चोटी की ललक

समय को बाँधने वाला बाँध चाहिए,

वो मीठी सी थकान चाहिए.

रुको, ठेह्रो, बैठो ज़रा

इन नजारों को देखने वाला इंसान चाहिए

शिखर की ललक है तुम्हे

अस्तित्व विहीन खतरों की भनक है तुम्हे

सजीव कल्पनाओं से कोई वास्ता नहीं

मुर्दों की दौड़ में पहला स्थान चाहिए

खिलते फूलों की पुकार नहीं

डूबते सूरज के आखिरी लालिमा की दरकार नहीं

हमराहियों की ठिठोलियाँ नहीं

चाहिए तुम्हे तो बस शिखर का आधार चाहिए

चुभती हैं तुम्हे वोह साथियों के संग की यादें

पर भूल कैसे सकते हो उम्मीदों पर खरे उतरने के वादे

उहापोह से लथपथ, पीछे छूट गए तुम्हारे साए

टूटे हुए, चिता पर लदे हुए तुम्हारे इरादे

दिखने लगे सब, छटे घना कुहरा सारा

ले लो सांस, धैर्य धरो, ये सब है तुम्हारा

सूखने दो पसीने को, होने दो धडकनों को मद्धम

यहीं तो है वोह जिसकी खोज में भटक रहे तुम और हम

क्या ढूंढते हो चोटी पर

जो साथियों के संग में नहीं

क्षितिज पर सागर से मिले बिना

ऊंचा आसमान भी पूरा नहीं

Hate: the all pervasive emotion.

Love is powerful, so they say. What about hate? I can't escape it. In a sadistic, perverse way, i don't really wanna get away from it. But i hate it. It's like the surrounding flames, that burn the skin and threaten to melt the bones, but there is no way i can survive without its warmth. Hate is dripping out of the walls here, dark, sticky and vicious liquid. Its all over the floor. Constantly rising up.

What is this vile liquid? Where does this come from? Is my hate directed towards someone or something? NO. I don't feel that. It exists independently. It doesn't need a reason or a rhyme. On the contrary, love is nothing but lack of hate, just the way shadow is lack of sunlight. Love and shadow don't have an independent existence. One depends on the Sun or the lack of it and the other on the lack of love.

Straight As An Arrow

For a child of gay parents, would it be hard for the parents to accept if their kid turns out to be straight? I don't know. But considering the fight the parents must have fought all their lives to assert their identity which is, to put it mildly, somewhat disturbing to our social fabric, they would understand if their kid turns out to be different from them. My friend argues that all of us are gays and it's the society and its established conventions that forces people to be straight. I know he said that for effect and didn't really mean what he said. However, this raised a pertinent point. Imagine a social structure where parents ( both hetro and homosexuals) took it for granted that their kids could and would turn out to be of any of these sexual orientations namely : gay, straight or bi-sexual( is there any other kind?). In this environment of acceptance for all sorts of sexual orientations and behaviors, would we still have a staggering majority of straights in our midst?

My friend and I agree that the belief that sex is primarily for reproduction may be a fallacy. Sex is primarily for recreation and fun. Reproduction is just a byproduct.

However, that doesn't answer my question. Is she gay or not? My friend, who likes wuthering heights and calls himself MCG, says she looks like a gay. He has the tendency to swing from sublime to ridiculous. How can someone look gay? what do gays look like? They have been stereotyped, since time immemorial, through mannerisms. But it is surely not possible to identify a gay just by looking at him/her. And hence my problem remains unresolved. I must admit that i wouldn't mind if she turns out to be a bi-sexual.

P.S: My thoughts on the eve of Queer pride parade. But i need to find the answer to my all important question. Its eating me from inside.

St. Petersberg Vs Munirka

'Crime and Punishment' is a good read. After 100 or so pages, it resembles more like the psycho analysis of a man who is in a dark, suffocating tunnel walking aimlessly and knowing that he may never see the light at the end. He isn't even sure if there is an end. Claustrophobia is what i feel. It's brooding to the extent of being repulsive but i am surprised i do not feel repulsion. His discontinuous thoughts bordering on trivia isn't alien to me. He is obsessed with his torn and somewhat tilted hat. The urgency he feels in his thoughts to buy a new one only to forget it conveniently and drown in even more trivialities is also disturbingly familiar. i can not help but sport a weirdly suggestive wry smile at the way his thoughts leave and enter his evidently fucked up brain. He killed his landlady with an Axe.

I want to read more. I want to know me more.

P.S : The Saviour of the masses and oft-criticized internet wonder Wikipedia says " Dostoevsky could have written a book on Munirka. For so many lives are made and unmade here".

Purely on the basis of one third of the book, Munirka could well have been a part of mid nineteenth century St. Petersburg.

My Experiments With Ironies

Do you remember....

The sobriety of drunken nights

And bonhomie of that fight

The mute tides

Do you remember....

The dark sunbathed balcony

And the glittering shadow under the mahogany

The bustling melancholy

Do u remember....

The lonesomeness in that crowd

And transparency of the shroud

The warmth of the rusted bench

Do u remember....

The sweaty winters

And the equally shivering summers

The exhilarating silences at night

Do you remember....

The meaningful stares into the space

And awkwardness in the fast pace

The craving for that stress

Do you remember....

The ephemeral solutions

And the significance of your ambulation

The carelessness in that precision

Do you remember

The strangeness of your home

And mild familiarity with the dreams

The knife-edge of that petal

Do you remember....

The sheer absurdity in definitions

And the ever changing constants

The futile circles made by the clock hands.

Dilemma, Freedom and Other Assorted Emotions

Standing at the crotch of forked paths

The brain whirs and the vision blurs

The shoulders are heavy with load

Trapped inside the snake's jaw, like a toad

Calm down, think straight

Fuck destiny, choose your own fate

Left path, fenced with barbed wire all along

Trimmed grass and pruned trees

Safe and stable at every furlong

Right one looks wild and thrilling

No fences to keep you on the course

Freedom is your thing, it fits the billing

Freedom, hard to define but easy to confine

Easy to deride but hard to justify

For the millions of crotches that may lie ahead

To cut through the maze of delusion and haze

Freedom must always be the shining blade.

PREMCHAND EFFECT

You got an MBA degree

You thought you had earned your pedigree

Landed a juicy job

It was time for you to act like a snob

Time went by and you wondered

Why life still sucked

Like a bitch you were fucked

‘What did I do wrong?

Who do I blame for my misery?’

The culprit is obscure

You worry, you wilt and you are unsure.

One evening with lemon tea in your hand

You gaze into the landscape feature

And that’s when it hits, you realize

You should have studied English Literature.