वक़्त की फितरत

 

वक़्त से दिल को लगा तो  ले मगर

वक़्त की फितरत है बदल जाता है

दिल बेचारा, मायूस  हो जाये तो 

फ़िर मुश्किल ही संभल पाता है

हम भी कभी तो बरामदे में बैठ कर 

वक़्त बदलते देखने का हुनर सीख लेंगे

दिल को वक़्त की गिरफ्त से आज़ाद कर के 

आरामकुर्सी पे, अलसाए तमाशाई बन के 

वक़्त की करवाटों का लुत्फ़ लेंगे

और तब वक़्त को मुनासिब लगा तो

एक आध लम्हा  उस से दिल भी लगा लेंगे,

मगर वक़्त की फितरत है बदल जाता है

Bike Ride and Spotty the Street Dog

It was many years ago, I remember it vaguely.

I had just learned to ride a bicycle. I will not tell what age I was. Just that I was still considered in the kids team by my family and neighbors.

I was a little afraid to ride the bicycle. But it was also a lot of fun, sprinting on the bicycle on the empty road while the cold wind bathes the face with freshness. The joy of riding was greater than the fear of riding the bicycle.

But at that age there was another fear which had no solution. That was the fear of street dogs. In the hindi movie Sholay*, Veeru warned not to dance in front of dogs (basanti en Kutton ke samne mat Nachna) but did not tell how big a risk it is to ride a bicycle in front of dogs. If he had warned then this story might not have happened.

Remember, when the street dogs, tired of the barking most of the morning, are seen lazing in the corner of the street, they are not really lazing around. They are just bored, because hardly anyone would come out in the street on a summer afternoon. And they're just looking for someone to come and entertain them.

One such summer afternoon, the newfound joy in riding compelled me to take the bicycle

in the street. There was so much enthusiasm in the heart to ride on the bicycle, that this Arjun# saw the emptiness of the street like a bird's eye, even that Arjun did not see what was around the bird and this Arjun (me) also did not see anything more than the empty inviting street. There must have been some twigs and leaves in his destiny, but for me there were dogs sitting there. Waiting for someone like me to come and make their afternoon enjoyable.

Sitting on the bicycle, I started paddling soon the wind was swooshing past my ears as if talking to me. This Arjun (me) was so engrossed in talking to the wind that he did not even realize when the dogs had left their corner. Then after a few minutes I was faced with the truth, when I realized that I was riding the cycle not for my fun but for the entertainment of the dogs. That moment of realization turned the fun of cycling in the afternoon to a game of life and death in a moment. That is when I learnt that many things could inspire kids to rise above themselves, which are not mentioned in any books. I swear I have never ridden a bicycle at that speed before.

And one by one where my cycle was leaving behind many streets of the city, one by one

the dogs were also returning in desperation. And after 10 minutes only me and Spotty were left. His inspiration was probably bigger than mine. Both of our legs were getting tired, and our speed was decreasing, but probably it was impossible for either one of us to stop.

This went on for a few more minutes and then his stubbornness started taking a toll on my life. The gap between the cycle and Spotty was narrowing, and he suddenly pounced, probably with all his might. After all, I was a child, how could have I saved my self, so when he pounced, I fell in a huff.

Now the scene on the road was that I fell panting in a corner. My limbs getting weak, probably like Arjun must have been while lifting Gandiv # in the battlefield. Some distance away is my bicycle. On the other side of the bicycle is Spotty. We both are looking at each other through the cycle in the middle. Now the question is what does he want? Spotty is a city dog, not a predator at all. He grew up eating stale bread that my mother has been feeding him and his buddies over the years. He also knows that he is not a Predator. If he is not the predator, then I am not the prey. And if all this is true then why be afraid? Then my mind shifted spotlight on the bicycle at the center stage of this scene. But what will he do with the bicycle? I asked in my head.

I laughed out loud and asked him, Now you have caught it so go take it too, the gesture was towards the bicycle. He understood my joke. He got up, smelled the bicycle, and returned towards the lane where this chase had started.

I got up, dusted off my clothes, picked up my bicycle, slowly started walking towards home. That moment I learnt, that when the dog chases your bike, he has no clue what he will do, if he catches it.

