Tuesday, 4 October 2016

aadi-ant

शुरुआत हुई है
यहाँ से
तो शायद
ख़त्म
भी होगी
यहीं कहीं।
हर ज़िन्दगी
का पल
ज्यों  रेलगाड़ी
हो
शुरू भी वहीँ से
हो
और ख़त्म
भी
वहीँ पर।
घूम फिर कर
बात वहीँ
पर आ टिकती
है।
यह धुरी है
बाकी
साया
बछड़ा
भी शाम को घर लौट
आया। 

Scenic route

First thing you notice is how close you are from the precipice. Every turn , every bend in the road is fraught with danger . There are concrete railings , usual rad markers and special cautionary messages .
The air becomes rapidly rarefied. Cool , clean and crisp.

The vales are full of greenery . Fir , pine , birch , silver oak , who's who of mountainous  flora. Brits revelled here. Poor chaps . It reminded them of home .  Moss clings to rocky hillsides , in large velvety swathes . Unseen birds chirp. Swooping in and out of the dense foliage  . Larks , swifts , martins .

Some where a mountain stream gurgles onto the road . Clear glacier water, running over cobblestones , falling  down in a gay abandon of watery spray, trickling between gigantic moss covered  trunks .

Years later , I would recount this scenic route to a person from that place , a local , under very different circumstances. I would be the patient , he , the attendant .

He would nod smilingly , then add- "do you know , at this place , you can have the first pick of strawberries for free , at so-and -so time of the year ?"

And I , wide eyed , would say -"No, I didn't know that ."

 Trying in vain to recall , which season we paid a visit .  

Back-route

Disaster.

A large truck full of gravel ("Bajri") , has over turned right at the crossing .

"What do we do now ?" She  always went into this sweaty -palmed , frozen state when something untoward  happens .  Some one has to take charge. So the young gent sitting in the backseat , nose-picking , galvanises into action .

"We still have time . 20 minutes . There is no one behind us . Ghooma lo (take a u-turn )" .

She  gingerly crosses over to the other side , mentally asking God and government for forgiveness , and takes the back route . She checks in the rear -view mirror, and is relieved to see several cars following her lead . The back route takes 10 minutes longer , but is mostly free at this time of the morning .

The young gent is silent now . Hands behind the head , he has gone off to sleep . Snoring occasionally . So much like the father . She would think as she saw in the rear view mirror.

When she slows down at the school , He  wakes up ,stretches , grabs his bag , slings it on the shoulder , and waves bye . Hesitating at the sight of his parent trying to form words resembling gratitude , he walks off with a casual -"Chill Mom ."

She loves driving the back -route.

Monday, 3 October 2016

Mauj

सवालों का सैलाब
बहा
और हम गए
नहा
क्यों , कब , कैसे
किसलिए ,वैसे
कई प्रश्नों
को
हमने
पल्लू से
झटकार
दिया
कई दुविधाओं
को बालू
सा
झाड़ दिया
समंदर में गोते
खाने
की किस्मत
हर
किसी की
होती कहाँ
सूखे साफ़ सुथरे
कपडे वालों
को
मौज
दिखती कहाँ 

Female Montague's Harrier

The kite flies in
an exclusive zone
completely alone
not trying to fit in

the book instils fear
gives a name
Montague's Harrier
sounds like a dame

She was injured
piteously fluttered
but a predator
is a predator forever.

not to be trusted
the pigeons rose
in a body,en masse
as a carpet dusted

The lone kite
slipped on slopes
as if learning ropes
always flying high

Never ever landed
A lesson learnt
every one is upended
To bear the  brunt

Of fate and destiny
disease and ignominy

Wednesday, 28 September 2016

Avian bullies in the joggers park

A parrot flashes its,plumage green
 swivels its  neck of scarlet sheen
And plunges from rooftops lone
screeching with  express scorn


A crow , silent
ever vigilant
open beak,
glistening black
cocks its head
eyes of  bead
stares puposefully
caws reproachfully

The lapwing frozen
one leg in air, brazen
One eye at worms, squiggly
one at you ,walker, giggly
It can stalk you
attack you
 deafening  screeches
far out reaches.


The gregarious lark,
the  lone sparrow
the bulbul in park
sitting in a row

Are all waiting
for you to leave
huffing and panting
so they can live

in peace, and talk
in chirps and twitters
of you who walks
and gives them jitters

Saturday, 24 September 2016

Sunset

The sun was about to set. she had been aware of the growing darkness around her , but  was  walking as a zombie. Lost in her thoughts. In a different world . One by one , the street lamps flickered to life. The faint yellow glow , mellowed the life around them . Life didn't seem so harsh any more . The yellow light bathed the rain puddles in a yellow gleam. The dirt every where vanished . Even the beggars seemed happier. It was a magical transformation . This sunset.

