Thank God, Its Friday...But Does It Matter!

Time is still. Inert. Stuck. Yet, I look back, and half the year has gone by. I look back, and one third of this month has slipped by. I look back, and three-fourths of this day has knocked off. But that is the conventional measure. Time is not about the fine divisions of seconds, minutes, hours, days or months. That is wrong. My time has stopped. Like my wrist watch, that fell and cracked and grins hideously from its bright yellow but stained and strained face. The arms are paralyzed; the heartbeat stopped; the wrinkles marked.

It is a dull day. A boring day. A useless day. A pathetic day. A hot day. A silent day. A Friday.

The Fourth Day of The Week

It's Thursday already. The week (at least the working one) will end tomorrow. Time has inched forward with such dreadful slowness that it would even make a snail's gait look like a PT Usha on the tracks. Nothing has happened. The deal is still stuck. The new one is still in a limbo. The boss is still not very happy, though to give him a fair credit, he did send a small encouraging note a couple of days back. The last Tuesday meeting that happened had set a few balls rolling. Exactly from one and a hour from now, some fresh impetus would be imparted to it. The rains lashed the valley intermittantly, as if too bored to even wash it with their full energies. The temperature swings from the hot to the cool like an uninterested child's yo-yo. The conversations and the meetings happen and proceed with the passion of a dull drama. The mail-box pathetically opens its sad arms to heartless mails that will never return, akin to a desert awaiting its parched rains. The food that I cook tastes bitter. Anger within me boils over at the slightest of flames.

Overall, things are status quo.

Astrology

I read the following on an astrology site, after entering my date of birth:

The Inner You: Your Real Motivation You are a freedom-loving, strong-willed, and independent-minded individual, and you insist upon living your own life as you see fit, even if that means ignoring convention and tradition. In personal relationships you cannot be owned or possessed, and while you are willing to share yourself with another, you do not always adjust easily to the emotional give and take of a close relationship. Though intellectually open, you can be enormously stubborn, opinionated, and inflexible on a one-to-one level. You have strong convictions and feelings about fairness and equality, and you try to live by your ideals, but your ideals about how people SHOULD treat one another don't always take into account human weaknesses, differences, and needs. You probably dislike sentimentality and traditional gender roles and "games"

Mental Interests and Abilities :You are more of a poet than a rational scientist, for your mind does not function in a strictly logical, linear fashion. The language of music, art, or poetry is natural to you, and you are also able to think in highly abstract and symbolic terms. Translating your thoughts and impressions into concrete, everyday language may be difficult for you at times and consequently you may appear less intelligent or at least less quick-witted and verbal than others. This was especially true of you as a child, and you probably daydreamed a good deal also.

You are intuitive and are able to sense what others' thoughts and feelings are, even before they say anything to you. You often form an opinion about a person or situation without much factual knowledge of them, and your impressions are usually correct. You can be somewhat absent-minded and you become so immersed in your own thoughts that you overlook things in your immediate, tangible environment. You are extremely open-minded and believe that anything is possible. Intangible or spiritual forces seem just as real to you as anything in the concrete world. Your imagination and your sympathetic understanding of other people are two of your greatest gifts.


On refining it further with my time of birth, the following paragraph was thrown up:

Cautious, prudent, and rather self-contained, you are a person who approaches life realistically and who is not inclined to take foolish chances or get carried away by the overly optimistic or idealistic schemes of starry-eyed dreamers. In fact, you frequently have a jaundiced view of such things. You are rather worldly-wise at a fairly young age, even something of a cynic. Often the world doesn't seem like a safe, friendly place to you, and you tend to approach life in a guarded, conservative manner. You are generally calculating and careful, and are rarely spontaneous, fluid, open, and childlike.

You are a freedom-loving, strong-willed, and independent-minded individual, and you insist upon living your own life as you see fit, even if that means ignoring convention and tradition. In personal relationships you cannot be owned or possessed, and while you are willing to share yourself with another, you do not always adjust easily to the emotional give and take of a close relationship. Though intellectually open, you can be enormously stubborn, opinionated, and inflexible on a one-to-one level. You have strong convictions and feelings about fairness and equality, and you try to live by your ideals, but your ideals about how people SHOULD treat one another don't always take into account human weaknesses, differences, and needs. You probably dislike sentimentality and traditional gender roles and "games".

(The last is somewhat a repetition, and I guess generic to someone born on the date born as me.)

Rambling On

Well, its mid-noon; lunch is over; I made some pathetic curry that I had to wash down with umpteen glasses of water. The end result? A few more visits to the washroom. How irritating! Anyways, I am not in much mood to work; dreadedly (is that a word?), the dull feeling of not doing what I am supposed to do is seeping in. Yet, the heart refuses to budge from its obstinate position. I have nothing to write on; however, I am getting this urge to write. So, I have no clue where and how this post will lead. Perhaps, like life, nowhere!

