CATHARSIS

Is there an end to it?

I often ask myself. And the answer leaves me astounded and silent as ever. Never… But why? A long silence. And then a sarcastic smile… It says it all. There’s nothing more to interpret. But is this what we come for? A never ending uncertainty? May be…It cannot be true. It cannot be so rude. But this is the truth. But there can be some solution or we can devise one. Try it…It says and laughs aloud. And then it goes back.

I do torture myself endless number of times. And search for the answer desperately. The last few days have been full of such queries but with no answers. It has to happen this way. It’s written. Who am I to change the destiny? But I am not even trying. I am just trying to resolve - is there an end to it? A long chain entangled at every inch complicated further by various other entangled chains intertwined at endless levels with the first one. Try unfolding one. It gets convoluted further.

I search for a happy face. I even find one but the moment I try to approach I see nails punched deep inside stretching it from both the ends. You try removing one and you get loads of skin and flesh along. I search for love. I even find one. But the moment I try to connect I find a flat glass which can shatter anytime with a slight touch. You try healing it with a patch and it gets wounded further. I search for truth. The next moment I find one but mounted proudly on a heap of lies. You cannot get inside without forging yourself. I search for tenderness. And I find it buried inside the filth and muck of several centuries. You cannot unearth it without losing your own.

As far as I can remember I only visualize myself and all the people I have known surrounded by layers and layers of sorrows all around. My mother used to tell me that I was a product of complicated and life threatening delivery. The doctors had already declared before that nobody would survive but fortunately we both did. My entire childhood passed in my mother’s illness. I received a lot of love from her but she was always sick and unhealthy. As I grew up, the troubles increased manifold. I had just stepped into puberty when I realized that we had become bankrupt. We had come under heavy debt and had to face a lot of humiliation as well. We had to leave our home and city. I had to leave my school, my friends and my childhood back in the old city. It was middle of night when we had to run away like cowards to a strange place. The problems had not even resolved when they got further complicated by my mother’s failed hysterectomy and septicemia. Finally she died. I started preparing for my medical entrance. Getting into a med school seemed an impossible dream at that time. Finally I got through. I got admitted in the best medical college of the country. The first two years went smoothly. As I stepped into third, new set of problems emerged. The system started hurting me a lot. I felt suffocated. I became too vulnerable. Even thought of running away and committing suicide. Finally I met an angel. I survived and got to the shore. Finally passed the finals and got commissioned in Indian army with a handsome salary. Suddenly I became rich. I thought the long struggle had eventually come to an end. But there was something else stored for me. The moment I realized that I was rich the next moment I was burdened with loads of responsibilities. I became poor once again. Furthermore my spiritual journey had just begun when immediately the carnal desires started hindering it altogether. It dragged me to the filthy streets where I realized that it’s a big mad world. I am not alone. I have friends as well whom I had not met till now. I look towards the future and see no variation. It’s a big cloudy, polluted and damaged world ahead. Ten years down the line I would have nothing but only remorse to gift to my kids. It would be a beginning of another struggle. My kids would someday become my enemies. And it would continue on and on.

I am not trying to prove anything by being autobiographical. Neither am I trying to gain any sympathy. There are million other victims on this planet more perturbed and damaged than me. But is there an end to all this? Is there an end to this hopelessness? Is there an end to this solitude? Is there an end to all this pain? Is there an end to this rigmarole of conflicts and disagreements? Is there an end to this poverty? Is there an ‘end’ beyond this ‘end’? Sometimes I feel that I have become bipolar in recent times. I undergo serious mood swings sometimes. For a flash of second I am very hopeful and happy but the next moment I get sucked inside my own paucity. The questions which had not even touched me in any way before have suddenly started disturbing and disconcerting me in a strange way nowadays. And believe me most of these questions have nothing to do with my personal and spiritual struggle. Most of these inquiries are pretty materialistic and worldly and this predicament increases the tension further. Am I getting older? Or am I getting ‘sane’ in a societal sense? Or Am I becoming worldly? Or am I just being illogical and crazy at the moment? I am not saying that I belong to some other planet but I am petrified that I might be getting consumed by this. There is so much to do and there is so much which I want to do but I am not able to because of some mysterious interference. And most of the time I end up doing things which I don’t want to do. Whom should I blame? Is there anybody responsible for this or is it the ‘me’ inside me responsible? There should be somebody whom I may be able to use as a punching bag for distorting my life. But I know that sadly there is nobody. People say that this is something which everybody has to go through someday. ‘You are becoming man, man’. I hate it when they throw this bullshit on my face. Why should my fate be similar to everybody’s fate? Why should I suffer for things which they had to suffer? Why should I clean their shit? Why should every generation inherit the pain and poverty of the previous generation? Why are we not able to design our lives and the world around the way we want to? Do I really have anything which I could leave to my kids? Besides a multitude of incurable syndromes and some billion dollar debts as a generation do we have anything which we could pass onto our next generations? If happiness is the ultimate aim then why does everybody end up searching and fighting for it only? I know that the world is changing and is changing fast but I have serious doubts regarding its sustainability. We must be sure that whatever we are trying to build or whatever we are building should have a self-sustainable power. It should be an ever evolving and ever progressing future. But are we actually doing this bit? Aren’t we burdening our kids with loads and loads of morality and other stuff so that they should grow dwarfs and die dwarfs? Aren’t we just creating a set of structures and counter structures and replacing it with another similar set every generation? Aren’t we making sure that like any other species on this land, it’s time for our own species to become extinct too?

