Why the sheeps don’t roar

There once was born a magician in the land of sheeps. A very famous magician he was. Not that he was the only magician ever seen by the herd of sheep but they all believed he could work wonders never seen. He conjured tricks unfathomable, created illusions the sheeps found unmatchable and led everybody to presume he was capable of dissolving every misery ever known. His fame travelled to lands far and near and stories of his charisma were spinned into bedtime tales. 

The sheeps as they were, worshipped him and looked up to him. They liked to believe he was infallible. The magician was enjoying the glory and the exalted status. The roads he passed through had lines of sheeps on both sides waiting with bated breath to catch a glimpse of him. The magician magnified his own self as only second to god for their was some fear of the almighty hidden somewhere into the petty heart where desires loomed big. Amongst all these sheeps there was one who was not as much a sheep. One fine day when the magician was attending to his daily court this  young sheep caught his eye. Not the one to leave a chance to cast an impression he roared, “ Young lad, what is it that you seek? Shall I export you to the land of fairies who will entertain you as your age commands or do you wish for yourself crop after crop of softest pashmeena which no living being ever saw. Tell me for you have eyes of angel and I wish to see them full of desires.”

The young sheep was filled with hope. Afraid of seeking an unworthy wish he bleated, “Sir, far up our land, there lives a village. It’s the most beautiful that any fairy tale ever narrated. An evil eye watches over it. The sheeps there live each day as their last. Young blood like me wastes their virile youth in servicing the evil. I want you to free the land and bring it to us for everyone to enjoy the heaven. Master, I know it is unworthy of your superior powers to grant me a wish as trivial but I beg of you.”

Suddenly the magician became silent, he retreated couple of steps back, faultered for a bit and looked the young sheep in the eye as if stuck by a thunderstorm. All eyes on him, it took a while for him to regain his composure. He closed his eyes, muttered something under his breath as if working a spell and announced, “ the village my friends is terribly cursed. It will be in the best interest of us all to leave it alone. If freed, the devil will have to look for another abode and he might take a shelter here.” Suddenly a wave of panic travelled in the crowd. Voices could be heard everywhere, jostling could be seen, all of them were searching for the young sheep who had brought this unrest. The magician featured them to be calm. He was there to protect them. Everyone hailed the magician. For he was the one who could work wonders. Ah!! The sheeps. 

सपने - महत्वकांक्षा या बोझ

आज ऑफ़िस से जल्दी निकल गयी। बाज़ार में थोड़ा काम था। कपड़े ख़रीदने थे, फिर गैस स्टोव काफ़ी पुराना हो गया, बोर हो गयी हूँ सोचा नया ले लूँ। एक दो महीने कुछ शॉपिंग ना करो तो ज़िंदगी नीरस सी लगने लगती है। 

बड़े शहरो की ज़िंदगी भी क्या ज़िंदगी है, पूरा दिन दौड़ों भागों फिर भी ऐसा लगता है की तनख़्वाह कम ही है। पैसे ना जाने कहा चले जाते है। इस महीने बाहर जाने के टिकट कराने है, कार का इन्शुरन्स करना है, अगले महीने एलआईसी की किश्त भरनी है। बाप रे, कितने ख़र्चे है। सोचती हूँ वापिस उदयपुर शिफ़्ट हो जाऊँ, सैलरी कम मिलेगी पर कम से कम कुछ तो सेविंग होगी। अम्मा कहती थी उतने पैर फैलाओ जितनी चादर हो यहाँ तो मुझे लगता है कि साल दर साल चादर सिकुड़ती जा रही है। 

अभी कल ही दिवाली पार्टी देने में इतना लम्बा चौड़ा ख़र्चा हो गया, कटौती करो भी तो कहा। 

पूरे महीने का हिसाब किताब लगातीं हुई मैं गाड़ी दौड़ा रही थी की   अचानक बत्ती लाल दिखी और मैंने गाड़ी का ब्रेक लगाया। चौराहे पर छोटे छोटे बच्चें फ़ूल बेच रहे थे। कपड़े मैले कुचैले फटेहाल, नंगे पैर, बाल गंदे, चेहरे ऐसे जैसे बरसो से धोए नहीं हो। कुछ सोच कर मैंने एक को बुलाया और उससे सारे फ़ूल ले लिए। 20 रुपए ज़्यादा दिए और कहा जाओ ऐश करो। दरअसल बत्ती हरी होने वाली थी और छुट्टे की झिकझिक मुझे करनी नहीं थी। गाड़ी आगे बढ़ाते बढ़ाते मैंने उसका चेहरा देखा। 1000 वॉट् की स्माइल थी जो महीने की हर 1 तारीख़ को तनख़्वाह आने पर भी अब नहीं आती। वो ज़ोर से चिल्लाया, अपने दोस्तों को आवाज़ दी और कहा चलो चिप्स खिलाता हूँ।सारे बेतहाशा उसकी तरफ़ भागने लगे। मुझे इतने दिन में पहली बार लगा की दिवाली है।

अम्मा सच कहती थी इतना मत उड़ो की सपने बोझ लगने लगे। 

Guilty pleasure

Waking up daily to the smell of you

Teasing, tantalizing, titillating

The treacherous span of night, the desirous morning, the heated fervor of the day

The longing and passion to embrace you, and the struggle to keep it at bay

Oh I say it loud-

Let me taste you in ways you can imagine,

 drop by drop, slow and steady

Tease me with tender true love, 

fire the pleasure inside me

Oh I hear it loud-

Painful is such obsession, in temptation I sway

Forbidden is the fruit of love, 

how they say to stay away

So when the mighty fall it is no mean fare

A pleasure without guilt is a sight so rare.

