Internet ka Sundar Kaand

Phone ke tukde par 
Wifi ki batti lagakar
jalaya hai signal
Bhar diya hai charge se 
phone ko upar tak
Internet ka sundar kaand 
shuru kiya hai

Youtube ki agarbatti
side mein jal rahi hai
naye ganon ki scent se
poora kamra mehka rahi hai
Pandit ji ek-ek kar
naye mantron wala Tab
kholte gaye
instant hi kuch gram photos
humne fb ko 
bhog mein chadha di
Logon ne dheere-dheere
apni online chatai bichai
humne group chat ki 
pangat bithai
Kabhi-kabhi pandit ji
anti-virus scan alert ki 
ghanti bajate
Fb ki scroll down wali jhapkiyon se
wo logon logon ko jagate
Sabhi ka dhyan 
laga rehta paath mein.


Wikipedia ka path 
sabse mazedar tha
Dohe ke andar ek aur doha 
chupa rehta
Tabs ki shrankhala
badhti chali gayi
dhyan-magna hum 
is sundar kaand mein
utarte chale gaye.

Gyan ka dhuan jab
badh gaya kamre mein
to kisisne uthkar 
ek khidki khol di.
Kuch ka dhyaan 
aur batne laga
Nayi khidki par wo duniya ka 
Collosal gyan samjhne lage
Kuch oobh gaye
kuch sust padne lage
ungaliyon koangdaiyaan dilai
kuch itne jhuk gaye
collosal khidkiyon mein
chanchalta mein ganwa baithe
sara sundar kaand
Lekin kuch aise bhi the
jinka ab lagne laga tha dhyan
aisa ki aankhein band karke
FB se hi offline chale gaye.

Sandar Kaand ki 
yahi sundar baath hai
ki humein lagta hai
offline ho jane se 
koi humein dekh nahin sakta
jab hum chhupke apke 
kaand kar sakein
beech-beech mein aankhein kholkar.

At the Cafe, Always!

Writing with a pen which leaves blotched ink patches on the other side of the paper like memory of human life fading away or coming alive as each word is penned down remembering the best days or the worst, judging each moment for its truth on a new paper, especially a paper which blotched ink by my pen, holds me back before each word, for I can't pause on memory and relive my life through, for it will blotch the future of the notebook and mine. 

To save all the pages and my days intact, to write more on memory, I need to write fast. In doing so my future would be clean, white as a new sheet ready  to blotch, bathe or capture a new world of imagination .

In a busy Cafe, one would love to sip hot coffee and think each word before sacrificing it to the notebook.
But for me, either the coffee will go bad or the notebook will be filled. How much can you really follow down the memory lane sitting in a busy cafe with cups and saucers clinking and people rambling about their misadventures? How much can you really pen down worth sacrificing for a decent piece of literature without the coffee going bad and that too an expensive one?

Does one come to a cafe for their love for coffee and the exotic varieties they serve or to have conversations or to elevate moods after each sip or just for some space that lets you be amongst random residents of a nearby colony trying to get off the busy routines by visiting the cafe? 

As for me I just want to write. As for the cafe, it just wants me to bill for the coffee.
As for the paper, I need to turn it…

Jeevan pahad jitna hota hai

keval ek pahad

Choti tak pahunchna hota hai

Chadhte-chadhte talve thak jate hain

Badhte-badhte bhatak jate hain

Dholak ke bhajan-keertan yaad ate hain

Hey bhagwaan kehte-kehte hum chti tak ate hain

Pahad par mann ke gehre sannate hain

yahan jheengur bulate hain

Pahadon ka jeevan hota hai

keval ek jeevan

Pahadon mein rehne wale

nadi se milne ate hain

Ghaat par base log

pahad par teerth banate hain

Ghaat par mandiron mein 

Pahade padhe jate hain

Bas choti tak jana hota hai

aur neeche utar ana hota hai

E jeevan pahad jitna hota hai

Pahadon mein jeevan ka 

yatharth hota hai.

The waves are still moving

They move through the night

Every hour an inch closer to land

where humans stay

The rains are still pouring

every minute a droplet more

Where the rocks pray

the waves come and crash

the rains come in adash

Be there at that moment

And believe its truth.

A smile, a cry

A smile and a cry

follows a spell of a silent dry

eyes shut, leaving the sky

to blacken and arrive

from a corner of the eye

No meaning to derive

it's an abstract butterfly

with a smile on a wing

and a wing with a cry.

