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Showing posts from August, 2011


बरसते हुए मौसम में तुम याद बहुत आये शाम की चादर में सब मौसम घर आये याद आया वो खिड़की पे मचलता पानी शोख नज़रों से तेरी ओर ताकता पानी वोह शाम की मुंडेरों पे नन्ही चिड़िया और एक नन्ही परी घर से निकलती दिखी पानी भरी गलियों में अंगूठे से पत्थर तलाशती और नटखट छींटों से दामन बचाती जाती पुस्तकें एक हाथ में और जूते भी ऐसे पंजो पे चली जाती थी तुम जैसे अपने पैरों में पड़े दिलों की खैरमंद हो तुम क्या तुम्हे याद है नुक्कड़ पे साईकिल पे बैठा लड़का जो तुम्हे देख के अक्सर लड़खड़ा के गिर जाता था बालों को संभालता था उलटे हाथो से और यूँ तकता था ऐसे तुमको जैसे वक़्त के सिलसिले का आखरी लम्हा तुम हो जैसे हर रात सुबह को हसरत से तकती है जैसे एक अज़ान लहरा के आसमा की जानिब उठ्ठे क्या तुम्हें कुछ ज़रा याद आता नहीं है क्या तुम्हें वो भूलना भी याद आता नहीं है मुझे तुम आज की बारिश में याद बेशुमार आये और मुझे याद आया की कितना तनहा में हूँ

The Truth behind Anna Hazare Movement

This is not an article about breaking news disclosure about the movement which today stares us squarely in the eyes without a blink, nothing of the kind which Congress spokesmen love to break on the camera about Kishan Baburaon Hazare, before, retreating with the official line "I do not speak for the party" when cornered in the debate. Their love for their own voide and own face keeps pushing them into 24 hours debates, but it is so easy and logical to loose a debate when you do not have truth on your side. Only debates that can be won without having truth on your side are the ones which wives have with their husband, but that is a separate discussion, which I am for obvious reasons bound to loose. But this is facinating, they even today, come on television and talk of procedure. Well, was the minority protection bill proposed by National Advisory Council against the procedure, since NAC was not parliament, and it was also a civil society congregation, albeit sanctioned by th

The illogical Sense of Birthdays..

I have no bones to break with middle aged youngish fellows, firm believers of "forties is the new thirties", cigar-smoking generation. You can and must celebrate birthdays at forties, fifties, sixties and beyond..if you want to. Celebration is something which marks happiness. That is some thing which has to come from inside. For this very reason, Independence day to school kids is not about hard discipline of uniformed lines rather it is the symphony of colors and paper flags and badges and happiness. It is happiness which has to come from inside, even if it comes with the slightly sad acknowledgement of some one whom you loved and adored as sign of youth, growing old in the face of dusty storms of times. It was being celebrated much cheap with two bottles of Aristocrat at around two hundred rupees and some salad from the hostel mess, years back, but it was not a ritual then, it was a time to reinforce friendships, and real happiness. What it means in the world today, when ho

Thoughts on Independence Day

Got up with half the day gone at 12 todoy, newspaper hits out with News of uncaught killers of a relative of Bhagat Singh in Punjab. Cogress who is so keen on concluding the trial of Sohrabuddin fake encounters in gujarat is silent on it. Congress which gives and takes support from Mayavati, and stays silent on ostantatious birthdays of hers, raises nose on 2.5 L spent on Anna Hazare birthday, referring to report in which three congress ministers were indicted. What Independence..Can I sing Rabindranath to my child.. Where Mind is without fear and the heads is held high where knowledge is free; Where the world had not been broken up in fragments by narrow domestic walls ..? Mind is without Modi falls on wrong side of government..Haveli's emerge in Rajasthan..Baba Ramdev protests..Lathicharge at midnight (rhymes with Freedom at Midnight)..Anna Hazare protests..Corruption case of INR 200k..Congress spokesman smirks with gotcha shine in his 200k against my

Is it age showing or Am I missing you too sorely?

It was quiet a mercurial day in the sporadic rains of Delhi, much unlike the unbridled romance of new lover, more like the restrained affection of long married wife, some rare drizzle in the morning, and long period of unapologetic bright sun. It was Rakshabandhan, the festival celebrating the love of a sister for a brother, expressed through the sacred thread tied on the wrist of the brother, an ancestor to Friendship Bands popularized by Messers Archies, with a sisters way of protecting the brother from the dangers associated with protecting a sister, in turn. Sweet occasion, which I would dare not call orthodox in today's world with every calender day marked as mother's day,  father's day and even the cute-little-bird-on-my-balcony day; you name a day, they have it, but that is another discussion. As we have it, my friend did not turn up, as he did not find my proposition of travelling to Rishikesh in line with his idea of a vacation, so I slept late, and eventually when

The Evil Game of Numbers

Though it has been many years back, I still remember the lump moving up my neck reading the saddening state of the farmer in Do bailon ki Kahani and Godan of Munshi Premchand. But fast forward to the current day and things have changed. He has a fleet of Scorpios, wears the biggest fashion labels, dons a Rayban and goes to the Pubs, at least three days a week. He is the new Indian farmer. This is the problem with numbers, they form a vision which is too intimidating to challenge. The cover the masses and become the face of masses they claim to represent even when they are so vastly alienated fromt the same masses which they claim to represent. It becomes so overwhelmingly difficult to move against the current and stick out your neck in such scenario. Just a look at the scenario of today's Newspapers speak of it. Gurgaon Villagers protest in front of a mall against some violence which happened last week when some youths from neighbouring villages tried to forcefull enter the pubs,