तन्हाई की एक चीख

तन्हाई की एक चीख
पी रही है कतरा-कतरा
आत्मा के रस को

अंदर का खोखलापन बढ रहा है
दिन उबासीयों की और रात उदासियों की नज़र हुए
बाकि बस है तो वही
तन्हाई की एक चीख…

पटल पर उभरते चित्र धुंधले से
कुहासा यह चुगली करता
कि व्हो तो बिम्ब है अतीत का
बाकि बस है तो वही
तन्हाई की एक चीख…

कल रात कुछ अजीब थी

कल रात कुछ अजीब थी,
रेंग रही थी उंगिल्याँ उलझनों में
और दर्द की एक शिकन थी तुम्हारे चेहरे पर
एक अजनबी सी टीस मुझ में भी
यह रात और इसकी हर बात अजीब थी
उलझन से लगन थी
कयोंकी सुलझने में दर्द था
पता नहीं क्यों यूं लगता है
दर्द से भरी सुल्झन से तो
भली वो उलझन ही थी...

आवाज जो बीच थी अपने
साथ हो ली खामोशी कि ऊँगली थाम उस शाम
सहमी सी कोने में सिमटी सी
हमसफ़र थी भी और नहीं भी
मैंने सुनी आवाज उस खामोशी की
जो साथ भी और नहीं भी
सफर की अपनी कहानी है
आवाज खामोशी से साथ है लौटने को...

Taxi Wallah’s in London

London’s taxi is a sight to behold…spacious, comfortable and beautiful; but awfully costly. An automobile (accident of course) forced me to use this beauty. But taxi drivers can be so funny I never knew. I, with a ruptured duodenum, was struggling my way to hotel, hospital, hotel then again to hospital…and taxi drivers were becoming funnier by the minute.

After the doctor at St. Thomas’ said don’t squeak too much, it’s just a spasm nothing wrong with your tummy. I came out of the hospital slightly surprised but not pleasantly that nothing was wrong. I hired a taxi for St. Ermins Hotel, Caxton street. The taxi driver in his 50s was a quiet man. Through out the way, I was digging a gaping divide between the driver and myself by conversing in Hindi with my colleague.

The colleague who was dragging me to different places was visibly cursing me. He was trying to avoid me or pretending that it’s just an ill fate that he accompanied me. I had all my sympathies going for him. And it was actually very funny that reluctant helper was putting forth all kind of fake generosity. The taxi-wallah tried to drop us on the main road which was good 50 meters away from the hotel entrance. And with an undetected and unidentified ruptured duodenum, I was sure about being assertive. I said, “Please drop me inside as I am in pain.” The response was, “don’t say…I’m in pain, say I’m lazy.”

Then I had cheap thrill out his reluctance I said “you got it very right please drop me inside.” And he was left with no other option but to drop me where I wanted him to. After waiting for a full night in my hotel room, I was trying to get into a hospital. Again that reluctant attendant was there to help me reach an NHS centre. I asked him to bring the wheel chair as I couldn’t walk. He came with a blank expression in the room and said I had enquired the hotel had no wheel chair. I rebuffed, “No…I enquired they have one.”

Tragedy was becoming funny with me. I got a wheel chair but the lift was not big enough to accommodate the wheel chair available with the hotel. My colleague was finding it difficult to hide is happiness. I was disgusted beyond explanation. I walked into the lift and then towards the main entrance of the hotel. Some body from hotel got me a taxi. The taxi driver was a gentle looking white lady hell bent towards cleanliness. I can say this because what followed when she saw me.

The driver refused to get me into the taxi. As I had my hand on my tummy she was alarmed. She said he will puke in my taxi. I said, “No…I won’t.” She said, No you will.” I said, “I would put hand on mouth but please take me.” It’s a strange argument – isn’t it? But she bought the argument. I kept the promise I had made. One hand on belly and the other on mouth; I entered the taxi and headed towards the NHS.

Let me put in black and white: the lady driver was just hygiene conscious…neither rude nor racist. When we reached the NHS centre, my colleague was busy pulling out bugs from his pocket and the driver was pulling me out of the cab. Both were extremely concerned, one was waiting that if could manage to go inside on my own and the other was busy ensuring that I wouldn’t puke in her cab.

Can anyone survive so many blunders in one evening?

My unruly tummy turned me into a squeaky good for nothing liability, I had rammed myself against the steering wheel while go karting. One of my colleagues was dragging himself to the hospital. Never ever so much of realization fell on me in a go that I was working in a wrong industry: communication (non personal persuasive communication – advertising and PR). I couldn’t convince a single person that I had done a great damage to myself. The only solace now is one thought: Had I faced so many failures in a normal day of my work life, I won’t have seen the next day. Good excuse. Isn’t it?

Only after six hours of futile attempts, I could reach St. Thomas’ Hospital in the UK. I took a taxi driven by an unconvinced driver that I was making efforts to remain together and intact. I am sure even the nurse who measured my BP wasn’t convinced; another Failure. And the people waiting with me in the A&E, St. Thomas’ Hospital were intermittently looking at me through the corners of their eyes. Their unimpressed or rather unconvinced eyes were going hoarse in saying: these immigrants are always a nuisance; an uncultured and ill-mannered lot. I was howling without giving a thought to the scorn on their faces.

