Jeena kya hai?

Shaher ki is daud mein daud ke karna kya hai
Jab yehi jeena hai doston to phir marna kya hai

Pehli baarish mein train late hone ki fikr hai
Bhul gaye bheegte hue tehelna kya hai
Seials ke kirdaaron ka saara haal hai malum
par maa ka haal puchhne ki fursat kise hai

Ab ret pe nange paw tehelte kyun nahi
Ek sau aath hain channel phir dil behelte kyun nahi
Internet ki duniya ke to touch me hain,
lekin pados mein kaun rehta hai jaante tak nahi.
Mobile, Landline sab ki bharmaar hai,
Lekin jigri dost tak pahunche aise taar kahan hai

Kab doobte hue suraj ko dekha tha yaad hai?
Kab jaana tha shaam ka woh bahana kya hai?

To doston shaher ki is daud mein daud ke karna kya hai
Jab yehi jeena hai to fir Marna kya hai?

Lage Raho Munnabhai, 2006

Sidenote

There is so much in the world that hasn’t been touched by man. From my window seat 24F; I can see this beautiful series of clouds all around the aircraft, going on for infinity. At infinity they meet an equally stunning looking sky that is colored in a vibrant gradient of blues. It seems like you can actually walk on them. That would be great, wouldn’t it? We could jump around and say hi to passengers on aircrafts and bathe in the sunlight. At night we could look at the thousands of lights originating from the places that man has been able to touch – those droplets of civilization spread across the vastness of the third planet of a moderately sized solar system of a smallish galaxy.

And probably there are places within our hearts and minds, places just like these infinite realms of clouds, that are away from our grasp, that defy our commands and are untouched by the impurity and practicality of civilization. They live a life of their own, concealed by the hardened shell of urban existence. But every once in a while they take over our actions, so overwhelmingly so that our regular conscience is left as a bystander wondering where did that come from.

In that way, there is some innocence in all of us.

What a shame

Q: Who would want to?
A: I wonder if those superman undies go with my Red-colored pants.
Questioner: For the sake of humanity's opthalmic well being, you need to die.
[ gunshot ]

Kuch baat hai ki hasti...

I was in New Delhi when the serial blasts that rocked India took place. As a passive spectator, I observed the city and its denizens, as they went through random emotional stages of utter shock and disbelief, anger, dismay and fear.

I saw with silent concern as the state government deployed more than 2600 special services personnel all around the city within a day of the terrible event. News channels were agog with stories of anxious relatives searching for their dear ones. The fateful day’s events we deconstructed innumerable number of times in all forms of media. Delhi Police launched the biggest manhunt ever in the National Capital for the perpetrators.

And then Diwali came by. And it was subdued. Delhiwallahs are known for their sometimes preposterous extravagance in burning firecrackers at the nation’s foremost festival, and they were no different this time. But if someone were to say that the blasts didn’t affect the average Delhiwallah’s general impudence in firing enormous amount of firecrackers, he’d be wrong.

He’d be wrong again if he were to say that the blasts left an indelible scar on the minds of the residents. For the next day, I was witness to innumerable pushes and shoves and expletives and arguments at a popular local marketplace. The crowd was back, and so was Delhi. The 2600 special service personnel disappeared, making way for the loud fruit vendors, shrewd shopkeepers and bargaining aunties. Almost as quickly as the doom had set in, the clouds evanesced.

If introducing fear and anxiety into the hearts and minds of the city-dwellers was the motive of the terrorists, then they chose the wrong city. There were three heroes in the episode – Two of them being the driver and conductor of the bus which had the third bomb planted in it, who saved more than 100 lives with their common sense. The driver tragically lost an arm, hearing capability and an eye while trying to throw the bomb out of the bus after they had emptied it of passengers. And the third hero was the Delhiwallah, the man on the street, whose bravest deed in the times of terror was to do just that, be there on the street.

I’m not a chauvinistic nationalist, if that’s what you’re inferring. But there are certain things that make me proud to be an Indian. And the character that the city of New Delhi showed in the face of extreme terrorism, is one of them.

Quote unquote

Something about this makes me read it again and again...

"Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation) there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.

Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it."

- Goethe