Yet there is a sky

to gobble in my breath

I think about why

a smile and a cry

can't be put togethere to a test

Some days make me think harder

some days just go by

My palms remain open

and my palm remain close

on some days

I am the abstract butterfly

sitting on a fence 

like a fence sitter

the profound width of the fence

is enough for a creature like me

enough to open up in harmony

the wing with a cry

with the wing with a smile.

Colony ke...

Wo har roz walk pe nikalte hain

ghane reshmi baalon wale

chamakdaar kali aankhon wale

sadak ka har kone jaanchne wale

apne yaron se milne milane

batiyane-gapiyane

Charcha karne ki aaj unke malik ne kaunsa kona

ghar ka bhar diya hai

jahan kabhi wo aram se pasra karte the

Ab unhein bhi naye kone dhoondhne pad rahe hain

Har sham yahi bahas chidti hai

ki kiska makan kitna bada hai

kiska malik kitna paise wala

garv se sabke seene chaude hain

malik ke bachhe unhein kitna pyaar karte hain

jab bhi apne school se laut.te hain

to ek baar to puchkaar hi lete hain

bhale hi unhein phir naukaron ke hawale kar diya jaye

jo khud ghar mein ek kona dhoondh rahe hain

Wo jante hain ki malik aksar phone par hote hain

apni ghoomti-phirti nazron se jab dhoondh lete hai

naye kaleen par ek reshmi baal

to naukaron par chillate hain

Jab kabhi mehmaan ate hain

to naukar ke saath inhein

kamre mein bandh kar diya jata hai

ya fir walk par le jane ka aadesh diya jata hai

Poori sadak ko almast chaal mein napte huye

dost ki wafadari mein feherati dum ka alsi maksad

bhaanpte huye

Wo jo har roz walk par nikalte hain

apni gol-gol kali aankhon se

ek shadyantra rachte hain

Gardan par patta kuch aur kass jata hai.

Colony ke manager ne sadak pe ban aye

taza nakhunon ke nishaan ko dekha nahin hai ab tak

naukar bhi samajh rahe hain

ki chain ab aur tan gayi hai

Silsila aise hi chalte raha

to ek din kuch haath achaanak dheele pad jayenge

aur wo jo walk par nikle the

lapak padenge apne malikon par

Tab building ka guard bhi kya kar lega

Tab naukar bhi ek kadam peeche hath jayenge

keh kar ki, "Kutte hain saale…ek lapka….to sab lapke".

पसंद-नापसंद से परे, आअो कुछ बातें Share करें

कुछ समय से एक बात मेरे मन में है, कि what kind of a platform is Facebook? 

जहां मैं अपने मन कि कुछ बातें लोगों से कहता हूँ । कुछ उसे पसंद करते हैं, नापसंद करने कि ज्यादा गुंजाइश 

नहीं होती । पसंद-नापसंद से फर्क नहीं पड़ता लेकिन ज़रूरी यह है कि फर्क पड़ता हो मेरी कही बतों का । कुछ लोग जो किताबी कीड़े हैं Facebook के, कुछ जिन्हें ठीक लगता है अपने पलों को दूसरों के साथ खिचवाइ गयी तस्वीरों में बाँटना, उन्हें Facebook ने social interaction का एक नया platform दीया है, जहाँ उन्हें Social beings के नाम से परिभाषित किया जाता है । उन तस्वीरों को Instagram जैसे नाये अायाम दीये जाते हैं । इन सब नयी-नयी बातों ने इतना भर दिया है दुनिया को कि अहसास कम होने लगा है अौर उसका Notification ज्यादा । Facebook  पर अब जो भी कुछ लिखता हूँ, instagram जैसा कोई नया photo filter लगा देता हूँ ।

शायद लेखन के लिये Facebook ठीक platform नहीं । 

शायद मैंने लिखना इसलिये बढ़ा दिया है कि ज्यादा से ज्यादा लोग उसे पसंद करें । सिर्फ पसंद-नापसंद होना ही मापदँड हो गया है लेखन का । उस पर कोई विचार नहीं किया जाता, कोई critisim  नहीं होती, तो यह बात तय है कि Facebook विचार करने का platform नहीं । हाँ! विचार करके Status डालिये ना की उलटा । मैं भी होशियारी के साथ Hinglish का Use करता हूँ अपने लेखन में, चयन कर चुनता हूँ शब्दों को, Sepia वाला photofilter लगाता हूँ लिखते वक्त, ताकी बहुत सारे लोग उसे पसंद करें । इसके लिये एक Universal भाषा आनी चाहीये । लेकिन यह तो commercial writing जैसा हो गाया जिसपार विचार नहीम किया जाता, सिर्फ पसंद या नापसंद होने की गुंजाइश होती है । आजकल, गुल्ज़ार साहब बहुतों के लिये Instagram कवी हो गये हैं ।  Facebook generation की बात यह है कि अब किसी भी बात पर कम फर्क पड़ता है, बस भर लेना होता है किसी Pinterest wall पर उन तस्वीरों को जो हमें पसंद हैं । ज़रूरी नहीं कि वो तस्वीरें हमारे बारे में कुछ जरूरी बातें बताती हो या हमारा intellect बढ़ाती हों । 

