Afterthought

When a thought suddenly visits your mind
And you are tempted to speak aloud,
Do ponder over it for a moment or two
Or else later you will rue.

A Fleeting Tete-a-tete

I thought you would never come,
Never come to me.
Yet I hoped someday,
You might knock at my door,
And through your eyes
Show me the world anew.

The world that I have visited only in my dreams:

Where the sky kisses the azure ocean
And bees hum to their heart’s delight;
Where the pristine moon smiles back
And radiates bliss in its silvery hue;
Where an unspoken word means more than
Anything that has ever been said;
Where a touch can soothe the pained heart
And make time stand still.

And then you came in the stillness of the night,
Oblivious to even me while I slept;
I woke up from my dream
And found you in me,
In all your splendor.

I wish I was awake!

But soon your time was spent.
You walked away in broad daylight,
As I bade adieu with moistened eyes.
The burden of your footsteps trampled me,
As you faded into the horizon.
Now in my dreams, I sometimes find you;
Only to lose you in rousing.

And then I wish I was still asleep!

Futile Cycle

Sometimes when I think,
I do think that I do not want to think;
But then I think and keep thinking
Until I again think of not to think.

Jhore Swapnobhongo

The title is adapted from the famous poem 'Nirjhore swapnobhongo' by Tagore.

Prem eshechilo ekdin, nirobe, songopone
Matiye tulechilo mon pran deho
Bhashiye diyechilo amar ekool okool khaniker tore.

Aaj jhoro hawar neshai mataal amar sei prem
Se ure jacche, ami chutchi tar pechone..pranpone
Tarpor hothat ghum bhenge gelo
Hoyto sopno dekhchilam naki bastob?


Mumbai
11.2.09

What I Live For

This question first occured to me while reading the autobiography of Bertrand Russel in college. I am not sure why anyone of you would be interested in knowing how I wish to live my life. In case you are, you are most welcome. :-)

We all dream, hope and live for certain things and I am no exception. For a long time now, I have been intermittently conscious of this question: What do I live for? I started thinking about it. I realize that though I vaguely know the answer, being explicit is not-trivial. But I think following are the things that I live for.

I am fortunate to have felt the intoxication of intellectual understanding quite early in my life. The sheer joy that comes from understanding the queer ways of Nature or from solving a puzzle is precious to me. It is this eagerness to learn more which makes every day of my life a fulfillment. Even more satisfying is to spread this joy to others who care. I believe that the wealth of accumulated knowledge and wisdom over the ages is our greatest possession and it embodies our very existence. I would like to spend my life contributing (howsoever insignificantly) to this ever expanding knowledge pool and also communicate the joy that it entails. The little that I know myself, I do not think I can do anything else even moderately well. So that is my apology for choosing this way of life.

Next I live for my passions too. Music of the soothing kind, books, good food, quotes, sensible movies, dark chocolate, laziness, football, more recently poetry and many more . These constitute the little things in my life. These enrich my heart and improve my mind (At least I hope so). These bring along with them small bits of happiness. Without many of these things life will not be worth living.

But perhaps the most important thing that I live life for is love. Love of my parents, friends, well wishers and others is very dear to me. Love is like the plot of a story that binds all the disparate characters in a common thread. It makes us a part of other lives and others a part of ours. It makes us act more responsibly, laugh uncontrollably at silly jokes, weep at petty things, imagine the world to be more colourful than it actually is! It elicits remotest emotions which otherwise we wouldn’t have known existed. True love inspires and makes us a better person. It is this love that I have sought, fleetingly found and will continue to search for.

So it is in pursuit of wisdom, happiness and love that I wish to live my life. The pursuit in itself is often wonderful but I hope that I may achieve some if not all of these before I sit down to write ‘What I Have Lived For’ many years down the line.


