Conversations with a Mirror...

जब घटनायें छाती के ऊपर भार बने, जब सांस ना दिल को लेने दे आज़ादी से..  टूटी आशाओं के खंडहर, टूटे सपने तब, अपने मन की बेचैनी को छनदो में संचित कर..  लेकिन मेरा तो भार बना ज्यूँ का त्युन है,  ज्यूँ के त्योन बंधन हैं,  ज्यूँ की त्युन बाधायें, मैने गीतों को रज करके भी देख लिया...  वो काहिल है जो आसमान के पर्दे पर,  अपने मन की तस्वीर बनाया करते हैं.. नभ को छूने की ख्वाहिश में, तमाम छलांगे लगाया करते हैं..  सोने के सपनो को, चाँदी की चम्मच से मैने भी एक बार, चख कर के देख लिया..  मैने सपनो को सज करके भी देख लिया...  रिंदो ने मुझसे कहा की मदिरा पान करो,  गम-ग़लत, इसी से होगा मैने मान लिया...  मैं प्याले मे डूबा, प्याला मुझ मे डूबा,  मित्रों ने मेरे मंसूबों को मान दिया... बन्दो ने मुझसे कहा की ये कमज़ोरी है इसको छोड़ो, अपनी इच्छा का बल देखो, मैने उनका भी कहना कान किया..  मैने मदिरा को पी करके भी देख लिया... मैने मदिरा को तज करके भी देख लिया...  मैने सपनो क...

Jim Morrison said it best: "all the children are insane," and he meant it like I mean it. We are children revolted by the banality of what people think is sane. When Jim rambled, quite profoundly, "Rock & roll is dead," and "Hitler is still alive.... I slept with her last night," he knew then what we are choking on now. You can't change the world, and if you try, you just end up destroying it. We love all things to death. We leave the lights on, turn everything up to 10 and fuck everything we fear. 

In the beginning there was silence. Then you heard something. A sound. It was not familiar but it was the only thing. Then came curiosity. Which made you eager to make sense of that sound. You heard a lot of things but nothing was making any sense. SO what did you do ? You tried to figure out the pattern. Heartbeat !!! Not yours. But of someone else. Imagine it once again. Try to get in that zone once again. The blankness and serenity of that peace. Something always remained constant in there. You were able to add (+1) or subtract (-1) minute details, but there was always a constant (0) in between. That is why I love this genre called as - T R A N C E

" अरे... कहाँ गायब थे इतने दीनो से ? ",  ऐसा ही कुछ पूछ लिया उसने उस रोज़. क्या करें ? मेरे ख़यालों के किसी कोने में छुपी हुई तन्हाई भी आज कल याद नही आती है. मगर बिना दस्तक दिए किसी पुराने दोस्त की तरह वो भी बे धड़क घुस आई मेरे जहन के मैखाने में.  " भूले नही हैं तुम्हे, बस यादाश्त ज़रा कमजोर रहने लगी है दुनिया के दस्तूर याद रखते रखते.. ", ये कहकर मुस्कुरा दिया मैं भी. एक वक़्त था जब हम ही दोनो तो शाम ढलते ढलते कई नयी-पुरानी बातें एक दूसरे के कानों में फुसला दिया करते थे. फिर कुछ पहेलियों को रात गुजरने से पहले सूरज क नाम लिखा जाता था. मगर अब क्यूँ नही हो पता कुछ ऐसा? यही सोचते-सोचते मेरी हँसी उसकी आँखों की तरह खामोश हो गयी. " अच्छा इतना तो बता दो आज कल बात क्यूँ नही करते हमसे ?  " उसके पूछने से पहले ही मुझे मालूम था की अब वो ऐसी ही बात करेगी. सारे ख़यालात और उन खायालातों से वाकिफ्फ होने वाले लोगों की ये भी एक दिक्कत ही तो है. " अब लगने लगा है की तुम अपना ख़याल खुद रख सकती हो. हमारी बातें तो अब हम खुद नही सुना करते. तुम सुनकर क्या करोगी ? " ऐ...

