muniya re muniya

The world is small. And some people are meant to run like a loop in your mind and in your life at times. Maybe that is how people come and go. Maybe that is how people meet and stay, sometimes leave. And when there is strong resistance inside your heart about wanting to leave or of wanting to let go, things fall into place without much ado. After they left the movie hall, Muniya and Anaira strolled towards the market. Some sunsilk...Some handkerchiefs...Some vicks...The moment they stepped out of the shop and began walking back, there, Muniya's eyes pointed out at him. Chamkeela stood looking back as if he had already seen and knew where was Muniya. Muniya in utter surprise brought Anaira to meet the stance. Oh yes! It was Chamkeela...But how come? A surge of happiness ran inside Muniya. Chamkeela was someone Muniya could not explain about. Like there are leaves on the tree... strange to the relation. Like a cactus in a desert... unaware of its strangled existence. Like a less tr

[ #1 : NOTES FROM DALHOUSIE ] A clear day is all I wait for after rains. And a few rays of the sun at such a time at Dalhousie would pull you out of your coop. Once they arrive, the monsoons! Misty evenings, white sky, new insects arrive by default. And no wonder why we find all the nearby Punjabis travelling to here during scorching summers. Its a cold charm. "The Pouring Sun...Blazing Summers...All Despite...Dalhousie is respite!" A shower in the early morning with sun peeping by the noon, a white sky follows in the evening for a pleasant walk into the misty road where everything wet succumbs to the dark silent night as if no sign of life till the death of the moon. I walk. Out at 6:45 evening. Or perhaps 7. Its the time of the day I wait for and pray it doesn't rain. Mostly it rains near and about the time if it does so I am almost saved. Call it a near miss, my evening walk and the unpredictable rains. Its the gush of people at the Subhash Chowk on the

And I found myself murmuring during the first rays of the sun. "Teaching is such a noble profession. But you see most of the things have been digitized now and the impact which a teacher had over the students by scratching the chalk on that blackboard has gone missing. That flair of teaching has its own grace." Half sleepy - Half awake : I am not able to make the why and wherefore of it.

मैं हूँ इस दहलीज़ पर, कि समक्ष एक अलग दुनिया है ... जो बुला रही है चीख-चीख कर, जैसे खींच रही है... जानता नहीं आगे क्या है ! बस ... भरोसा है | और शायद उम्मीद... कुछ... खुद से... वही परछाईं आगे बुला रही है , आँखें... मीच रही हैं | पीछे देखूं ... तो जैसे वक़्त की तीखी सूईआं हैं,  जो कभी ... किसी की हुई नहीं | यही अफ़सोस लेकर... मैं बढ़  रहा हूँ ...  कि वो घड़ी रूकती कहीं, तो दो पल मैं भी ठहर पाता, और साथ में इनके यादें हैं...  भर-भर कर... उस एल्बम में, जो फ्रिड्ज के ऊपर रखी है,  कहानियाँ संजोये हुए ... आगे है एक  मौका सा...  बढ़ने  का ...किसी रास्ते पर,  जो बुला रहा है सींच-सींच कर, जैसे रुकने के लिए मैं कभी बना नहीं ! और अब रुका भी हूँ ... तो किस चीज़ पर ? जहाँ पुरानी पतंग और नई डोर,  मिलते हुए दिख रहे हैं | मैं  हूँ ... इस... देहलीज़ पर ...