Recreating The Past

What was the best thing that happened to childhood?




Of course, one would say, love and pampering of doting parents.






What else?

Fun, frolic, frivolity...

What more?






(Sigh!) Tell me...






Remember those colourful, talking pictures? Comics, yes, comics, the picture stories, which brought visuals to words. The ones which always refreshed us in free periods and tiffin times in school and leisurely hours at home. Comics were short-cuts to entertaining reads, less cumbersome than big, fat novels, as one could quickly flip through the pages, enjoy the visual impact while digesting the story at the same time.






Talking of comics, I am reminded of many ....Phantom, Asterix, TinTin, Archies, Mandrake and above all Amar Chitra Katha which brought history and mythology to bedrooms in easily understandable language and enchanting images and they stayed on in our memories even as we  crossed over many thresholds in life.




My father disapproved of comics. He said they were bad reads lacking literary value. "You will spoil your sense of language if you stick to these trashy comics." Yes, he was right. In comics, pictures take over lengthy descriptions as in novels. Comics are not for those who love the 'feel' of language. But comics made a reader out of a non-reader. Some of my friends, despite having a dislike for reading, would relish comics. Comics made reading easy and memorable too because anything visual is retained in memory longer than mere words.




However, in today's gizmo-age, books and comics have been replaced by computer/mobile games and play stations. We seldom find children reading. Even modern parents do not insist their off springs to develop the habit of reading because it is expensive and quite a waste of time, especially, when everything is available on the internet!




In contrast, we, who are brought up in joint families, have grown on a steady diet of historical, folk and mythological tales narrated by our elders, mostly as bedtime-stories. The visuals in comics provided a kind of  post-narrative-easy-connect to the stories already heard several times before. And that was the fun part of it. For me King Nala was the one whom I had seen on the pages of Amar Chitra Katha. So was Raja Harish Chandra, the handsome, bold and virtuous king, depicted on the pages of the comic book, which first introduced him to me. Before that I had only heard but not seen him.


In fact, Amar Chitra Katha, or for that matter any comic book, surrogated the television set we never had at home. Today children do not find interest in comics because they are exposed to much grander, larger-than-life depictions of historical and mythological characters on TV and YouTube, which we in our childhood days, could not even think of.  As science and technology take over the mantle of startling us and making us gaze in wonder and awe at the TV and Computer screens, by creating fantasies and animations in 3D , the printed pages which originally mothered these fantastical tales, languish in neglect and shame in some remote, dusty corner of rusty cupboards and locked stores. And so are we bereft of simple pleasures of our childhood - the tactile association with pages, print and pictures!


But not anymore, thought I. Surfing through Flipkart, I suddenly decided to recreate the happiness of the past. I ordered for an Amar Chitra Katha comic. This time it was the story of Rani Durgavati. To be honest, I had never heard of her name. History is a subject which is dreaded by most (me included)  - it is difficult, boring and hard to retain in memory. But the comic series of Amar Chitra Katha, translated in so many Indian and foreign languages and English, have made history fun and easy, mythology closely relatable and folk an indivisible part of our cultural grooming.


The Story : Durgavati, the princess of Mahoba (presently in Madhya Pradesh),  has been brought up more like a prince. She is an ace horse-rider, a skilled shooter and often accompanies her father, the Rajput king, in hunting games.  Durgavati, attracted by stories of valour and power, marries Dalpat, the Gond prince.


It is a union of love but a social mismatch as  Gonds are a caste lower than Rajputs. In due course, Rani Durgavati gives birth to a cute baby boy. They name him Beer Narayan. But soon after, King Dalpat dies of an incurable disease and Rani Durgavati has to take up the responsibility of governing the kingdom on one hand and rearing a fatherless child on the other. She turns out to be a benevolent ruler taking care of her subjects like a mother, a fearless warrior as she wins battles after battles consolidating her kingdom and the quintessential Indian woman who would rather take her own life than fall prey to the lusts of invaders. Thus, goes the story of Rani Durgavati, who in modern parlance, truly stands tall as an "empowered" woman with a political vision.


The Creator :  Anant Pai (September 1929 - February 2011), popularly known as Uncle Pai,  was an Indian educationist and a pioneer in Indian Comics. He was the creator of two famous Comic series - (1) Amar Chitra Katha which recounted traditional Indian folklores, mythological tales and biographies of historical figures; and (2) Tinkle, a children's anthology.


