Reciprocatory love

Do you love me?

Yes? Then I love you too. 

What! You hate me?

Get away, Damn you!

 

You want break-up?

Who wants to live with you!

Dare you torture me! 

And I'll kill you.

Fair enough, isn't it?

Oh my love! 

The effortless geniuses

Today I downloaded Ray Charles' last recording - 'Sorry seems to be the hardest word' with Elton John, a song which was to form a part of the album 'Genius loves company'. Lying on a sofa in the dark room with my eyes closed, I listen to the reverberating voice of the legendary singer. I am not able to appreciate it. I am not able to say 'Oh wow! it's amazing', because I am taken in too much to analyse or comment. It fills my soul and goes deep down to touch me. This touch is so rare these days. Everything comes with layers of superfluousness. But here, I ain't talking about humans. I am talking only about arts - literature, music, acting etc.

There are some people who are crafty, who believe that there is a technique for everything. They try to impress you with hit tricks and formulas. There are film-makers who know just the right mix of item song, sex scenes, comic punches, action, romance, songs to make a blockbuster. There are poets who try really hard to make the audience laugh in a kavi sammelan even if it means reciting idiotic jokes as a prelude to the poems. Same goes for song-writers who are on the lookout for a catchy phrase which would get onto the tongues of masses. Or the cinematographers for the over-edited Tamil blockbusters who use those unusual camera angles, over-saturation, the flashy camera movement, dolly shot and other techniques each and everywhere. I loathe them and would extend my discussion here on to the kind of people who I admire. The people who are artists in every sense of the word. 

There are people who are geniuses - poets who wouldn't get any syllable in the meter of their poem wrong, writers who know just the right word for every expression, singers who wouldn't let any note go wrongly an iota up or down, film-makers who are so organic to make films with all the semblance to life - whose works are flawless. Be it Edgar Allan Poe or Ustad Mehdi Hassan, they have an extreme or, let me say, exhaustive knowledge of their craft. They are too careful to let one word or note seem even inappropriate, leave alone wrong. Surely I have a lot of respect for them. 

But there are some other people who are careless. They don't take pride in conforming to rules. No, these are not the people who take pride in breaking rules and strive to create experimental cinema or modern art. Rather, neither they conform to the rules nor they take pride in flouting them. They are the people whose art stems from deep inside. However romantic that might sound, but yes, I know it because I have felt it. And even without any trying, the final piece is of great quality. However, remarking on such pieces of art in terms of quality is itself a bit inconvenient. It's the rising of hair on my arms, the chills down my spine, the awe in my eyes, the grip on my mind and the hangover which remains for long after the experience.

Two days ago, I read Mohan Rakesh's novel 'Na aane wala kal' (the tomorrow which never comes), about the weariness of a school teacher disgusted with the mundane life at school with hypocrite colleagues and whose wife has abandoned him with whom he was anyways not happy. The novel questions the normalcy of the so-called normal life highlighting the burden of existence for those who wouldn't acknowledge it, and the resistance in form of survival issues and internal skepticism for those who realize the misery of this life and want to break from it. The novel has no show of elegance. Written in simple vocabulary and simplistic style without any metaphors, similes, symbolism or other elements, it seems like it was written in running hand. And I guess this is what makes it so poignant. It's just right in your face. Going to the extent of describing the minutest thoughts inside the head without the need for screening any of them, this honest diary entry automatically gets laced with imagery, where you see images of not just the prevalent scene and situation but also of whatever is going on inside the narrator's head. Readers of naturalist fiction like to read a story as if it were true, but in this case, no such effort is required. On the contrary, it's too difficult to discard it as a fictional tale. It's a natural piece written effortlessly. This is what I call authentic. This is what I feel has stemmed from the soul.

Similarly, there are actors like Heath Ledger in 'Dark Knight rises' and Daniel Day Lewis in 'My left foot' who went to extremes in impersonating their character and had their personal life disturbed months after the shoot of the film. The tendency to impress by doing one's best is an inherent tendency in actors, which sometimes becomes almost a desperation. But when someone lets go of all such worries, ambitions for applaud or awards, or the demand posed by the internal self to perform great, when someone doesn't use any method or technique and just performs from his soul, when the actor becomes the character, when the singer becomes the song, when the shayar's emotions at the time of writing the ghazal get personified in the singer, it is then that a true, authentic performance comes up, which thrills, moves, and as I said, touches somewhere deep down.