या तो एक बात पर गहन-विचार किया जा सकता है या हज़ार नयी बातों से नज़रिया बढ़ाया जा सकता है । 

Facebook  ने नज़र का दायरा इतना बढ़ा दीया है कि सही-गलत कि पहचान नहीं हो पाती, भ्रम होता है कि सभी कुछ पसंद आ रहा है, नापसंद की तो ज्यादा गुंजाइश नहीं है ।

यही कुछ बातें हैं Facebook Friend list  में फसे कुछ thumbnail चहरों के बारे में । मुझेअपना चहरा बड़े आइने में देखना है, photofilters उतारकर कुछ नापसंद बातों को कहने है । फिर उन बातों को अाप पसंद करें तो खुशी होगि कि अापने विचार कीया । जो मजबूर हो रहे हैं कुछ कहने के लिये उनके चहरे thumbnails से बाहर अा जायेंगे, उनकी तस्वीरें सही में कुछ बोलने लगेंगी । 

दीवार पर सर मारने से सर ही फूटेगा, तो अपने intellect को पसंद-नापसंद से ऊपर ले जायें 

कि अगली बार जब दीवार को सर मरें तो दरार पड़ जाये । 

जुगनू के साथ

दिन की धूप से टूटा शरीर

अब नींद में डूब रहा है

कहीं एक जुगनू जल उठा है

उड़ते-उड़ते, 

कलाबाज़ीयाँ करते-करते

एक सपने में कहीं खो रहा है

काटे गये सारे पलों का

पल पल हिसाब हो रहा है

देखे गये चहरों क नकाब उड़ रहा है

जुगनू के पीछे मैं

जंगल में जा रहा हूँ

चलते-चलते दूर

मेरा मकान हो रहा है

Salmon ki Sifarish

Abhi tak dharti ke bhitar

chattanein sarak rahi hain

Yahan ek visphot hua hai

aur kisi ne bhi nahi suna?

Koi sunna nahi chah raha hai

na koi samjh paa raha hai ki

abhi tak dharti ke bhitar kyun

chattanein sarak rahi hain

ye visphot ka dhuan

kaunsi hawaon mein milta jaa raha hai...

Ye Prithvi humesha se gol nahin thi

Ek samtal chattan thi

jise phenka gaya itni zor se

ki ab gol dikh rahi hai

Kahin  gaddhe aur pahad bhi hain

fir bhi lagbhag golkakar hai

Kuch samay baad

jab mitti jam jayegi chattanon ke beech

Pani risne lagege dararon mein

tab jeevan lautega...

choti-badi saanson mein ubhrega

samtal dharti par

Zindagi bahut dheere-dheere aage badhegi

Ped aur bhi dheere

Hawayein chalne lagengi

Ladte huye kuch khade rahenge

chalne lagegnge bahaw se vipreet

...ek Salmon machli ki tarah

Ye machliyaan

Samandaron se Nadiyon mein

Nadiyon se Dharaon mein

Dhara se un chattanon mein jakar sharan leti hain

jinhone ab sarakna band kar diya hai

jahan pani abhi bhi ris raha hai

Ek thandi gufa mein

Itni lambi yaatra tay karke

ye machliyaan

vo sare muhavre,

sabhi bhashayein, naye-purane khoje gaye arth,

lok-geet sangeet, vigyan ki samajh,

sabhi kuch lakar rakh deti hain

in chattanon ki god mein

aur Aadmi ek na ek baar zaroor ata hain

in gufaon ko khali kar

apni ulti yaatra par nikla jata hai.

Agar salmon machliyon ne

ye ulti yaatra shuru nahi ki hoti

to aadmi seedhe kadam nahi rakh pata

Agar pani risna nahi shuru hua hota

to samadar nahin ban pata

agar Himalaya uth khada nahin hota

to dharti samtal hi nazar aati

aur aadmi antariksha mein gir jata...

Lekin ab sab tay hai

saalon se chalti jeevan ki ek lay hai

hawaon mein disha barkarar hai

insaan ko insaan sse bahut pyar hai

Ab use in pahadon mein ane ki zaroorat nahin

Usne jeevan samtal zameen par banaya hain

Vo gufayeinn  aur pahad

jo ubhare huye chehre hain chattanaon ke

ab khookhle kar diye gaye hain

Cement aur Concrete banane ke liye.