No one looked at her any more. She was just another lost soul , in a city of lost souls . Buses still screeched , stopped , disgorged tired men , women off to the pavements . People who had somewhere to go to , hurried past her . She was invisible . She might as well have not been . But she was . As some one had asked "Do you matter ?"

She had , during the course of last several months , asked herself "Do I matter?"
She had seen people , children , families survive through worst possible fates . We survive even sunsets , don't we ? When we can survive death and deprivation on a daily basis, who or what is indispensable ?

We surround ourselves with happy things , objects , memories . Like kings of yore , who kept court jesters. And smile and laugh futilely , like the insane. Meaningless, hollow , joy . It rings with falsehood, hypocrisy.

What stays , like the night after the sunset , is grief. Undiluted , unmixed. Hard hitting , soul -less.

She had reached her destination . She had walked all this way to be here . Now that she was here , she was not so sure anymore . She stared at the brick stucco wall  shrouded in the darkness of the night , bathed in that eerie glow from the lamps . It was dark , there was no one around. A small niche had a statue of Mary with baby Jesus , in her arms . A blackened diya burnt reluctantly inside the glass walls , blackening the glass, smothering the statue in waves upon waves of vengeful smoke.
She smiled . It was so akin to what was going on inside her , right now . Smothering , choking blackness.

She had to come up for air.

Someone poked a head out in the dark. A faint glow was visible through the open doorway.
"Yes?" A slightly irritated voice spoke in the dark . She was jolted to her senses. She had rung the bell , without being aware of it.

"I want to meet Mother Superior." Her voice shook , she felt a faint shiver go through her . It was not the weather , definitely.

The voice , chewed on something, for some time. Trying to place her , or already did, so she thought.

"You'll have to wait for sometime." The voice said, swallowing. It ( the voice sounded feminine) looked doubtfully at her . She could sense the doubt in the voice.  A faint sound of cutlery reached her ears. A faint aroma of food reached her , and her stomach growled . When was the last time she had a meal ?

The door closed itself.Too silently , for such a large door. She sat on the steps . Waiting for fate to open the doors. They didn't , and it began raining. At first , she thought she would make a dash for it . Hide in the alleyway, rush to the convent . She did no such thing. She kept sitting. The raindrops beat on her , mercilessly. Relentlessly. She was filled with self-pity. She felt like the dog whom no one wants , and has been turned onto the street. Water dripped from her locks on the forehead, mingling with her tears. So absorbed was she in venting her angst , with racking sobs , that she didn't notice a kind hand extended to her in the dark , underneath a dripping umbrella .

The hand beckoned . It was a hooded some body . She shivered as she got up. The wet stairs protested , and pulled her dress , stuck  glue like .

 A mighty thunderclap split the sky open , lighting up the streets , in a vivid flash of blue light . It was Mother Superior. She had probably said - 'come '.But she needn't have .

She followed her like a puppy . As trusting , equally blind . Squinting in the wet dark .

Mother didn't take her directly in. She walked along the pavement , till they came to a spiral iron staircase , a heirloom from the British times . Gleaming , slippery in the rain . Smelling of rust. Mother folded the umbrella , lifted her habit off the ankles , and deftly ascended , waiting for her to follow . This was getting mysterious. The steps groaned , creaked . She stepped gingerly.

Mother reached into the voluminous folds of her habit and extricated a key. A door unlocked in the dripping darkness. A room bathed in warm yellow glow of a lone study lamp . Warm and inviting.

A small cot and a bedside table with a picture of  Jesus, a large , well-thumbed bible and a rosary. The lamp stood on top a bookshelf  which was crammed with books . A laptop with its charger occupied one of the top shelves.

This is how she liked it . Spartan and practical.

She hesitated  on the door mat . It had the picture of a woman with her bangled arms folded in a namaste , steadily getting wet from her dripping hemline.

Mother materialised with a large fluffy towel and took her bag. Then she motioned her toward the bathroom , having handed her what looked like a nightie.

Having changed into a dry nightie , and warming her fingers around a cup of coffee , that had been summoned for her by mother , from some place magical , she sat staring at Jesus, bible  and Mother , in turns .

