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Into the Past

दिनचर्या


नितांत चलायमान घडी की ओर घंटों से टिकीं वो अथक आँखें मानो किसी दैवीय प्रेरणा की प्रतीक्षा कर रही थीं। भोर की प्रथम किरणों से मानो कह रही हों कि इस निरुद्देश्य जीवन में उद्देश्य की उष्णता का संचार करें । तभी अचानक किसी चिर-परिचित की आवाज़ उसके इस समाधि को भंग करती है ।

“गुटुर-गूं…  गुटुर-गूं”

“उफ्फ ! आती हूँ आती हूँ ! बेचारी भूखी होंगी; कितनी बार बोला है इनसे दाने डाल दिया करें; पर मेरी सुनता कौन है यहाँ ? ओह! आज तो ये हैं भी नहीं घर पर… पता नहीं भैय्या! दुनिया जहां के टूर भी इन्हें ही करने होते; दुनिया में जैसे सिर्फ यही हैं एक काम करने वाले!” अपने ही मन में बुदबुदाती, चावल के डब्बे से एक मुट्ठी चावल निकाल कर कबूतरों को खिलाती । पर यह क्या? कबूतर के पंख तो चारो ओर बिखरे पड़े हैं… ये बिलइय्या भी ना… एक दिन सारे कबूतर खा जायेगी… पता नहीं बच पायी होगी की नहीं बेचारी.… इसीलिए आज उनकी आवाज़ ऐसे दबी हुई सी आ रही थी।”

तभी उसकी नज़र अपने उजड़े-संवरे से बागीचे पर पड़ती है। और दसों हरे-भरे लहलहाते पौधों के बीच उसकी नज़र उसे एक पौधे की एक डाली खोज ही निकालती जो हलकी सी मुरझाई हुई हो। “कोई मेरे पेड़ पर ध्यान ही नहीं देता… कैसे मुरझा गए हैं बेचारे; इन्हे तो जब देखो सिर्फ अपने कैक्टस के पेड़ ही दिखते हैं।” दौड़ के फिर से वह अंदर जाती; मानो पानी के लिए उस पेड़ की करूँ पुकार उसके कानों को भेद रही हो। और एक गिलास पानी इतने प्यार से उसे पिलाती मानो अपने बच्चे को अपने हाथ से पिला रही हो।”

इसी तरह हर सुबह उसका स्वागत करता।  अपने बागीचे में टहल कर जब वो आती और क्षुदा उसे सताती, फ्रिज का दरवाज़ा खोल, वो रात की बची रोटियां तलाशती। कौन बनाएगा फिर से गरम रोटियाँ? अकेले इंसान के लिए भी कोई खाना बनाता है भला? और मेरा बच्चा भी तो ऐसे ही खाता होगा। उसको तो रोटी भी नहीं मिलती होगी।” यही सोंच कर दो में से एक ही रोटी खा कर रह जाती। “किसने बोला था उसे जर्मनी जाने को? इंडिया में क्या अच्छे कॉलेज नहीं हैं क्या?” कुछ देर मन ही मन खुद पे गुस्सा निकालने के बाद खुद ही खुद तो समझाती, “जर्मनी गया भी है तो पढ़ने ही ना? तीन साल बाद तो वापस आ ही जाएगा। और घर में बैठकर भी कभी पढ़ाई होती है भला? घर में रहता तो मैं ही परेशान करती रोज़ उसे: खाना खाओ, तो नहाने जाओ, तो कभी सोने का टाइम हो गया है… ऐसे भी कभी पढ़ाई होती भला?”

इन्हीं सब सोच में डूबी रहती और घर का काम करती। कभी गुड्डे के साथ थोड़ा मुस्कुरा लेती, कभी फूलों को निहार लेती। और इन्ही सब के बीच फिर से घडी की तरफ देखती और सोचती, “अब तो फोन करने का टाइम हो गया है इसका; अब फोन करेगा”। फिर अचानक दिमाग दौड़ता, “टाइम सही से तो देखा है ना? वहाँ का टाइम भी तो अलग होता है । अगर गलत टाइम पे फ़ोन किया और वो अपने प्रोफेसर से बात कर रहा होगा तो? और फिर अगर मुझे डाँट दिया तो?” फिर जल्दी से उँगलियों पे समय का अनुमान लगाती और फिर से इंतज़ार में बैठ जाती।  फ़ोन आता तो बात करती वरना मन मसोस के बैठ जाती और सोचती की शायद बहुत काम होगा आज।

रात होती तो खाना खाकर बेटे के वापस आने के दिन गिनती और मन ही मन खाने की लिस्ट बनाती।  आखिर जर्मनी के खाने में कहाँ है घर के खाने का स्वाद? “बेचारा पढ़ाई कैसे कर पाता होगा? वही आधा पका या पूरा जला खाना खाता होगा।”

इन्ही ख्यालों में डूबी, कुछ आंसू छुपाती, कुछ आंसू गटकती, रात की चादर में दुबक कर वो सो जाती… एक नयी सुबह, एक नयी प्रेरणा की तलाश में।

quote-Lorene-Scafaria-routine-is-part-of-coping-212547

Why do you weep?


weeping eyes

You weep in pain; you weep in grief. You weep in joy; you weep in relief. You weep in prayers, while talking to god. You weep when alone, of your own accord. But why mother? Why do you weep?

