और कितनी उड़ान बाकी है...

This is a strange one from me....written long back, probably sometime in 2010. The interesting thing about this is the first two lines of this poem are not mine.....read them somewhere. They might seem very familiar to you as well and are often quoted by many. As the lines seemed incomplete, tried hard to find the entire poem / nazm and who wrote these lines. Didn't get anything conclusively. Thats when I decided to write my version of the poem & this is how it panned out....

ना जाने और कितनी उड़ान बाकी है

इस परिंदे में अभी जान बाकी है....

हर इम्तेहान से गुज़र कर जाना

अभी और कितने इम्तेहान बाकी है....

पर  खोले तो उड़े यूं कि

फिर किसी हद की हद ना हो

हमको मालूम है इसके सीने में

अभी इतनी आग बाकी है...

उड़ान का वास्ता तो

जिगर से होता है

ये तो बस भरम है की

जिस्म में अभी कितनी जान बाकी है....

जो फिर भी कम हो तो

तेरे लिए हम हवा बन जाएंगे

हमारी आंखों में तेरी शख्सियत की

बहुत आन  बाकी है....

है प्यार बहुत तुझसे

हमें भी ऐ परिंदे

पर ना क़ैद करेंगे तुझे

पिंजड़े में, ना बंधन में

जा पंख फैला उड़ ले

ये सारा आसमां तेरा है

क्योंकि इस ज़मीं पर हम जैसों की

जात अभी बाकी है....


Was reminded of this one today....as it does well to inspire me in my current struggles. Thats the beauty of life....& poetry. Tough phases keep recurring and when a poet looks back at the lines penned in those moments....they keep inspiring him, The Written Word has such far reaching impact...

The End.....A writer's quintessential dillema...fear or hope !

They Say....Creative people & Writers are a weird breed. They draw a lot from their own experiences and observations. I being one of the breed....really wonder often how much 'creativity or imagination'  do writers really display in their works. I feel they are sensitive people who are just good at pouring their heart out on paper using beautiful and strong expressions. A lot of their work is therefore 'semi-autobiographical' at times.

As for being Sensitive....yes....thats for sure can be termed to be an Art in our maddening world with cacophony of materialism, desires or sometimes greed, ambitions and achievement frenzy. Being able to hear the unsaid, read the face expressions, go deeper into the heart.....just stopping by from the mad rush and bothering to care & listen....these probably are the skills that should be praised rather than creativity.

And that's why....more often than not....its the end, the climax, not the start....not the story which is most challenging for the writers. The Stories and the beginnings are often borrowed....but probably they are written and laid on paper....much before there is a definitive end to them. A definitive end in an ongoing life is anyways hard to define.....but the story, the book, needs to have a definitive end. Its this fear of the unknown and the sometimes the fear of the written word being prophetic...is what ails the writer. The more autobiographical the creation....more the fear....more the uncertainty....more the dilemma - whether the end should leave things unsaid....uncertain as in life...or be definitive, should it emanate hope or doom? Should it be closer to the realm of reality....or the end that you dream to live? Would you even be able to live the dream....you so much wish for? The questions keep looming large....much after the end has been decided as well.

And they say....Creative people & Writers are a weird breed.

मुझमें कल्पना की क्षमता कहाँ...

शब्दों के धागों से,

सपनों को बुन

किस्से गढ़ना मुझे नहीं आता |

मैंने तो बस...

जो घटित हुआ, वर्णित किया |

किस्से तो मुझमें तुझमें

बसते हैं,

दिल के कोने में

दुबुक के बैठे,

बाहर आने को व्याकुल,

यथार्थ से भी सच्चे

किस्से...

बस कोई कान लगाकर

सुने तो |

मुझमें बस

शायद कुछ

संवेदनशीलता है...

हमारे इर्द-गिर्द

मिल जाते हैं

कितने सारे किस्से,

भटकते, बिखरे-बिखरे से |

रोजमर्रा की भाग-दौड़ में

कुछ खोये...कुछ सहमे से,

अनसुने...अनकहे,

अधूरे...किस्से |

मैं पास बैठ उनके

टोह लेता हूँ,

हमारे बीच होता है

एक मुखरित शांत वार्तालाप,

और शब्द बह पड़ते हैं...

मैंने तो बस...

जो घटित हुआ, वर्णित किया |

किस्से पूरे करना भी मुझे नहीं आता

कैसे करूँ?

जीवन तो अनंत है ना !

जो जी लिया, वो लिख दिया...

अब अंत कहाँ से लाऊं मैं ?

लेखनी हाथ में ले डरता हूँ

कैसे इसके भावों को रोकूँ,

कहीं उत्सुकता में...

जो लिख दिया,

वो जी ना लूँ...

मैं लेखक किस बात का,

मैंने तो बस...

जो घटित हुआ, वर्णित किया..

Poem Penned on 12th May, 2012