CHERISH with HARISH

Work and other things have been making me lazy enough not to upload stuff on this space. This piece has been long overdue. It was a pleasant February afternoon. I had just finished my lunch and was sitting under the mess (hostel). Medhavini walked up to me with a newspaper cutting from the Hindi paper Hindustaan. She had carried this story from back home (Sitapur) and now wanted it me to post on my blog so that more people from this space get to know it. I appreciate this effort of hers. So here goes the story... Lucknow, 23rd December 2010 At the look of it, it seemed that the Akhara at the Alambagh area of Lucknow was gearing up for some procession, some fair or some wrestling championship. That's what Akharas are used for- wrestling or Kushti . But this one had a different story. On the contrary, it was gearing up for a day to celebrate PEACE. Lucknow is the capital of the same state which has witnessed Babri Masjid which led to riots accross the country. I...

गुत्थे सुलझाने का , धुँध में गुम हो जाने का , शौक है । किस्से सुनाने का , गीत गुन - गुनाने का , शौक है । गिर के उठ जाने का , बस चलते जाने का , शौक है । खुशियों में डूब जाने का , मीठे आंसू बहाने का , शौक है । माटी पर नंगे पैर चलते जाने का , बाँए से दाँय मुड जाने का , शौक है । लम्बी साँसों में खो जाने का , उड़ते - उड़ते सो जाने का , शौक है । बेदखल लिखते जाने का , लफ़्ज़ों में खो जाने का , शौक है । और शौकीनों संग मुस्कुराने का , कहीं दूर पहुँच जाने का , शौक है । अँधेरे में दिख जाने का , उजाले में छिप जाने का , शौक है । सूरज को छू जाने का , बेवजह थक जाने का , शौक है । और शौक़ीन हो जाने का , मुस्कुराते जाने का , बस , ज़िन्दगी जीते जाने का , शौक है शौक है शौक है ...

A friend of mine wanted me to write a couplet for an illustration of hers on the 'Sunday market' of Ahmedabad, selling artifacts and vintage stuff... था जो शाहों-नवाबों की शान को क़ुबूल, आज बिक रहा है चौक पर वो हुक्का फ़िज़ूल।

Whenever I jumped to CATCH the stars, I didn't realise that I have LEFT the ground!

Coming back to my blog after a huge gap. I have been busy shooting my documentary ('Budhan Diaries') , have been working on a play for sometime ('Naam-enclature'), and then did some travelling too. Feels nice to be back on this space. Over the last few months, the computer has taken another meaning, or should I say, the internet has acquired another meaning. Every evening, I go back to my hostel room. After freshening up, I sit down on my PC. I switch it on, connect the internet, and the first address which I type is 'facebook.com'! This happens everyday like a default setting. Seriously it does! After logging on to my account, i check the number of notifications I have. More the number, happier I am. It can be as random as your friend's friend liking your 100 year old picture, or some-sort of a stranger tagging you in a picture in which you are not even properly visible, but ya, it works! And I am sure this is just not my story. Many people of...

9th December. Badamma's place, Hyderabad. I am at badamma's place (badamma is mom's elder sister) for two days. Badamma has no kids at her home (as both my cousins stay in other cities- Chennai and Brisbane). She was really happy to see me. Have been talking and more than talking, I have been listening to badamma. I see this joy in her eyes when she talks about Yaseen (her grandson). Today, in the morning we got this cute piece of news that Yaseen has got into class 1. So, she's damn happy. Yaseen lives at a place, which is miles away from here; he is just 5. I am sure hedoesn't even know that someone in India loves him so much. As he would grow up, may be then he would get to know. Badamma is making kheer for celebrating Yaseen's 'success'. Love is an amazing thing. the one who gives it is happier than the one who gets it. I think it is one of those very few things in which the one who gives ends up happier. This is what is God, or the POWER, or whatev...

The coach is pretty cold, comfortably cold, lying down on my berth I think The windows of the train are being closed, I can't see where I am, I am not in the city from where I started, I am not in the city where I have to reach, I am somewhere in between, I am NO WHERE. With some music in my earphones, and a pen and my diary in my hand, this NO WHERE becomes an experience. It's the journey which has to be fun, the people you talk to, the places you see from the window, the food you buy from the pantry car, the rhythmic sounds of the train, the loud sounds of 'chai', the slight dance-like movement, which the train gives you, the metallic smell of the train, The rectangular berth which becomes your identity for the rest of the journey, the sounds of other trains pasing by, the stupid conversations with fellow passengers, which teach you more things than any of 'those' intellectual conversations, the journey has to be fun, NO WHERE has to be fun. Yes, it has to be...