Ghalib believed that life is one continuous painful struggle which can end only when life itself ends. But is death the solution? Isn’t it a form of escape? If death is the solution than rather embracing it physically all at once can’t we do it in every flash of life? Wouldn’t it open doors and doors of solutions and possibilities in every moment we live and thrive? Do we need to build another civilization? I don’t think so. But we do need to unearth the existing one. We do need to dig deeper and cling to our roots once again. Instead of building multi-storied malls stuffed with artificial air and asbestos we should build bazaars with real people filling the streets with music and magic. Rather than labeling and judging everybody with pre-defined yardsticks we must try being non-judgmental and see what difference it would make to our lives.  Rather than shouting and howling for morality all through our lives we must try to be free from this very need. Instead of hammering with contexts endeavour must be directed towards breaking those contexts and substituting all of them with a context of human understanding.

I do not see any big possibility coming my way but I do feel that something is being whispered from somewhere. ‘Search for love and meditate death in every moment’. This is what my heart says at this moment. It says this is the solution and may be this could be the one.

A MIGHTY SEA

A mighty sea
It lives by the shore
Quietly I walk
Upon the sands
And spread my soul
Under the naked sky
I look around
As far as I could see
And I see a silent wave
Approaching
From far far away
Emanating somewhere
From the caverns of
The burning sun
Gentle
Calm
Dispersing and merging
Every minute
I sit there for hours
Together
Resting and watching
The silent wave
Growing and
Making way
Towards me
I choose to run
But something keeps
Me grounded
And it comes
Finally
Like a demon
And engulfs me
Inside…

मौत - भाग २

कई बार सोचता हूँ,

फिर सोच के मुस्कुराता हूँ,

और मुस्कुराते हुए कहता हूँ

कि नहीं हो सकता,

ऐसा कभी नहीं हो सकता,

भला ऐसा भी हुआ है कभी,

मैं भी कितना पागल हूँ,

फिर लगता है सोचने में

क्या हर्ज़ है,

कौन सा सोच पे कोई क़र्ज़

लगता है,

सोच भी अपनी है,

वक़्त भी अपना है,

और ज़िन्दगी भी अपनी ही

तो है,

सपना ही मान लेते हैं

चलो इसे,

सपने तो होते ही ऐसे हैं,

हकीकत और ज़िन्दगी से

कोसों दूर,

अपनी ही दुनिया में मस्त,

फिर भी उन्हें देखने का अपना

ही मज़ा है,

सच न हुए तो क्या,

एक उम्मीद तो रहती है न,

कि काश कभी ऐसा हो जाये,

ज़िन्दगी नई सी लगती है,

धुली हुई,

साफ़ सुथरी,

शहर के धुंए से दूर,

कहीं किसी गाँव में बसी हुई…

ऐसा ही कुछ सोचा है मैंने,

कहना चाहो तो कह सकते

हो एक सपना,

कि मौत अगर ज़िन्दगी से पहले

आ जाए तो कैसा होगा,

ज़िन्दगी ही ज़िन्दगी होगी,

बिना किसी ख्वाहिश के,

बिना किसी खौफ के,

और बिना किसी सरहद के,

मुक्त,

मदहोश,

खुशहाल,

अंतहीन,

ज़िन्दगी

सच में,

मौत अगर ज़िन्दगी से पहले

आ जाये तो कैसा होगा,

ज़िन्दगी सिर्फ ज़िन्दगी होगी,

बिना किसी अंत के,

बिना किसी लक्ष्य के,

और बिना किसी सहारे के,

नग्न,

वीरान,

उदास,

अधूरी,

ज़िन्दगी,

सिर्फ ज़िन्दगी…

सच में,

मौत अगर ज़िन्दगी से पहले

आ जाये तो कैसा होगा...

