महुआ

एक दिन और कट गया । सांझ का चूल्हा फूकती गरम हवा जेठ के महीने का पल पल आभास दिला रही थी । दिन अभी ठीक से ढला नहीं था और महुआ फरफराती हुई खले में मुसल से धान कूटने बैठ गयी। न जाने कितनी ज़िम्मेदारियों का बोझ था उसके कंधे । दिन में ढूंढी लकड़ी के सेठों से पूरे परिवार के लिए शाम का खाना बनाना, गैया माता के लिए खली की तैयारी और दूध दुहना, बूढ़े हो चले ससुर के लिए हुक्का बनाना और यही सब काम करते हुए बीच बीच में साँस की तीखी कमेंट्री को कानो कान निकालते रहना । वाकई गज़ब का झुझारूपन था महुआ में जो सुबह से शाम, दिन महीने, साल पे साल बीतने पर भी बिलकुल तठस्थ था उन चीटों की तरह जो हर साल जेठ जाते जाते पंखों पे ताप भर चल देते थे अनंत की तलाश में ।


'अम्मा आज रात मीठी सोठ की चटनी बनाना,' अपने लट्टू से खेलते हुए बिन्नू बोला । बुखार का ताप जेठ के महीने में बिन्नू को पिछले कई दिनों से पकडे बैठा था । आज उसके मन की ये चटपटी चाह बमुश्किल ज़ुबा पे आयी थी । पर मुसल की थाप की धुन में महुआ ने जैसे कुछ सुना ही नही । वो तो बस लगी पड़ी थी अपनी लड़ाई लड़ने । उसके शरीर से बहता पसीना माहोल को और गरम कर रहा था । बिन्नू को लग गया था की अम्मा ने उसकी बात सुनी नहीं। इस बार वो हाथ में लट्टू घूमते महुआ की साड़ी खींचते बोला 'अम्मा आज रात मीठी सोठ .......' इसके बाद के शब्द बिन्नू की ज़बान में जैसे धरे के धरे रह गए क्योकि उसके हाथ से लट्टू छूट कर ओखली में मुसल के नीचे आना, कड़ाक की आवाज़ करते लकड़ी के लट्टू के दो टुकड़े हो जाना और महुआ के हाथों से मुसल उछल जाना, ये तीन चीज़े एकाएक इक्कठा घटित हो गयी थी । बिन्नू ने सकपकाकर सहमे हुए महुआ को देखा । दिन भर की कमर तोड़ मेहनत और और शरीर की थकन महुआ पे पहले से भारी थी । उसका उठा हाथ बिन्नू के कमज़ोर तपते शरीर के बर्दाश्त के बाहर था और महुआ को जब तक उस रूंधी हुई आखों के आँसू दिखते तब तक बहुत देर हो चुकी थी । ये तो समय था । एक बार जो बीत गया सो बीत गया । उस आग उगलते दिन का आखरी प्रहर जाते जाते अपने साथ महुआ के सारे सपने ले उड़ा था ।

Just a Start

It wasn’t a dark and stormy night but quite the opposite actually.

The flickering television was blabbering the death of Gustov – the famous French chef who had librated the taste of cuisine the world over. Mmm.. food was the last thing Smith has in mind as he lay blindfolded with hands tied behind his back. The freezing chill that was getting transformed from the base of his temple to the nimble parts of his body was pointing to the slowly ticking clock whose each motion was getting directed from some unknown hilly terrain deep down in Pakistan occupied Kashmir. With the cocking of the gun pressed against his temple seeming familiar a Kasminov or a M9 maybe, the dialect of the masked terrain surrounding him were pointing to a bigger conspiracy than what it seemed from this hotel room at Taj that was slowly getting filled with smell of explosives, marinated charcoaled flesh and strong sea breeze that pointed towards famous saying of Gustov “Sight & smell of the things surrounding you hold a greater meaning from what is cooked behind you.”

Monsoons: ‘look who is calling’?

I remember the day when the doorbell of my home rang a couple of times in rapid succession. Getting out of my early morning sleep groggy eyed, I took a step jumped two and again took a step. It was a habit which stood good to me on these monsoons days and the rest of three hundred odd days of the year where crossing the PMH road – it’s not the road leading to Prime minister’s house but pot metro holed road. A road, which has nice pots of different shapes and sizes with a depth that would make a river, put to shame caused by swanky metro and the digger boys of PWD. It acted as a perfect cover for 007 JBFM’s – James Bond female mosquitoes to go into family way.