Once Sri Rukmini, Satyabhama and the six other Pat Ranis, had a discussion: “We all love and serve our Lord with great devotion and sincerity but He does not bestow any attention on any of us. He always repeats Radha’s name alone. We must ascertain from our Lord why she is so dear to Him”. (Lord Krishna comes and He is garlanded by all of them. They sing and welcome Him.) Radha Krishna Bhajo Kunjabihari.  Muralidhara Govardhanadhari.  Sankha-Chakra Pitambaradhari.  Karunasagara Krishna Murari. (Sri Krishna is extremely pleased at the very mention of Radha’s name; repeats “Radhe, Radhe’ and is immersed in the bliss of the name “Radha”. The Ranis all stand at a respectable distance watching this. Then pent-up emotion bursts out and tears rain down their cheeks. Sri Krishna, still lost in his trance sits down. Lord Krishna: My dear Ranis! Your faces indicate that you are worried over something. I see traces of tears left on your smooth flowery cheeks....

वो जो शायर था, चुप सा रहता था बहकी बहकी सी बातें करता था आँखें कानो पे रख के सुनता था गूंगी खामोशियों की आवाज़ें... जमा करता था चाँद की गीली गीली से नूर की बूँदें, ओक मे भर के खडखड़ाता था रूखे रूखे से रात के पत्ते... वक़्त के इस घनेरे जंगल मे कच्चे पक्के से लम्हे चुनता था हाँ वोही, वो अजीब सा शायर रात को उठ के कोहनियों के बल चाँद की थुड्डी चूमा करता था.. चाँद से गिर के मर गया है वो लोग कहते हैं ख़ुदकुशी की है... : गुलज़ार

मेरे आँसुओं को तेरे आँसुओं से, शिकवा भी है.. मोहब्बत भी है...  सुल्गकर दिल में जो नज़रों में पिघलता है,  गम जितना उधर है.. उतना शायद इदहर् भी है... 

"What makes you, you ?" I think that does not depend on the choices you make rather you always know what choice you are going to make in the end. Result of those choices is what makes it scary sometimes. No one in this world wants to be the wrong guy at least in his own eyes which results in an unbearable itch in your head which you can't scratch. You always want to be on the right side somehow. It makes you feel safe and promise that you'll be able to sleep well. But that doesn't mean you are right. Does it ?  So.. what makes anything right or wrong. This is a tricky question because there is nothing which is right or wrong. There is nothing which is 100% right or wrong. But we try to close the gap with every other choice me make. The other gap which we try to keep intact is the amount of pain we can reduce. With pain comes a hope of peace and relief which always fades away easily. Pain is what rips you apart and show you whats inside. Deep down who you ...

Go your way, I'll take the long way 'round, I'll find my own way down, As I should. And hold your gaze There's coke in the Midas touch A joke in the way that we rust, And breathe again. And you'll find loss And you'll fear what you found When weather comes Tearing down. - Ben Howard

" You haven't learnt anything until you learn monsters have nightmares too... " and I looked up to a gentleman sitting in the dark all along. The sliding blood made a drop eventually and fell in the pool of itself beneath my feet to break the silence. Bare feet, I walked towards him slowly in anticipation but what i dint noticed was the momentary pattern I was creating below in the warm, calm and still fluid. It was the darkest corner of that dark room and all I was able to see was the spark at the very tip of the cigarette he was smoking, which was teasing me more then anything by glowing a bit harder every time the gentleman took a puff. "You did great. Killing a child is not an easy task my friend !" he said. Everything I had done till this point of time flashed right after my eyes as he took another cruel break. He was the creator, the angle over my shoulder and the devil inside me.  I can feel myself disappearing and for a change this time ...

"So therefore I dedicate myself to myself... to my search, my questions, my answers, to my art, my sleep, my dreams, my labors, my sufferances, my loneliness, my unique madness, my endless absorption and endurance- because I cannot dedicate myself  to any  'fellow' being."