Vayuyanon ne pahad ke kad chote kar diye hain

unhein hawaon mein kisi disha ki zaroorat nahin

Asmaan mein baithe kursi se

dekhi hai maine us visphot ki shakl

jahan se uthta hua dhuan

mil raha hai meri hawa mein

ek nayi disha dene ke liye.

Visphot se ruki hui dharti

phir se apni dhuri par ghoomne lagi hai.

aur

chid gayi hain Salmon machliyan

Unhe samnadaron mein rukna pada hai

Nadiyan jo sukhti jaa rahi hain

Pani ko risne nahin diya ja raha

bandha ja raha hai

Concrete mein.

Shayad jaise aadmi dharti chodh

antariksha mein jana chah raha hai

Salmon machliyon ne bhi

ek ulti yaatra shuru ki hai

Samudra tal ki taraf.

wahan padi ek daraar mein

pahadon, pedon, nadiyon ki taraf se

ek Sifarish rakhi hai.

Mujhe ye bhram hai

ki dharti ruki hui hai

raftaar maine pakdi hui hai

lekin bhitar hi bhitar

ek chattan sarak rahi hai.

Fitoor

Wo kaunsa tukda hai sadak ka jahan tum
utar aoge
Wo kaunsa kissa hai kahani ka jise
tum sunaoge
Ungli kaunsi uthaoge
Bewajah ko
wajah kab kab banaoge
Moond ke aankein
saanson ko laya par kis tarah bithaoge
chalte chalte sapnon mein chale aoge
fir neend mein badbadaoge
Leher mein kile sa dhah jaoge
aur samandar ko apna kinara banaoge
Duniya maidan jitni lagti ho
aur kadam lambe uthaoge

Fitoor kuch nazar ayega paas
kisse kam pad jayenge
baat banti dikhegi
bigadte log ikattha ho jayenge
Fitoor fir nazar ayega paas
Kahin se kahin
aur yahan se wahan hokar bhi
sabse hokar guzar jaoge

Sara sangeet fir
ek dhun mein hoga
Fitoor koi ab tum mein hoga
Dhun par savaar tum fitoori ho jaoge.

Kavita ke baare mein

Thoda kam bolo.

Itna sara kehne mein,

bhool na jana baat ko

Chaho to ek kavita likh do,

ek choti si kavita

Lekin kavita ko 

kavita ki tarah mat likhna,

na baat ko baat ki tarah kehna

Ek laya ho 

par zaroori nahi

ki koi geet hi ho

Thos ho par 

usme samjhaish ki ubasi na ho

Keval tumhari baat karna

kavita ki nahi

Kavita ko kehna

kavita ke baare mein nahin

Jadon ka phailaw 

ho sakta hai

par mitti ko 

bandhe bhi rakhna hai

Kavita mein kho jana 

bahut aasan hai

kavita sabse mahan hai

Tumhari baat ek teer ki tarah 

lagni chahiye

Kavita to keval uski kamaan hai.

Cinema

Cinema ka shagird hoon

kisi din main bhi cinema sikhaunga

Mise-en-scene mein jeeta hoon

Tumhe apna montage banaunga

Linsing ki kala mein allhad hoon,

Ek din tumhari aankhon ke parde hataunga.

Frame lagaunga jab dutch pe

kahan jaoge fir bachke.

Catharsis

Moon awaits

Moonlight stikes a chord

A musician's tyranny

His obsession for the silent gong.

Dedicated to dig.

Revelation of a discovery

Catharsis by a violin note.

My Emergency Window

All my journeys have been marked by the 
Emergency window

I never looked outside to see the world pass by

My eye always looked at the window 
as the world said goodbye

I am more of a destination person,

not a travel freak.

So did the window kept reminding me

To jump or not to jump out 
was not the question

but off the beeping reminder 
which silently murmured 

about the occurrence 
of a waiting disaster.

The bold red border 
made my frame

through which I see 
the lush geen fields of solitude 
blur away.

Such contrast!

only says more 
about my longing to be...

To be someone who would 
not be a passenger anymore,

who would wave 
the emergency window goodbye.

I am now 
on the greener side of the world

where no emergency can occur,

I would play with time and curl.

Curl up into many folds of solace 
and dry up.

The bold red paint 
framed me again.

This time it said, 
Emergency EXIT.

and my poem 
had took an untimely, 
accidental last breath,

before 
it jumped out of the window.