Amar Chitra Katha comics are now available in economy packs (ten-in-one, five-in-one, six-in-one) too. They are available online as well as in book stores. You can visit their website (http://www.amarchitrakatha.com/ack/)  to know more.


I am glad to note that the quality and content of the series have been well retained. These are timeless as they connect us to our roots, make us aware of our history and heritage and help instill values which are an intrinsic part of our Indianness. Even after so many years, being well into adulthood, reading the story of indomitable courage and will of Rani Durgavati, I did not feel bored or uninterested. Rather I was back in my childhood and enjoyed it more than I ever did. And that is what must have been Uncle Pai's intent - to make us alive, happy and knowledgeable at the same time. And the only way that we can pay tribute to this great visionary is to encourage the new generation to read his creations and recognize the worth of his contribution to children's literature.


Long Live Uncle Pai!!!  

Fragrance From A Faraway Land

05.00 am. It’s still dark. I love this moment of peace and aloneness. The world is still shrouded by the veil of repose. And I am awake and wandering out of bed into my humble garden. Yes, I call this slender strip of land garden which houses my beloved plants. I inhale deeply the freshness in the air. As I do so my nostrils are infiltrated with the sweet, intoxicating smell of the first few drops of rain seeping into the pours of the parched, thirsty bed of Mother Earth. The droplets on the palm fronds are harbingers of monsoon!

 

Have you ever experienced the flavour of wetness around? I relish it like the first invigorating sip of a cup of steaming hot morning tea. The aroma of the rains is sheer euphoria – stimulating and whipping nostalgia. It always transports me down memory lane – almost a decade and a half back when I was as keen a traveler as I veto for inertia now.

 

During every Pooja (September/October) we would run away from the asphyxiating hustle and bustle of the City of Joy in search of a harbour of hard-to-be-found bliss and tranquility. It was Jamshedpur of the 80s which had provided the long-yearned refuge - a city which I remember fondly the most not because of its sprawling bungalows with manicured lawns, sedate lifestyle or organized traffic or disciplined crowd or the mammoth TATA Steel Plant or its prestigious Management Institute XLRI or the horde of dark, glistening Santhali women sculpted in perfect proportions. No, not any of these. It was something rather more intangible yet something which I would love to hold on to.

 

You know what, I had taken to the city because it had a fragrance of its own. A fragrance which was as refreshing as it was revitalizing. It was the fragrance which we Metro-dwellers crave for. It was the fragrance of the wilderness, the smell of the jungle, the envelope of green that followed me as I toured the city and explored its outskirts. A fragrance which was a constant remembrance of Nature that surrounded the planned city like a mother cradling her baby. The fragrance which reminded one of ancient trees, thick foliage, blooming buds, blushing blossoms, soft twigs, bushy clumps, riotous shrubs, bumbling bees, chirping birds, streaming sun shine and flocks of flora and fauna. A smell that has unfortunately lost its existence in the grime and grit of urban subsistence.

 

I brought back that fragrance with me in my memories and searched for it in vain in the winding, loaded lanes of my city. But the NCR (National Capital Region) has been expanding on deforestation and encroachment on fallow land and nearby villages. The other day returning home from office, my driver suddenly braked hard toppling over a few things kept by my side on the back seat. When I asked him the reason, he said a snake was crawling by and he did not want to hurt it. We commute via outer Ring Road, the highway which ribbons round the Capital, flanked at intervals on either side by open fields and alternately thick vegetation while afar you can see remnants of villages trying hard to retain their identity circumventing metropolitan trespass.

 

The cohort of monkeys enjoying a swing in the trimmed and tended boulevards of Lutyen’s land, the un-shepherded cattle left to fend for fodder by their owners squatting dismally by the roadside, the friendless stray dogs picking up a row in the middle of a busy route are ample examples of how we have rendered these children of Nature homeless. While we lament over a cloudless sky and the fury of Apollo pouring down on us, the earthy scent of rain-soaked greenery seems like a far cry. In the midst of this hovel of heat and dust to dream of being wrapped in a chiffon drape of breezy redolence of rain filled forest – a unique and rare combination! Reminders of drenched evenings in the Steel City – overladen darkening sky, dripping greenery all around and gusts of moist breeze filling up your soul with the aroma of rainy earth. Just the right spray of perfume which is de-stressing, relaxing, soul-soothing, sensuous, elevating and infusing into our tired, insulated lives a long-deserved heavenly respite bringing us that much close to Mother Nature as we long to be.