As a beginning to any non-conversation, the much-beaten topic of weather invariably springs up faster than the jack-in-a-box. I will begin with this brain-bashed topic. The weather is marvellous right now. The sun is pretty much wrapped, and I doubt it will be able to win the battle against the grey clouds today before its time for it to finally pack up for the day. A feeble breeze squeezes through the tight gauzed windows. The front door, slightly ajar, allows for another slim stream. As the branches get caressed, they sway in mild intoxication. A few drops are sprinkled by the laden caskets of the clouds; very soon, the cork shall open completely. It's the kind of day where one would like to wrap his hands around a warm glass of tea, and look at the falling droplets, and hear them get absorbed by the wetted earth.

Yesterday I saw a film. It was boring and atrocious, but it left a nagging thought relentlessly scratching the brain. Can I ever leave all this up and walk the path of my dreams? I had tried it once, but it was not exactly the way to my dreams, it was a run-off from something that I was not liking. Two negatives do not make a positive. So, even though I had run out, I had made the mistake of not looking as to where I was headed; instead, I just kept staring behind me to see the release from what was behind me. Because of that act, today I cannot do anything; my hands are tied. I am answerable to my family; I cannot explain another journey into the unknown. My practical mind, and my conventional upbringing will detest admitting this; I have typed , deleted /retyped and re-deleted /re-retyped (if there is any such thing). I have gone outside, watched the rain, made a couple of calls and come back. Yet, my fingers tremble to type it out. Is my calling the film industry or the publishing world ? Or, am I being too stupid and too naive in my dreams? Do I really have the talent to write, or am I being carried away by the polite praises loaded onto me on the other blog in the comments section? My experiences tell me that the publishing world looks for some very high-grade of talent;I have been inundated by numerous rejection slips; but, people tell me that if Chetan Bhagat could be a bestseller, why not you? Oh hell, after my self-pity, I seem to wallowing in my vanity. I shall stop right here, today.

Another Monday Morning

Sigh! Yet another Monday morning! Another talk with boss! Again, a mood dampener. Nothing seems to be falling in place. On the contrary, everything is falling apart. Planned things go awry at the final moment. Responses that should be immediate are muted into ear-shattering silences.

What is worrying is the fact that no replies ever come to the applications that I send. Where am I going wrong? I do not have the slightest clue; I can correct something that is wrong. I cannot alter a thing that I do not have the vaguest idea about. It is like groping in carbon-black darkness for a support that may or maynot be there. Alas, this carbon is not producing any glittering diamond.

I have to get out of this country with a secure job somewhere. But, how?

Dil ki tasalli ke liye, jhooti chamak, jhoota nikhaar,
Jeevan toh soona hi raha, sab samjhi aayi hai bahaar,
Kaliyon se koi poochhta, hansti hai woh ya roti hai...

-Kaifi Azmi, in Anupama; Music: Hemant Kumar; Singer:Lata Mangeshkar

Another Song

Raat andheri, door savera
Barbaad hai dil mera...

Aana bhi chaahein, aana saken hum
Koi nahin aasra,
Khoyee hai manzil, rastaa hai mushquil
Chand bhi aaj chhupa
Raat andheri...

Aah bhi roye, raah bhi roye,
Soojhe na baat koie,
Thodi umar hai, soona safar hai
Dega na saath koie,
Raat andheri...

(The favorite lines are colored)

Music: Shankar Jaikishan
Lyric : Hasrat Jaipuri
Originally sung by Mukesh Chand Mathur for the film Aah

Bade Rangeen Zamane The

Well, I confessed yesterday too, I do so today as well, the wallowing in self pity will not serve any purpose; it never does. No one else can come and help me till the time I get up myself. But how do I do it ? From where do I get that strength from? Scraping the bottom of an empty well will not fill the bucket ever; it will only give a desolate hollow scraping sound. These sounds are my posts here.

Khoi sab pehchaane, Khoye saare apne,
Samay ki chhalni se gir gir ke,
Khoye saare sapne... (1)

The sieve of time has only left a crunchy and tasteless residue, a portion of which I have splattered on the blog here. As I said in my last post, it seems ages ago since I actually laughed openly, but I did laugh. I was not the 'not a nice person to know' till a few years back. It seems from a different era, from a different life altogether, from a different planet. I close my eyes, and try to relive those moments, those days, those years. Yes, there were years of happiness. And innocence. The days of college, and the trip we made to Mount Abu, in a third-class compartment, making noise, disturbing fellow-passengers, singing at top of voices, standing by the door, feeling the sharp wind as the train chugged along on the narrow gauge track.

Then, there were the college canteen sessions - discussions, and arguments and debates. Of course, the minor squibbles of keeping our precious notes away from wastrels; the 'male-gang' rushing off to see a re-run of Jaanbaaz, and telling the home and the girls two different stories; the endless rounds of hot tea on biting winter mornings in front of the college gates; the wait for the seat to get empty on the U-specials; the silly jokes at the expense of the bald professor who taught us Blake, and his embarrasment when something oh-so-non-vegetarian came up.

