Wanderer..

I have surprised myself often by my strange reactions and perspectives.Yet again I came up with something which every one who has been to Delhi would call plain weird.I realised that my apartment complex in the big-bad city was far more quieter than the posh sector-living of Chandigarh.
The cocooned life of a metropolitan apartment (the one everyone cribs out),we don't know our neighbours,it is so lonely and isolated blah blah didn't atleast have ten wrong people ring your doorbell in one hour.It was away from the constant howls of hawkers and loud conversations of neighbourhood backyards.
I wonder am I really missing Delhi?
The question is difficult but frequent.I am now in the so-called well-planned city beautiful,and yes there are umpteen number of things that I get to do only here,like watching the sunset with a hot cuppa from my balcony,but yet there is something amiss.
I was born in a small sleepy hill-station and have lived most of my life there.The laid back slow pace of things was my way for more than two decades.Yet I wonder,do 6 years in Delhi erase all of that.Is a silly part of me missing the privacy of anonymity,the noise ,chaos and traffic.So where do I really belong now?The city where I was born,the city where I currently live or the city I think about often?Do I really belong or now my spirit is that of a wanderer..

DELHI GOODBYE

Your dreams are peculiar

of success,betrayal and

fake love

in the corridors of  power.

The long winding lanes

of the old
as complex as human relationships.

The striking fast metro of the new
as fragile and mechanised as new love.

The temples,the mosques
and the fabled sufi
all call you home,
yet the longing in your heart
as strong as of a lonely pebble in the desert.

Delhi goodbye for now
maybe another time
I'll come back
to seek ....
what I leave behind.

DIWALI SNAPSHOTS

The chauffer-driven cars line the whole street,the lights,the music all exuberates the sense of power.The host holds a position of importance and so do most of the guests.The diwali party is more about politics,wine and faux smiles.
Just around the corner the security guard stands looking at the lit-up sky,maybe wondering about his family back in village.The policeman at the gate smiling and wondering when will he get a cup of tea or just a glass of water.The drivers waiting in a huddle ,sharing a smoke,and anecdotes about childhood diwalis back home.

Inside the air is thick with smoke from imported cigars and envious looks.The wine and the women all looking desperate to be the best.The waiters tryin to get the exotic names right wondering what maa must be cooking tonight.

On the roads of the rich,power-hungry city ,autowallahs hoping to make an extra buck for their little one,rickshawallah attempting to fight the cold and the longing with a big dose of cheap booze,cars running mad to attend maximum parties....

Delhi-the young-old lady mesmerising as ever.

दिवाली

सुंदर थी मेरी लाल फ्राक
और दुकानों में टिमटिमाती बत्तीयाँ
रंग-बिरंगे खिलोने,कपडे
और न जानने क्या-क्या
भरा था बड़े से एक बैग में

मिठाई की दूकान पर
कब से माँ बंधवा रही थी
बहुत सारे डब्बे
और तभी मैंने देखा उसको

खड़ी थी वह एक छोटे बच्चे को लिए
मुझसे शायद कुछ छोटी ही होगी
वह और उसकी फटी हुई नीली फ्राक
जैसे ही दूकान वाले लड़के ने
खाली  की झूठन
वह भाग कर आयी  और भर ली अपनी बोरी

उस पल खो गयी सारी चमक
बदल गयी वह लाल चमकती फ्राक
खिलोने
सब कुछ
बदल गयी दिवाली
शिमला के बड़े बाज़ार में

Destiny..

The saree is perfect,
so is the car and the make-up.
She enters the house with her entourage and
a peculiar strong dose of some plaigarised perfume.

The coloured hair start swaying at the
loud beats of a dholak.
Its celebration for a new son.

The women celebrating the most,
The men talking about lineage and hierarchy,
The daughters shelled in an odd corner,

I oddly remembered the feminist
who said - gender is destiny.



Gender ,some feminist had said ,is destiny.