If you observe people criticizing you without any reason, just remember the scene narrated above. And ask yourself, if they stop this cycle, and even pull you down, will they be able to ride the bike themselves. (And of course, here by bike, I mean the task or act on which such people are criticizing you and pulling you down) If the answer is no, then ride your cycle carefree, enjoy the wind on your face, and when some such person pulls you down, then look in their eyes smile and ask, "Now what?". After this, pick up the cycle with confidence, ride it again and then enjoy it, until someone else some other day may pounce. The joy of life can also found in such moments.

  

·        *Sholay – Most iconic hindi movie from seventies

·        # Arjun – Greatest Archer and Prince from Mahabharta (Hindu Scriptures)

·        Gandiv – Arjun’s Bow that won him many battles (but during the Battle of Mahabharta, Arjun started having self-doubt hence the reference of Weak limbs while lifting Gandiv, his Bow)

साइकिल और चितकबरा

 IF you are not able to read in Hindi this story's english translation is at https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2022/12/bike-ride-and-spotty-street-dog.html 

बहुत साल पहले की बात है, कुछ धुंदली सी याद है.

मैंने नया नया साइकिल चलाना सीखा था. तब मेरी उम्र क्या थी वो मैं नहीं बताऊंगा. बस इतना कि मैं अभी भी घर और मोहल्ले में बच्चों वाली टीम में था.

साइकिल चलाना थोड़ा मुश्किल लगता था इस लिए थोड़ा थोड़ा डर था मन मे. पर मज़ा भी बहुत आता था, ठंडी ठंडी हवा से चेहरे को नहलाते हुए खाली रास्ते पे तेज़ी से साइकिल भगाना. साइकिल का मजा, साइकिल के डर से कहीं बड़ा था.

 पर उस उम्र में एक और डर था जिसका कोई हल नहीं था. वो था गली के कुत्तों का डर. शोले में वीरू जी ने कुत्तों के सामने ना नाचने की ताकीद तो दी पर यह नहीं बताया कि कुत्तों के सामने साइकिल चलाना कितना बड़ा जोखिम है. बताते तो शायद यह कहानी ना बनती

 गली के सब कुत्ते गर्मी की दोपहर में दिन की भोंका भोंकी से थक कर जब गली के नुक्कड़ में सुस्ताते दीखते हैँ, तब दरअसल वह  सुस्ता नहीं रहें होते, पर उब कर बैठे होते हैं, क्यों कि गर्मी कि दोपहर में कम ही कोई बाहर आता है. और उन्हें मनोरंजन के लिए किसी की तलाश होती हैं

 उस दिन साइकिल के नये नये मज़े ने मुझे छुट्टी के दिन भरी दोपहर में मजबूर कर दिया गली में साइकिल ले कर निकलने को. दिल में इतनी उमंग थी साइकिल पे उड़ने की, कि इस अर्जुन ने गली का खालीपन देखा चिड़िया  की आँख कि तरह, आस पास क्या था वह उस अर्जुन ने भी नहीं देखा था और इस अर्जुन ने भी नहीं देखा. उसकी किस्मत मे कुछ टहनिया , पत्ते रहें होंगे, पर मेरे लिए उब के बैठे कुत्ते थे. इस इतज़ार में कि कोई मुझ सा आये तो उनका दोपहर का मज़ा बने.

 साइकिल पे बैठ के मैंने पाव चलाये और हवा से गुफ़्तगू शुरू हो गयी. अर्जुन हवा से बात करने में इतना मशगूलहुआ कि कब कुत्ते अपना कोना छोड़ चुके थे इस का पता भी ना लगा. फिर कुछ मिनट बाद सच से सामना हुआ, जब समझ आयी कि मैं साइकिल अपने लिए नहीं कुत्तो के मनोरंजन के लिए चला रहा था. फिर क्या था वो दोपहर कि साइकिल मस्ती एक लम्हे में जिंदगी और मौत का खेल बन गयी. उस दिन समझ में आया कि कई  चीज़ें बच्चों को प्रेरणा दें सकती हैं, अपने आप से ऊपर उठने की, जिनका ज़िक्र किताबों में नहीं होता. कसम से मैंने इतनी तेज़ साइकिल पहले कभी नहीं चलाई थी.

