Flying to Lucknow

Why do literary artists abuse the places where I spent my childhood? Don’t they have something better to tell? Going down memory lane…it happens so often i get amazed to read literary artist marking those small alleys as dingy and filthy. I ask one question to myself: did I spend my childhood amidst filth? Probably yes – probably not. I used to play and chat there they were not filthy - were they? I had the luxury of time – which I have lost in this swank city. I owe almost all the employability to those, not so dingy, lanes; in fact not at all dingy.

Somewhere I read Arundhati Roy writing, stories cull authors to be told. I don’t know whether it goes with abuses too.

ख्वाब, चाँद, नींद और इंतज़ार
किताब, कलम, स्याही और कहानी
एहसास, कल्पना, खोज और जस्बात
दर्पण, रूप, श्रिंगार और तुम
यादें, खलिश, तन्हाई और मैं

कल रात गुजरते हुए उन रास्तों से
यूं लगा जैसे राहें कुछ सुस्त हो चली है
जब हम थे रहगुजर पे तो एक भागमभाग थी
जमीन जैसे कुछ पोली सी और फिसलन खूब थी

मुझमे मेरा कुछ नहीं

From where to start is not an easy find! A lean, for sure not mean, man leaves his place and staple comforts for a place called Delhi - the Destination Delight. For some (the smallest domain) he was innocent, for some lacked practicality for some he was foolish (the biggest segment).
Over optimistic about life and its fruits for him in store, he was behaving like a toddler who stands for the first time and refuses to sit the entire day.
The morning used to begin for him at six. Out of the room in next thirty minutes…sometimes with breakfast and quite often without.
But his optimism was not ill placed. The almond uncle came for rescue in the first week itself. A man from the hills of Himachal finds shade of his nephew in him. And his days started to begin with almonds.

कल कि कल्पना में गुमराह हो गया आज का दिन

Isn't it a great line? Written by a very good freind.
A life threatening accident in London has taught me this lesson: don’t spoil today
क्योंकि कल हो न हो
(there may not be a tomorrow)

ConfuSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSion...Galore

Mark my words - it's disgusting to be confused. But some duffers, i don’t want to say like me, can’t help it. Wayward is the only way, so far known to me. Every step meets a crossroad - a labyrinth. It’s confusing by the tiniest measure of time. People around are so sure...don't know how??? When i was a kid, i thought may be, i would be sure, once i would grow up. But confusion has grown with me. The more anxious, i am to be sure. The more ignorant and confused, i become. Probably fault is in the script; i am made of - genes.

गर जानता यूँ दोगी जवाब
तो पूछता सवाल... बहुत पहले
तुम्हारी हर पंक्ति
जैसे विन्यास...अमर तत्व की
तुमने भर कर रख दिया
किस लापरवाही से उस जवाब को
कि वो छ्लका
थोड़ा मेरे सवाल पर
थोड़ा मुझ पर