A Bowl of Elusive

पुराने खतों में... पुराने खतों में तेरी मजबूरी के अल्फाज़ देखता हूँ, मेरी ज़ुल्मों की दास्ताँ बयान करते पन्नों में तेरी आंसूवों के दाग देखता हूँ। मैं पलट सकता वक़्त को तो शायद हमारी कहानी किसी और तरह लिखता, बहुत दूर निकल आया हूँ सफर में, तब भी कभी कभी तेरे ख्वाब देखता हूँ। वाकिफ़ हूँ इस बात से की अब उन यादों का कोई मोल नहीं रहा, मेरे संगीन ज़ुल्मों को तू माफ़ करे ऐसा मैं बोल नहीं रहा। वैसे गलतियाँ तो तुझसे बिछड़ने के बाद भी हुई मुझसे कई बार, मैं सोचता हूँ की मेरे अच्छे और बुरे कर्म क्यूँ कोई तोल नहीं रहा। मैं नास्तिक हूँ वैसे तो जन्नत और जहन्नुम को मानता नहीं, पर अगर वह है भी तो मेरे हिस्से में क्या आएगा मैं जानता नहीं। तेरे बद्दुआओं का हकदार तो में हमेशा से ही था लेकिन, कभी कभी आईने में जिस शख़्स को देखता हूँ, उसे में पहचानता नहीं।   सोचता हूँ तेरे बाद के फैसले इतने नापाक थे कैसे, हाथ पकड़ के संभाला था तूने, मेरे बेअंग जीवन की तू बैसाखी थी जैसे। तुझसे जुदा राहों में खुशियों ने दामन ऐसे छुड़ाया, मेरे ज़िंदगी की किताब कोई और लिख रहा हो जैसे। 

  हर कोई अपने love story को ultimate और epic समझता है Breakup का शायद यही side effect है। पर कौन बताए इस आशिक़ को, कौन समझाए ये बात, की काफी humdrum , run of the mill कहानी थी तुम्हारी। ना love at first sight था, ना कोई आसमानी connection , बस दो टूटे हुए शख्स मिले थे एक दूसरे का सहारा बनने को।   जितने मौसम साथ गुज़ारे, थे बड़े ही यादगार, वो milkshake वाली शामे, वो कहानियों से भरी दोपहरियाँ, वो रातों को छुप छुप कर landline से किए हुए calls , वो पहला kiss , वो पहला scented un - named love letter , और वो future वाले plans जो बना रहे थे हम दो बेवकूफ future से अनजान।   दोष किताबों का है साहब, Iliad और Odyssey पढ़ते पढ़ते, हम भी सोचने लगे की story epic है हमारी, हमने भी बचपन में गरीबी देखी है और दुख भी, Rags to riches हमारी कहानी को भी बोल सकते हो। इस गलतफहमी के साथ अपने life  को approach करते रहे, पर वो छूटा तो पहली बार एहसास हुआ की शायद इतना special भी कुछ था नहीं। ना ही हमारे प्यार में और ना हमारे ज़िंदगी में।   दोष फिल्मों...

Every now and then, I have moments where thinking about the present gets overwhelming and I resort to thinking about the past. And since the last several years of my life haven't been particularly pleasant, my mind wanders off to my childhood. If you have followed my blogs, you must have read the bits I have written about certain incidents from my childhood - be it the memories of having sweets with my father, triggered by "balushahi", or the various fragrances of trees and shrubs which take me back to a certain time in my life. While most of the time, I think about certain incidents that highlight my childhood, if I try to remember my childhood in general, I keep landing on visions of the backyard gardens of the several houses I have lived in.  The earliest one I remember was behind this house in Sector 31, Chandigarh. I can barely remember the house itself - it was one of those generic air force quarters, maroon bricks and a grey door and a mix of wall and barbed wires ...