Doing this is not easy. To be so careless and to just write for what, in my view, is the first cause as well as effect of writing, acting or singing i.e. expression. It's all the more difficult in writing when there is no immediacy, take any amount of re-takes, and you've all the time to keep musing and analyzing your lines.  I haven't achieved that genius, where no one could pinpoint flaws in my writing. Leave alone others, I am myself hardly ever satisfied. So, even speaking from a practical perspective, there is a need for me to fit into the second model, that of the careless authentic poets. But even if there is a whole plot in my head, firstly I keep avoiding or procrastinating from putting it on paper. Then, after a long time, when I start, I scribble the first line. I keep gloating over it for some time. It doesn't sound good enough to be the starting line. So, I slash it, and start with a new line. Again, slashing it and rewriting keeps happening for some time. Finally, I get it and move on. But after writing a paragraph or two, I read it over and dismiss all of it as a futile attempt. It was much simpler in childhood. But now, it's quite difficult. It does happen in poetry that the whole poem comes to me right within five minutes from its origin in my mind from unknown source. But it's a rare phenomenon. And moreover, I disregard many of these poems. I wish I had more respect for them, but they just don't read so good to me. So I neither recite them, nor make a fair draft of the scribbles in running hand. While there are some other poems which keep on going unfinished for months or even years in the hope of finding the right word. Frankly, I don't even clearly know what does 'right' mean in poetry, especially when I am an upholder of free verse. But it just doesn't sound right. With prose which is longer, the problem is all the more bigger.

Well, today I have written this piece. And although I have half a mind to save it as a draft for ever like so many other drafts, yet I think I'll post it today.

Azaadi aur Yuva (Hindustan Dainik Report Page 9)

http://paper.hindustantimes.com/epaper/viewer.aspx

Vijay and I started a project with the name Takhti, under which we imparted free coaching to 80 girls from 14 villages to qualify CTET, the eligibility test for becoming a primary teacher. 15 girls cleared the exam. Also, we have been doing street plays in and around Delhi to spread awareness on various social issues mostly independently and sometimes in collaboration with Action Aid 'goonj project', HLFPPT and other NGOs. Hindi paper 'Hindustan' acknowledges our efforts in a special report on the occasion of Independence day. Follow the above link and check out page 9... 

Sweet Sin

Oh no, it’s not for nothing

That some shrewd sinewy sucker

Started the words sin and sweet,

No coincidence, with the same letter

Right from day one, they banished

The sweet was adjudged to be sinful

Adam got a lump in his throat

When he plucked and ate an apple

An autocrat invented discipline

That extra salt makes food inedible

Uniforms brought about conformity

Drills, parades robotized the rabble

Who need to merely follow orders

Applying no mind of their own

Masters don’t need discipline,

The slaves are the toiling pawns

And then the ridiculous reverend

Preached self-discipline and austerity

Infested the folks with a lot of guilt

Robbing them of all colour and gaiety

The penance, redemption, whip-lashing

Their heads bowed low in confession

For basic needs and innocent instincts

For natural behaviour like masturbation

A morose poet romanticised that

Struggle of life as the noble truth

Further deadened the sensibilities

He smudged the frolic of youth

If God has made this weird world

He must be a big-time masochist

The bitter gourd purifies the blood

Chocolate spoils the kid’s teeth

Sin is tempting, temptation is sin

God! He got everything wrong

Whatever he made delightful

To whom do those joys belong

Now the thought’s occurred

Exuberate in the time of reprise

Entropy will increase in waves

Go on, claim your own prize.

Pour me some ether

The green grass

The blue lamp casts

Flickering light

On my feet

Get me a whiff of ether

That flows in the stream

I am so hapless

Scoured is my dream

Don't pluck my eyelashes

Away from brashes

The low gas pressures 

Tug at my heart 

Let me evenly breathe 

No more needs 

Don't brag about bliss

When desire's dried out in me 

I'm tired of bargaining 

Just pour me some ether

From the stream

Darn the milkmaid!

