Archive for May, 2014

Song without a voice

May 31, 2014

He was struggling. Don’t know for how long, but for the past week – when he had been ill and lying in bed all the day and night – he had been struggling – not only with the fever and the vertigo it brought – but also for the something that was still elusive, still out of his reach. What was it that he took birth for? The thumping in his skull – which lingered even after the fever was gone – was somehow from his own pain.

“mera dard naghma e be_sadaa..”, he murmured. Faiz’s poem. My pain is a song without a voice. Why? Song? Without a voice? He again fell back into his headache – feeling awful like Gregor Samska.

Headache – or this feeling like pressure – like a lot is stuffed pack into the hollow skull – what? A song? Where’s the voice? He felt miserable, utterly miserable.

Many thought he was sad. Many others thought he should not be. But this song stuck in head finding no voice to come out, and not be sad? Not having a song is okay – you have a whole skull empty to fill with happiness, but now this something is not finding a way out – where to keep the happiness?

“What’s the default state of human mind?”, he again fell into a philosophy. Happiness? If it is, then I’m certainly not at equilibrium. Equilibrium.. the ability to see a coffee pot like a coffee pot..

“mere dard ko jo zubaa.n mile, mujhe mera naam o nisha mile..”, he was still not out of Faiz. If my pain gets a voice; I’ll get my own identity. His headache.. “mujhe daulat e dono.n jahaa.n mile..”, fever, falling asleep. I’ll get the worth of whole world.

The song, voiceless, kept thumping on the inner skull.

ASDFG QWERT

May 26, 2014

I need to do something. There has been a constant tickling going in my brain. I can actually feel some not-so-funny movement inside my skull. I must do something to make myself feel at peace. The problem is I don’t know what.

I am given some task. Now, I am not at all interested in doing it. I have a whole day to complete it. I know it will take much less time.

Perhaps, I am out of my mind. I think of something – then someone comes to disturb – then I look at the computer screen thinking what I was actually thinking. Yeah – remembered – must note it down before I forget it again.

Is this the same thing I am going to do all my life? – to wake up each day with a burden to somehow push it till the evening? This is not the way – certainly not..

Again, these disturbances, and this something pushing my brain out from within. This is not the way to live. But let it be as myself have chosen it..

The full moon of Buddha Pournima

May 15, 2014

Then he went out, walking on roads. This is one thing he enjoys. He walks with his own thoughts, with ear-plugs in, often playing no music.

“Will it ever be the same?” He thought for a fraction of moment, and felt a half tear behind his lashes. But he was calm again soon. “It is for good that it happened” he said to himself.

He started the music – something classical – he was listening it for the first time. It was beautiful – Raga Tilak Kamod – he googled. “Beautiful.. isn’t it?” he said to himself – again felt something like a tear under the eyelid.
He stopped for a panipuri, and kulfi perhaps. He likes the feel of sweet, cool, milky kulfi after the hot panipuris. panipuri and Kulfi is a routine.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” He looked at the veiled girl having panipuri there. “These girls with hijab look good eating panipuri”, he thought. Was he staring at her? The girl – who seemed standing alone there – walked past him to her boyfriend standing a little away. “Hmm”, he thought – “these girls with hijab don’t seem married.” He always thought hijab means married.

The panipuri-waali lady knows him by face, so does the kulfi-waala. He paid for the panipuri/kulfi, and again went on walking.

He was a little calmer now. He knew it will be difficult – the consequences will be long-term rather than immediate – over a relationship in one evening – she knows it’s not that simple. There will be many such evenings and he will still have those half-tears. But does that matter?

It was getting dark – he started walking back towards home. Ustad Bismillah Khan playing Tilak Kamod in his head. He looked at the sky. The moon was bright. “It’s Buddha Pournima” he thought.

He had seen many such moons – different phases of it. On the ninth day of Chaitra – when she was sitting right in front of him and the moon was exactly above her head. The crescent on the dawn of Dhan-trayodashi – while he was talking to her on phone. “Different moons, different girls..” he thought.

But this moon was different. He somehow never noticed it earlier – the full moon of Buddha Pournima! He didn’t give it much thought, and started walking back to home again.