शिकायतें

अजीब सी है यह दुनिया,

कहते थे मुझे “तू है आने वाला कल”,

पर मैं तो कल ही ना देख सका |

घुटन सी हो रही है इस लकड़ी के डब्बे के उनदर,

अम्मी अब्बू का दिल साथ लेकर,

नाजाने क्यों गोलियाँ उतार गया मेरे अन्दर,

मैने पूछना ज़रूरी नहीं समझा |

काले जूते, मुह ढका हुआ नाजाने क्यों,

खून में इतनी आग थी तो खुलकर वार करता,

डरता है शायद अपने आप को मरने वाले की आखों में देखने से,

मैने समझना ज़रूरी नहीं समझा |

अम्मी तुमने रोका क्यों नहीं सुबह,

अब्बू के स्कूटर का टायर कहीं फसा क्यूं नहीं,

कोई एक बहाने से शायद ज़िंदा होता आज,

मौत ने रुकना ज़रूरी नहीं समझा |

उसका भी तो बेटा होगा,

गोलियों से लिखता होगा,

खून की सियाही में,

हम जैसो की तकदीर पिरोता होगा |

अम्मी तुम फिकर मत करो ना,

यह जन्नत बहुत ही हसीन है,

अल्लाह को परेशान मत करो ना,

देख रहे है वो भी अपनी रची दुनिया,

पर अभी तबाह करना ज़रूरी नहीं समझा |

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Thank You

I was getting ready for college when my uncle called from the hospital. She was no more. I didn’t know whether to feel sad that she has died or to feel happy that she has died at last. The news of her death wasn’t shocking to us but her loss was unacceptable. She was only 70. She was a cancer patient. She was a cancer survivor for the most part of her life. She, my grandmother, my mother’s mother was a woman of substance, and she was a woman I hadn’t spoken to nicely in a long time.

I had visited the hospital just two days ago. She was put on life support system. I didn’t agree with the idea of putting her on a life support system. She wasn’t conscious. The doctors too had told us already to take her home and wait till she breathes her last. She was a fighter, and so were her children. They chose not to give up yet, they chose to fight against the disease that was enjoying the destruction of organs. Her children decided to make it easier for her to leave. They didn’t want her to wither away in pain. One by one, her tissues started to fail. Liver stopped responding, kidneys stopped performing, lungs gave way, but she, somehow, thrived on. Continue reading

Reflections

[The article was originally written on the night of 22nd December 2012 after days long protests against the gang rape & brutal assault of a physiotherapy student in a moving bus. The Indian Government mercilessly passed orders of retaliation and the protesters were canned, manhandled and severely beaten. The victim succumbed to her injuries on 29th December 2012 in Singapore.]
From Facebook statutes, group posts, pages, black dot display images to shared pictures of castration, debates and discussions. Last two weeks of December 2012 were all about these in New Delhi. This is nothing new for Delhi. Where the Mayans thought of fooling us with the so called dooms day alert, they must not have thought that the entire humanity will be doomed by the end of December 2012. For me Christmas 2012 won’t be merrier and New Year’s Eve won’t be happy. What I saw today, takes all good feelings away from my system like the dementors in Harry Potter. That was fantasy fiction, this was the reality.

An Encounter With Death

I had never been to a graveyard in my life before. It was my uncle’s death anniversary. I didn’t know him much but I felt a connect, a strange connect when I stood beside his grave. The news of his death last year was shocking. No one expected that this would happen. Not even my uncle would have imagined his death. I wasn’t at the burial last year but as I stared at the ground, blank faced, I could imagine a clear picture as to how it would have been. There is no shedding of tears right now. The faith that we will meet him soon makes my heart smile. That’s mere faith that comes with hope. Hope to meet him soon and faith that our hopes would turn out to be true one day. I was engulfed in utter silence. Nobody had anything to share. I wonder how my uncle felt when he breathed his last breath. A second before leaving this world, what exactly he would have felt? Guilt? Regret? That he couldn’t live his life a little longer? My uncle was a filthy rich man. I think regret could have been an emotion he felt at that particular moment. What about the thought of leaving his wife and only son? Does a person before dying think about himself and his present condition? Does he ponder upon the fact that in a matter of seconds he will be no more? Or does he think about the plight of the people he will be leaving behind? No book, no individual on Earth has got this opportunity to write how he or she felt when they died. Continue reading