Personal space

Girlfriend (GF) : जान, you know what I'm thinking...... हमें कुछ टाइम के लिए अलग हो जाना चाहिए 
Boyfriend (BF) (surprised) : मतलब... क्यूँ?
GF : I don’t know. I feel that I have become too dependent on you, you know. I just...I just want to feel free. I think that We are taking too much of each other’s personal space, you know?
BF (confounded) : No, I don't know. ये...क्या बकचोदी है 

GF (disgusted) : Oh this language! I am fucking sick of it.

BF : क्या sick? तुम 15 बार fuck fuck बोलो, वो कुछ नहीं. मैंने बकचोदी बोल दिया तो sick. 

GF – oh stop it. (shouting) Pleeeeeeease. You are impossible....... Well anyways, let’s not divert from what we were talking about. I think that we should separate for a year. No meeting, no phone calls, nothing.  

BF (matter-of-factly) :  क्या बात कर रही हो यार  ये!   अब तो  पूरे 1 हफ्ते से कितने अच्छा चल रहा है सब,  कोई लड़ाई नहीं, कुछ नहीं. और तुम suddenly - Become dependent, personal space? 't makes no sense to me. (pause) (his facial expression changes from tension to mischief) Oh! i get it,  तुम मजाक कर रही हो ना?..silly me!   

GF – नहीं, मजाक नहीं है. I am serious. Try to understand. This is for both of us.  

BF : ऐसे कैसे both of us, जबरदस्ती? I don't want it. I want to be with you. 

GF -  Don’t make it so hard for me. Trust me, we need this break. To..you know...live our lives, to reinforce our individuality. And when we’ll be back together, तुम देखना - we’ll love each other so much more. 

BF – Back together? अब...ये क्या है. इस एक साल में कोई और पसंद आ गया तो?

GF - मुझे तो नहीं आएगा, but तुम्हारा...मैं नहीं कह सकती.

BF - How can you be so sure? फिर क्यूँ चाहिए ब्रेक. इसीलिए ना कि इन कुछ दिनों में things not going that good between us, and I guess now you are not so sure if you want to....

GF - Wait. I am not sure? (flabbergasted with animated expression) Yea... See. I knew. I knew कि तुम कुछ ऐसा ही सोचोगे. क्यूँ, तुम्हें तो बस मौका चाहिए ना....for checking out other girls. 

BF : क्या बोल रही हो यार तुम? दिमाग तो ठीक है तुम्हारा? 

GF : हाँ, मेरा दिमाग बिलकुल ठीक है, लेकिन तुम्हारे दिल में जरुर कुछ गड़बड़ है. 

BF (mad with frustration) : मेरे दिल में गड़बड़ है? मुझे मौका चाहिए? It's you who wants us to separate for a year, और कह रही हो कि मुझे मौका चाहिए, I want to check out girls. और मौका क्या, जाना होगा तो मैं खुद से नहीं चला जाऊंगा? क्या बकवास है ये! 

(silence, tries to calm himself) 

(calmly) खैर anyways... हाँ तो, what are we supposed to do for this one year then?   

GF : मैंने बताया तो. तुम्हारी समझ में ना आए तो मैं क्या करूँ. 

BF : क्या बताया. मैंने तो सुना नहीं. please फिर बता दो. 

GF : I want to explore life, I want to explore myself, I want to build onto my individuality. 

BF : OK... and - I'm stopping you from doing that? 

GF : No, not that. But I need some space.... जैसे मेरे सभी decisions सभी plans सब कुछ तुम से ही... I'm becoming dependent on you. 

BF : I don't mind, I don't feel it. 

GF : But I do. For once, I want to do something alone.

BF : And that would be like?

GF : Well, मेरे दिमाग में तो करने के लिए काफी कुछ है. Things I have never done before. You know, I want to go river rafting, I want to learn pottery, I’ll learn Spanish, and may be playing guitar. And yes, I am planning to write something, and -.

BF : I still don't get it. ये सब exploration तो तुम मेरे साथ रह कर भी कर सकती हो ना. मैं रोक थोड़े ना रहा हूँ तुम्हें कुछ करने से.

GF : नहीं. मुझे ये सब करना है, और अकेले करना है. I don't want you to suggest or decide anything or arrange things for me... कहाँ से करना है, कैसे करना है....

BF : Ok, I won't decide or arrange. in fact, मेरे लिए तो अच्छा है, I'm spared the burden of it... 

