशियाँ,
जब आह भरी थी हम ने, तब न सही ...
पर जब दिल चटखा था, तब एक आवाज़ सी तो तुमको आयी ही होगी।
माना कि उदास थी बहार,
माना खामोश था यह चहचहाता आँगन,
सूनी गलियों मे छुप रहे घुप्प अँधेरे में ही सही ...
मेरी एकाकी ने अपनी एक झलक तुमको चुपके से दिखलाई ही होगी।
माना चुप्पी लगी थी इस ओर भी उस ओर भी,
माना भरोसे की किल्लत थी इस ओर भी उस ओर भी,
यह भी मान लिया दोनों ही का अहम बड़ा था, लेकिन ...
इन दूरियों ने तुमको एक दीदार की गुहार तो लगायी ही होगी।
माना कि सपना टूट गया,
माना कि रिश्ता छूट गया,
पर यह तो आज भी कबूल नहीं कि थे तुम बेवफा ...
हमारी ही वफा ने तुमको शायद कोई कमी जतलायी होगी।
To The Nice Guys ...
Well, this is one of those instances which I call a SUUPER exception. Someone else's work on my blog! But still, I couldn't have agreed more. Here Goes ...
Its not too often that one finds, in another heart, a sense of pain that one has himself undergone, and in another's fingers, the same dexterity to put it in print. Well, I am (part)amused and (part)intrigued by this one.
http://www.stwing.upenn.edu/~jenf/writing/rant04.html
Ode to the Nice Guys
This rant was written for the Wharton Undergraduate Journal
This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.
This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.
This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing "serious" between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: "oh, but we’re just friends!" And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.
The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as "oh, he’s too nice to date" or "he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me" or "he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!" or the most frustrating of all: "no, it would ruin our friendship." Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks.
Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete ass now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.
So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.
Fu-zu Jen, SEAS/WH, 2003
Its not too often that one finds, in another heart, a sense of pain that one has himself undergone, and in another's fingers, the same dexterity to put it in print. Well, I am (part)amused and (part)intrigued by this one.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Blood.
Nothing lasts. Blood Survives.
Flowers wilt away.
The taste of chocolate fades in memory.
The touch of a hand lasts for merely seconds.
But blood. Blood sustains.
Blood only thickens with time.
Blood only becomes deeper as the clock ticks.
Blood doesn't doubt.
Blood doesn't flinch.
Blood cannot be washed away.
Blood stays.
Blood always stays with you.
Flowers wilt away.
The taste of chocolate fades in memory.
The touch of a hand lasts for merely seconds.
But blood. Blood sustains.
Blood only thickens with time.
Blood only becomes deeper as the clock ticks.
Blood doesn't doubt.
Blood doesn't flinch.
Blood cannot be washed away.
Blood stays.
Blood always stays with you.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
The Perfect Analysis
I had once said about Vinod Khare "...one who would give me the coldest yet the brutally sanest advice on any issue", and there he goes again! This is a short conversation I had with him on our reunion at Alfaaz, IIT Kanpur's Literary Festival, which he is gracing as a Judge!!! Beats me how he manages to do that (too!), but however, that is not the point. Speaking of which, here is the point of the pointless conversation, (definitely not the first and surely not the last) that we had today on our time honoured practice of pilgrimage to "THE MT" for chai, samosa and whatnot.
The topic of the chat is the usual, "What is Saumya Jain supposed to be doing", hehe, something in which I have earned a D.Phil., needless to mention that all arguments expounded in which are as useless as the debate of the status of the planet Pluto in the Solar System. so, here goes ...
Saumya (talking about a day in recent forgotten history on which he had a bath): See, it is about perfection, about quality. It is about giving your best in everything you do. When I take a bath, I get an oil massage, a pedicure, a nice little sunbath and then I stand under the shower for ages. That, my friend is the perfect way to cleanse the body and the mind.
Vinod: Uh-huh.
Saumya: Yeah, nothing, absolutely nothing beats the feeling of your legs being soaked in warm water, sitting in the afternoon sun, and a relaxing massage with oil.
