Skip to main content

A Life of Never-ending Thirst

Anger has become such a big part of my life. I do not know it has something to do with the loosely used term of city rage or is it something very peculiar to me. Somewhere, I want to be pampered, showered with the same love which I had always tried to search in the longing. I suppose the rage which was simmering all the while and came out as witty cynicism, now holds my conscious by its neck. It feels it stems from the failure not only in getting the love which I was longing for, but rather in the fact that the failure seems more certain with every passing day. The confidence which I had in my own being, in my own physical being seems to be fading away every passing day, a struggle which begins every dawn to arrest the decline, by digging my heels in the quicksand on which I stand, gives way to a heavy and melancholy sadness by the evening, which comes down as a dark cloud, heavy with pregnant storm within, floating downwards, before being hit with the finality of a dreadful lightening. Every afternoon as I struggle to keep the sense of dark patches floating across my vision, the sense of death, a closure of the curtain seems too close for comfort. Some watery patches with dark dots keep floating in front of eyes, as I struggle hard to keep up the pretense of normalcy. Sometime I feel I could still be better off if I could forget the past, the time when I was moving around in a yearning, which was so pronounced and still so poignent, and while eyes were set on a faraway future with a promise of great love, the love which was really true, beautiful and ethereal in nature was all around me. When eventually future became present, only then did I realise the love which I had left behind in the past.
I had patched up with life, some time back when life had stepped forward, cutting through the cynicism which offered a security,we entered into a bargain. When I look back, edging to the middle age, I could only say that life has not kept some part of that bargain. The annoyance and the vacant place in my being where the promise of a man once existed created such anger that keeps seeping through the sanity. When I entered into that bargain, I had relegated myself to the back and now I find how far back I had left my self. A big part of what I was has been left behind and now those for whom it was done in the first place, feel short-changed, a skewed balance of bargain which started elsewhere, step by step entered into every facet of life. A skeleton of the man moves around looking for a life left far behind, struggling to regain what was once his, what he once was, if not for anything else at least for the one who has not seen him when he was complete, even through raw and unfinished and solitary.
1 comment

Popular posts from this blog

कांग्रेस संत समागम - Congress Sant Samagam

आज रात्रि जब प्रात:काल डिम्पल बाबा जागे, उनका हृदय नई ऊर्जा से प्रकाशमान था। कल ही काँग्रेस कार्यकारिणी ने उनकी तुलना किसी अचार से की थी और ध्वनिमत से सनातन धर्म का रक्षक बताया था। डिम्पल बाबा के बताया गया था कि अचार बनने के बाद हिंदू धर्म ध्वजा की रक्षा का दायित्व उन पर बैठता है। बाबा को खुद को पिकल कहा जाना पसंद तो नहीं आया था और वह जानना चाहते को अति उत्सुक थे कि ये हिंदू पिकल का इतना सम्मान क्यों करते हैं। हालाँकि डिम्पल बाबा के उत्साह का सबसे बड़ा कारण यह था कि ब्रह्मऋषि डिम्पल घोषित होने का बाद वह सामाजिक मर्यादाओं से इतर हो गए थे, और बक़ौल बाल ऋषि पूनावाला उन्हें भाँग गाँजा की निर्बाध व्यवस्था का अधिकार था। बालऋषि के अनुसार- राहुल जी इज जस्ट लाईक दैट डूड फ्राम माऊँटेन- शिव। सोच कर ही महर्षि डिम्पल के शरीर मे फुरेरियाँ उठी। नानी ने जब पवित्र वेटिकन के जल से ब्लेसित किया था तब उन्हें कहाँ भान होगा कि एक दिन उनका पौत्र हिंदू धर्म की दिशा तय करेगा। 
बहरहाल नव-नियुक्त ब्रह्मऋषि डिम्पल बाबा ने, घड़ी को देखा। बारह बज गए थे और प्रात: सूर्य वंदना का समय था। रोलेक्स राजर्षि को भी अब पहुँच…

लँगड का एमाराई

(Hindi Satire, inspired by immortal writing of late  Shri Shrilal Shukl and his legendary Novel- Rag Darbari)


लंगडवा एम आर आई करवाने का सोच रहा था। फिर सोचा पता नहीं मशीन कहाँ कहाँ से जुड़ी होगी।

खन्ना मास्टर लंगडवा के उहापोह को बड़े ध्यान से देख रहे थे। ग़रीब का कष्ट अमीर को सदा ही ध्यानाकर्षक लगता है। उसी में उसकी आत्मा का उद्धार और राजनीति का चमत्कार छुपा होता है। खन्ना मास्टर जवान और जोशीले थे। चमकीली वास्केट पहनते थे, और गंजहा की जगह ख़ुद को गंजावाला कहलाना पसंद करते थे।

गंजावाला अपना चश्मा लहराते बालों में धकेल कर, मनुहार के लहजे में बोले - “जाओ हो, काहे घबराते हो? कब तक वैद जी के पीछे घूमते रहेगे? क़स्बा क्लीनिक जा कर एमाराई करा लो।”

“हमको थोड़ा डर लग रहा है।”

लंगडवा गंजावाला के उत्साह से भयभीत हो गया। अमीर आदमी ग़रीब के सुख में अचानक रुचि लेने लगे तो अक्सर ग़रीब के लिए भय और भ्रम का कारण होता है। एक राजकुमार पहले उत्साहित हुए थे तो जवाँ मर्द कंबल और ट्राजिस्टर प्राप्त कर के लौटे थे। उसके बाद उनके घर कभी किलकारियाँ नही सुनाई पड़ी , बस मुफ़्त के रेडियो में बिनाका गीत माला सुनाई पड़ती…

Women in Vedas - The Fake Story of Sati Pratha

Biggest problem which Hinduism faces when it is being evaluated through the western prism of Abrahamic faith . I was watching a speech by Sadhguru where he mentioned a very critical defining feature of Hinduism. He says, unlike Western faiths, Hinduism did not place anyone at a pedestal where questions would not reach. Forget the Prophets and Masters, even Gods were received with affection and a list of questions. Nothing was ever beyond debate in Hinduism, not even Gods. This very nature of Hinduism has often been cause of concern and confusion for Western thinkers, troubled by a religion, which is seeped so deep into our culture of exploration of truth through investigation and examination. When the western scholars approach the Vedic Indian wisdom, oftentimes their approach itself is based on the assumption that they are approaching a civilization, a religion which is inferior to theirs. This makes it hard for them to accept a society which was an intellectually flourishing society…