मौत - भाग १

छुपी पड़ी है
न जाने कबसे,
ढूंढ रहा हूँ
इधर उधर,
पलक झपकते ही
छुप जाती है
न जाने किधर,
कहीं कोने कुदरे में
दब गयी हो गयी
शायद,
रख कर भूल भी
तो जाता हूँ अब,
किताबें हटा
के देखूँगा कल,
देखना वहीं होगी
और झांक रही होगी
मुझको,
जहाँ पढ़ते पढ़ते
छोड़ा था उसी पन्ने
की दरीचों में,
नटखट है,
नादान भी,
कठिन है,
कठोर भी,
रूठ जाए तो
मनाये भी नहीं
मानती,
जिद्दी है,
आखिर मुझपे ही तो
गयी है न,
आवाज़ देता हूँ तो
बोलती है कि
अभी नहीं आऊँगी,
गुस्सा होता हूँ तो
पलट के
पल्लू झटका के कहती
है कि देखलूँगी
वक़्त आने पर,
एक दिन रूठ कर
दरवाज़ा तोड़ के जो
भागी थी घर से,
घंटों तरसता रहा
था खिड़की पे
बैठे बैठे,
कि गली के मोड़ से आती जब
नज़र आएगी तो
खूंटे से बाँध
दूँगा उसे और
अपना बनाके रखूँगा
उम्र भर,
उम्र बीत गयी,
दरवाज़ा आज भी
उसकी उम्मीद में खुला
पड़ा है,
और खिड़की से जब भी बाहर
नज़र घूमाता हूँ तो
लगता है जैसे वोह आ रही है,
पर ऐसी है यह कमबख्त
कि आती ही नहीं,
बड़ी ही अजीब चीज़ है
सच में,
ऊपर वाले ने भी
बहुत सोच समझ के
वक़्त से बनाई है,
कि जितना चाहो फिर भी
नहीं आती
कभी
यह मौत…

तुम...

एक तनहा शाम का
वादा है तुमसे,
सूरज की गरमी और
रात की ठंड में
घुली हुई
कुछ ऐसी शाम का,
थोड़ा मुश्किल है
शायद नामुमकिन भी,
कभी इस डर से
सहम भी जाता हूँ
अकेले बैठे हुए,
पर यह मन है कि
उलझता जाता है हरपल
और कुछ ऐसे ही
नामुमकिन वादे कर
बैठता है तुमसे,
जिनके टूटने से ज़्यादा
पूरा होने से डरता हूँ मैं,
शायद अधूरापन
अपना सा लगने लगा है अब…

सफ़ेद कपड़े पहने
खुले बालों में
दूर से आती
एक सपने जैसी लगती थी तुम,
वोह सच में तुम थी
या तुम्हारी कल्पना,
इस उलझन को सुलझाने की
कोशिश में
लगा हुआ हूँ कबसे,
सुलझाते सुलझाते
खुद एक उलझन बन गया
हूँ मैं,
“तुम्हारे ज़िंदा रहने
का एहसास हूँ”,
ऐसा कहा था इक
दिन तुमने मुझसे
और ढलते सूरज के
नशे में,
सब सच मान लिया
था मैंने,
सच और झूठ के
बीच का फासला
कितना फीका होता है
अब जान पाया हूँ शायद…

शाम की तपती नरम रेत पर
बैठे हुए
सागर की लहरों में
गीले होते,
और घंटों तक
आनेवाले कल की
मंज़िलें तय करते रहते,
तन तो घर जाते ही
सूख गया था लेकिन,
पर मन आज भी तुम्हारे
होने के एहसास से
गीला पड़ा है तब से…

सोया नहीं था उस रात,
जब मेरे हाथ का अधूरा चाँद
अपने हाथ से पूरा किया था तुमने,
उस लम्हे को कैद कर
तकिये के नीचे रख दिया
था मैंने,
बिस्तर पर उस रात की
करवटें आज भी बिखरी पड़ी
हैं तबसे,
सब कुछ वैसा का वैसा
अधूरा अधूरा पड़ा है…