To kill a Mocking Bird

September 7th, 7.00 AM - Newspapers are flooded with news of Gauri Lankesh's assassination. I don't know who Gauri Lankesh is.

September 8th, 7.30 AM - Newspapers are still echoing Gauri Lankesh's cold blooded murder. I do not know still who Gauri Lankesh is. 

I read the insides. I am filled with rage and fury. Who are you? Who gave you the right to pass verdict? I am not alone...there are thousands like me who question these killings. I am sure you are not alone. Gauri Lankesh was not alone. There was Pansare, Dabholkar and Kalburgi. And there will be many more. What should have united us, divides us. Ideology, radicalism,  leftist, rightist...we are living in an era of fragmented thoughts and heightened pseudo nationalism. India has been a land of peaceful coexistence. We are a subcontinent not for no reasons. I remember my Hindi teacher in school. Her favorite word in the whole wide world was' sahishnuta' and we would often jibe if that was the only Shudh Hindi word she knew. What she definitely knew was that the future would be marred with intolerance and hatred. She was planting our minds with seeds of harmony and tolerance. 

I open twitter. It is a mixed bag platform with lot of them praising the dastardly act. I again ask who are you. What business do you have minding other's business for them. What intensity of hatred are we breeding in our minds to wipe out any voice different from ours. Suddenly policing has become so rampant and verdict so spontaneous. We stalk, we condemn and then we kill. We are not shy of accepting our deed for it is a heroic act to save our ideology and we the anti nationals are the new patriots. What we definitely forget is that voices are not to be silenced, acts of courage are not to be scared, support for human causes is not going out of fashion. It will only double up and rise with vehemence every time a Gauri Lankesh is killed or a Dalit is lynched. Efforts towards a peaceful coexistence will continue to crawl and finally one day will stand up amidst the crowd of haters and anti nationals. We are one, we will not let you divide or suppress us.

And to someone who said Gauri was a B****, you Mr are a swine and a very very wild and uncultured swine. 

JAI HIND,  JAI BHARAT

The Shiva and Shakti of existence

Shiva and shakti have often been spoken about as two sides of the same coin which symbolize cosmic consciousness. Both the forces compliment each other and bring about stability in the universe. While one is the purest form of energy the other bestows content, form and direction.The interplay of these forces is what gets the momentum in universe going. All micro beings gather their direction from these two primal powers. 

Floating in a universe of my own I have often liked to believe that micro is independent of the macro and can exist happily in isolation. But such myths do shatter and fill the mortal mind with remorse. 

This interplay of the forces in my life- my parents, my shiva and Shakti and their roles as defined is nothing short of legendary mention. More often that not I have undermined their importance in life. We all do specially in happy times. Good times however last only as long before hitting a rock. Shakti, the maternal principal, the provider of abundance, offers warmth and security. The fierceness with which she nurtures her off spring, oblivious of her own pain is nothing short of divinity. 

On similar occasions Shiva or the omnipresent has been sidelined and not much is said about the love of a father. Similar to Shiva a father has no desires of his own and is a clear empty screen. He is a provider and true to his force, masculine in nature. He may not show the warmth of 'prakriti' but he cares in his own unassuming ways. If he is the destroyer he is known to be a sustainer too. I remember being scared of my father before every result and simultaneously rushing to him for every demand that Ma rejected. I remember him coaxing Ma from back during all phone calls enquiring about my health and instructing me to be careful. When handed over the phone his words suddenly would go dry. 

This interplay of Shiva and Shakti is nothing new but the truth gets lost in time. We become so busy in growing up that we forget our sources of energy are getting depleted too. Time runs faster than our realizations and we are left staring at the mirage. 

Ironical how Shiv and Shakti move the universe, decide the cosmic movements but leave the micro to learn from his mistakes. Could this be the purest and most unimaginable form of love or is it just another law of nature decide by them to keep the energy moving. 

ये Holi भी हो ली। Happy Holi!!

During my evening walk today, in a stretch of 1 km I saw at least 8-10 Holika Dahan. Thousands of people circling around the pious fire, seeking blessings of Holika and Prahlad. 

As a child we were taught in schools that Holi stood for victory of good over evil. For ages now we have been believing in the theory and enthusiastically participating in the festivities. But as wise men say it is better to forget the past. Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow that paunchy relic in his 40s will lech again at the girl next door. That  religious leader will again inject venom in some fresh minds. That super mom will pull her son away from the street urchins. 

India is a land of festivals. All of them talk of unity and bon homie in some way. Why then are we so full of intolerance and hatred. Why then can't we celebrate difference and accept everybody for what they are. Why are we always fighting for supremacy when we were born equal. What separates us from each other when the color of blood is red for all. 

As I went to watch the holika dahan, the Aunty next door asked,"Beta, darshan kiye?" I nodded in affirmative and murmured a silent prayer, This holi let us all be colored in such vibrant shades that it becomes impossible to identify one from other and what we give around are boxes of sweets that only serve to reduce the bitterness. 

On that note...a very Happy Holi to one and all.