 

The splinters of rain
On a dust laden street
The scent of life
Rising above the heat
And I stand there
As the droplets beat
A foot-tapping rhythm
Of life’s renewed lease
The young leaves sway
Nod the ancient trees
The path into the wild
Takes a curve steep
Gather a spring light
My tired, worn out feet
On the rough-hewn bed
Of life’s jaded streets

 

 

 

 

शुरुआत - एक छोटी सी कहानी

मुझे लगता है हमारी शुरुआत ही ग़लत थी। जिस रोज़ अमन ने  मेरी ज़िन्दगी में  कदम रखा वह पल मेरे लिए नागवार था । वह मुझे हर तरह से नापसंद था। और मेरा मानना है कि जब पहली नज़र में ही कोई चीज़ खटकने लगे तो उसे सरासर अस्वीकार कर देना चहिये। अपनी ज़िन्दगी से कोसों दूर कर देना चाहिये।  पर मैंने ऐसा नहीं किया । क्यों ? कारण  बताना शायद मेरे लिए अभी  मुनासिब न होगा । कभी कभी किसी बात की तह तक जाना असंभव या यूँ कहिये कि मुश्किल व तकलीफदेह हो जाती है । एक सवाल के साथ साथ सौ सवाल और खड़े हो जाते हैं और विवशता यह हो जाती है के सवालों के जवाब ढूंढते ढूंढते हम खुद एक सवाल बन के रह जाते हैं ।  मुझे मालूम नहीं इस तरह के ख्याल जो मेरे ज़हन को बारहा कचोटती है सही है भी या नहीं ; अब देर भी बहुत हो चुकी है इस बात को इसलिए इन मसलों को लेकर परेशान होने का कोई फायदा भी है या नहीं ;  या फिर आपही बताएं के इस तरह के सोच को दिमाग में पनपने देना खुद को बेवजह अपार  कष्ट देने जैसा नहीं है  क्या ? और फिर इन्हीं कष्टदायक फ़िक्रों पर कोई नतीजा कायम करना अनुचित तो नहीं ?


बहरहाल यह सच है कि  हम दोनों की तरबीयत  या मिजाज़ मेल नहीं खाते थे । हम दोनों एक  दुसरे से बहुत ज़्यादा उम्मीद रखते थे, बहुत ज़्यादा लड़ते झगड़ते थे और उस लड़ने झगड़ने के तुरंत बाद एक लंबा अर्सा  एक दुसरे को मनाने में बिताते थे । पर यह भी सच है की हर उस लड़ाई के बाद हमारा रिश्ता और गहरा और मज़बूत बनता गया । यह एक अजीब पहेली थी जो आज तक मुझसे नहीं सुलझ पाई है । पर यह प्रक्रिया कठिन और मायूस कर देने वाली भी थी । और हर बार जब कभी हम इस दौर  से गुज़रते तो मैं मन ही मन यह ज़रूर सोचती "अब बस और नहीं"।


फिर एक दिन मेरी ज़िन्दगी में हर्ष आया। हर्ष जो बसंत ऋतू की  फुरफुराती हवाओं जैसा था । खुशमिजाज़, सहज स्वभाव , मिलनसार, खुले   दिल का  व गहरी सोच रखने वाला इंसान जिससे मेरी पहली मुलाक़ात में ही अच्छी खासी  दोस्ती हो गयी। यह दोस्ती कब प्यार में बदली पता न चला। हमें एक दूसरे को समझने के लिए बिला  वजह तक़रार का सहारा नहीं लेना पड़ता ।   वह बोलता और मैं सुनती - इसी तरह घंटों गुज़र जाते और हमें पता तक नहीं चलता ।   हमारी हर सावधानी के बावजूद हमारा रिश्ता तेज़ी से उस दिशा  की तरफ बढ़ रहा था  जो मुसलसल हर ऐसे रिश्ते  का अंजाम होता है।   पर एक दिन अचानक हर्ष चला गया  ठीक उन  बसंती झोंकों की भांति जो तन मन को सुकून तो पहुंचाते हैं पर जिनके  पैरों में बेड़ी  डाल  आप रोक नहीं सकते ।
जाने से पूर्व  उसने न रुकने  के  कई  कारण  दर्शाये थे जो उस वक़्त सही लगे थे पर अब पीछे मुड़के देखती हूँ तो हंसी आती है। शब्दकोष  खोलकर बहाना शब्द का पर्यायवाची अर्थ ढूंढती हूँ ।