Then came the MBA classes; a new set of friends, another group, another round of fun. The first time we bunked classes and went to see the atrocious Anil Kapoor starrer Andaz; the look on the faces of the girls as they kept a straight one as one after another vulgar joke unfolded on the screen; the resolve to amend that and another bunk and ending up watching another pain called Anjaam; the pass of slips and notes sitting in the back bench and giggling away to glory; the impromptu parties organised at friends places who stayed alone; the ruckus we created when a pipe leak happened and the sewer water flowed back into the class room; the trip to Manali, when all the girls chickened out at the last minute, and the boys ended up enjoying alone better; the joke at the expense of a fat guy who asked for a 'pitthu' there, and a curious onlooker replied, 'nahin chahiye' thinking him to be the pithu-waalah.

All this, followed by the jobs, and the assumption of that serious look, with the tie and smartly ironed pants bought from expensive Van Huesen and Louis Phillipe showrooms; the meetings, the presentations; cut the bad five months, and another joy ride in the bank.

Yes, that was also part of my life only. Only, like a bogey that gets detached, it has been left somewhere behind, while I have moved ahead...nay, I am moving ahead, and that bogey still stands there, getting hazier by the minute, looking at me with forlorn eyes. It does not seem it was ever attached to me, but it was. It was mine. Those days were there!

Bade rangeen zamaane the, taraane hi taraane the
Magar ab poochhta hai dil, woh din the yaa fasaane the
Faqat ik yaad hai baaki, bas ik fariyaad hai baaki
Woh khusiyan loot gayi lekin, dil-e-barbaad hai baaki
Kahan thi zindagi meri, kahan par aa gayi
Woh bhooli dastaan lo phir yaad aa gayi
Nazar ke saamne ghata si chhaa gayi (2)

Just a tattered memory, just a feverish prayer, just a pale of saline water; today, even as I reread to check for the odd spelling mistake, the above paragraphs look like mere stories; I am not sure, were they there, or is the above piece a figment of dreamy imagination.

Outside, the day is sunny, bright and marvellous. Nothing has changed. Nothing will change. A step away from me, no one knows what I am going through. Is this the ground-zero that I had read on someone's blog? Perhaps, yes. Better, it is the sub-zero level. I have burnt my bridges, and now I am scared of the flames that come up to devour me, and do not have the strength to build new ones.

Gaya jaise jhonka hawa ka, hamari khushi ka zamana
Diye humko qismat ne aansoon, jab aaya humein muskarana...
Woh dekho jala ghar kisika, yeh toote hai kiske sitaare,
Woh qismat hansi, aur aise hansi, ke rone lage hum gham ke maare...

Hain raahe kathin, aur door manzil,
Yeh chhaya hai kaisa andhera,
Ke ab chand suraj bhi milkar
Nahin kar sakenge savera
Ghata chhayegi, baahar aayegi
Na aayenge woh din hamare,
Woh dekho jala ghar kisika... (3)

Those days shall never return, true! The arid and scorching desert which lies sprawling in front of him is sans any oasis; the hot winds gnaw and gorge the eyes out; the gritty sand blisters my feet; the mind is numbed; the heart is broken; and yet, I walk on, walk on , walk on...

For those reading this blog, kya kahun...

Hum apne aansuon mein chand taaron
ko doobo denge
Fanaah ho jaayegi saari khudai
aap kyun roye
Jo humne dastan apni sunayi
aap kyun roye (4)


Credits

( 1. From, 1942-A Love Story ; Music: RDBurman ; Lyric: Javed Akhtar
2. From, Sanjog ; Music: Madan Mohan ; Lyric: Rajender Krishan
3. From, Anpadh ; Music: Madan Mohan ; Lyric: Raja Mehdi Ali Khan
4. From, Woh Kaun Thi ; Music: Madan Mohan ; Lyric: Raja Mehdi Ali Khan

All the songs are sung by Lata Mangeshkar. God Bless Her, mai toh ro bhi nahin paata if it hadnt been for this lady!)

Aaj Socha To

Aaj socha toh, aansoo bhar aaye
Muddatein ho gayi muskuraye

Har qadam par udhar mudke dekha
Unkee mehfil se hum uth to aaye
Aaj socha toh...

Well, not that I have not been thinking, but today, it just struck me with a bolt: when was the last time I laughed openly, heartily, wantonly, fearlessly. I have been fooling around, making jokes, and pulling legs with friends, but there is always that undercurrent of fear and hopelessness which refuses to go.

My favorite lines of the ghazal sums up the situation:

Rah gayi zindagi dard banke,
Dard dil mein chhupaaye chhupaye
Aaj socha toh...

Ten words, and they simply sum up what I have been trying to convey in the past few posts!

(The ghazal is written by Kaifi Azmi and tuned by Madan Mohan for the film Hanste Zakhm, and is sung beautifully by Lata Mangeshkar)