GF : Burden? Burden? You mean to say that planning things for me is a burden on you? I am a burden on you? 

BF : No, not burden, I mean... I won't have to worry about.... you know...

GF : Yes, you don't have to worry now. I won't be a burden anymore. 

BF (helpless) : जान मैं थोड़े ना complain कर रहा हूँ. तुम्हें ही problem है. being dependent and all...      

GF : No, it's ok, no need to explain. So, I told you. this was fucking what I was supposed to, what I had in mind. पर तुम्हारे दिमाग में सीधा क्या आया.... कोई और पसंद आ गया तो... how desperate!

BF (shouting with anger) : Enough! (Pause) साथ रहना है तो तुम्हारी मर्ज़ी, अलग होना है तुम्हारी मर्ज़ी. अलग हो कर कब वापस साथ आना है, इस बीच क्या करना है, सब कुछ तुम decide करोगी क्या? मुझे तो नहीं सीखनी spanish, मुझे नहीं करनी pottery. आएगा मेरे दिमाग में जो आएगा....

GF : हाँ हाँ, I know कि तुम्हारे दिमाग में बस यही सब आएगा. (shouting) I am such a fool, I am such a fool. God! why am I even talking to you? 

BF : I don't know. Go. 

GF : Yes yes, I am going. I just wanted कि इस सब में तुम मेरा साथ देते, पर तुमसे कुछ expect करना ही गलती है. It's already so hard for me, and all you did is.... well, it's ok. bye.

(Starts going away.) 

BF (calling from behind) : अच्छा, सुनो तो... 

GF : कुछ नहीं सुनना मुझे. I don't want to see your face. 

(She goes away. He sits down dejected. A minute later, a friend comes to him.)

Friend : क्या हो गया. ऐसे कैसे बैठा है..

Boy : ऐसे ही यार.

Friend : कुछ तो. इतना सडा हुआ चेहरा क्यूँ बना रखा है............. और भाभी कहाँ गई.

Boy : भाभी? (grins with a wry) चली गई. 

Friend : चली गई? अजीब है.... (it occurs to him) ओहो, लड़ाई हो गई क्या तुम्हारी, किसी बात पर.

Boy : हाँ, ब्रेक-अप हो गया यार.

Friend : क्या, ब्रेक-अप? फिर से?

Boy : हाँ यार, पर इस बार final वाला हो गया है 

Friend : ऐसा है क्या?

Boy : हाँ.....I guess so. 

Friend : ऐसा क्या हो गया भाई?

Boy : ऐसे ही....पता नहीं क्या बकचोदी है. छोड़ ना, सिगरेट जला यार एक... 

(He lights a cigarette and passes it to him. Both of them smoke.)      

5 hours later.

(Both the friends are drinking. The boy is a little glum.) 

Friend : याद आ रही है क्या?

Boy : हाँ.....kind of. 

Friend : फ़ोन कर के देख ले

Boy : तेरे आने से पहले किया था 3-4 बार try, उठाया नहीं.  

Friend : हम्म....(pause) anything you want to share? जो भी...याद आ रहा हो.

Boy : क्या फायदा है भाई याद कर के... छोड़ ना. I don't want to remember anything.  

Friend : अबे मस्त है. seriously. मैं तो कहता ही हूँ - ज्यादा मत सोच. chill मार. 

Boy : अगला पैग बना यार.

(He pours next drink for both of them)

Friend : गाने चलाने है लैपटॉप पर? Low volume में?

Boy : हाँ, चला ले... 

(He plays song 'दिल दे दिया है, जान तुझे देंगे, दग़ा नहीं करेंगे सनम. रब्ब दी कसम यारा रब्ब दी कसम." 

Boy : साले, किसी पुरानी दुश्मनी का बदला ले रहा है क्या? 

Friend : क्या हो गया

Boy : यार पहले ही याद आ रही है, ऐसे गाने चला कर तू और मार ले मेरी. 

Friend : अच्छा ठीक है, senti ना हुआ कर    

(Stops the song.) 

ये ले, कर दिया बंद.

(Silence. Both of them sipping from their drink, eating peanuts.) 

कुछ भी बोल भाई, दारु में  BP best है                                                             

Boy : सही में....smooth जा रही है बिलकुल. नशे भी मस्ताने हो रहे हैं. (pause) चल, कोई मस्त सा गाना लगा, डांस करते हैं bhen****. 