और एक एक कर के जहाँ मेरी साइकिल शहर की कई गलियों को पीछे छोड़ रही थी, वहीँ एक एक कर के कुत्ते भी हताश हो वापिस लौट रहें थे. और 10 मिनट बाद सिर्फ मैं, और चितकबरा रह गये. उसकी प्रेरणा शायद मुझ से भी बड़ी थी. पाँव थक रहे थे हम दोनों के, और रफ़्तार कम हो रही थी, पर शायद रुकना दोनों के लिए नामुमकिन था.

 कुछ और मिनट यह चला और फिर उसकी ज़िद मेरी जान पे भारी पड़ने लगी. साइकिल और चिकबरे में फांसला कम हो रहा था, और वो अचानक झपटा, शायद अपनी सारी ताकत लगा के. मैं आखिर बच्चा था कितना बचता, वो झपटा तो मैं हड़बड़ा के गिर गया.

 अब सडक पे मंज़र यह था कि एक कोने में मैं  गिरा हांफ रहा हूँ. अंग शिथिल पड़ रहें हैं शायद  जैसे अर्जुन के रणभूमि में गाण्डीव उठाते समय रहें होंगे. कुछ दूर मेरी साइकिल है. साइकिल के उस और है चितकबरा. हम दोनों एक दूसरे को साइकिल के बीच से देख रहें हैं. अब सवाल यह है कि इसे चाहिए क्या. शहर का कुत्ता हैं, शिकारी कतई नहीं. मेरी मम्मी कि फ़ेंकी ब्रेड पे पला है. उसे भी पता है वह शिकारी नहीं हैं. अगर वह शिकारी नहीं तो मैं शिकार नहीं. और अगर यह सब सच है तो इतनी दौड़ क्यों? तब आँखों के बीच से दिखा साइकिल. पर साइकिल का यह क्या करेगा? 

 मैं ज़ोर से हंसा और उस से कहा, अब पकड़ लिया तो चला भी लो इसे, इशारा साइकिल के तरफ था. उसे मेरा
मज़ाक समझ आ गया था. वो उठा साइकिल को सूंघा और झेप के अपनी गली तो तरफ मुड़ गया. 

 मैंने उठ के कपड़े झाड़े, और साइकिल उठाई, धीरे धीरे घर की तरफ चलाना शुरू किया. और तब जान गया कि कुत्ता जब पीछे भागता है तो पता उसे भी नहीं होता कि वह साइकिल पकड़ लेगा तो करेगा क्या?

 अगर कभी कोई बिना बात के आपकी टांग खींचे या टोके, तो आप मेरा यह किस्सा याद करें और खुद से पूछें, अगर यह साइकिल रोक लेंगे, और  गिरा भी देंगे, पर क्या वह खुद साइकिल चला पाएंगे. (और ज़ाहिर है यहाँ साइकिल से मुराद है वो काम जिस पे ऐसे लोग आपको टोक रहे हों)  अगर लगे नहीं, तो बेफिक्र साइकिल पे पैर चलाये, चेहरे पर हवा का लुत्फ़ लें, और जब वह झपट के आपको गिरा दें, तो उनकी आँखों में आँख डाल कर पूछें, " अब क्या ? ". इस के बाद मज़े से साइकिल फिर उठाये, फिर चलाएं और फिर मज़ा ले, जब तक कोई दूसरा झपटा ना मारे. जिंदगी का मज़ा ऐसे लम्हो में भी मिल जाता है. 

From back of my Notebook - 9

Every few months I will look at the last pages of my notebook and see these scribbles. At times not even remembering why I wrote those, but some of them feel right and worth starting a dialogue about. From time to time I share those and here is a 9^th serving of those (also links for past 8 below for re-taste if you will ) . These are random and not all interconnected, but like I said; scribbles…..

Let me know your thoughts.

  

Rebel with cause is a rebel. Rebel without cause is nuisance.

Sometimes it is better to provide a cause to the rebel than addressing the nuisance.