इस दौरान अमन मेरि  तरफ बड़ी संजीदगी से पेश आये । उसने मुझे न कोसा , न डांटा , न पूछा, न समझाया।  वह सिर्फ मेरे साथ रहा उस पालतु  जनावर की तरह जिसे अनायास ही पता हो जाता है कि  कुछ ठीक नहीं हैं और  मालकिन के साथ वफादारी दिखानी होती है ।  और हमारा रिश्ता कुछ बोले बग़ैर ही और गहरा और संजीदा होने लगा। पर नहीं इसका मतलब  वह नहीं  है जो आप समझ रहे हो ।


उसके बाद वह हुआ जिसकी मुझे दूरंदेश  भी नहीं था ।  यानी मेरी शादी हो  गयी । किससे ?  एक और अजनबी से । और शादी शादी होती है - एक न ख़त्म होने वाली समझौतों और एक दुसरे को व एक दुसरे के परिवारों के अपेक्षाओं को समझने का और  उन पर खरे उतरने का सिलसिला । और वह जो सिलसिला चला तो  चलता ही चला गया । क्या मैं खुश हूँ? अब आप पूछते हैं तो मेरा उत्तर हाँ ही होगा ।  पर फिर यकायक किसी महकती सुबह या  कभी भरी दोपहरी की तन्हाई  में या साँझ ढलते या रातों के सियाही तले  जब नींद आँख मिचोली खेल जाती है तो ज़हन में कई प्रश्न आते  हैं - अब इस वक़्त हर्ष  संग होते तो कैसा होता या फिर गर अमन के साथ ज़िन्दगी इससे अलग  होती क्या ?


मैं शादीशुदा हूँ । मेरे पति मेरे बेइन्तहाई वफादार है । मैं अपने गृहस्थ  जीवन से उतनी ही खुश हूँ जितनी  इक आम हिंदुस्थानी  पत्नी को  होना चाहिए । पर फिर भी मेरे ज़हन मैं रह रह के इस तरह के ख्यालातों का आना - ग़लत है क्या ?








जिस गीत से इस कहानी की शुरुआत हुई :

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UVeDXzv7AQU
     

Momentary

And then there were those unexpected moments of madness
When he suddenly pulled over by the dirt road
And emptied his tormented heart
Hiding his face in my lap
His tears soiling my shirt
While I sat stilled by his noisy sobs


He said he was sure we were bonded birth after birth
By an umbilical chord of love and longing
But I lack faith


Yet spend sleepless nights fearful that someday
I shall lose him to the crowd
Someday he shall walk out of my life
The way he had once walked in
Someday I shall stifle a sob by the dirt road
Which carries traces of his noisy sobs
In utter silence of reproach

Warring Words

A hot scalding summer noon
The breeze burnt our cheeks
Scrubbing as though with smoked charcoal
As the loo gained speed
Inside a dashing car
We fought over a ten rupee note
Our ardour matched the heat outside
As the cacophony of raised voices
Reached the crescendo
We conveniently forgot
The frivolous excuse
Which had robbed us of our rationality
In the grip of an insane rage
We fought a daggerless dual

Of venomous words
Tearing each other apart
Bit by bit, layer by layer

When the evening burnt the skies to ashes

We chose a pregnant silence to speak for us
Seething in grave disdain, familiar in our contempt
We turned a little away from each other
And bit our lips disgruntled

Perhaps tomorrow or the day after
We'll look at each other sheepishly
And smile with quivering lips contritely even
But a deep gash has grazed the hearts
Which ripens each moment oozing blood
As red as the cherries iced on her B'day cake
Making me toss and turn on the bed

Hour after hour as the night owl derides

My smothered rants

She sleeps in another room fitfully
A slice of moon sneaking across her face
Where the tell-tale marks of dried tears
Leave a blazing trail on her age-worn cheeks

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hell & Heaven

I thought it was symbiotic
A relation germinating from mutuality
One requiring the other
For the purpose of subsistence

But it was not...