"Why did you come looking for me ?"Mother was , as always , to the point , focussed , economical with her words .

"I want to be a nun ."

She blurted out , before she changed her mind . A deep silence fell , like a blanket. Even the clock on the wall , ticked in muffled gasps. She saw a fleeting shadow cross Mother's face , like a passing worry . Thankfully Mother didn't ask -"Why?"

For it would have involved a tirade for answer, and Mother knew her hysterical propensities, not to mention her histrionic abilities .

Mother didn't answer immediately . That was characteristic of her . Unlike bengalis , profuse speech didn't keep gushing out of her , spontaneously ; another trait of Mother that was much admired .

 It made each of her words more precious , treasured almost , like nuggets to be clung to, gospel to be mulled over , again and again.

Then Mother said , in a decisive tone , as if she had taken the decision on her behalf , "Gather your things , your father is coming to pick you up."

There was a stern look around Mother . She didn't ask any more.

Morosely , she went about her task of gathering her wet clothes , now slightly steaming , and her bag .

Outside, darkness had deepened. Rain had stopped . A stiff breeze blew still. Her nightie hugged her ankles. She felt naked , in more ways than one . She had exposed herself, and nothing had come of it .

On the landing , as she made her way to the waiting ambassador, throwing yellow , throbbing streaks on the revered brick red walls and infant Jesus, she turned to Mother -" I will return the night gown tomorrow ."

In the cars headlamps , she caught a motherly look in Mother's eyes , protective , like a parent.

It quickly passed , like a lost thought.

"If God wants you to be a nun, he will send for you , again . "

Mother spoke , almost to herself , when she was on the last step of the stairs . If she hadn't been paying attention , she wouldn't have heard it over the din of the old car purring.


Then , as she slid on the reccine back seat , plonking her wet load next to her , she started at the sight of veiled face of Mother next to the car window. She quickly lowered the glass pane down .

"And remember , everything is not what it seems to be . "

She had whispered and melted into the darkness . She was talking in riddles , like Dumbledore , again . She sighed . Only if she had half the intelligence of Harry Potter.

The moment the car sped ahead , Baba began scolding . All his bottled up worries coming tumbling out .

"How irresponsible of you ? You could have at least told your mom . You were missing after school hours . Everyone is so worried . I , personally , went to all your schoolmates houses, asking for you . Your mom is roaming around like a madwoman , barefoot , asking for you . We almost lodged an FIR at the thana..........."

"Welcome to earth " thought she , smiling , in spite of herself.


" Thank God Mother Superior rang us up . Or else I don't know , what would have happened today . You are the eldest child . You are expected to have the decency............."

So Mother rang up . She wondered why ?

As they neared home , apprehension crowded her . What if there is a full blown drama ? Several what ifs started bothering her . Consequences she hadn't thought of before "running away "

Grandmother stood at the gate , unprecedented . Her pooja abandoned , saree crushed , face crestfallen . When she emerged from the car , She was hugged , tearfully , silently , and thamma went in , wiping her eyes silently . Baba , Maa gave her hurt looks .  Maa kissed her forehead and said nothing . That was most bothersome . No one asking her , shouting at her . The lack of the usual , expected drama.

Toton came running into her room , asking details . He was shooed out by Shampadi , the cook, who got her hot tea , another unprecedented event at 9 in the night . All stayed up for dinner with her . She did not utter a word . No one pestered her .

When she went to her room , Maa came with her agarbatti . She waved it thrice over her head , as she always did , before sleeping , and kissed her forehead again . She could tell , she had been crying .


Suddenly she got her answer to the question that had bothered her so immensely -"Did I matter ?"


Then She got out of her bed and ran the length of the verandah , barefoot, her" dhub-dhub" footfall, rousing the household. When she stopped at thamma's door , she turned and saw everyone standing outside their doors , baba in his pyjamas , specs and national geographic in hand , toton grinning mischievously wanting to make a dash after her , making it into their favourite game of chase , held back by stern looking Maa in nightie and open hair , kali-type . She now knew she mattered .

Smiling with relief , She stuck out her tongue at Toton , who immediately stuck his out , back ; a universal language of contempt between siblings.

Baba shook his head and went back to his Serengeti national Park , Toton was put to sleep ,with great deal of argument , and Maa lingered in the hallway , like an after thought.

Snuggling into thamma's soft bed , smelling of talcum , cloves and agarbatti , She understood , when thamma repeatedly smoothed her hair , while chanting inaudible mantras, what Mother Superior meant when she said -"everything is not what it seems to be."