Simplifying complexity is a complex undertaking.

Complexity is natural, simplifying takes effort.

Accepting complex is simple and mostly stagnates the growth.

Only the caterpillar who tackles the complex walls of pupa can become the butterfly.

Mind has more power than physical self
Spirit has more power than mind
Still most get so engrossed in material and mind that spirit stays untouched.

Those who touch spirit know the futility of material reliance.

 Being spiritual not necessarily is abandoning material comforts, but stopping to identify with them and stopping to glorify material gratification.

Be grateful of what you have received

Be hopeful for what you May receive and
Be mindful of what you have lost
Be watchful of what you do
Be careful of what you wish
 

I am still as naïve as I ever was (so the seeker continues to seek.)

 I control what I don’t say but whatever I say controls me.

 The gift of speech can be a curse too.

 

  

Last 8 servings form back of my notebook Below, in reverse chronological order

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2022/02/from-back-of-my-notebook-8.html

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2021/09/from-back-of-my-notebook-7.html

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2020/09/6th-page-from-back-of-my-notebook.html

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2018/03/a-5th-serving-from-back-of-my-notebook.html

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2017/12/4th-serving-from-back-of-my-notebook.html

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2017/03/3rd-serving-from-back-of-my-notebook.html

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2014/10/morefrom-back-of-my-notebook.html

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2013/03/back-of-my-notebook.html

 

 

कई सालों बाद

वो  रास्ते जिन पर मैं बढ़ा नहीं
वो मोड़ जिन्हे मैं मुड़ा नहीं
वो काम कभी जो किये नहीं
वो नाम कभी जो लिए नहीं
वो अच्छे थे या नहीं, क्या पता
पर अब दिल से माफ़ी उनको

शायद कोई रास्ता मंज़िल का होता
शायद कोई मोड़ महफ़िल का होता
शायद किसी काम से सिद्धि होती
शायद किसी नाम से दोस्ती होती
कुछ भला होता या नहीं, क्या पता
पर अब दिल से माफ़ी उनको

तुम पूछो तो कहता हूँ
कि क्या  सोचता रहता हूँ
किसी राह बढ़ जाता क्या?
किसी मोड़ मुड़ जाता क्या?
कोई नया काम कर जाता क्या?
कोई नया नाम पढ़ जाता क्या? 
तो क्या अब कुछ बदला होता?
अच्छा होता या नहीं , क्या पता
पर अब दिल से माफ़ी सबको

Some point in life one thinks about what one didn't do and wonders if any of those "not done" acts could have meant something? The confusion can be very personal. ................ My lines above are just an offer to make peace with that confusion....... Just offer an apology to past and future to enjoy the present.... Do you agree?

A Mongoose, A Mother and the Reality

 “Perception is reality”, my friend said it again. She says it a lot. She is not the only one endorsed to that thought. When leaders with strong following accept this statement, then majority starts to see perception as reality. The problem I see with this thinking is simple. Perception is Not Reality. Perception is deceptive. One key job of leaders in any organization is to ensure that perceptions are not accepted as reality. Otherwise, it can be damaging for the teams.

We all have heard about the elephant and blind men story and know how accepting perception as reality is akin to being blind.

Today I am here to share another folk tale from India on the subject.

There once was a village woman longing to become a mother. One day she met a saint who could read her mind. The saint told her that she needs to start caring for someone unconditionally to be blessed with motherhood. Look for opportunities to provide unconditional caring.

Few days she stayed lost in that thought but could not see any signs. Then one night it rained a lot, next morning she stepped towards her wheat fields and found a tiny baby mongoose, drenched in mud and struggling. His family must have been washed in the flash floods of last night. She felt immense sorrow for the helpless creature and caringly picked it from mud. She cleaned it and fed it. She brought it home to care for, till it develops strength enough. But soon the mongoose started following her as her own child and became a part of the family.

Mongoose is a dangerous animal, her friend said, but she loved the thing so much that she will not accept any of such fears.

With time as her motherly love for the mongoose grew, as the saint has prophesied, she was blessed with a child. She gave birth to a beautiful and healthy boy. Her house was filled with joy. She did see the mongoose as the angel, who was given to her to exercise unconditional care to be blessed as a mom. The joy in the house was through the roof. She will play with the mongoose running around, while the baby will giggle seeing them play.

