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

आदतें भी अजीब होती हैं..... (wrote on 30th April, 2009)

(This is my very favourite post, written way back in 2009....posting now)

Once again…a Gulzar masterpiece!!! Recently watched the movie “Ijaazat” quite a few times and each time these lines stick out…the more you think about it….more they echo every moment….more true they seem. Life….isn’t it just a congregation of some habits which we build over time and then just Live by them….& these habits are what finally define us.

And this is so much more apt between two people who have shared their lives together for a good period….(as in the context of the movie as well – note that ‘shared’ is the key word here….its not just living together we are talking of…will come to that later…but its pretty similar to the difference between ‘breathing’ and ‘living’ as I often talk of)….you know each other’s reaction to everything small and big, what one needs when…what would one say to something. Familiarity leads to habits & then we, as people also so often become just each other’s habits and habits we all know are so difficult to get out of….

In the movie…As Naseer muses “आदतें भी अजीब होती हैं.....”, comes a shuttle response from Rekha – “आदतें तो चली भी जाएँ, अधिकार नहीं जाते....”. Now…what does one say to that??? Bang on!!!....

I so much believe…it’s the rights that someone gives you over themselves that define a relationship….and its depth….this is so much more important than just living together!!! (i pick up the above loose thread here)….we might live with someone for ages….and still not know each other much….bcoz we never gave each other the right to explore…..to look deep within ourselves…to question (this….i think is very very important)….to fight…to argue!!! There can not be any love…without these rights….they are almost a pre-requisite…& where there is love…..they come naturally….there need not be any effort made….you just allow the other person of everything….including often to even break your heart now & then J Yes…strangely, I somehow believe….more than all hunky-dory talks….its probably much more important to fight…to argue….to find out the differences thread bare….because in debates…we are more closer to our real selves!!! Can you instantly shout at someone?…..how much right ‘to be yourself’ you have in front of someone without any strings attached? is what finally matures the relationship…defines the rights we have over each other….and these rights slowly transcend into small..big habits….which make up our Life….

& When you share yourself once in this manner…its soooooooooooooooooooo difficult to get yourself back…..one should probably never even try…just let it be…let past be sweet memories……let bygones be bygones….

Finally to wrap-up: Here’s the full version of the golden words….

"साँस लेना भी कैसी आदत है
जिए जाना भी क्या रवायत है
कोई आहट नहीं बदन में कहीं
कोई साया नहीं है आखों में
पाॅव बे-हिस हैं,  चलते जाते हैं
एक सफर जो बेहता रहता है
कितने बरसों से, कितने सदियों से
साँस लेते हैं, जीते रहते हैं
आदतें भी अजीब होती हैं"

Am just in a trance…..whenever I watch this movie…& probably…watching this movie has also become a habit….which in a way defines me at this moment!!!

A Long Hiatus Yet Again.....

Well....my career as a writer and a poet has been soooooooooooooo punctuated. So, I find myself here again after almost 9 years. Not that I didn't write in between this time.....there were quite a few articles, posts and poems that I wrote....but they never found there way to this blog. Will try to fill that in....as and when possible. 

Trying to resurrect this blog once again....& doesn't it go well with the Title. I don't like to create new ones. This page, this title, the webaddress & most importantly the word - Phoenix captures the essence so aptly, that I can't abandon it. Suits my temperament also....the emotional, sensitive person that I am....who often seems to have moved on, but deep within always remembers and keeps the flames burning.

Hope this time I am regular & consistent. Giving it one more chance...

Whenever, I find myself at cross-roads in Life...I turn to my words. My poetry is My Saviour. Guess....once again...its time to Stop, Go Slow, Dig Deep & take some tough calls.

आज शाम बैठा सोच रहा था

एक मुद्दत हुई खुद से मिला नहीं

साँसें तो चल रही हैं

पर एक उम्र हुई मैं जिया नहीं

शोर आखिर इतना था

कुछ आवाज़ें कभी सुनीं नहीं

दिल की कितनी गालियाँ ऐसी हैं

जिनमें एक अरसे से मैं गया नहीं

कुछ धुंधला सा याद पड़ता है

बचपन में

अरमानों के कुछ बीज बोये थे

उम्मीदों से अक्सर उन्हें सींचा तो

पर कभी ठहर के देखा नहीं

वक़्त ही कहाँ था

इतने बरस बीत गए

आज नज़र पड़ी

पौधा अब बड़ा हो चला है

कुछ ख्वाब अब पक गए हैं

आओ इन्हें तोड़ लें

टूट के गिरे तो

बिखर जाएँगे.....