The staff nurse asked me to wait. She could read blood pressure and temperature whereas I could feel the tumult inside. When I realized that the wait is inevitable; out of sheer frustration, I started an onslaught of meaningless questions mixed with shrill groan. Irritating people has always been one of my hobbies. So I was also enjoying all the twitches erupting because of my bawl.

Then after enjoying those twitches for two long hours, I heard my name Rahoooool Bajaaapi (Rahul Bajpai). Without loosing a moment; I was standing and walking without squeak – this was a strange wheel always squeaked when not in motion. My colleague and the staff nurse escorted me to a room. A medical student was gearing up to know what made me see the hospital. But natural inquisitiveness and circumstantial curiosity forced me into asking more questions about her than she asked about me.

The third-year medical student was very tentative and cautious while answering questions related to my medical condition. She gasped for air while answering my questions; I never told her that I began my career as a journalist. So I can ask nth number of meaningless, stupid, open-ended questions. Though I told her that I am an ‘Indian - a good enough synonym for garrulous’. Confusion was smeared all over her face. She must be thinking whether I was really in pain or passing time in the hospital. Then I was taken to a huge man.

This huge man was a doctor whom I wanted to meet every minute in those six hours. He hurled questions towards the taciturn student and garrulous patient. The doctor was grilling his student with some technical questions. And then he started his routine checkup. He got my urine tested. He reached an unbelievable decision: it’s just a spasm nothing serious. I listened this sentence in the form of suggestion, advice, analysis report and finally from a doctor. When I showed concern about my excruciating pain, his exact words were: if you hit steering wheel at that speed and you don’t have that’s abnormal nothing abnormal if you have pain. The only person who got convinced during that evening was a lorry driver from Nigeria who took me to a shop helped me buy some painkillers. Other wise everyone thought it’s just a spasm.

A threatening car by Tata - American & Indian values on display

American journalists reported recently an Indian car posed threat to America - read America as globe. This car will cause global warming and submerge everything. And there is a dreamer behind this conspiracy.

Ratan Tata, as he says, dreamt of giving Indian common man an affordable car. He recently realized the dream. As the car was within the reach of many Indians. It sent chill down the spine of many people - Competitors, Environmentalists, and the funniest of them all are American scribes. A journo, from the land of free enterprise, writing against a big breakthrough in the automobile industry is funny. I have all the sympathies going for Americans. This is the worst crises America is facing since 9/11.

Yep! TATA has no right to behave so recklessly. Producing such a cheap car!!! How dare he!!! Either the world is with America or against. And now our very own Ratan is against them. I wonder how he is feeling after standing in the league of Osamas.

Never mind Dear representatives of Uncle Sam, we have some Sunitas for your help. Sunita Narain is the Director of Center for Science and Environment, India. She is talking about higher taxation and end of subsidies for motor vehicle users, so that the people who dream of owning a car pay a fitting price. But as always she and other elite get these valid arguments late in the day. Now common man is finding it difficult to swallow her bitter pill.

Isn't Nano better and safer than auto rickshaws existing on Delhi's roads? In terms of fuel efficiency, is it not better than many big luxury cars used by the likes of Sunita - I mean to say elite? It's baffling, are these people just hypocrites or against common man? The state has already given so much to the rich in terms of subsidies (road usage, parking, etc.) if I go by Sunita’s argument. And now something is going the poor's way and they are concerned about pollution and clogged roads? Aren't those roads already clogged?

Tax bigger cars heavily and I guarantee these people will book Nanos for themselves; this is how the elite in India, rather every where, behaves. Long live hypocrisy!!!

The Best of Times & the Worst of Times - All in London

Charles Dickens started his finest work 'A Tale of Two Cities' with these lines:

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair…

And the lines are a perfect fit for my London visit. I landed a very good job in the month of August 2007. I got a call which left me in disbelief. The call suggested that I was on my way to an international career.

It was the best of times – from overcrowded DTC (Delhi Transportation Corporation) buses and Delhi’s Tube (DMRC) to Virgin Atlantic Business Class travel, the transformation was smooth and pleasant. It was the worst of times – from healthy life on the roads of Delhi to ICU (intensive care unit) of St. Thomas’ Hospital in London; the change was rough and painful.

It was the age of wisdom – from a national assignment to an international one; I sailed through written test, presentation and interview and got the job. It was the age of foolishness – I rammed a kart in the wall and my tummy into the steering wheel and almost killed myself.

It was the epoch of belief – I believed that nothing would go wrong, when everything was actually so very wrong. It was the epoch of incredulity – for almost 24 hours, nobody (colleagues, paramedics, doctors, strangers, taxi drivers) believed that something was terribly wrong in my tummy. I got proper medical assistance only on my second visit to St. Thomas’ Hospital (the next day) in an ambulance with my blood pressure touching abyss.

It was the season of light – I got a new lease of life. It was the age of Darkness – I reached a passé where I needed a new lease of life. An accident and delayed medical intervention helped me in reaching a point where my one feet was on earth and the other was in hell (kindly read it heaven).

It was the spring of hope – every passing minute was hurling pleasant surprises. Let me correct the facts it was not spring, but the autumn of hope. It was the winter of despair – everyone I approached echoed the same ‘NO!!! NOTHING IS WRONG WITH YOU! IT’S JUST A SPASM.’ Later on everyone said, “You got a life threatening injury.”