Her friend was even more skeptical now, and continuously asking her to abandon the mongoose, before the wild animal harms the little baby. But she loved the mongoose so much that she will never listen.

One day when the baby was lying down in the back courtyard, and the mongoose playing around him, she heard a knock on the main door. She ran to answer, it was the same friend who has warned about the mongoose so many times. She had come asking for some herbs to make an organic concoction to soothe her itchy throat. The mother went to kitchen to fetch the herbs. While she returned at the main door with the herbs, they both heard loud grunt of mongoose and a sharp cry of the baby. She got worried as the friend screamed, “seems your mongoose has attacked your child” They both ran to the courtyard, and right before the threshold there was the mongoose smeared in blood, seemed that he has just hunted. “Oh God, he killed your child” the neighbor cried. The mom had heard this so

many times and understood that against all her feelings for the mongoose, this wretched beast has killed her son, like her neighbor had prophesized a hundred times. She grabbed a bamboo and hit the mongoose hard on his head, the mongoose was dead in just one blow. She felt that she had avenged her child’s murder, but still feeling guilty of not listening to her neighbor sooner, she fell on floor and started to cry. And then she heard the baby croon.

She ran into the courtyard and saw that her baby was alive and well and giggling, while there was a venomous cobra lying dead a few feet away, killed by sharp teeth and paws of the mongoose. So, the blood on the mongoose was not her child’s, it was the cobra’s. The mongoose did not kill her son but saved her son from being killed. She had lost her angel, her blessing that had given her so much joy for many months. The one who taught her to care unconditionally. The one whom she had saved and loved like a mother. She had killed him because of the perception, the perception that was built based on the constant suggestion from her neighbor that the mongoose will harm her son.

It was too late; the dead mongoose cannot be brought back to life. The reality was very different from the perception. Perception was never reality.

 

Epilogue Mongoose Story: The child was still small and mother still busy. The neighbor never showed her face. Monsoon season was approaching and that is when, in village like this, the snakes can come to courtyards. The risk was real. The one who could stand between the snake and the child, that mongoose was dead. That was reality.

Epilogue Blog: My friend now knows that when you are in a significant position in any team or organization, you always have a responsibility to intentionally disperse the cloud of perception so that reality is visible to all. Afterall, however real it may appear, still perception is not reality. 

 

Note: And my twist to Elephant and blind men story below -

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2014/05/the-elephant-and-blind-men-fable-retold.html

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2014/05/the-elephant-and-blind-men-fable-retold_15.html

https://nuancesofbeing.blogspot.com/2014/05/the-elephant-and-blind-men-fable-retold_18.html

 

खोखले ?

"खुद ही खाली हो तुम

किसी को क्या दे पाओगे?"

ऐसा सुना सुना के हमारे

खालीपन की जब हंसी हुई

आंखे झुका, हम मुस्कुराये

दबी आवाज़ हलके से बोले,

"लकड़ी जो खोखली लगती थी,आखिर 

वही तो बांसुरी हुई"

🙏

रास्तो के कायल

                                   रहनुमा उनको मिलें

जिन्हे मंज़िले दरकार हों

हम रास्तो के कायल हैँ

हमको कहाँ ले जाइएगा?

पेड़ो, पंछियो, नदियों की 

आज़ादी से मुतासिर हैं हम  

रसमों रवाज़ों की जंज़ीर से

हमें  कैसे  बाँध पाइएगा?

दोस्ती से, प्यार से, कुछ मीठे

बोल चाल से, हम बिके बेभाव.

ताकत, दौलत के  ज़ोर पे 

हमको न खरीद पाइएगा 

कभी आ मिलो इन रास्तो पे

जहाँ लाख कहानियाँ बनती हैँ

मंज़िलो पे हमें ना ढूँढिये 

कहीं राह पे टकराइएगा 

और रहनुमा उनको मिलें 

जिन्हे मंज़िले दरकार हों

हम रास्तो के कायल हैँ

हमको कहाँ ले जाइएगा?

