Friday, December 24, 2010

Are we alone here ???



Picture clicked at Old Delhi


"we are born alone, we live alone, we die alone.Only through our love and friendship we can create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone." 
somewhere i read this...



वहम...

पागलपन की बीमारी है मुझे
वहम है?
मुझे तो है..
चाँद पर घर बनाऊगी
आकाश में पंख लहराऊगी
वहम है?
मुझे तो है..
नाचूगी परियो संग
गाऊगी भवरो संग
वहम है?
मुझे तो है..
पैसो का पेड लगाऊगी
फिर ख़रीदारी करने  जाऊगी
वहम है?
मुझे तो है..
एक पल में जिन्दगी जी है 
अच्छी नोकरी है
लाखो में कमाती हूँ
वहम है?
मुझे तो है..
अच्छा चलिए
कुछ अच्छी सी बात करते है...
क्या आपने कभी सपने देखे है???
मैंने साकार किये है
वहम है? तो है..
मुझे तो है और अब आप मुझे टोकिये मत
निकाल लेने दीजिये अपने वहमो की पोटली को....




ये आदमी भी कितना अनोखा जीव है ?
कितना ?
तुम नहीं जानते ?
नहीं 
वहम है तुम्हारा 
हा है,लेकिन तुम हो कौन भाई ?
तुम नहीं जानते?
नहीं?
वहम हूँ तुम्हारा....

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Ten minutes of stardom

Surbhi’s surprise birthday party. Ankita calling. LOSER! COME FAST (she loves to call me by that name).

Thanks to the Metro, I made it to Tilak Nagar in time enough; otherwise, she would have killed me. No sooner did I reach there than I forgot the address and called Ankita to check. She guided me to take an auto from there, and said it’d charge me 40 bucks. I soon spotted one, with its driver turbaned and tall. I asked him, “Bhaiyya, Bhagat Singh Hospital chaloge? Predictably, he answered with a “Yes madamji, challenge, par 50 rupees lagenge”.

I, of course, I wasn’t settling for a raw deal. I started, “Bhaiyya, main daily jaati hoon, 40 lagte hain. Kyun paagal bana rahe ho mujhe?” I had the urge to tell him that he’d better not fool someone from the media. But only ended up talking about how much we’d worked for their fraternity when they’d gone on an auto strike. I thought he would ask me about my profession then, but he didn’t ask anything. Anyway, there was little choice, so I got in.

He was driving silently, and I was sitting quietly, as we had already spoken much during our arguments. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Ankita. I picked up the call, and said, “Yes, Charlie 123 …”. We talked for 5 minutes about what to do next, who will arrange for the cake, and signed off with an ‘over and out’.

Finally, the auto wallah broke his silence. His lips curved into a wide, knowing smile, and he said, “Madam kya aap Delhi Police mein ho?” I played along. “Haan, lekin aapko kaise pata chala?” I remembered I hadn’t told him this; I’m not one of those who’d flaunt their job. Meanwhile, I was wondering if he was trying to fool me again. Did that one silly phone-sign cause him to believe what he did? Even if I wasn’t in uniform or didn’t have the jaat accent typical of the police?

He said with full confidence, “Madam, hum bhi cheaz koi chhoti nahi hain … chhoti chhoti batein hum bhi pakad lete hain. Police waalon ka favourite word hai ye over n out, Charli 123 ...” and he continued talking. “Madam, Police waalon ko hamne bade karib se dekha hai … hamara toh roz ka kaam kai unko tackle karna, mera bhanja bhi constable hai madam.” Don’t ask me how I managed to control my laughter, or amazement.

Somewhere, though, I was still not sure if he had really thought that I was from the police. I thought it was his great trick to self amusement, maybe. But I went on, telling him stories of how I had cracked IPS and thought it was a difficult exam, and yet cleared it and became an additional ACP. I told him I have my own police car, but like to travel by auto.

He asked me, “Madam, kaun sai thane mein baithte ho?” I replied, “I’m posted at the PHQ (Police Head Quarters), and today, I took a day off just to enjoy with my family. I also told him that when on duty, always commuted by auto, free of cost, but he was lucky that I was not in my uniform that particular day. He was on cloud nine.

He was ready with his next question. “Madam agar mujhe koi problem hogi toh kya main apse milne aa sakta hoon PHQ?” I said yes, of course, anytime.

That ten minute journey seemed funner than the funnest ones I had. Soon, he pulled over at my destination. I asked, “Kitna hua bhaiyya?” As if bestowed with a great honour, he replied, “Madam, bas meter down karne ke 20 rupai de do.” It was only then that I realized that he wasn’t joking; there was no sarcasm in his witticism. I gave him the money, he shook my hand, and we parted.

I laughed like anything for another half an hour. My friends still continue to.

Daring to dream

ILLUSION AND THE REALITY
Picture clicked at C.P.

It hurts most when you feel disillusioned
U cry, u scream, u shout
Try every possible way
To hold your shattered dreams
The dreams of your ambition
But when reality touches illusion
You wake up to the reality of the world
And your disillusionment snaps in no time
U feel helpless, disheartened
But that’s what makes you stronger
Everyone gives you hope, assurance
That makes you happy for a moment
But after a few seconds, u feel betrayed
No one can feel the same pain as u do
It’s just you who can translate your dreams in to reality.