Khwab--Junoon

Door jo aaj hain
Yaad aatay toh hain

Khwab adhooray sahi
Khwab saharay toh hain

Aaj bhi meri rahain rokti hain
Yaadein teri daman khaenchti hain
Bhool chukay hain jo humain
Yaad aate to hain

Sadyon ke faasle aaj hain darmiaan
Hojain magar jitni bhi doorian

Aap jahaan bhi rahain
Aap humare to hain
Khwab adhooray sahi
Khwab saharay to hain

Jaanay phir kab milain
Tere mere raastay
Aas tootay nahee
Yaad itna rahay

Raat dhalnee to hai
Aane ujalay to hain

To be, or not to be

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action-- Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.

William Shakespeare in Hamlet, one of his finest tragedies.

‘I like you calm, as if you were absent’
--Pablo Neruda

I like you calm, as if you were absent,
and you hear me far-off, and my voice does not touch you.
It seems that your eyelids have taken to flying:
it seems that a kiss has sealed up your mouth.

Since all these things are filled with my spirit,
you come from things, filled with my spirit.
You appear as my soul, as the butterfly’s dreaming,
and you appear as Sadness’s word.

I like you calm, as if you were distant,
you are a moaning, a butterfly’s cooing.
You hear me far-off, my voice does not reach you.
Let me be calmed, then, calmed by your silence.

Let me commune, then, commune with your silence,
clear as a light, and pure as a ring.
You are like night, calmed, constellated.
Your silence is star-like, as distant, as true.

I like you calm, as if you were absent:
distant and saddened, as if you were dead.
One word at that moment, a smile, is sufficient.
And I thrill, then, I thrill: that it cannot be so.

No one writes love poetry like Neruda! I can't imagine what it must be like to read him in Spanish. He uses just some of the most beautiful metaphors. This particular one is from "Viente poemas de amor" and a personal favourite.

Jap
Aad Sach
Jugaad Sach
Hai Bhi Sach
Nanak Hosibhi Sach

True before creation
True through all ages
True also today
Says Nanak, True shall He eternally be.

Guru Nanak in Japji Sahib.

The Flute Boy

It was a few weeks back that I saw the "flute boy". He could not have been older than ten years and although he was short, thin and tired, he had a shine in his eyes. A shine that was his only connection to his childhood.

I could not take my eyes of him. He was carrying a huge heavy bamboo stick around which were tied innumerable stacks of flutes and other little things for children. He walked towards the shop looking worn out. He put his load down and with a sudden careless shine in his eyes, started playing the flute. The tune of, "tujhe dekha toh" from DDLJ was very familiar but adult all of a sudden, yet he played it with such ease!

I was purposely trying to delay what I was there to buy, rapt as I was in listening to the little boy's flute. Another boy walked into the shop with his mother. But he was of course very different; he came from an affluent family. He hopefully had a wonderful childhood ahead of him. He bought loads of chocolates and on the way out insisted on buying a flute. The mother, extremely annoyed and irritated, couldn't care less. Not even looking towards the street child, she bought her son the coveted flute. The flute boy didn't exist for her for he was just part of the scum of the street that she would most willingly want to get rid off. It was almost like he wasn't human for her, but was rather a thing, just like the odd wrapper thrown on the street. He would be swept away unnoticed too.

My heart felt as though it had been taken out, beaten up, and pushed back inside, wounded. Bleeding inside, I felt so helpless. For a second, I wished to go back into my protective shell, my home, and never again be part of such pain that ripped through my entire being. But, thankfully, those feelings lasted only for a second.

It was ironic that in order to give other children a smiling childhood, this poor boy had to sacrifice his. As he picked up his wares and walked off, I stood there stupefied, wondering how long would it be before that light in his eyes fades away and the load that he carries on his slender shoulders becomes too heavy for him.

Yeh Duniya
- Sahir Ludhianvi

Yeh mehlon, ye takhton, ye taajon ki duniya
Yeh insaan ke dushman samaajon ki duniya
Yeh daulat ke bhookhe rivaazon ki duniya

Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaaye toh kya hai
Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaaye toh kya hai

Har ek jism ghayal, har ek rooh pyaasi
Nigaahon mein uljhan, dilon mein udaasi
Yeh duniya hai yaan alam-e-badhavaasi

Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaaye toh kya hai

Jahaan ek khilauna hai inasaan ki hasti
Ye basti hai murda-paraston ki basti
Jahan aur jeevan se hai maut sasti

Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaaye toh kya hai

Javani bhatakti hai bezaar bankar
Javaan jism sajtey hain baazaar bankar
Jahaan pyaar hota hai vyapaar bankar

Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaaye toh kya hai

Yeh duniya jahaan aadmi kuch nahin hai
Wafa kuch nahin, dosti kuch nahin hai
Jahaan pyaar ki qadr hii kuch nahin hai

Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaaye toh kya hai

Jalaa do, jalaa do issey, phoonk daalo yeh duniya
Mere saamne se hata lo yeh duniya
Tumhari hai tum hii sambhalo ye duniya

Ye duniya agar mil bhi jaaye toh kya hai
Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaaye toh kya hai

From Guru Dutt's classic, "Pyaasa", which also happens to be one of my favourite movies.

Nothing

People underestimate "nothing". Everyone is doing "something". Actually, the world is going crazy trying to do something. When I say "something", it has a very conventional meaning: a job, an occupation, a vocation. It's very important I am told. Perhaps it is; but if you already have a roof over your head, some money, do you still need to do something? Every single day, or most days of the week, do you still need to be out 9 to 5? Perhaps if you're passionate about something you would like to, or if you needed the money, but why else? I am reminded of a couplet of Ghalib

"Hazron khwahishein aisi ki har khwahish pe dum nikle
Bahot nikle mere armaan lekin phir bhi kam nikle"

All these desires that well up in the mind. They trouble us. They force us to always do "something".

I have decided for the moment to celebrate the art of doing nothing. The world does not appreciate this art. It is against human nature some would say. I beg to disagree. It's one of the most beautiful arts that delves deep into recesses of the human mind. I, the person, am nothing. I will go into nothingness. Why should I fear it then?

But I know that I will have to do "something" soon. Until then, let me be proud of doing nothing, despite all the disapproving and condescending glances of the world.

Perhaps I am right in thinking so. Or perhaps it is all just a euphamism for laziness?