Vinod: Uhm! You mean "Getting a massage"? Are you employing people to do that? Really?
Saumya: Ah! No, no no. I mean I am rubbing oil in my hair myself, but, isn't the feeling just heavenly?
Vinod (pauses, thinks and then BANG!): Tumhe pata hai, tumko na Raja hona chahiye. Ekdum tumhaare laayak job hai! [You know what? You should be a king. Its a job just made for you!]
Saumya (Obviously surprised at the skewed parallel drawn between a king and a job desc): Hmm?
Vinod (Coldly, as though working out a case study. You just HAVE TO give it to this guy, he can remain SO indifferent even when he is speaking of such *disdainful* wisdom!) : Haan, na tum kuchh kaam karte ho, na kuchh karna chahte ho, bas pade rehte ho, aish karte rehte ho, aalsi bhi ho, ek hi cheez aati hai, bak bak karna aur morals baantna. Yehi sab toh karna hota hai. [Yes, its obvious. You don't do anything, neither do you want to. You just hang around all day long, making the most of your leisure-time, and you are slothful too. If you are good at something, it is talking crap and moralising. This is all that one requires to be a king.] You should have been born in the medieval times. You'd have done well.
Saumya (the truth hitting him at last): Yeah, I always thought that I was a bit old fashioned for this world. Too sad I missed the window. Waise, meri kundali mein shaayad Raj-yog likha hai. [Astrologically speaking, my fortune favours me to become one of the ruling class] Hehe. Kahan apply karoon? [Where do I sign up for this?]
Vinod (Smiling. Oh thank you holy mother of God): Hehe, chal chal, MT chal, fir bataataa hoon... [Hehe, walk on along, let me explain...]
And so we met again, probably for the last time on IITK soil. Probably for the last time to discuss this dreaded issue which I myself have been taking a bit too lightly (this blog-post notwithstanding). Hopefully though, I see some light at the end of this tunnel.
So anyhow, Ladies and Gentlemen, that, was Vinod Khare, and this, is me, signing off with this little poem, which will make sense to few. At least it does to me.
The topic of the chat is the usual, "What is Saumya Jain supposed to be doing", hehe, something in which I have earned a D.Phil., needless to mention that all arguments expounded in which are as useless as the debate of the status of the planet Pluto in the Solar System. so, here goes ...
Saumya (talking about a day in recent forgotten history on which he had a bath): See, it is about perfection, about quality. It is about giving your best in everything you do. When I take a bath, I get an oil massage, a pedicure, a nice little sunbath and then I stand under the shower for ages. That, my friend is the perfect way to cleanse the body and the mind.
Vinod: Uh-huh.
Saumya: Yeah, nothing, absolutely nothing beats the feeling of your legs being soaked in warm water, sitting in the afternoon sun, and a relaxing massage with oil.
Vinod: Uhm! You mean "Getting a massage"? Are you employing people to do that? Really?
Saumya: Ah! No, no no. I mean I am rubbing oil in my hair myself, but, isn't the feeling just heavenly?
Vinod (pauses, thinks and then BANG!): Tumhe pata hai, tumko na Raja hona chahiye. Ekdum tumhaare laayak job hai! [You know what? You should be a king. Its a job just made for you!]
Saumya (Obviously surprised at the skewed parallel drawn between a king and a job desc): Hmm?
Vinod (Coldly, as though working out a case study. You just HAVE TO give it to this guy, he can remain SO indifferent even when he is speaking of such *disdainful* wisdom!) : Haan, na tum kuchh kaam karte ho, na kuchh karna chahte ho, bas pade rehte ho, aish karte rehte ho, aalsi bhi ho, ek hi cheez aati hai, bak bak karna aur morals baantna. Yehi sab toh karna hota hai. [Yes, its obvious. You don't do anything, neither do you want to. You just hang around all day long, making the most of your leisure-time, and you are slothful too. If you are good at something, it is talking crap and moralising. This is all that one requires to be a king.] You should have been born in the medieval times. You'd have done well.