You think I don’t understand? Each pearl that tickles down your cheek has a world of emotions in it. When you weep in pain; each tear cries out loud, seeking the help you never ask for. It seeks the care you never receive. The one kiss, the one hug, the one touch that makes you forget your pain; that one look is all it seeks. When you weep in grief, dear mother; the tear hides the fear you never share, the thoughts that should never come true; the stories that better remain untold. And when in the evening prayers, in the dim light of the golden flame, when you converse with the god, sometimes water spills out of your brimming eyes. You think you can hide them? Nah… I see them all. And along with that, I see the millions of wishes you make, and yet none for yourself. You crave for success, for glory, for fame, for well being; yet none for yourself. Don’t I know for whom do you pray? I know it well… I know it all.

Do you know, mother, that tens of thousands of miles away, a heart sees each of your tears trickle? Do you know what it is to see it all, understand it all, feel it all and yet never respond? I think you know. For sure you know; else you won’t be my mother. I guess some feelings are best left unexpressed, some emotions are best untold; some words are best unspoken. Some feelings, emotions and words belong to the heart; and when hearts talk, not a single sound is made.

I promise mother, I will return. The person for whom you wept would return. And on my return, I promise to make you cry again. But this time the tears would be that of glory and pride. Your eyes would would brim with joys unbound and each tear would showcase a story of sacrifice and success to the world.

I will tell you why you weep. When the one who creates, needs to be created, he comes into your womb. When the one who feeds, needs to be fed, he is fed by you hands. When the one who gives shelter, seeks shelter for himself, he comes to your lap. Likewise, when the one who quenches thirst, is thirsty himself, he comes into your eyes.

And that is precisely why you weep…

जिसके गर्भ से सृजनकर्ता का सृजन है होता
जिसके आँचल सिर छिपाए कृष्ण भी है सोता
जिसके हाथों अन्नपूर्णा की क्षुदा है मिटती
उसकी आँखों में ही आकर जल की प्यास भी मिटती।

Having Lost My Powers… I Write


nostalgia

There was a time… There was a time when world around was simpler and more beautiful. Unfortunately, it seems that the world has changed while remaining static. There was a time when I was in Kindergarten and cried the hell out during an exam just because I just ‘didn’t feel like’ writing the exam. I forced the teachers to call my mother (our home was a two minutes walk away). As she stood outside the class, I forced her to come inside in the exam time, held her hand tight and said…

Haan… Likhiye… Likhiye na… Main bol raha hoon, aap likhiye… (Ya… Write… Write no… Write as I say)”

Tum likho na… Exam hai… main kaise likhoongi? (You write… It’s an exam dear… I am not supposed to write in the exam)”

Uff!! Mera haath dard kar raha hai… Aap likhiye… Likhiye… A… P… P… L… E… Likhiye na… Dekh kya rahe hain? (Uff! My hands are aching… You write… Write… A… P… P… L… E… Write no… Why are you looking at me?)”

Those were some moments that shall be cherished forever. Once I declared that elephant is a bird… Well not my fault… An animated cartoon series showed a flying elephant… and as we all know… ‘Anything that flies is a bird’ and so elephant – which flew – was a bird… Simple! 🙂

Another instance which I remember was when our school teachers gave us homework to ‘write all the English alphabets five times each without looking (bina dekhe)‘. Now the ‘without looking’ meant not to turn overleaf where the alphabets were already written (as classwork) and write them out of memory. But being a very ‘obedient’ kid in the class, I took the words ‘without looking’ literally and there you go… I sit on my bed, with my eyes towards the ceiling, probably closed, trying to write the English alphabets five times each in my ‘four-lined note book’ (I hope you remember them… Don’t you?)

And today in my hostel room, I recall those memories. Golden days. Days which define a natural, carefree, unrestricted life. One in which words like personal, private, ego, deceit and dishonesty don’t crop up. There was nothing to hide back then. When happy, we would laugh our hearts out, when sad we would cry as if hell has broken loose, and when angry we would swear never to talk to that person again at his face.

Those were the days… Today when happy, we no longer laugh, we are grown-ups, we smile; when sad, we no longer cry aloud, we are grown-ups, we sob silently inside a pillow; and when angry at someone, we no longer shout off at his face, we are grown-ups, we remain silent, let the anger grow and ultimately seek revenge.

Oh we do a lot more as grown-ups. We start having our personal lives (oh god… I hate this word so badly). We make a point not to intrude into ones personal space (you see, the same thing has two names) and get outraged if someone breaches our privacy (now it has three names).

But yet in this grown-up world we try to preserve our childhood via friends. Well my definition of friends is a very strict one… Friends… a group of people where ‘good morning’ or any general salutation is replaced by… well… you know what. A group of people who fight so hard that they forget that they are friends. A group of people who care about each other in ways unspeakable, who share joys in ways indescribable, who share tears in ways inaudible.