Happy Place

Pristine beach, turquoise waters, white sand, gentle cradling waves, calming breeze and warming Sun, all that on west side of the island.

Rocky shoreline, deep blue waters, jagged volcanic rock, waves roaring as they crash on the rocks, gusty wind and toasty rays from the Sun, that was the east side.

This is the small island of Aruba. And as any native will proudly call, "one happy island"

The contrast between the two coasts of the island just with 2 to 1 mile between the two coasts is amazing. However, if you ask me which is the better coast, I will not be able to decide. Both had their own charm, their own beauty, their own personality and the land between them binds the two ends with a perfectly harmonious balance.

In the short span of 3 days, I was lucky to enjoy both shores and the contrast. Be it calming walks in the wet, soft sand at the beach on the west shore or adrenaline pumping UTV ride on the rocky terrain of the east, they both were amazingly unique and breathtaking.

Witnessing the evening sun hastily moving to set behind the sea on the west coast in the evening. 

Followed by next morning waiting patiently under the light house, for a reluctant sun to lazily wakeup after last night's slumber from the east.

The food and the hospitality offered by the locals. The laughs and the comradery shared by friends and coworkers. All that and more in those 3 days. I and my partner in all crimes (and good deeds) vowed to return. To soak more in the goodness that the One Happy Island offers.

The beauty, the contrast between the personalities of the coasts, the serenity of morning and the celebrations of evening that it offers, makes me feel that my experience in Aruba is truly what life is about. Respecting the diversity, accepting the differences and offering the bridge between the extremes that the small island of Aruba does to harmonize the opposite characteristics of its two shores. That, in my opinion is the reason why this is called "One Happy Island"

What do you think?

 

Caterpillar Story

He was moving slowly from one end of the leaf to the other, consuming the green goodness while he moved. Life seemed so good. He was happy at the food at his disposal, the tree had an unlimited supply of leaves. The sun filtering through the leaves was warming his back and the breeze was cradling him on the leaf to a gentle slumber. Life indeed is good he felt.

Few days of good life, and he grew significantly in size, and started feeling somewhat uneasy on the move and something was happening to his body. The leaves didn’t taste as good the crawl from one end to another appeared monotonous. He wanted to run faster, but he had to limit himself to slow crawl. Many leaves that he had enjoyed around him were looking ugly due to the large holes where he had eaten them.

While he was trying to walk faster, during those days he started developing this webby layer around him. As if a giant spider is trying to consume him in its woven prison. The layer consumed him very fast, and he was imprisoned. He wanted to break free, but he could not. He felt lost, suffocated, missing the glimpse of Sun light and the green of the leaves. He couldn’t even feel the breeze on his back anymore because he was encased in the thick shell that was all around him. I need to break free. He cried. I need some help; please someone; free me from this menacing prison. He screamed and he was sure that he was heard, but there was no help anywhere. He was trying to push himself out of the shell that has encased him.

Every waking hour he will push the shell and no avail, he will get tired and sleep and then wake up only to push again. He could feel his tiny feet getting stretched due to continuous pushing. His back was hurting and feeling funny with all the scratching and pushing against the walls. He was feeling certain that it is cruel joke that fate has played on him, and he is going to die of suffocation in this shell that surrounds him. He couldn’t count how long ago this confinement and torture had started for him. He did miss the days of freedom crawling over lush green leaves and nibbling on them to feed himself. He did miss the light and the air.

Then one day when he had given up all hope, the prison walls moved. His push and his prayers had cracked a small side of the wall. He started hitting hard with his stretched legs while pushing with his, now so soft back. The shell walls finally seemed to be giving way to his effort. He kept on pushing with all his might. Please help me he screamed to quicken the process. He knew there were a few outside that shell who could help him in his misery, but no one came to his rescue. He painfully learnt that he was all by himself to push through. He cried and he got angry but didn’t stop pushing, and then the shell cracked open fully, he wanted to crawl out. But he learnt that he was not a caterpillar anymore to crawl. He was a butterfly with agile legs and beautiful wings. He could fly now. Fly to any tree and any flower he wished. The sun felt warmer and the breeze more pleasant than ever.