Saumya (the truth hitting him at last): Yeah, I always thought that I was a bit old fashioned for this world. Too sad I missed the window. Waise, meri kundali mein shaayad Raj-yog likha hai. [Astrologically speaking, my fortune favours me to become one of the ruling class] Hehe. Kahan apply karoon? [Where do I sign up for this?]
Vinod (Smiling. Oh thank you holy mother of God): Hehe, chal chal, MT chal, fir bataataa hoon... [Hehe, walk on along, let me explain...]
And so we met again, probably for the last time on IITK soil. Probably for the last time to discuss this dreaded issue which I myself have been taking a bit too lightly (this blog-post notwithstanding). Hopefully though, I see some light at the end of this tunnel.
So anyhow, Ladies and Gentlemen, that, was Vinod Khare, and this, is me, signing off with this little poem, which will make sense to few. At least it does to me.
Adieu, adieu, adieu!
We'll miss you, Radley Boo,
You've been wronged,
and been miscast;
But all of that,
is in the Past.
Go on ahead, make a life,
No more worries, no more strife.
Speak out and you'll be heard,
No longer the caged mockingbird.
Go! Do the thing you wanna do,
Adieu, Boo, Adieu!
We'll miss you, Radley Boo,
You've been wronged,
and been miscast;
But all of that,
is in the Past.
Go on ahead, make a life,
No more worries, no more strife.
Speak out and you'll be heard,
No longer the caged mockingbird.
Go! Do the thing you wanna do,
Adieu, Boo, Adieu!
Quick Brown Fox, eh?
Remember, no quick brown fox is agile enough for a leap. And while we are at it, let me also tell you that Jackdaws have no romantic (or otherwise) interest whatsoever in any Gigantic Crystalline Animal-Deity.
Alt: Fox no Brown. Fox no Jump. Dog no Lazy. (P.S. : Fox no Quick too!)
Also Alt: (The conformist view) Exemplary Wizened Vicars Jump The Queue For The Kind God Above
Alt: Fox no Brown. Fox no Jump. Dog no Lazy. (P.S. : Fox no Quick too!)
Also Alt: (The conformist view) Exemplary Wizened Vicars Jump The Queue For The Kind God Above
Thursday, March 20, 2008
For Mel, or someone like her ...
There are good times, and then there are worse ones. There have been times when I have been lonely, forgotten, sad, desperate and depressed. There have been times when I have lost the will to do anything. There have been times when I have just let life slip past me.
And yet I am still here.
I am still here, because of a certain way I have been made. That tells me something about me. That tells me something about what I am capable of achieving, about what I am capable of doing but not realizing it just as yet. That tells me, I am.
But still, am I really all that I am? No. Because even in this higher sense of existence, I can feel that there is a spark that keeps me alive. There is a ray that shines through even the darkest of troubles, the deepest of chasms, and keeps me willing. Willing to breathe, willing to be. This spark, this ray doesn’t come from within. It comes from without.
It’s you.
It’s you, or maybe it’s just what I believe you are. It’s a concept that’s you. Or maybe it’s a concept which has your face. I wonder if it matters, but still it is your face I see. That tells me something. About me, about you. For now, I would like to believe it’s really you. I’d like to believe, because that’s how I live. We all live for a belief. And this, is my belief.
And yet I am still here.
I am still here, because of a certain way I have been made. That tells me something about me. That tells me something about what I am capable of achieving, about what I am capable of doing but not realizing it just as yet. That tells me, I am.
But still, am I really all that I am? No. Because even in this higher sense of existence, I can feel that there is a spark that keeps me alive. There is a ray that shines through even the darkest of troubles, the deepest of chasms, and keeps me willing. Willing to breathe, willing to be. This spark, this ray doesn’t come from within. It comes from without.
It’s you.
It’s you, or maybe it’s just what I believe you are. It’s a concept that’s you. Or maybe it’s a concept which has your face. I wonder if it matters, but still it is your face I see. That tells me something. About me, about you. For now, I would like to believe it’s really you. I’d like to believe, because that’s how I live. We all live for a belief. And this, is my belief.
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