To avoid the high tide caused by passing vehicular traffic sometimes if I decided to take the route of under bridge – well god save the king. The streaky line of yellow liquid now mixed with fresh water supply sent directly from the god’s own coffers would cover the stairs and basement in round rectangular shapes – round to start with and then growing rectangular. I must compliment the udders of those brilliant Indian persona that pulled the pressure trigger a foot and half before or after the existing streaky yellow line. So that’s what is the space left with us to waddle through- a step jump two and again take a step. In fact it is so precise at some places that you can use this walk jump walk recipe blindfolded.

This was the habit, which with passing time developed into a rigorous regime, which I was following on that faithful day. On opening the door, I found a gentleman from anti mosquito department – as was promptly displayed on his shirt badge point towards my running cooler and said ‘ don’t you know in the monsoon season the running of the cooler is banned as it becomes a breeding ground for mosquitoes’. With that I heard a scribbling sound of pen on paper and before my eyes could get focused to the bright sunny light of the day I was handed a hundred rupees penalty. My subsequent protests that till now the government had not declared the onset of monsoon on this part of the city landed on deaf ears. Left with no other option but to pay the fine I watched the official with a smile on his face for getting a job well done turn around to reach his vehicle parked on the min road by taking a step jump two take a step…

My Sixteen Cigarettes Towards Opulence--Wants

Want
Dream = Desire = (Want?)

What do you want or what the hell do you want are the two sides of a question. I want an ice cream or I want the hell to turn loose on human race are the two sides of a answer. The first part of the question what do you want and the answer I want an ice cream has a passive foundation with the note of eagerness attached to it. The second part of the question what the hell do you want and the answer I want the hell to turn loose on human race has an active foundation with the note of ruthless aggression attached to it. The second part is what the human race has turned into today, where the second’s needle is slowly but aggressively ticking towards the D time. The problem with us is we have forgotten the mantra – Simple living and high thinking. The red face with high blood pressure- a symbol of aggression has blocked the arteries of a thinking heart, which in turn has turned purple and died and as far as simple living is concerned God save the King. While speaking of god who holds the keys to future, I remember I had a meeting fixed with the rabbit. So down I go in the hole and you follow me.