6 December, 2008.
Mumbai.

Little things that people do……

Sometimes apparently unimportant things can create an indelible impression on our minds. A few days back I was travelling in a not-so-crowded local train from Wadala to CST. I happened to sit beside an ordinary and unimpressive young man who had with him a bunch of newspapers. Reading while travelling alone is often the best way to avoid being bored. So I took from him ‘DNA’ (Yes, it is a newspaper and it stands for Daily News and Analysis) and was flipping through the headlines. I found a column by Fahad K Samaar interesting and started reading it. The writer in some context has described his father to be a ‘Muslim atheist’. Muslim because his father ‘understood and spoke exquisite Urdu, appreciated ghazals and poetry, relished a well cooked biryani and greeted his friends with Salaam and bid them adieu with Khuda Hafeez.’ He meant that though he was culturally a Muslim but was against any kind of organized religion.

I was moved by this description of religion being more akin to culture and morality than to other fundamentalist notions that it has come to mean in recent times. I was looking forward to read the rest of the article when ill-fate struck. The young man whose newspaper I was reading had to get down in the next station. I was about to give him back the newspaper when he gestured me to keep it and hurriedly got off the train. No word was spoken. I couldn’t even thank him. I read the entire article and was really happy. As the train entered CST I smiled silently remembering a line that I had read many years ago…”It is not the biggest things that make the biggest show, it is the little things that people do that makes this old world go.”

27 August 2008.
TIFR, Mumbai.

A Strange Rendezvous

On the lonely night of 3rd March 2007, it was about time for me to go to the Old Delhi railway station to receive my mother and bring her home. As anticipated, the train was late and she was to arrive sometime around midnight. Delhi becomes quite desolate at night. To travel thirty kilometers at that hour is not easy. I was hoping to take an auto-rickshaw to reach the station on time but luck was not on my side. Standing on the main road I could only see cars passing by at great speed. I felt hopeless and desperate. Time was running out. I had to act fast.

After sometime (which seemed eternity to me) I saw an auto coming. When it came closer I realized that it was already occupied by two men. Nevertheless I waved frantically at the driver indicating him to stop. He agreed to give me a lift after dropping them at the Safdarjung Enclave. I found for myself a seat next to the driver. Sharing an auto with strangers is not a great idea but I had no other option.

I could hear one of them talking over the phone in a deep yet husky voice. The other man was silent. The smell of alcohol was so strong that I felt nauseous. Amidst all this the auto was speeding past the neon lights on the Aruna Asaf Ali Marg. I could see the Qutub Minar far away against the backdrop of the moonlight sky. Our minds are not confined by the restrictions imposed by space and time. It wanders about freely wherever it desires. I was to meet my mother after many months and I could almost feel her drawing me towards her bosom.

I was shocked back to reality when I heard the same voice ordering the driver to take a turn towards JNU. It was not on our way so I was surprised and annoyed. To express my dissent I turned back and saw him for the first time. He was a well-built man of middle age with deep red eyes, thick beard and an emotionless face. Just near the JNU entrance he again ordered the driver to stop at the gate of a housing complex. The other person hurriedly stepped out and disappeared. I was becoming increasingly impatient. Gathering some courage I asked him how long would he take. I also explained to him why I was in a hurry.

Immediately his face tightened. Controlling his emotions he said: “Do you know who I am?” I was listening. He continued, “I am a criminal. I deal in arms and weapons.” I knew I was in trouble. I was shocked to hear him admitting that blatantly. He also said: “I have just had a fight with a friend. Had he been a stranger I would have killed him.” Now I could see fresh stains of blood on his right shoulder. I knew I had to remain silent.

Under the influence of alcohol, he went on: “My mother was the most important person in my life. I miss her so much.” Tears started rolling down his cheeks. He then moved out of the auto and indicated the driver to take me to my destination. He threatened me not to disclose his identity to the police.

I was so shocked, thrilled and touched that I barely managed to shake his hands and thank him. I couldn’t have met my mother on time but for his help. I kept thinking about the entire episode throughout that night. Remembering it gives me a shudder even today. The only assurance is this realization that even seasoned criminals like him have subdued compassion and sympathy.

Israel.
Aug, 2007.