Friend (happily, cautiously) : sure?

Boy : क्या.... अब इस में भी sure जैसा क्या है... 

Friend : अच्छा, लगा रहा हूँ.... (searching for song in laptop) अम्म्म..... 

(Just then, his phone kept on the table rings.)

Boy : अबे! 

(He rises to pick up phone.)

Friend : किसका है  

Boy : उसी का है... (Picks up) हल्लो हल्लो..... (pause) हल्लो....

(Friend asking in signs what's up. He signs back that there is no reply from other side.) 

हल्लो....जान.... हल्लो.... 

(Sound of sobbing heard.)

अरे, रो रहे हो तुम. जान... नहीं जान... ऐसे ना करो बेबी.  

GF (over phone) (sobbing) : मैं कहीं ना जा रही जान.

BF : हाँ तो, कौन कह रहा है तुम्हें जाने को.

GF (over phone) : मैं जा ही नहीं सकती जान. 5 घंटे दूर रहने में ही मेरी जान चली गई. मैं नहीं रह सकती जान तुमसे अलग.          

(He looks at friend. Signs that he's going to balcony, and will be back shortly.)

BF : yea baby, I know. 

(Signs to him to pass the drink. He passes him the drink. He goes out on the balcony. The friend plays the song 'Wake me up when september ends', and starts surfing facebook. Then sticks earphones in the audio jack, and starts listening through earphones.) 

(The boy returns. The friend sees him. Removes the earphones.) 

Friend : क्या हुआ? मामला ok है?

Boy : हाँ भाई, हो गया settle. 

Friend : यार, थोड़ा पहले कॉल कर लेती! बोतल तो ना खरीदनी पड़ती. (They grin.) वैसे अब क्या दिमाग में आ गई उसके, क्या कह रही थी.

Boy : पता नहीं, कभी कहती है space चाहिए, फिर उसे याद आ जाती है... पता नहीं क्या बकचोदी है..... पहले पैग बना यार एक.

(The friend pours another drink for both of them. They sit and drink.)   

सॉरी सोनी.....(a short note on naxalism)

एक गाँव में भूखे किसानों के पास ज़मीन नहीं थी. ज़मींदार अपनी मर्ज़ी से ज़मीन क्यूँ देने लगे. किसानों ने हथियार उठा लिए. गिने-चुने अमीरों को मार डाला. सरकार ने पुलिस भेजी. कई लाशें वापस आई. बात नहीं बनी तो सरकार ने उसी गाँव के लोगों को बन्दूक चलाना सिखाया, जिस में बहुत से बच्चे भी थे. महीने के 1500 रूपये दे कर बोला कि इन आतंकियों को मार गिराओ. सरकार ने कानून में भी परिवर्तन किया ताकि उनकी आवाजें अख़बार से दुनिया तक न पहुंचे, आदमी कहीं पर विद्रोह न कर सके, यूनियन न बना सके, पुलिस किसी को भी पकड़ सके. इस गाँव की मिट्टी में बहुत खनिज थे. चाहती तो सरकार खुद वहाँ mining करती, engineers को तनख्वाह पर रखती, वहाँ के लोगों को रोज़गार देती, मुनाफे में हिस्सा देती. पर कौन इतनी दिक्कत उठाए. उन्होंने वेदांता को बुलाया, साउथ कोरिया से POSCO आई, टाटा एस्सार को बुलाया. उन्हें liberalisation से छूट दी, कारखाने बनाने में मदद की. जंगल काटे, ज़मीन लूटी, किसी ने आवाज़ उठाई तो उसे अपने बुलडोज़र से रौंद दिया. पुलिस की अमीरों से पटने लगी. कौन उन्हें रोकने वाला था. औरतों की इज्ज़त लूटी गयी, आदिवासियों के सर काट दिए. अपने हक के लिए लड़ने वाले उन किसानो को पूरी दुनिए की नज़र में आतंकवादी करार कर दिया गया. naxalite militant का पर्यायवाची शब्द बन गया. एक अध्यापिका ने पुलिस की इन ज़्यादतियों के खिलाफ आवाज़ उठाई तो उसे पकड़ कर उसके गुप्त अंगों में पुलिस के SP ने पत्थर भर दिए. अदालत से गुहार लगायी तो अदालत ने सरकार को जवाब देने के लिए 1.5 महीने का समय दिया, जिस दौरान उसे उन्ही पुलिस वालों के पास रखा गया, बिजली के शॉक दिए गए. 