If you reach a certain address at the Greenfield School Lane in Sambalpur, Odisha, you’ll come across a big green walled house. That’s my house. My permanent residence. Even though I haven’t lived there for over twelve years now. The earliest memories I have of this house is from 1996 or 1997 when I would come here for the holidays. It was my grandparents’ place back then. And my father would get me here whenever he could. Of course, I’d been here before but that’s only as far as I can remember. I loved coming here because it was a break from my otherwise troublesome life.  And I remember the house being very different from how it is now. The architecture didn’t change but the house’s identity did. For example, when my grandfather was around, the central hall always had this smell of Colgate tooth powder that he used to clean his dentures with and even now, that smell invariably reminds me of him. And the kitchen used to be my grandmother’s kingdom. The kitchen, with wal...

People in love often ask each other, "Why do you love me?". When has there ever been rhyme or reason to love? For example, Arya and Meenal weren't even supposed to meet. They came from different worlds. The only link between them was Nikita, Meenal's cousin and Arya's classmate. Those days, Arya had been seeing this girl, Noorie whom he'd met right after breaking up with a girl he'd been really in love with. So, it was just a rebound and Arya kinda knew that there weren't any great things in store for Noorie and him. But he hated being alone and Noorie was decent company, kinda goofy but decent. Then one day, while Noorie and Arya were visiting Nikita's place, they met Meenal. She wore an orange salwaar kameez, had a husky voice and spoke in a strange tone that made her sound like a fat boy bully. She was so different from the women Arya came across every day. He was smitten, and he was smitten hard. Later on the same day, Arya called Niki...

Timing always seemed to be a problem for Jay and Sunayana. I left off the last part of this story ( link  here) with Jay having left Sunayana a mail inviting her to have a conversation. As luck would have it, Jay’s mail went straight to her Quarantined folder, as it was her work mail and her company had a rather strong filter for outside emails. Sunayana found the mail when she was reviewing the Quarantine folder a few months later. She didn’t know what to feel about it. Jay seemed to knock on her door at very strategic times. She had just broken up with a guy from work and finding this mail felt like a sign. She decided to call back. Her call couldn’t have come at a worse time. Jay was actually on a date when he got her call. It was an unknown number which he picked up, assuming it might be from a client. His heart stopped beating when he heard her voice, like literally. He gasped for breath and excused himself from his gorgeous Tinder date to go to the men’s room. He h...

I spent a year in Bhubaneswar nine years ago. I was fresh out of high school and had just enrolled into this vocational course. The course didn’t take much of my time. So, I spent the year participating in events to kill time and earn some dough. My other pastime: a tall and ambitious girl named Jyoti. Pay attention to the adjectives I use. We met each other during the first day of the course. I noticed her because she was smarter than the usual Odia girl, spoke well and carried herself with grace and gravity. She noticed me because I was “exactly the kind of spoilt, bratty and privileged asshole that she despised”. Well, that was how she perceived me. I was an extrovert at that point of time, overzealous and outspoken and you would also have judged me wrong had you met me then. I asked her if I could sit in the seat next to her and she said NO. What seventeen year old doesn’t love a challenge. I didn’t know why this girl was averse to me but I instantly knew I had to charm...

Before the utter anonymity of adulthood settled in, were those six wonderful years I spent at St. Joseph’s Convent Higher Secondary School, Sambalpur. The school that became a part of who I am today. The school that helped me discover myself. I joined SJC in 2001. Class 7C. It was a whole different world inside the school premises. The mediocrity of the town it is situated in has absolutely no effect on the culture & class of this school. I was overwhelmed for maybe a second, after which I knew this was where I belonged. I wasn't a great student, as far as grades were concerned, but I was sharp and an extrovert. I excelled in the subjects that I liked, English in particular. And that always kept me in teachers’ radar. And I was a major attention junkie. So, I soon found myself performing on stage on every possible occasion. And that, I feel is the greatest gift that SJC gave me. From a nervous self-doubting 11-year old to a confident optimistic 17-year old, ...