The torture of the caterpillar in confinement was only to make him a beautiful butterfly, to totally transform him to his higher self.

No caterpillar in confinement and being suffocated should remember this story and know that the confinement is just for the sake of transformation. Because if someone remembers and stop pushing and trying to be free of that confinement then the transformation into butterfly will never happen.

Such is the nature. Such is the will of God.

And this is not just the story of a caterpillar.

  

उलझी पतंग

 This past weekend I went with my kids for a kite flying festival. While we were enjoying the kites that floated in the air, I just saw some unfortunate ones stuck in the trees. Felt like they needed someone to tell their story and I wrote the lines below. As all kites are made with the purpose to fly and not to be stuck. Hope you like the thought…..

है पतंग, मांझे से बंध कर

उड़ने को ही निकली थी

बादल पंछी खुली हवा को

छूने को ही निकली थी

पर जब कहीं झोंके से टकरा 

पेड़ के काँटों में उलझी तो

उड़ने के सपने टूट गए हैँ 

उस सच को जब समझी तो

हसरत से आसमां को देख

लब से एक सिसकी निकली तो

मांझे ने भी सुनी नहीं

उड़ती पतंगे आसमां में

आठखेलिया करती रही

उलझी पतंग काँटों में से

सिसकियाँ भरती रही

आपस में एक दूसरे की

बात भी ना सुन पाई

दोनों में दुरी का होना

किस्मत का ही खेल हुआ

कौन गलत तो कौन सही

यह मुद्दा ही बे मेल हुआ

किस्मत बदलेंगी तो हवा

थोड़ा रुख बदल भी लेगी

काँटों में उलझी डोरी

फिर एक बार  सुलझ भी लेगी

तब सपने के आसमां को 

एक छलांग में छू लेना

आज हो उलझी ले, कल उड़ना

उड़ के बादल तो सेहला देना

और अपनी उड़ती सखियों  के

पास जा के बस मुस्का देना

सांझे सपने की साँझ को

फिर एक बार जगा भी देना

और उड़ना खुले गगन में

वही  तुम्हारा गणतंव्य हैँ 

Slow cooked Delicacy , is it worth?

 This is a borrowed thought. I was discussing with my brother some topics and he gave this analogy of slow cooked food in relation to patience. I have tried to take the cue and build on that thought along with a question. 

Please read and let me know if you ever ponder upon such questions? And if yes then what is your answer?

You are hungry and want to eat something nice quickly. But one of your parents is cooking something. Be patient they say, this is a recipe you will love when ready, but you have to wait. How long? You ask impatiently.

As long as it takes is the answer you hear.

And then after all the waiting and getting upset and hunger and impatience increasing, the Dish is served in a platter for you. It looks great and it smells great, you take a bite, and it tastes like a bite of heaven. You look at your parent who served you the Dish and do a nod of gratitude. The parent nods back with a smile. posing an unsaid question. So, it was worth the wait, right? You respond using a smile on your face, that says yes.

 Life is like that, sometimes. You are in a fix and need a solution, but almighty is preparing that perfect solution for you. You get impatient and edgy. Trying to come to terms with the reason for the wait and prolonging of the pain. 

You try some simple 'snacks" to help your hunger which are harshly

snatched away from your hands, even the nuts that you had saved and stashed in your coat pockets are taken away from you. And when you feel almost certain that there might be nothing for you, an awesome solution is delivered, from almost nowhere. And you look up, nod a thanks to God. An acknowledging smile is felt in your heart.

 I’ve seen this happen to me sometimes and also to people around me so many times.

 But every time you are impatient of hunger and waiting for your parents to finish the slow cooked delicacy for you, the wait is never easy. On such days few thoughts cross mind,

• What if one loses appetite while waiting for the dish to be ready?
• What if the parent gets unhappy with persistent asking and stops cooking and let you stay hungry?
• What if one is completely consumed by hunger and perishes before the slow cooked dish is even ready?

 I don’t know the answer, but I do know the feeling. Also, I know the pain of anticipation while waiting. And I always tell that a parent or almighty will never fail their children, will they?

 And that hope sustains everything. 

 And that anticipation of the miracle is what keeps you, isn't it?