Penned on 13th Feb., 2016

करते की विद्या है..... करने से आती है

"करते की विद्या है..... करने से आती है" (It is an applied talent, it comes only with application)

These haunting words from Gulzaar Saab echo in my head... and irritate me all the time. They challenge my belief...that creative people like writers are probably born with the exceptional talent of playing with the words. They need not sit for hours like us trying to create magic...it probably comes naturally and instinctively to them. Thats why it was surprising to know that Gulzar saab till today religiously follows the routine of sitting for hours in his office and just writing. Amazing...

Well...if he can practice it...why can't I?? Probably, this was my last resort to come out of the writer's block that I have been facing. So, today, after being persuaded and goaded by my wife, I finally decided that I will sit with pen and paper and keep thinking, pondering, scribbling till something worthwhile takes shape. It took long...five hours...but to my surprise...the pen started flowing again...and after these gruelling five hours...my moment came and in minutes I had two poems in front of me.

Here are they:

1. Phoenixes...

The pen in my hand
Frantically moves
Creating magic with words,
Oblivious to
The pool of blood all over
On the floor,
The corpse lies there
Unattended...
Like the many
Trampled over daily,
The stink of the rot
Or is it...
The stink of the rut
Suffocates,
The hardened skin
All peeled...
The seven-year itch worn off,
Stabbing wounds tell the story,
Was it the dagger?
But there's none around...
Oh No!!
It was the PEN
The paper is all red
And probably...
It is not just the ink,
The gestation was much longer
this time.

Last Night,
I brutally killed Myself...
To be REBORN.

2. The Love Affair

What you call a beautiful poem
Is nothing but
An Aftermath
Of My wild Love-making
With the naked Whiteness
Of the blank paper.

Words...
Splashed all over it
Erratically
Like the Unmindful
Passionate Kisses.

- Me, who else
Penned right now

I must have known that advices from Creative Geniuses like Gulzaar Saab are meant to work.

I finally feel emancipated.

रेख्ता के तुम्ही उस्ताद नहीं हो ग़ालिब, कहते हैं अगले ज़माने में कोई मीर भी था !!

Photo courtesy: http://www.wowzone.com/phoenix.htm

Life....isn't it all about Rising From the Ashes...again and again and again. Ashes...which signify so much - ashes which prove that we burn ourselves daily in this mysterious funny place called...the world...the society!! Ashes...of our own death...death not in the sense of stopping to breath (anyway, who the hell says...that breathing is living; we all just breathe in and out...very few live!!), but the death of our individuality, our identity, our ideals, our emotions, death of the human being within us. Death where we lose touch with our inner-self.

I quote Ishrat Afreen here...beautifully sung by Jagjit Singh:

"अपनी आग को ज़िंदा रखना कितना मुश्किल है,

पत्थर बीच आइना रखना कितना मुश्किल है"

So...this one is dedicated to my dear friend Shashank who rekindled the fire within...probably unknowingly...but credits are due.

I happened to read his poetry blog and liked his poems...so much so that my conscience snubbed me, cursed me...for having stopped to write...& my pen started flowing on its own. Strange...I, who was a prolific poet at one time...with an enviable collection of poems...dreaming and waiting for them to be published one day...haven't written a single poem...for more than 6 years. Where it all got lost...in the rut of life...but the pen just stopped. It felt so bad, it pinched...made conscious efforts to revive myself...but who knows better than me...that poetry doesn't come like this, poetry doesn't come...when you have killed a part of yourself and left it behind somewhere to lie stinking...poetry doesn't come when you are pre-occupied with the rat-race...Poetry happens when you are in connect with your inner-self...when you can web a spell of magic around small feelings...poetry happens when you LIVE

Thanks Shashank, for bringing me alive again...

Here's to you, my first poem after 6 years:

शायर मरा नहीं करते 

तेरे कलम की श्याही कागज़ पर जो देखी
तो याद आया
मरे हुए शायर का वो ज़माना
और दिल ने आवाज़ दी...
शायर मरा नहीं करते

फिर सूखी हुई श्याही पर एक बूँद पड़ी
और न जाने क्यों ये लगा....
की  फिर कोई ग़ालिब फिर कोई मीर होने को है
फिर उतरेगा आँखों में लहू...
फिर कलम उगलेगी आग
फिर हाथों की जुम्बिश काम आएगी

शायद... सच ही है  
शायर मरा नहीं करते

हम इंतज़ार करेंगे
फिर जिगर से निकलेगी कोई आवाज़

- Me, who else
Penned on 18th June, 2007