Soon we were embroiled in something so indescribable
It seemed as though we were in a brothel of emotional haggling
Where we sold our turbulent tenacities
In a bid to overpower each other

We clawed with sharpened nails
And axed our harmony with bloody paws
So that the other could not hurl another accusation
Or explode splinters of fury
On each other’s face


We had reverted to the basics
To the raw attempts at asserting ourselves
By hurting the other as much as we could

Strange! How it all began
Merely an Act of  bare needs
Messed  up
Now starting all over again
Is simply impossible

How do we mend it
Remains the only thought
If only one would understand the other
It could be so much better
Its not to be ....never

Yet....

Should it be tried one more time?
Please, if not forever...


कईबार सोचा है इस रिश्ते को क्या नाम दे

एक ज़रुरत ?

एक निबाह?

एक अनचाहा इंतज़ाम ?

या एक मुसीबत ?

जवाब मुमकिन के  सतह तक आकर थम गयी है
शायद सच न उगल दे कहीं
इस बदतमीज़ ज़हन की आदतें, उफ़ तौबा !

फिर सोचा  है कि  इसे एक नया मोड़ क्यूँ न दें ?
चले एक और  सिरा  पकड ताकी
भावनाओं के इन पेचीदे फसादों से बच जाएँ

पर सोच ईरादों में और इरादें मकसद
में तब्दील होने तलक मीलों के फासले रह जाते हैं
हरबार यूँ ही ….

और दुरी घटने तक कोई और रुख ले लेती है
यह अनकही दास्तान
इस क़दर कि 
पीछे मुड कर देखना भी मुनासिब नहीं होता
और कमजोरियां नाजायज़ फायदा उठाती है
अब लौटे तो कैसे भला ?
सुबह को चीर कर शाम निकल ही आती है
हमेशा। ….

क्या  यूँ ही चलते रहेंगे हम
दो अलग अलग क़दमों के आहटो को सुनते
या फिर कोई दरवाजा खुलेगा
और इक नई  दिशा

सूरज की अंतिम रौशनी से प्रथम लालिमा तक
आशा और निराशा डोलती रहती है यूँही
और मैं आकाश में एक झुण्ड से बिछड़ी
परिंदे की भाँती  पर फ़ड्फ़डाती
हवाओं से मिन्नतें करती हुई
एक आसमान नई सी तलाशती

सुनो तुम

चलो फिर से उडे आज़ाद रंगों में
असंभव संभव से परे
आओ ना…। 

उम्मीदें बन्ध जाती है
फिर अचानक यूँही
कहीं कुछ टूटने की
धुन सुनी है क्या ?

वोह मैं ही हूँ
जूझती
उलझती
ज़ख्मों को कुरेदती
वोह मैं ही हूँ गुमसुम

सुनो तुम
क्या इन  खामोश तदबीरों को
समझने के काबिल हो तुम?
सुनो तुम…    

Which Way ?

Each morning...

He revs up the engine
Looking back in the rear view mirror
Asks an innocuous question
"Which way to take ma'am?"

"Which way.....?"
I toy with the idea in my mind
A little blank, a little confused,
Undecided,  as ever...

Which way indeed!
The one I left behind ?
Or the one that I bypassed in a hurry?
No, perhaps the one which I dreamt of
But never had the courage to take?
What about the one which never was
Except that I thought it was somewhere
Around the next bend?
Well, the one that I deliberately erased
From the map of life mistaking it to be
The one not for me?
Leave alone all those chaotic choices
And go for the easy one which comes your way!

My way....?
The clouds of doubt hover low
Is there really a way made for me?
A pre-ordained destination wherein the wheels will
Automatically roll in...
Even if I try real hard to steer clear of that direction?
I wonder...

"Ma'am?"
Again that soft reminder
I wake up from my reverie
And choose not to look lost
Reclining back prostrating my tired limbs
As much as I can
I gesture him to move ahead,
"Whichever way you feel is the best..."
I tell him

He frowns a little thinking hard
And then suddenly cheers up
As the thought strikes him
"Let's take that one which is less crowded,
We'll reach home on time"
I agree

The less crowded or the less traveled?
I desist from asking
And allow myself to be driven
Through the throngs of thoroughfares....
This time may be we'll really reach home
On time....