activists ने आवाज़ उठाई, पीटीशन साइन किये. चर्चा हुई एक coffee शॉप में बैठ कर जहाँ की कॉफ़ी, गिलास, फ़र्नीचर सब कुछ उसी जंगल उसी खनिज का बना हुआ है. मैं कुछ नहीं कर सकता क्यूंकि मैं, एक पढ़ा-लिखा नौजवान, उन्ही में से किसी एक कंपनी में नौकरी करता हूँ. रुपया कमाता हूँ, 5 दिन ऑफिस, वीकेंड पर शराब, सिनेमा, पार्टी function, घूमना, फोटो खींचना, फेसबुक पर अपलोड करना, tag करना, "We had fun', उस को LIKE और कमेन्ट करने वालों को thank you dear :) बोलना, busy रहता हूँ. 5 दिन काम के बाद दिमाग को कूल करने के लिए मस्ती भी तो चाहिए. टीवी पर 'झलक दिखला जा' का नया सीज़न शुरू हुआ है, IPL के टूर्नामेंट. 

वैसे मैं बहुत बड़ा देशभक्त हूँ, पाकिस्तान को गाली देता हूँ, पाकिस्तानियों का मजाक उड़ाने को ई-मेल पर चुटकले भेजता हूँ. मैं उस जंगल के खनिज से बनी हुई मेरी जरुरत का सामान इस्तेमाल करना कैसे बंद कर दूँ, विदेशी कंपनी के पिज्जा burger खाना कैसे छोड़ूं. कोक , पेप्सी, कुरकुरे, चिप्स, मैगी, पास्ता, बटर स्कोच मूस केक, और ज्यादा और ज्यादा, बनाते जाओ, मैं खाता जाऊंगा. कुछ वक़्त बाद अमेरिका जाना है, आदत तो होनी चाहिए. starbucks coffee के भारत में आने के इंतज़ार में हूँ, मज़ा आता है MORE, RELIANCE फ्रेश, FOOD COURTS, हुक्का पार्लर में, महंगी beer में, 5-स्टार होटल्स, AC restaurant जहाँ हम बर्थडे मनाते हैं, touch फ़ोन के नए हैण्डसेट, बड़ी बड़ी कार, वो भी आजकल एक काफी नहीं, कम से कम 2-3 कार, लैपटॉप, MALL में घूमना, किसानों की ज़मीन पर बने मेरे शानदार अपार्टमेन्ट में जो सरकार lucky draw में निकालती है, आदिवासियों के खून से सने हुए खनिज से बने इस हरेक सामान से ज़िन्दगी मस्त है. मैं कैसे इस्तेमाल करना छोड़ूं, क्यूँ छोड़ूं, रुपया कमाता हूँ खरीदता हूँ. वैसे भी कोई activist मुझे ये सब छोड़ने को नहीं कहता. अब गाँधी का non-cooperation movement थोड़े न हो रहा है, बल्कि सरकार खुद agriculture की subsidies हटा कर इस consumerist lifestyle और capitalistic system को promote कर रही है. मेरे अकेले के छोड़ने से क्या होगा. और वैसे भी अगर mining नहीं होगी, किसानो की ज़मीनें हड़प कर उनका रोज़गार नहीं छीना जाएगा तो flats कैसे बनेंगे, malls कैसे बनेंगे, देश की तरक्की कैसे होगी, GDP कैसे बढेगा. फिर भी बेचारे भूखे लोगों के लिए मैं महसूस करता हूँ. सरकार को गाली देता हूँ. मैं इस तरह के स्टेटस LIKE करता हूँ, चाहे तरुण की मौत हो या सोनी के ऊपर होते ज़ुल्म या आदिवासियों की कराहें, सब LIKE करता हूँ. कमेन्ट करता हूँ 'How sad!' इस से ज्यादा और क्या करूँ, खुद की ज़िन्दगी से फुर्सत नहीं है. ये सब सोच कर दिमाग ख़राब हो गया है, एक बीयर पी कर आता हूँ. Sorry सोनी....