I have always been extremely selective about friends. But yes, I do make friends, the real good friends. But sometimes… just sometimes big words like ‘personal space’, ‘personal life’, ‘privacy’ seem to mist the transparent air around. Those times, I seem to loose my childhood, I seem to loose my power to make friends – real friends; and in those times I write…

Looking Back in the Flow of Time


time-warp

Well this post marks the approximate anniversary of my blog (1 year and 15 days to be precise). And as on this day I look back in time, I have to admit, it has been a long time… I remember the day when I wrote the first post “The Mound of the Dead“, I had no idea that this blog will last so long. All I had in mind was a set of posts on the then recent Gujarat tour that one of my friends Subhradeep and myself had just completed. Thanks to his superb camera and brilliant photography skills I was able to add some gibberish of my own and bring out a ‘something’.

I was convinced that that blog won’t live for long. Reasons… Firstly I had no idea what to write… and secondly I had no idea that a physics student can write something which the ‘general people’ could read. No seriously… sometimes we ourselves are amused by the amount of ‘Dirac Deltas’, ‘Considers’, ‘If…then…else’ that have entered into our colloquial conversations. So I was convinced that writing was not my cup of tea.

That was a day… And this is another day. I never thought that I would make ‘friends’ with people across the globe. (And yes, my friends are jealous about it). Now wordpress has become more of a coffee house to me unknown people meet and become so close to heart that their problems seem to be our own. I can’t help but name some of the most amazing people I met in this virtual world. These will surely remain one of my dearest friends even beyond the blog…

Dietlind Wagner… The first one to comment on the blog and an amazing artist who lives in her wonderful little world of puppets.

White Pearl… My first friend from our neighbour from from the west ;). Amazing, cute, wonderful yet confused personality and a brilliant writer. She claim to be as worthless as a grain of sand, but names herself ‘White Pearl’. See I told you… confused personality. (Sorry Sister :P)

Maria Imran… Amazing writer, amazing poet and amazing artist. Currently appointed as my Urdu teacher ;).

Mekala Rodrigo… Brilliant photographer and my travel guide (in future)…

Sharmishtha Basu… With her short poems which go straight to the core of the heart.

And the list could continue but the clock is ticking past. And I have to rush to catch a bus.

The journey till now has been great
What about the future? We have to wait…

Thank you my readers for being with me and thank you WordPress for letting me me meet these amazing people friends.

Sharodiya Shubhechha (Autumnal Greetings) to all of you… 🙂

Introspection of the Introvert


ACQYR-2007-Desktop-Wallpapers-34-1024x768

Today is a very special day for my blog! Reasons

1. It is almost my 50th blog post.
2. Today is almost the 1st birthday of my virtual blog.
3. Today my real blog almost turned 6 months old.

Getting to the point straightaway… My blog has two birthdays: One in February end (when it formally came into existence) and the other in September end (when the first post came into being). Notably, both all three of my initial claims are only approximately true. But I don’t care! It is still a very special day (because I say so).

I still remember the day when I got the first comment on my first post The Mound of the Dead by Dietlind Wagner. The ecstasy, the happiness, the pride. From then onward did start the journey that never looked back in time.

The blog as it stands today, has its own story to say…

Firstly, the name of the blog… “When Introvert Speaks” was inspired from my earlier pen name on the blog of our batch – ‘Introvert’. I wish I could provide you with the link to the blog, but sadly we lost the blog in an unfortunate accident. The title of the blog “Random Thoughts” should be perceived as “Thoughts of Random”. The name “Random” is my nick name in the hostel. More on ‘Random’ here.

Secondly, I would like to admit that the blog as it stands here has contributions from several people in various ways.
1. My friend Subhradeep – my travelling mate. Without him, this blog would not be as colourful as it is now.
2. My fellow bloggers in college – Mohit, Priyom and Vaibhav. Even if I am the more popular of them :P; they are more experienced and better bloggers than I am (That’s what I feel). They are one of my primary sources of inspirations for the blog.

Lastly, I would like to look back at some of experiences blogging. The first thing that comes into my mind is that I have a huge number of friends now. There are people whose blogs I look forth to read. And that ‘world is a beautiful place with wonderful people around’ has expanded its meaning for me.

I do realise that I had made promises which were never fulfilled (regarding the upcoming posts after the exams last year). To defend myself, I would say that, my failure should be pardoned on the grounds of me being a student (I can very see the flaw in the argument right away) and upon that a physics student (lazy).

One of my friends from Sri Lanka (Mekala Rodrigo) had described my blog as “Random thoughts from a Physicist about everything but physics”. I would like to add upon the ‘everything but physics’ part. Whatever I write is largely inspired by physics. I believe that physics, in its heart is not equations, jargon and weird names. It is more of a philosophy, an art and an attempt to admire nature. It is nothing but a very neat series of arguments in the quest to understand nature.

That’s all for the day… Hope to see your comments soon.
Namaskar!

(I have finally decided to revert back to my original tagline, which I used in an earlier blog)

Let the randomness of the universe increase forever…

The Introvert

P.S.-
You should have queries regarding the tagline. Questions regarding it are not most welcome…

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