What are you hiding behind your back, the rabbit asked as I entered the den. He surely was a sharp observer. Oh, it’s a small gift for you, I said as I brought my arm forward holding a bunch of carrots. Thanks, the rabbit said as I put them on the table and took my chair. Rabbit was puffing the pipe furiously with loud smoke coming out of the nostrils. It looked like he was in deep thought. I hope I didn’t disturb you, I said. No, I am just a bit confused on what to cook for dinner that’s all. My wife wants carrot soup whereas my children want to have corn soup for dinner. Hmm... as I tackle the wants of my family I will tell you as story of a boy called Cheeseheart whose heart was made of Cheese.
Cheeseheart was a unique boy in himself. People say when he was born the parents found to their dismay that their little new born was not breathing as he didn’t have a heart. So his mother prayed to the fairy godmother for his life. The fairy mother felt pity on the poor parents and carved a heart out of a big cheese block and planted it inside the boy. To the joy of the parents the boy started breathing. They thanked the fairy goddess for her kindness and named the boy Cheeseheart.
The parents of Cheeseheart were very poor and for their living used to till other people’s lands. From what they got in return they used to run the family on a day to day basis. Years went by in this hand to mouth struggle. Cheeseheart who by then had grown into a young handsome lad was very popular in the village as he helped anyone in need. One night he heard his father speak to his mother, “ I want to buy two Ox’s to till the land. Like this we can earn more as we need not take Ox’s on rent and we could lead a more comfortable life. But where will we get the money from, his mother replied. Ya, I wish we had the money. Saying this he fell asleep. Cheeseheart who had heard the conversation could not sleep all night thinking how he could help in fulfilling his parents wants. Waking up early in the morning he got dressed and went to the market thinking he will do some odd jobs to earn the money. On reaching the market he heard a commotion going on outside a restaurant where a Chef was shouting at the fellow cooks. On asking a passerby he came to know that the King was coming to dine there and the Chef did not have Cheese to make pizza for the king. As the Cheese shop was too far to fetch the cheese in time the chef feared that the king would have his head for the incomplete meal. Here is a golden chance to earn some good money, Cheeseheart thought. So he went to the Chef and said, “ I have some fresh cheese, which I can give to you. But in return you have to give me enough money to buy two Ox’s for my parents”. The Chef agreed as the fear of his life was haunting him and carved out a part of the Cheeseheart’s heart and gave him the money in return. Cheeseheart brought two sturdy Ox’s and headed home. While on his way back Cheeseheart noticed that he could not walk as briskly as before as the heart left with him had grown smaller. Stepping aside his worries he went home and presented the Ox’s to his parents. They were both surprised and happy. They asked Cheeseheart where did he get the money from. Oh, I worked in the market to earn it, said Cheeseheart. As days went by Cheeseheart noticed that he had to put in more efforts to do a work, which earlier he could do easily. Life went on when one day he again heard his father saying,” I want a tractor to till the land. Though the Ox’s are doing fine, the tractor would be able to cover more area in less time. Like this we can earn more money and live a more comfortable life.” Cheeseheart after hearing his parents wants for a tractor woke up the next day and went to the Chef who had helped him before. “ Do you want more cheese” he asked. The Chef was glad to see Cheeseheart again. He had not only saved his life but had earned a great reward for preparing such a delicious pizza. The king had specially liked the cheese in it and had asked the Chef to prepare it again for him. “ But you will have to give me more money than before so that I can buy a tractor for my parents” Cheeseheart said. Of course the Chef replied and carved out a juicy piece out and paid Cheeseheart the money. Now Cheeseheart had very little heart left with him. With great difficulty he drove the tractor to his home and handed the keys to his parents. Days went by. Now Cheeseheart could barely do the household chores. Most of his time was spent on sitting idle to conserve his energy. Cheeseheart had become very pale now and his health had dropped many notches. His mother thought that he was not eating properly and prepared different dishes for him as now they had ample food at their disposal. But it brought no change in Cheeseheart’s health. A few months passed by like this when one night he heard his father say to his mother,” I want to own the land I till. Like this we will not have to give any share of crops to their owners. We will be rich and live happily ever after”. So off went Cheeseheart next morning to the Chef to barter his cheese for his parents wants. The Chef who was in need of the cheese as always looked at his heart and said, “ the amount of money you are asking for, for that I will have to take out the remaining part of your heart in exchange. But then with no heart you are going to die” the Chef said. “Take it” Cheeseheart, said. “For the cause of fulfilling the want I can sacrifice anything”. So off went the rest of the heart as Cheeseheart collapsed on the prickly needles of wants. Surprisingly the needles were not pricking him anymore as he lay dead on the floor.
I was so engrossed in hearing the story that I didn’t notice when he had stopped speaking. Rabbit tapped the table with a spoon fishing me out of the story’s flow. The expression on your face tells me you feel sad for Cheeseheart, the rabbit said. Yes, I replied. It’s sad that a good natured and helping boy like Cheeseheart should die such a tragic death in fulfilling the coffers of wants. Ya, the rabbit said and that’s what we are going to discuss today – ‘Wants’. I am sure there is much more to the story than what you have told me, I said as I feel each character had a specific role to play. Can I ask you a few questions based on the story. Well that’s what I am here for - remember the rabbit said while putting a mixture of Carrot and Corn in the steaming pan.
Whom does Cheeseheart represent in the story, I asked. Cheeseheart represents the soul of the body, the rabbit said. It is in the purest form when a child is born, but as he grows older the soul gets rubbed on the malice’s ruling the world like greed, jealousy, hatred and loses its purity and power to differentiate between right and wrong. Look how the night eats the day, the stars eat the night and the moon eats the stars. But it’s rule nature that after day there will be night and when there will be night, the stars and moon are bound to be there, I protested. Yes, it’s god’s way of showing that nothing is eternal – forever. Everything that you find existing in this nature is bound by a time click. Everyone gets a stipulated time to complete his work being part of the nature. Sun gets it’s time to shine, bring light and warmth and night gets the time to undo the work sun has done by cooling the nature. Imagine what will happen if soul of the sun gets into night’s body. It will be a complete mismatch and against the natures rules. The soul of the nature grows on the wood planted by rules. But it’s sad that we have learnt nothing from it. We have built this world and decorated it by worldly means. We are ourselves to blame by bringing our existence to the brink of disaster. The temptations that we have built are in turn tempting our souls as they are getting rubbed by the wants day in and day out. The purity factor is no longer there. In ancient days when the souls were in the purest form the connecting string existed between god and us. He used to hear and help us in time of distress. But now as nobody cares for him he cares for nobody and soon a time is going to come when we are going to turn the clock back and become barbarians again eating each other out of existence. The irony is we can’t blame anybody but our corrupt souls, for which the word ‘WANT’ has also become a commodity in its list of wants. Yes, it’s true I said. If a person doesn’t have a list of wants peeking out of its soul he is cast off from the society and is talked about in hushed tones. Well, what about the mother and father of Cheeseheart. Whom do they represent, I asked. The parents of Cheeseheart represent the body of the soul. It has the most important part to play in its short life span. The body holds in itself a group of souls in strict hiharchy. The parts that the body holds are all souls rowing hard towards a common goal. To achieve nirvana and move forward one step in their universal cycle. The lowest step in the ladder are the (to find out) and the highest is the soul which resides in our heart and is called atma or spirit. At times you hear stories about people who are blind from birth have diseased blood or dyfunctioned liver. The souls governing these parts are serving their sentences of penance as directed by god in their present life. They have to pay for the wrong they did in their previous lives and improve their chances of climbing up the ladder and reach the pinnacle of becoming an atma. Is donning the robes of being an atma –a spirit the last part of their struggle, I asked. No, the rabbit said. It’s the beginning of the roads leading to battlefields. Actually that’s where the part of body comes into play.