बस एक तनहा शाम का
वादा है तुमसे,
सफ़ेद कपड़े पहने,
खुले बालों में आते
देखना चाहता हूँ तुमको,
जल्दी जल्दी में,
मेरे चाँद का टुकड़ा
अपने साथ ले गयी थी तुम,
और मैं कई पहर इंतज़ार
करता रहा था तुम्हारा,
अब भी अधूरी चांदनी बिखरी
पड़ी है मायूस मेरे हाथों में,
लोग कहते हैं
कि तुम नहीं आयोगी,
और ऐसी उम्मीद करना भी पागलपन है,
कभी तो लगता है
कि एक सपना देख रहा हूँ मैं,
फिर लगता है सब झूठ है,
सब धोखा है,
और शायद यही एक सच है,
कि तुम नहीं आओगी,
तुम कभी नहीं आओगी…

रूबरू...

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हम कुछ यूँ उभरे उनसे रूबरू होकर,

हम कुछ यूँ उभरे उनसे रूबरू होकर,

जैसे उजड़ी हुई सियाही में डूबकर,

पीले दीमक लगे कागज़ पर

कुछ हर्फ़ नज़्म बनकर,

रूह से बाबस्ता हो

मचल उठते हैं…

Trilogy - part III

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Human

This is the third one in a row and probably the last of this series. So am I done with it? Have I resolved the conflict? Have I come to a conclusion? After all what was this whole exercise for? These questions had to crop up obviously. This is the psyche we all are born with and this is what is infused into our brains in the schools we read. But was it really meant to conclude or prove something? Do I need to stand up and announce my final verdict? Why do we always want to jump to conclusions? Why can’t we stop being judgmental? I know it’s easily said than done. But I am trying to dissect myself layer by layer. The headlights are on. The scalpel has gone blunt. And there are layers and layers to dissect. Bloody. Infected. Layers. And probably dead too. Infected with millions of different types of bacteria. They have gone into my gloves and are biting me hard. Probably they want to wake me up and show the pathology. But am I ready to face it? Before that can I really face it? It’s the most cancerous and contaminated tissue of the body. But if so, can I dissect it from rest of the body? The pathology has multiplied many a fold and metastasized everywhere. It has grown its whiskers all over the structure. Dissecting it out would probably means lighting up the funeral. The pathology is inseparable. And indispensable also. A sort of love hate relationship. A form of lethal commensalism. So I don’t really have a CHOICE. Rather the CHOICE is not mine. THERE IS ONLY ONE DOOR. And it leads NoWhErE. Isn’t it cruel? But that’s the way it is. It was a long sleep. Now the dream state is over. Welcome to the real world. There are no fairies to amuse you. Or angels to love you. There are only monsters. Big bad monsters.

I wish I were an animal. Or a phallus.

But the truth is I am a human. Yes a human.

Trilogy - part II

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phallus

I often wonder who I am. Sometimes I spend hours thinking about my fate and reality. Still nothing seems to provide an answer. A generous cry in an open space becomes dead forever. I keep waiting for an echo. I have a father, who had a father, who too had a father. This is the extent to which I know my roots of existence. The fact that my father and grand fathers had a phallus provides a sort of continuity to my mystery of being. Plain. Simple. Ruthless. But. Fact. This revelation, more or less, fits into the space well. It makes me a worthy member of this chain of continuity. At least I seem to have found a thread. But is it the complete answer I am looking for? If no, the next question eagerly and obviously seems to appear. How long is the chain and where should I weave myself in this chain of continuity? Agreed, that I am not the beginning. But I must have some number so that I can roll into when I feel suitable. Should I enter as the credits start rolling or should I come in the middle? Is there somebody after me? May be that question can be answered if I produce more phallus like me. It gives rise to another troubling question. What happens if I don’t employ my phallus to complete this chain of continuity? Am I the end? If yes, where is the hook that would join me with another end? This number ambiguity is an unusual ball game all together. I had started playing well. But now I seem to be lost somewhere. Let’s leave this number thing aside for some time. Let me give myself some arbitrary number till the riddle finds some solution. Some other obvious questions are waiting for an answer. What am I doing in this chain of continuity? Do I have some purpose? Yes, I agree that completing this chain of continuity is a responsibility forced upon me. I have no other choice. But is it the only purpose? If yes, what happens if I withdraw myself from fulfilling this responsibility? Would it have an impact? I think, it would. This whole chain of continuity and similar other chains would simply fall apart and the beads will be lost forever.

Fuck..! I think I have screwed up the issue completely.

I must admit after creating this entire muddle.

I am a phallus. Just a phallus.