My Sixteen Cigarettes Towards Opulence

Preface

“Love is life and life is love”. People love different things in life for different reasons. Some love flashy cars, some love flashy wives, and some love to love the life –the essence of healthy and cautious day today living. This love which I am talking about is my love for cigarettes. In today’s world of high demanding wants and needs people tend to fire their respective tired frustrations on co colleagues, wife, children, dhobi wala, kaam wali and other related people who cannot fire back on them. But life is not such a dud that it leaves you with only the frustrations. It also holds in itself some relaxing moments – moments when you feel and self judge the right way to beat the froth out of the retreating waves. These natural pleasures (some people may think otherwise) were there since time immortal and would continue to remain hanging in the thin depleting skyline for the time’s to come. It’s for the dog fighting generation of today to understand when to admit inside their rigid mind walls this much needed opulence leading to the world of ecstasy.

I remember when I was a small toddler there were very limited wants, which used to bring happiness to my inner soul. Playing under the trees, plucking unripe mangos and mouthful of delicious grubs. The circumference of my inner soul grew with the lengthening shadows of the trees, where the past pleasures were not enough too satisfy my soul’s hunger. More and more new wishes were needed to satisfy my wants and my hunger pangs. With the meteoric increase in wishes came dreams of the forbidden land. I swam across many a time in my dreams to lay afoot in its golden sandy shores. But the shackles of my dreams forbade me to enjoy its misty terrain’s. With the tussle for some private moments in my life came the pressures of do’s and don’ts in my real life. The flavorless daily doses of wants from people who held the reins of my life used to exhaust me to such a length that many a days I had these dreamless nights of holes one atop of another leading to nowhere but more and more holes. Sometimes I thought the holes in my real life, which I had failed to digest, were making it up by coming in my dreams. I was losing my nerve gas at a rapid rate when one night when I was investigating a hole in my dream a rabbit jumped out from it. Seeing something not round was a welcoming sight to my eyes. As the rabbit hopped inside the hole I followed it. To my pleasant surprise the hole was the home of the rabbit dimly lit by a candle kept on the table. It motioned me to sit on one of the chairs and the rabbit sat on the other chair. On the table was kept a square box. On opening it I found sixteen cigarettes lined in symmetric way inside it. The rabbit said in a slow heavy voice- you can have one cigarette at a time and for each cigarette you smoke I will answer your one question. The sixteen cigarettes which I smoked the succeeding nights came up with sixteen answers to my troubling questions on life bringing opulence to my inner soul. Here I am about to open my gates of how I achieved opulence and enjoyed the trip to the forbidden land.